Rusty Nail

by J. A. Konrath

I nodded. Holly flashed a dazzling smile and tossed her hair back, which Wyatt took for acquiescence. I shoved in the clip, chambered a round, and pinned up my target, taking it all the way back to the end of the line.

  She’s better than I am, I thought. Probably faster too. But the head shot is worth more than the heart shot, and she always goes for the heart. If I can hit three, I’ll win even if she hits all four and outdraws me.

  So the smart move would be to take my time, let her shoot fast, and win on score.

  But I didn’t want to play it smart. I wanted to prove I was just as fast.

  “Weapons at your sides.” Wyatt stood between us, but he was staring at Holly. We each relaxed our arms, barrels pointing at the floor.

  “On three. One . . .”

  I pushed out a breath, relaxed my shoulder, concentrated on my grip. The gun felt good, natural. But I still had tremors, and I hadn’t slept in over thirty hours.

  “Two . . .”

  I’d have to shoot one-handed. When you speed draw to a two-handed stance, the free hand meets the gun hand so fast, it throws off the aim before it has a chance to stabilize it, wasting valuable milliseconds.

  “Three!”

  My arm shot up on its own initiative, my trigger finger flexing fast, the four shots gone in an instant. The noise was deafening without the ear protection, but I still heard well enough to know I’d outdrawn Holly; her last shot went off a fraction of a second after mine.

  My elation was short-lived when I noticed my target.

  One shot through the head. Three misses.

  Holly, as expected, placed all four of hers in the silhouette’s heart.

  “Jack receives the nine points for speed, plus a ten-point shot to the head. Nineteen points. Holly hit the heart four times, five points each, for a winning score of twenty points.”

  Holly glowed, her face bright as a camera flash.

  “Not many people can shoot as fast as I can, Jack. I’m impressed.”

  “Speed doesn’t mean anything if the accuracy is poor.”

  “I’m sure you’re just having an off day.” Her tone suggested something contrary.

  “Yeah. Well. Nice shooting.”

  “Nice shooting.”

  She came over and hugged me. Just two regular girls, celebrating marksmanship.

  I endured the hug, which was tight enough to make me lose my breath. Holly had some serious muscles. I gave her a quick pat on the back, and when she released me she stayed within my personal space, her face so close I could smell her mint gum.

  “Want to grab a bite to eat? My treat.”

  “I’m sort of in the middle of a case.”

  “Really? What kind of case?”

  “Homicide.”

  “Isn’t Indiana out of your jurisdiction?”

  I wondered how she knew, then remembered I’d been a media darling of late.

  “I’m not working on the Kork case. I’m working on something parallel.”

  “Really? What?”

  “Can’t. We cops are sworn to secrecy.” And I was getting uncomfortable with her being so close.

  “Come on. Spill. I’ve spent every waking hour with Harry these last few days, and all he talks about is the adventures you two had. I always wanted to be a cop.”

  I leaned back an inch or three. “You’re military, right?”

  “Semper fi. How did you know?”

  “You didn’t learn to shoot like that on a farm in Alabama, and you called your guns ordnance.”

  “The lingo is tough to shake. I did a tour, when I was a kid.”

  “So why didn’t you join the force? A lot of cops are ex-military.”

  She hooded her eyes, as if she was about to share some juicy gossip. “I’ve got a few boo-boos on my record. Nothing major, but enough to keep me from being a law enforcer.”

  I took a full step back and met Wyatt at the counter. Holly followed. We returned our gear and I asked for a broom to sweep up our brass.

  “I’ll get it.” Wyatt grinned like a schoolboy. “It was a pleasure to witness such a fine competition.”

  I felt a buzz in my pocket, and the beeping followed a moment later. I slapped the cell phone to my face.

  “Daniels.”

  “Lieutenant? This is Raider, Gary PD. Bud Kork woke up about an hour ago. He’s lucid, and talking up a storm. My chief said you’d like to speak to him on a related subject.”

  My spirits jumped. “Yes, I would. I appreciate the courtesy call. When can I come?”

