by Jacob Stone
“You’d get bored. Do you even speak Portuguese?”
“We’ll learn it.”
“A nice fantasy,” Morris said. “Crime scene photos already taken?”
The wistfulness softening Smichen’s eyes faded as he snapped back to the reality of the situation. “Of course. The killer’s twisted little message wouldn’t have been removed otherwise. How many more of these victims should I be expecting?”
“If he follows the same pattern he did in 1984 and 2001, four more over the next seventeen days unless I catch him first.”
“For God’s sake, catch him then. I don’t want to see another victim who suffered the way this poor girl did.”
“I’ll be doing whatever I can,” Morris promised.
Chapter 27
Morris called Natalie to tell her that the Nightmare Man was back. “He butchered a young woman in West Hollywood last night. There were a few twisted alterations from his past methods, but otherwise it’s him.”
“The city wants you leading the investigation, and you accepted.”
Natalie said this in a purely matter-of-fact tone, without a hint of hurt or accusation. Still, he felt a pang of guilt. When he left the force, he had promised her he was done dealing with murderers, especially serial killers, but he had still ended up being dragged into those other serial killer investigations, all of which had taken a toll on him, and on her also. He knew full well the worry and stress he was going to put her through while he chased the Nightmare Man.
“They do, and I did,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, Nat. I know I made you that promise.”
“Hon, I relieved you from it after you stopped that last madman from wreaking havoc and killing thousands. You’re too good at what you do for me to keep you from hunting these monsters. That would be the height of selfishness.”
“Nat, that’s not true at all. You’ve got every right to want to lead a normal life.”
“I’m quite happy with my life. I’ve got a wonderful daughter, a husband I love, and a bull terrier I adore, even if he is getting a little tubby. And speaking of Parker, how about picking up the little guy?”
Morris heard over the phone a familiar grunt, and he could see in his mind’s eye Parker lying on his side by Natalie’s feet, stretching his legs, and grunting on hearing his name.
“I’d rather he stay with you.”
“Uh uh. Morris, darling, I don’t need the protection. This madman never strikes until late at night, right? So I’ll be just fine. But I’ll feel better knowing Parker’s keeping you company, especially since you’ll be out late like you always are when you’re hunting these killers.”
“Charlie Bogle will be keep me company.”
“Charlie’s a good guy, but it’s not the same. Parker helps keep you even-keeled and calm. Anyway, this is something I’m insisting on. It’s not open for discussion.”
“Your foot’s down,” he said.
“Exactly.”
They’d been married long enough for him to know when he had a chance of changing her mind, and this wasn’t one of those times. “I’ll swing by within the hour,” he promised. “Could you give Rachel a call? You can use the pretense of letting her know that I’ll be installing a new lock on her apartment door, but see if you can talk her into moving back home for a few weeks, or at least while the Nightmare Man is still at large. I’d try, but I know our daughter well enough to know that I wouldn’t get anywhere.”
“But I might if I act as if I’m scared to be home alone and want her company?”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“It won’t work, hon. She’ll see through my subterfuge. But I’ll give it a shot. Maybe she’ll take pity on us. Is there anything I should tell Rachel to look out for?”
“We don’t know how he gets into his victims’ homes,” he said. “What’s that term new age types use for paying attention to what’s going on around you?”
“Mindfulness.”
“That’s what Rachel needs to be.”
“You can be mindful, but you practice mindfulness.”
Morris smiled at his wife’s precision. “However you explain it to our daughter, she can’t let her guard down. She has to be aware if there’s someone lurking in the hallway waiting to force his way in when she opens her door, and she can’t let anyone inside her apartment that she doesn’t know. At least the lock I ordered for her can’t be picked, so that’s one less thing we have to worry about. Hopefully, you’ll be able to work your magic and she’ll come home tonight so that will be something else off our minds. I’ll see you soon.”
“The little guy and I will be waiting.”
