Unhinged

  “I know, honey. I promise.”

  Copeland’s was excellent as always. I kissed Jennifer good-bye and made my way back into the French Quarter, dreading a confrontation with Captain Greenwood. Dorrick had most likely briefed him with bias on our session.

  I parked on Conti Street behind a string of five cop cars and walked a block to the Eighth District, saying hi to several uniforms along the way. After I trotted upstairs, I ran into Detective Bienvenue who was standing near his desk.

  “Greenwood’s lookin’ for you. He seems upset.” Bienvenue stared at me, obviously concerned.

  “I know. I suppose I should just get this over with.” I knocked twice and heard him yell for me to enter.

  “Hey, Captain. Here I am. Those Feds sure know how to waste time.”

  “Come in and sit down,” he snapped.

  “What’s going on? Am I still on the force?”

  “It would appear that way. Where were you? Dorrick called and told me you left hours ago. I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “I was starving, so I stopped for a bite. I forgot to check my messages.”

  He shuffled some papers, and his face contorted into disappointment. “You better get your act together. Dorrick told me they pretty much had to force you into cooperating. You’re dealing with a very powerful man. Are you trying to get fired?”

  I leaned back and sighed like a hoodlum in the principal’s office. “Why were you trying to reach me? What’s the emergency?”

  “Dorrick told me you were asking questions at Tripper’s. Are you investigating this case on your own? ‘Cause I can’t have that.”

  “I went there for a beer.”

  “I tried to fight for you with my superiors, but I’m getting a lot of pressure from above to keep you away from this case. You have no idea how long I’ve been on the damn phone.”

  “The Feds aren’t trying too hard to locate this guy. Who are you putting on in place of me? Bienvenue and Landeaux?”

  He nodded. “I think they can handle it. Except now it’s a federal case. They’ll be helping the FBI. I’m sure they’ll brief you on updates. You can advise them off the record, of course.”

  “You can’t do this. You know I have a personal stake in it. The guy could come after Jennifer next.”

  “It’s outta my hands. It’s more than just the FBI being upset with you. I can’t say, but this is coming from very high up.”

  “God?” I asked with a dead stare.

  “I’m getting heat from my own superiors. If I had my choice, I’d keep you on. And damn it, check in regularly. I need to know where you are at all times.”

  “Is that all?” I finally asked.

  “You can take over the shooting victim found on Esplanade last night. Get the file from Landeaux. I’m serious about going on your own—the Feds are watching you.”

  “Thanks,” I said. It wasn’t like I didn’t see it coming.

  On the way to Landeaux’s desk, Bienvenue grabbed me by the arm. “The reason I called you is that I got word from a pal in Metairie that there’s another double homicide, a man and woman. It’s the same MO as your guy.”

  “Shit. Got a name on the female?”

  “No name yet. I’m waiting on Landeaux to get here; then we’ll meet up with the Feds. The Metairie detectives are on the scene now. Here’s the address. You got this from a JP, okay?”

  I nodded and shot out the door. I had to get there before Dorrick and Zachary.

  Katie Rivers popped in my mind as I sped past motorists. She was captain of my high school pep squad, and I had dated her for two months and took her to our prom. I regretted telling Spider what we did prom night in the hotel room and doubly so for admitting my infatuation for her. I wondered what had become of the bubbly, pink-pantied spirit queen, and I prayed that she lived out of state.

  I pulled off Old Metairie Road onto Denim Street and saw the hubbub immediately to my left. Several squad cars had their lights flashing with an ambulance parked between them. It was attracting neighbors like the set of a movie, and I was a major star, Dorrick, the black-attired villain.

  I must be a cocky asshole to risk my relationship with Jennifer over this investigation. Part of me was a gambler, though, and I didn’t think Dorrick would confront Jennifer with my exploits. If he had proof, he would have shown it to me.

  I pulled to the curb after passing the scene and instinctively looked around at the neighbors who were gathered. It would be bold for Spider to be among them, maybe in disguise, but not out of the question. I knew about killers who were actually caught either at the crime scene or their victim’s funeral or grave site.

  The officer standing by the door let me through when I held up my badge.

  “The FBI hasn’t arrived yet?”

  “I’m not sure. A couple of guys were here, but they left. Maybe you should ask the detectives inside,” he replied a little nervously.

  “Wait. Tell me about these guys.”

  “They showed us FBI identification when we arrived, but they wouldn’t let us inside. We waited about fifteen minutes, and then the two left with a little Dixie-Mart plastic bag.”