  “Anytime is fine. You’ve got full access. Way we see it, you’re the one who found the guy.”

  “I’ll be there in about an hour. Thanks.”

  I pocketed the phone, Holly so close, she was practically wearing my pants. Her eyes shone.

  “I heard everything. I want to come with you.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll stay out of your way. I just want to see him. Come on, I’m a cop junkie.”

  “No.”

  “I can help.”

  “You’re a civilian.”

  “A civilian who just kicked your ass on the firing range.”

  I was beginning to see why she was with Harry. She was annoying in an eerily similar way.

  “No, Holly. Thanks for the offer, but this is police business.”

  “But that killer, he’s a man, right? I’m good with men. I can get him to talk to you.”

  “Won’t work on this one.” I pictured Kork’s missing male anatomy.

  “Please, Jack. Harry’s doing some kind of bachelor party thing tonight. Something to do with midgets.”

  McGlade? That bastard told me he didn’t have any other friends.

  “His buddies are taking him out?” I kept my tone neutral.

  “No. He’s alone. Well, alone with the little people.” Holly tugged on my arm. “Come on. You have to take me along. I can’t spend my last night as a free woman watching infomercials on TV.”

  I knew how that felt.

  “Sorry, Holly. Can’t do it.”

  She was on my heels all the way up the stairs, like a puppy. An irritating, yipping, undaunted puppy.

  “Please.”

  “No.”

  “I’ll just keep you company for the trip. I won’t even get out of the car, Jack.”

  “No.”

  I walked out of the station and onto the street. The day had cooled down, and the breeze felt nice on my face. I walked around to the back parking lot, Holly still begging me. Perhaps beautiful women didn’t understand the word no.

  “Come on, Jack. I’m a licensed private investigator. I can handle myself, and I’ve worked with law enforcement before.”

  “We’re not working together, Holly. And this is getting silly.”

  It was also making me uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be rude to her when I was standing up at her wedding the next day, but soon she wouldn’t give me much choice.

  Holly was quiet for a minute, and I thought I’d finally gotten through. Then I heard the sniffle.

  When I turned to look, Holly was all pouty and teary-eyed.

  “I don’t have any friends, Jack.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Her shoulders began shaking.

  “My job. I keep crazy hours. I don’t have a single friend. Why do you think I went to that stupid private eye convention? I could give a rat’s ass about the latest surveillance technology. I just wanted to meet people. Harry’s the first man I’ve been with in six years.”

  “I’m sorry.” And I meant it from the bottom of my soul.

  Holly faced me again, her cheeks glistening.

  “Don’t you get lonely, Jack? When was the last time you had a girls’ night out?”

  “Interrogating a multiple murderer isn’t a girls’ night out.”

  “But it’s better than being alone. I’ve been alone my whole crummy life. My dad died when I was a kid, and we moved around a lot. I never had friends.”

  The thought of someone so attractive b
eing without friends was ridiculous, and I almost sneered. Holly read my thoughts.

  “I wasn’t like this back then. I was very fat, and had some skin problems, and big old buck teeth. It wasn’t until my twenties that I lost the weight, went to a dentist, and had some work done. A lot of work done.” Holly put her hands on either side of her breasts. “These won’t be paid for until I’m too old to appreciate them.”

  She wiped her hand across her eyes, and I had a surprising thought. If I could put my jealousy aside, I might like this woman. I knew how hard it was to lose a father at a young age. Plus, the fact that she’d had plastic surgery made her seem more human, less Charlie’s Angel. Though her taste in men was seriously flawed, Holly was strong, competent, funny, a great dresser, and had an energy that you didn’t see very often.

  I wondered if I wasn’t falling victim to her charisma the same way everyone else seemed to. Then I wondered why I always overanalyzed everything. I hadn’t had a female friend since, well, high school. Here was one trying to make an effort. Would it hurt to bend a little? To maybe have someone to talk to?

  It’s been a long time since I had someone to talk to.

