Carolina Rain

by Rick Murcer

“Shut up. I’ll take it a step further. I’ll bet you got certain rooms you’ve created special access to, and let’s just say, have infringed on the guest’s privacy. Am I right? And I bet if we searched that maintenance room, and of course your home, we’d find a library that would make even me blush. Right again? Do you sell them to porn sites? Making a few bucks on the side?”

  Moss looked around as if he were thinking of making a break for it, then must have realized how far he’d get. He bowed his head, shoulders slumping, and then looked Sophie in the face.

  “I . . . no. It ain’t like that. I don’t do nothin’ with them photos or movies. I just watch ‘em when I’m . . . lonely. That’s all. I ain’t hurting nobody. I swear.”

  Garcia already had his cuffs out and was reaching for Jackson’s arm. Sophie stopped him.

  “Here’s the deal. I want video from that room today and anything else you took starting at twelve noon. Now.”

  “That there room isn’t . . . well, I don’t have a hole for that one.”

  He reached into his tool belt and handed Sophie the camera. “There might be something on there that could help y’all. About fifteen minutes in is a few clips of someone that might be like you said. But I ain’t sure.”

  Tapping him on the face, Sophie shook her head. “Now that wasn’t so hard. The question is: what do we do with your ugly, perverted ass? You could go to jail for three to seven, if I remember correctly.”

  “Look. I don’t want to do that. I’m an old man and that’d just about kill me. I didn’t mean no harm. They weren’t no kids or nothin’. That shit makes me sick. I just like what I like, is that so bad a thing?”

  She was surprised by the wave of compassion she suddenly felt for Moss Jackson. She understood a thing or two about not being like everyone else. She wondered, getting right down to brass tacks, if he was that much different than most people in this world. He just had more balls. Besides, this case might be hard to try. They’d most likely need witnesses that would dispute whether he had their permission to be stars in their very own home movies and picture galleries. That didn’t seem like reality to her. But . . .

  “Here’s the deal. In one hour, I’m going to send two officers up to this room and see what they see. Then I’m going to send a patrol car to your house to check out your digs. If they don’t find anything, then I think we’re done here.”

  “Really, Agent? You’d do that?”

  Sophie smiled. “Hell no. You’re a sick bitch and need to be off the streets. Detective?”

  Garcia slammed Jackson against the wall, cuffed him, and recited his rights as Sophie sprinted down the steps hoping against hope the video wasn’t a dead end.

  CHAPTER-37

  “Your statement should be fairly obvious, but I sure as hell don’t like the overtones because we’ve seen more than sick in our world,” said Manny.

  Alex stood, his knee popping, and reached to rub it with his left hand, never giving it a second thought. In that moment, Manny’s admiration for his friend grew to a different level. Alex was moving on and doing the best with what he had, prosthesis and all. Life never stopped teaching.

  “We have no doubt about that and God knows I don’t want to see those sick things you’re talking about again,” said Alex.

  “Kind of in the wrong business for that to happen, Boss,” said Dean through his tangled beard.

  “I can’t argue with that. Anyway, the tox reports Dean and I looked at were weird. A substance was taken from the first three victim’s lips. There was a strange arrangement of carbons, hydrogen, and sodium molecules that didn’t make sense. So we did some research and in the end thought the lab had made an error. I didn’t have them run it through the database because there had to be something goofy about it. That can happen if the spectrometer needs calibrating or the specimen was tainted during collection.”

  “Okay, got you so far,” said Manny.

  “The techs in Quantico gave it another whirl and, you guessed it, the graph came back exactly like the first. Meanwhile, Dean had dug deeper and found a chemical analysis diagram that could have been what we were looking at except it was still not quite the same.”

  “What did you find?”

  Looking at Dean, Alex bowed and then pointed. “Dean?”

  “Thank you, sir. The chemical makeup this substance most resembled was something called tetrodotoxin. It’s a paralytic shellfish poison, or PSP, derived from certain puffer fish or blue-ringed octopus.”