  “And you don’t know who they are? How could you let them leave?”

  “Hey, I have mouths to feed, and when two Feds with the proper ID tell us to wait, we do as they say. The Feds are in charge of this case now, right?”

  “That’s up for debate. Do we have names on the victims?” I didn’t want to be surprised when I saw the dead woman’s face.

  “Yeah. Charles Lewis and Marcy Latner. It’s pretty gruesome.”

  “Marcy,” I whispered and felt my numbness turning to rage. I clenched my fists trying to calm down.

  The cop was looking at me, waiting for me to enter, but I didn’t want to. All I could do was remember her face as it was, not how it was going to look. Just who were the Feds watching from that list I had given Dorrick? Obviously not Marcy. There could be twenty or more girls that I’d either dated or slept with who Spider knew about. I decided to call every one I could to warn them. Screw it if the press got wind of Spider’s selection method.

  I finally walked through the door, seeing Laura Brennan and Mike Valentine in the living room. They were good detectives who didn’t need to see me freak out.

  I glanced at the foyer walls first, then the living room, noting color prints in frames along with several Mardi Gras posters. The foyer was small with a mirror directly opposite the front door so you could watch yourself enter. It looked as if I had aged ten years.

  The carpet began at the living room entrance where the bodies were. Two glasses and an empty bottle of absinthe were on the coffee table, which had been moved slightly according to the indentations in the rug.

  I stepped close to the bodies. They were lying side by side. I took deep breaths through my nose and kept my concentration focused on the detectives.

  “Decland,” Laura said, “I thought you might show up. Apparently a couple of Feds have been here already. They were gone when we arrived. Don’t worry. We know this is your case. Is there anything we can do to help?”

  Laura was too cool for words. We used to hang out together at a college bar right by the University of New Orleans. Every Thursday we’d see each other and shoot the shit about patrolling our respective beats.

  “To tell you the truth, I was booted off this one. The Feds are railroading me. I thought it would’ve gotten around.”

  Laura looked surprised and concerned. “They’re blaming you for the escape?”

  I nodded and glanced around to see who was within earshot, then looked down at Marcy whose head was shaved. I knelt and studied her makeup. She would never have worn blue eye shadow that thick. My gaze roamed down her body for a second, spotting the meaty flesh where her nipples used to be, then the black, stuffed toy spider that was sitting atop the stab wounds in her belly. Was this going to be a calling card?

  I fell backward into the couch and just sat there with my knees bent sli
ghtly. My eyes began to well up.

  Laura knelt next to me. The slight contact of her knee against my leg brought me back into the room.

  “I assume you knew her, too?” she said.

  “Yeah.” A rage was beginning to boil. “She was my first serious girlfriend.”

  We both looked up when we heard a commotion near the front door; then I recognized a voice. Dorrick’s. I saw my life on the force pass before my eyes, ending with me flipping burgers for the rest of my existence and rehashing this story for anyone who would listen.

  When Dorrick entered, the space around my head felt as if it had become pressurized. It was as though I was allergic to him.

  He looked pissed but was oddly calm. “What the hell is this? You’re not supposed to be investigating, Detective Dupree. I made that perfectly clear.” His hand was on his forehead as if he had drank a milk shake too fast. If I wasn’t so distraught, I might’ve called it bad acting.

  Agent Zachary was directly behind him, like a shadow. He swallowed hard, and the lump in his throat revealed how nervous he was to be at his first crime scene.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Your guys have already come and gone.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’re the first agents to arrive.”

  “You’re a good liar, but I suppose you have to be in your position. And while this was going on, you kept me in interrogation all morning just to chat, right?”

  “You’re unraveling. I want to know what you’re doing here.”

  “I came to visit an old friend,” I said, out of breath. My eyes felt as if they had been staring at a computer screen for twelve hours. “That list got me thinking about her. My being here is coincidental. But look what’s happened to her.” I got to my feet, trying not to reveal that I had been on the verge of a breakdown. Laura held my arm for extra support. “I thought you were supposed to be watching these women.”

  Dorrick appeared to finally absorb the black mood of the room and took a deep breath as his facial muscles relaxed.

  “I’m really sorry about your loss, but you’re not supposed to be here,” Zachary said.

  “Did you come here to warn her?” Dorrick didn’t even want to know about the bodies. I may as well have been the only person in the room. “It would’ve been nice to know who Spider was coming after next. This woman was fourth on your list.”