  Holly backed up, arms folded across her chest. “I’m sorry, Jack. Overreacting. Pre-wedding jitters, I guess. It’s been a tough week. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  My inner cop told me to shake hands and walk away. But I’ll be damned if I didn’t say, “You can come.”

  “I can?” Again she lit up, and again I was subjected to a firm hug.

  But this one I didn’t mind as much.

  When she finally released me, we hopped into my Nova, and for the second time that day I headed for Indiana.

  CHAPTER 33

  HARRY TOLD ME about what he did, when you two were partners. He feels bad about it.”

  I replied with a snort. Holly and I had already talked about fashion (consensus: Fashion is good), guns (consensus: Guns are good), and parents (consensus: Parents are good if you still had them, but hers were dead and I only had my comatose mother), and we’d finally worked our way around to men.

  Holly wholeheartedly agreed I’d screwed up my chances with Latham, and I made a heroic effort to convince her to do the same with McGlade.

  “He’s changed, Jack. Loyalty is actually one of his most endearing qualities.”

  “It wasn’t back then.”

  “He was younger, ambitious. Now he recognizes that friendship is more important than a career. He considers you a good friend, Jack.”

  I snorted again. With good friends like McGlade, having serial killers hunting me was almost welcome.

  Holly reached for another french fry. We’d stopped at the McDonald’s oasis on the Skyway. I’d polished off my burger and fries a while ago. Holly had bought a Happy Meal, and divided her time between picking at her food and playing with the included toy, some kind of movie tie-in figurine.

  The fry disappeared in three bites. Holly chewed slowly. “It’s been years. Why do you still hate Harry so much?”

  “I don’t hate him. Let’s just say my life hasn’t been enriched by his involvement.”

  “He helped you with the Gingerbread Man case.”

  “Reluctantly.”

  “And with the case you had last year, that guy who was killing prostitutes.”

  “In both cases he wanted something.”

  “Isn’t that why you agreed to stand up at our wedding?”

  Oops. “He told you that?”

  “He said you wanted to get your character off the TV show, and you wouldn’t be his best man until he agreed.”

  I shifted in my seat. It was getting dark, so I switched on the headlights. The Gary exit was coming up.

  “He’s the one who got me on that damn TV show. It’s jeopardizing my job.”

  “Maybe he would have gotten you off the show if you just asked.”

  I made a noncommittal grunt.

  “He’s really sweet, Jack. I wish you could see that.”

  “Yeah. He should be a plush toy.”

  Holly dug back into the bag, and found one of the pickles she’d taken off her burger. She put it into her mouth, a gesture that struck me as odd.

  “Why’d you take the pickle off if you like them?”

  “I hate them.”

  “Then why’d you eat it?”

  “Waste not, want not. Right?”

  “I guess.”

  Neither of us talked for a moment. I refused to feel guilty about anything to do with McGlade, even if I was starting to like his girlfriend.

  “Tell me about this Bill Kork guy.”

  “Bud. His name’s Bud. He was Charles Kork’s—the Gingerbread Man’s—father. You saw the bodies on the news?”

  Holly crinkled up her nose. “Yeah. What kind of sicko would bury people in his basement?”

  “The same kind who bathes in his own urine, sticks needles in his groin, and whips himself with a scourge.”

  Holly made a face and shoved my shoulder. “That’s not true.”

  “It’s true. He also emasculated himself.”

  She mouthed the word emasculated, and then said, “He cut his own dick off?”

  I nodded. “He lost his luggage, and both carry-ons.”

  “That’s gross.”

  “Apparently he was punishing himself for his evil deeds. Some kind of warped Christian thing.”

  “Remind me not to attend that church.”

  I took the Gary exit, trying to remember if the hospital was north or south. I chose north.

  Holly liberated her last french fry, sniffed it, and popped it into her mouth. “I don’t know anyone that gross, but we had some killer in Detroit a few years ago. He was peeling people.”

  I tensed. “Really?”

  “Some serial killer whack-job. He was cutting people up and pulling off their skin. You didn’t see it on the news?”