Morris had other calls to make. The first was a quick one to Marty Wright. After that he called Polk to let him know the Nightmare Man was back and that they were going to be working the case.
Polk let out a low whistle as if he were sorting out in his mind the ramifications. “I was a patrolman when he surfaced the last time. When was that again?”
“2001.”
“Seventeen years later, and the bastard’s back, huh? You were part of that 2001 investigation, weren’t you?”
“Low man on the totem pole.”
“I was a kid when this lunatic first struck. What year was that?”
“1984.”
Polk let out another low whistle. “This guy’s like cicadas, has to come out every seventeen years to annoy the shit out of everyone. So what do you want me to do? Drop my tail on the lady Penza and head back to the office?”
“Keep following her for now.”
“Are you sure? We’ve got a lunatic on the loose. As much as I enjoy following this blond babe from her condo to a Pilates studio to a nail salon, then an intimate apparel shop, and now a bikini wax salon, I’d rather be putting my detective prowess to better use, namely, helping you catch this Nightmare Man joker.”
“This might be related. It’s complicated.”
“Boss, if you say so. But this is a story I’m going to want to hear when you have time.”
“Later. You have my word. I’m guessing from her routine today she’s got a hot date planned for tonight. If it’s not with Big Joe, you’ll be able to wrap up your tail on her today.”
“One can hope. I’ve got my camera ready if the opportunity arises.”
After Polk, Morris next called Bogle to fill him in on what had happened and to get an update on Bobby Gallo. Bogle was still tailing him, and the gangster was still causing mayhem. After that, Morris had quick calls with Fred Lemmon and Annie Walsh. He then headed to the Wilcox Avenue precinct. He needed the crime scene photos for what he had in mind, but he also needed to fill Walsh in on why it was so important that they find Benjamin Chandler.
Chapter 28
Detective Annie Walsh told Morris that the two people who had discovered Lori Fletcher’s body were still in the precinct in case he wanted to talk to them. “They both exhibited signs that they were suffering from shock, so I’ve got them talking to counselors.”
“One of them was the building’s super?”
“That’s right.” Walsh consulted her notepad. “Nathan Slotnick, age fifty-two, no criminal record. He’s been working as a live-in maintenance man at the apartment building for twenty-three years.” Walsh gave her notepad another look, then explained how Slotnick and Dillon Hardwick ended up in Lori Fletcher’s apartment that morning. “Hardwick confided that he found a photo of Lori Fletcher online, thought she was pretty, and wanted to meet her. Here’s the kicker. He’d been keeping her dog since he found it, if you could call that beast a dog—it looks more like Cujo’s worst nightmare. He saw one of Fletcher’s lost dog posters last night when he was walking the animal but thought it was too late to call her. If he had, she’d probably be alive now.”
“Ah, hell.”
“Yeah, I know.” A hard, angry glint
showed in Walsh’s emerald-green eyes. “I already checked that Hardwick tried calling Fletcher at 8:02 this morning like he said. I’ll be following up with both Slotnick and Hardwick, but I don’t see either of them being involved, or that they have anything more they can tell us.”
Morris pulled his shoulders back, stretching them. It had been a long day so far, and he knew it was going to get a lot longer. He noted that when he was in the apartment building he hadn’t spotted any surveillance cameras. “Please tell me they have hidden ones.”
“I asked Slotnick that, and no such luck.”
“Of course not. That would be too easy. When did Hardwick find Fletcher’s dog?”
Walsh flipped through several pages of her notepad before finding the answer. “Saturday afternoon. Around three. The dog had knocked over a garbage can and was scrounging for food.”
“How come he didn’t use the dog’s tags to track down the owner?”
“The dog had slipped out of his collar,” Walsh said. “From what I could get out of Slotnick, Fletcher got the dog because she was afraid.”
“Psychic.”