  “So it causes paralysis?” asked Manny, running his hand through his hair.

  “Very good. But wait. Remember, I didn’t find an exact match for the compound’s makeup. It had one less carbon and a couple more sodium molecules. So I searched the family tree and found something called saxitoxin, another PSP, with similar properties. It’s amazing that—”

  Manny raised his hand in the universal sign to stop. “I need you to get to it. You can do chemistry class later.”

  “Man, you’re such a killjoy sometimes. Okay, bottom line. Our girl here combined, or had someone combine, both chemicals into one solution and that’s what we found on these men’s lips. It’s also the reason we couldn’t locate it in our database. We’ve not encountered this before.”

  “The autopsy reports for Morgan and Ginny’s husband said they died from a heart attack, not from the corkscrew in the chest—” started Manny.

  Alex interrupted. “No, they died from respiratory failure; that’s different. I’ll be general because I don’t want you to have a freaking cow. These toxins attack the nervous system and block the sodium currents to the muscles causing a quick numbness then a progressive paralysis that can happen in as little as thirty seconds. One of these compounds can kill in just a few minutes, so no telling for sure what they can do mixed like this. The weird thing about these toxins, no matter if it takes a few minutes to kill you, or an hour—or if you recover, which some people do—you lose all muscle function. Anyway you cut it, you’ll likely be fully conscious and can probably feel anything that is happening to you, physically.”

  Manny’s mind swam.

  “Damn,” he said softly. “So these guys are somehow exposed to this toxin, hit the deck, and she can play until they die or she kills them, and they are aware of what’s going on. Is that about right?”

  “Simple, but that about covers it. We also found traces of beeswax and a dye called carmine. They’re used in lipstick.”

  “What? She kissed them to transfer the poison?”

  “Looks like it,” said Alex. “The thing is that it would have to get into their bloodstream fairly quickly. I’m waiting to hear back on the others, but this victim, Daryl Winters, has a small cut on the inside of his lip which could have been caused by biting him.”

  “I have two obvious questions,” said Manny. “If she puts this toxin on or over top of her lipstick; why isn’t she dead? And where in hell does she get something as lethal as this?”

  Alex shrugged. “As far as not being dead, she may be immune to the toxins or just knows how to work around them. The other half of your question is tougher to answer. I believe both of these toxins are supposed to have limited availability to the public and are regulated. Someone would have to explain the purpose for purchase if the amount is one hundred milligrams or more. Things could get sticky for someone if they didn’t have that knowledge.”

  “I see. I bet our lady is brighter than that. Could she get it somewhere else?”

  “You can buy just about anything these days, if you try hard enough, and have just an iota of where to start. If this shit came from a commercial source, then we have a chance of identifying the corporate tag that’s supposed to be placed at the end, or maybe the beginning, of the compound’s commercial ID sequence. The lab is checking those DNA tags as we speak. I think that’ll be a dead end though because we’ve not seen this toxin before. Also, the sale of the separate substances should be traceable if she bought it online anywhere. We’ve got the support team checking o
ut purchases of both materials in this area. I doubt if we’ll find one that advertises the combining of those formulas, however.”

  “So what we’re really hoping to find is someone who is sloppy?” questioned Manny.

  Dean nodded. “That doesn’t seem likely and even if we find a source that might have sold some in this area, it may not mean diddly squat, of course, because creating marine toxins that occur naturally is still a gray area for the FDA. Hell, she might even be making it herself.”

  “Okay. Point taken. Maybe we’ll get something to go on. You two do what you do and we’ll meet back with Josh and Captain Tanner in two hours. I need to work on the profile some more. This one is a wee bit different.”

  “That’s doable. And I don’t like to hear words like that out of your mouth,” said Alex.

  “I don’t like saying them. There’s something going on here with her that’s hard to pin down. She’s not sticking to a game plan, at least not totally.”

  Just then, Sophie walked into the room, holding the camera she took from Moss Jackson, waving it high.