  “I try not to watch the news. Too depressing. They catch the guy?”

  “No. Killed three people, then disappeared. Cops called it some kind of organized crime thing. Pretty terrible way to die, don’t you think? Getting skinned?”

  I thought about the Mulrooney video. “Yeah. Pretty terrible.”

  I knew I made the correct turn, because there were over a dozen news vans, each with that big antenna/dish thing on its roof, parked along the street. The hospital had cleared the media out of the parking lot. I found a handicapped space and pulled my siren out of the glove compartment, sticking it on the roof so I wouldn’t be towed.

  Holly got out with me.

  “I thought you were waiting in the car.”

  “Let me see the guy. Please, Jack? I’ll stay quiet. I just want to look in his eyes.”

  “This isn’t the zoo, Holly. We’re not visiting the monkey house.”

  “I’m good with men. I really am. If you want him to talk, maybe I can help.”

  As with Harry, arguing with Holly was an exercise in futility. We went back and forth for thirty seconds, and I realized the only way I’d get her to stay in the car would be if I handcuffed her. Which I considered, but physical restraints weren’t a good way to begin a friendship.

  “Don’t say a word. You can observe, but not interfere.”

  Holly mimed zipping her mouth closed.

  There were cops in the lobby, including the uniform I’d met who’d previously stood guard over Kork. He gave me a passing nod, then glued his eyes to Holly. The other cops did the same, without giving me a passing nod. If this were a cartoon, their tongues would have unrolled out of their mouths and onto the floor, red-carpet style.

  The Feebies, Mutt and Jeff, were thankfully nowhere to be found. Perhaps they were grilling Lorna Hunt Ellison. Or perhaps they were engaged in a sweaty ménage à trois with Vicky, the ViCAT computer. Wherever they were, I thanked the universe I didn’t have to deal with them along with everything else.

  Kork’s room was being guarded by two more cops, who’d been expecting me. They weren’t expecting Holly, but wh
en she smiled they all talked at once, introducing themselves and pledging their allegiance.

  I left them to their flirting and went in to visit the monster.

  Bud Kork eyed me when I entered, his eyes saggy and bloodshot, his complexion sallow. If he recognized me, he didn’t show it.

  Then Holly walked in. Penis be damned, Bud caught a breath and stared wide-eyed.

  Perhaps it was the Versace tee. I needed to get one of those.

  “Mr. Kork? Do you remember me? I’m Lieutenant Daniels. I dropped by your house the other day, and you showed me your root cellar.”

  He nodded, his gaze still fixed on Holly. She moved toward the bed, her hand extended, and Kork flinched hard enough to make the frame squeak.

  “Holly Frakes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Kork.”

  Bud reached for her hand as if it were a rattlesnake. He managed a quick, limp handshake, which he retracted immediately.

  “How are they treating you?” I asked.

  “They . . . they won’t give me any lemon for my water. I keep asking, but I don’t get any lemon.”

  He stuck a finger into his mouth and gnawed on a cuticle, his gaze flitting back and forth between me and Holly.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  As I spoke this, Holly went out into the hallway. I imagined the cops tripping over themselves searching for a lemon.

  I pulled up a plastic chair and sat next to the bed.

  “Do you know why you’re here, Bud?”

  “To be punished. Because I’ve been bad.”

  He seemed appropriately sad when he said it. Then his face creased in a wicked grin and he began to giggle.

  “What’s funny, Bud?”

  “ ‘Blessed are you when men hate you, and when they exclude you and revile you, and cast out your name as evil.’ Luke 6:22.”

  His whole body shook, as if he were having a seizure. The Parkinson’s. It subsided before I could call the nurse, and Bud again burst into laughter.

  “Indiana has the death penalty. They’ll kill me by lethal injection.”

  “That amuses you?”

  “I don’t deserve it.”

  “You’ve killed a lot of people, Bud.”

  He bit at his hangnail and pulled. Blood smeared across his lips, bringing color to their liverlike pallor.

  “I should be tortured to death.” He giggled again. “Lethal injection is too good for me.”