“If you believe in that.” Her face scrunched up to show she was highly dubious about something. “What you told me earlier about Penza, do you really believe that? He can tell you who this Nightmare Man maniac is?”
“I don’t know. I think he has something. I just don’t know how good it is.”
“He’ll only tell you if you bring him that actor, Benjamin Chandler?”
“That’s what he’s saying.”
Walsh’s eyes slitted and her mouth pinched as anger peppered her cheeks. “We should pick up that fat load and lose him in the system for a few days. I’m sure we could sweat out of him whatever he has.”
“I’d say he’s more hefty than fat. Anyway, squeezing him wouldn’t do any good, so that’s why I need you to keep looking for any credit card use by Benjamin Chandler.”
Walsh’s eyes narrowed more. “You must’ve been expecting the Nightmare Man to start killing again. Did you warn Hadley?”
Morris’s involuntary grimace answered that.
“Bastard,” Walsh spat out.
“It would’ve been a tough call for Hadley to do anything,” Morris offered.
“Not for me.”
Morris forced a smile. “That’s why I keep saying you should be promoted to commissioner.”
“Don’t say it too loudly. Hadley would can my ass if he hears that.”
“I’ve always got a job for you at MBI.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d end up shooting Polk within a week.”
“No court would convict you. While I’m chasing Chandler, I’d like you to look into the victim’s background. I don’t think there’s much chance she knew the Nightmare Man—the profiler who worked the other murders was convinced he chose his victims randomly—but there might’ve been some incidental contact between the two of them.”
“Sure. Makes sense.”
“I asked Fred to assist you. He’s driving back from San Diego. Expect his call.”
“As long as it’s not Polk,” she deadpanned.
Morris checked the time. “I better get going,” he said. “I promised Nat I’d pick up Parker within the hour, and she’ll give me holy hell if I don’t follow through.”
“Tell Nat to be careful.”
He told Walsh he planned to do exactly that. He didn’t explain that he’d be asking Natalie to get his spare .32-caliber pistol out of the lockbox in the bedroom and to keep the gun at her side tonight until he returned home. In fact, he was going to make it a condition for him taking Parker.
Chapter 29
Morris wanted to surprise Big Joe Penza, but Marty Wright wasn’t able to give him Penza’s location, so he had to call the mob boss’s burner phone.
“You got that actor?” Penza asked, sounding surprised.
“You think I’d be calling you otherwise?”
They went back and forth over potential meeting places until Penza suggested a downtown restaurant. “They got a private room that I use. You got my word I’ll be there alone. If you’re the suspicious type, you can check it out first and make sure none of my boys are around before you bring that scumbag actor inside with you.”
Morris mostly believed what he had told Annie Walsh about Penza being stubborn about giving up any information unless Chandler was brought to him, but he had to try. If the mob boss had a heart bigger than an ice cube, there was a chance Morris would be able to convince him to do the right thing. Regardless, he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a damn thing if he didn’t give it a try.
When he and Parker walked into the private room Penza had arranged, the mob boss was sitting alone with a steak dinner, a basket of garlic bread, and bottle of red. He finished chewing a mouthful of beef tenderloin before winking at Morris.
“I thought you’d be the suspicious type,” Penza said. “All you cops and ex-cops are paranoid as all hell. So are you satisfied I don’t got any of my boys around?” He squinted, confusion muddling his expression as he tried to figure out what Morris was taking out of his briefcase. “What are those? Photos?”
Morris answered him by walking up to his table and spreading out in front of him the crime scene photos taken of Lori Fletcher’s corpse as if they were a deck of cards. Penza gave them a curious look. Once he realized what they were, he sat back heavily in his chair, his thick arms crossing his chest.
“Why’d you show me that?” he demanded.
“This young woman was named Lori Fletcher. She was only twenty-five. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. If you had told me what you know about the Nightmare Man instead of sending me on a wild-goose chase, she might be alive right now.”