  “Mommy’s got a surprise, and I think you’re going to like it, very much like it,” she cooed.

  “Man, I love it when you talk like that,” answered Dean, his face as serious as it could be.

  “Not that kind of ‘like’ but I appreciate where your mind’s at. Anyway, I’ve got video that may help us ID this sick wench,” she said, tossing the camera at Manny.

  “What video?”

  “The video that our very own Peeping Tom shot of Aphrodite as she walked out of room sixteen and down the street.”

  CHAPTER-38

  Knocking on the door of the ocean-front condo nestled off Fort Fisher Boulevard, Lily set her feet and waited. Her bag was lighter: no camera, no extra gear, and no change of clothes. This was going to be different. Not her usual approach, but one she’d been dreaming of since her awakening had been made complete, perhaps before. She suspected that these next few moments had been conceived at a different place in time, one she hadn’t truly understood. For that matter, was anything more important than the rush that told her heart rate to accelerate to double its normal pace? Her hand, her good hand, began to tremble. She watched it in the scant light of the porch lamp in wonder.

  So this was pure bloodlust?

  Lily knocked again and felt her impatience grow. As she waited, she thought about J.R.’s face when he’d found out his grandson and Aphrodite had met in the true sense and not in that greasy hole in the wall. His tears—more precisely, his blubbering—seemed to be genuine. Only it was nothing she could relate to, not really. But there had been a tremble of something. J.R. had been kind to her and, except for her dad, that wasn’t something that happened everyday unless you counted the lust-filled eyes of half the men in the Wilmington area. She’d done her most convincing consoling act, including tears, and had helped him off the floor, out the door, and into the new pickup truck he was so proud of. She’d patted his hand and asked him several times if he wanted her to drive him to where he had to go. He’d finally shook her off and headed to the Medical Examiner’s office and would wait, alone, until they could prepare pictures for him to identify Daryl. The very thought of that ritual seemed to unnerve the old bastard. He’d taken a few moments, stuck out his chin, and prepared to do what she supposed everyone in that situation did. She had no such luxury, given the circumstances of her father’s death, not that it would have meant anything to her emotionally. Again, she had no clue what was running through J.R.’s mind, just that it was real to him. To her, this situation was like being in another country and not understanding the language. She did have to admit to a certain curiosity. What would he do if he found out who had put Scarecrow Boy into the ground?

  But there had been something else reflected in J.R.’s dark eyes, hadn’t there? Something that had made her look twice to see if she’d really caught a glimpse of what had surfaced, then disappeared. But it had raised its head just long enough to fondle her uneasiness and unsettle her mind. She recognized hate when she saw it. The kind that entices a man to act in a way he wouldn’t normally. She had seen that more than once herself, mostly from her mother who had abandoned her and dear old Dad.

  J.R.’s grandson had been murdered and the gamut of feelings that owned her boss included that kind of hate. Now, she had no doubt that he’d kill the person responsible for taking the life of his grandson, given the opportunity. She didn’t plan to be around long enough for the situation to curve in that direction. Still, there was a certain ambience to seeing someone in that much misery. Added to that was her inquisitiveness. It might delay her departure.

  The door swung open and her next lover stood there, staring down at her.

  “Have you been waiting long, baby?”

  The man shook his head. “I figured you was worth the wait. Come on in.”

  Moving slowly, Lily entered through the door and listened as he locked it behind her. Immediately, she felt his hand on the backside of her tight jeans. This was going to be easier than she’d anticipated.

  Turning toward him, she touched his hand. “I’m glad you like what you see. Let’s just take it slowly. It’ll make it sweeter.”

  “I hear ya, and you’re right on. I’ve been waiting to touch you since that first day you brought me my breakfast. I ain’t seen many walks better than the one you got.”

  There was more than lust in his eyes. His depravity was in full gear and, unfortunately for him, would play directly into what this evening would bring. It was time to give the cops something else to think about. Nothing could be better than playing with one of their own.

  Reaching into her purse, she dabbed her upper lip with her lipstick, and leaned closer.

  “When you first came in with that ironed blue uniform, I knew this night was going to come. Then when you came in and told J.R. about old Carl, you almost made me wet with the way you took control,” she whispered in a husky tone practiced to perfection.

  “Really? So uniforms turn you on?”

  His forehead was beading up and his state was frenzied obvious.

  “They do, but not like the men in them.”

  Kissing him gently, then biting his lip, she whispered what she wanted him to do, then guided him to the back bedroom. Just as he sat on the edge of the mattress, he fell back on the large bed and began to convulse. Three minutes later, she had a limb attached at each corner of his bed and her silk panties jammed firmly into his mouth. Then she waited. Eventually, his eyes fluttered open and he focused a glazed look on her face. His eyes began to clear and, when he saw that he was bound, he struggled violently to free himself, fear and anger pulsating from his face each time he looked at her.

  Sitting on the bed, she ran her hand over his chest. “That won’t do you any good, sugar. I know what I’m doing and old Sampson himself couldn’t get loose from these tethers. Now. Are you ready to make me happy?”

  He blinked, his gaze turning from pissy to unsure. Then he nodded. The way he moved his head, and his wide eyes, brought her a memory of someone that she’d known in a place long ago, or at least it seemed like long ago. She shook it away and, once again, absorbed the moment.

  “Wow. You are a sick puppy. Just my type. Good. I’m so glad to know that. This will be a night I’ll never forget. You either, I suspect.”

  Pulling her bag from the floor, she pulled out an object, hid it behind her leg, and then moved to the head of the bed. She bent over, smiling. His eyes showed he was smiling back. It was what she had been waiting to see; that he trusted her. She raised the object over her head and watched intently as he went from a twisted form of trust to absolute fear.

  No doubt about it, this night would be the best yet.

  Her cell phone rang, then again. She tried to ignore it except it chimed again and threatened to ruin what she’d so carefully plotted out. It continued to annoy her. She swore. It wasn’t so much the ringing as the ring tone. It was a song she’d listened to growing up,
and since she received so few calls, she’d forgotten she’d assigned it to her ring tone. There was a sudden rush of a memory of her riding a merry-go-round and her dad trying to get her to laugh without success. She’d wanted to laugh, though, hadn’t she? Wanted was such a nebulous word, however.

  The phone stopped, then started again. She’d only purchased it in the event she needed it for something she hadn’t anticipated. Also, J.R. had told her no phone, no job. So the call could only be from one person: J.R.

  Laying the object on her new lover’s chest, she reached down, pulled the ringing demon out of the side pocket of her purse, and began to shut the phone off. Her mind couldn’t make her good hand obey.

  What the hell?

  Instead, for a reason she didn’t understand, she answered the call.

  “Hello, J.R.”

  “Open the door, Lily. Open it now.”

  “What door, Boss?” But the thumping in her chest knew there was no way of fooling him. He knew exactly where she was. He must have followed her. Lily’s mind, which had always been clear, was now clouded with—something else. Panic? Fear? Shame?

  “Ya know, baby girl. Open it. I didn’t call no cops or nuthin’, just you and me talkin’. I ain’t gonna hurt you, or even try. I’m here to listen.”

  Talk? He wants to talk? She pressed the END button, reached for the long butcher knife she’d taken from J.R.’s kitchen—her intended plaything for the evening—and turned for the door, then stopped. She pivoted around, grabbed her host’s thumb and hacked it off before he could blink. The muffled scream should have caused her to smile, only it didn’t. Still, she put the thumb in her jean pocket and continued to the door.

  Lily stopped as she touched the brass handle. She realized she was breathing hard, angry, and wanted J.R. dead. She couldn’t remember feeling anything like it before and she wanted to get rid of the source.

  Pulling the door open quickly, the knife raised in her right hand, her eyes widened at what she saw.