Penza stared with hurt at Morris, his jaw muscles tightly clenching. He said, “I gave you my word earlier. You’re the one with no honor.”
Morris laughed. “I’ve got no honor? Because I’m trying to stop more women from being butchered?”
Penza pointed a thick finger at Morris. “Don’t you put that on me. You knew my price. If the information I have could help you stop this guy, then you should’ve worked harder to bring me that actor. This is on you, not me.”
Penza’s thick lips curled downward into a look of peevishness. As far as he was concerned, his argument made perfect sense, and Morris could see he had little chance of changing his mind. But he had to try.
“This Nightmare Man psycho will be killing more women if he’s not stopped. It could be your wife next. Or one of your daughters. Doesn’t that matter to you?”
Penza’s peevishness turned to irritation. “Bad enough you lie to me. Bad enough that you show me those ferkakte pictures to ruin my meal. But now you’re going to put your shortcomings on me? Go to hell.”
He pushed his plate away. Parker, who’d been fixated on the steak, let out an impatient whimper. Penza’s gaze shifted to the bull terrier. He looked surprised, as if he hadn’t noticed the dog before. Muscles quickly bunched along his jaw, his eyes bulging with spitefulness. A grown man about to throw a temper tantrum. He shook his finger at the dog.
“You’re not getting a single scrap of this, you mangy mutt,” he spat out. “I’ll have the kitchen throw it away before you get any of it.” His upper lip curled into a churlish sneer. “Ugly bullet-headed thing. I wouldn’t be surprised if you were part alley cat.”
Parker let out an insulted bark.
Morris kept a tight hold on the bull terrier’s leash as he collected the photos and put them back in his briefcase. They weren’t doing him any good with Penza. It was doubtful Penza noticed, as he remained locked in a staring match with Parker.
“Why are you so convinced your wife was having an affair with Benjamin Chandler?” Morris asked.
Penza looked up to meet Morris’s eyes, his face reddening as if he were ince
nsed by the question.
“None of your damn business,” he forced out, his voice a raspy growl. He wrestled a burner phone from his pants pocket, dropped it on the table, and slammed it with the meaty part of his fist, breaking the phone into pieces. “You can take this with you on your way out. I’m done with you.”
Morris had pushed Penza too hard. He coaxed a reluctant Parker to turn around. The bull terrier was being stubborn, still thinking he had a chance of getting some of the uneaten steak, but no amount of mooching would help this time. Parker let out an angry pig-grunt as he trotted alongside Morris toward the door. Penza must have gotten out his cell phone, because before Morris left the room, he heard Penza ordering an underling to pick him up at the restaurant and to bring along a couple of boys in case an ex-cop wiseass and his mongrel ugly-as-sin dog were still bothering him.
Chapter 30
Morris was parked a block away from Dominick’s, the steakhouse where he had met Big Joe Penza. Parker lay on the passenger seat moping, the look on his face a dictionary perfect definition for the word hangdog. It had been a personal affront to the bull terrier to see most of a steak go uneaten and not be able to mooch as much as a single bite. Morris scratched Parker behind the ear as he waited for Penza to leave the restaurant, and given the way the dog’s thick, ropy tail began slowly thumping the seat, that seemed to help mollify his hurt feelings.
Morris had little doubt that if he found Chandler and brought him to Penza that the mob boss would tell him what he knew. If he reneged on their agreement, Morris would empty a full clip into Penza’s knees if needed to get him to talk. The problem now was since the burner phone had been destroyed, he would have to keep a tail on Penza so he knew where to find him. He’d already called Fred Lemmon to let him know there was a change in plans—that instead of teaming with Annie Walsh he would have to take over the tail for Morris once he got back to LA. Fred was still an hour outside the city but would call him once he was back at MBI. Morris could’ve sworn he heard a note of disappointment in the investigator’s voice, and he wondered about that. As far as he knew, Fred and Corrine were happily married. Maybe he’d only imagined what he thought he heard.