  It was too hard for me to accuse him and defend myself at the same time. My first priority was to get his attention off me until I got my head straight. “I didn’t know he was coming after her. I was too late. You were too late. But it would seem your secret agents got here before the neighbor even put in the call. And where’s the absinthe bottle? The only clue Lotz leaves behind with his fingerprints on it and your guys have taken it.”

  Dorrick moved next to me and began to speak in a low voice as Laura backed away. “I don’t want to hear your fantasies about ghost Feds. I know nothing about any other agents on this case. You’re trying to deflect the blame, but you just can’t help fucking up this case, can you? Help us out. Who’s he going after next?” He leaned into my ear and whispered, “Who’d you fuck after her, huh?”

  I pushed him back into Agent Zachary’s arms who, in turn, kept Dorrick from rushing me. It seemed as if it took all his might. Laura and Mike positioned themselves between us, so we wouldn’t start a brawl in the middle of a crime scene. Thankfully, none of the relatives had shown up yet.

  I felt myself turning red and wanting to punch him in the mouth, scattering his teeth all over the floor.

  Dorrick got control, relieving Zachary of the unwelcome chore of restraint, and took a step forward to look at the victims. Laura and Mike stared at him as if he were the legendary Bigfoot.

  “Leave, Detective. I spoke with Captain Greenwood. He’s sending two other detectives who are now reporting to me. Let them handle this, or you could find yourself locked up for interfering with a federal investigation.”

  Dorrick didn’t take his eyes off me. Everyone’s stares may as well have been sharp sticks, poking me all over. Laura’s expression, however, was one of sympathy.

  “Bye, Laura.” I didn’t look at the others. “I’ll see you around.”

  No one said a word as I left. No one had to. Everyone knew sooner or later it would be Jennifer’s turn.

  Later that afternoon, the rain started making paw prints on my windshield as my car sat at a red light on Veterans Boulevard. The radio was blasting a Van Halen tune, and I was thinking about the hatred Spider must have for me. All I ever did was be his friend. Maybe I was his only friend, and when I left for the academy, he felt betrayed.

  Or maybe he loved me.

  My cheap cell phone rang. The number came up as restricted, and I got a chill. “Dupree.”

  At first there was nothing, and I pressed the phone as hard as I could against my ear.

  “You have to forgive me, Deck,” he finally said. “I can’t help what I do. Why do you make me so crazy? I’m sick; I know it. I want to be with you when this all ends. I want you there.”

  “Then tell me where you are.”

  “You don’t remember our kiss, do you?”

  “No, Spider, I don’t.”

  “I live that moment every day of my life, except I change the ending. You kiss me back in my ending. We do other things in my ending.”

  “Let’s talk about this. Tell me where you are, and we can talk, just me and you.”

  “I’ve left you a clue. If you find it, you can find me. I know the FBI is listening, and I won’t call you again.” He hung up.

  An eerie sensation came over me, like a ghost had passed through my body. My skin felt as if it was retracting on my back and legs. I wondered if he had a plan to kill me, too. Maybe I was going to be the one male he finally fucked, losing his gay cherry. Did he plan to have Jennifer there as well? Was his grand finale going to be with my fiancée and me?

  I kept an eye on the rearview mirror, making sure no one was following me. I didn’t spot anything obvious, but I knew the Feds used strategies such as having three or more cars switching the tail.

  Suddenly Paulina’s face came to me. The day we met at work she had been leaning against a post by the time clock, and I stood beside her for a moment before getting the courage to speak. She told me her name, and I remember thinking how cool it was that she told me her last name, too. Before I knew what was happening, I was telling her about school, football, and work.

  She had pushed her long, black hair over her shoulders and talked to me like we were longtime friends. When I bitched about working, she had said I should quit and do what I wanted, and then I explained about my dad, his work ethic, and what he wanted from me. She really seemed to understand me. But all I could think about was getting into her pants.

  This was also the same day that Spider had met her.

  Immediately he had started hitting on her, and I couldn’t have known it was more for my benefit than his. I remembered letting him make an ass out of himself, so I wouldn’t have to worry about him being a threat. Little did I know.

  It still ate away at me that Paulina’s body was never recovered. All the other victims were out in the open, never hidden, waiting to be stumbled upon. If Spider had killed Paulina, then where had he taken her body? Cops had dredged the canal that ran in the middle of Morrison Road and had turned up nothing. All the Dumpsters in a one-mile radius were searched, and not even a shoe was found.

  Spider’s car and mine were vacuumed, dusted, and inspected, so he didn’t transport her anywhere unless she had been wrapped, head to foot, in a gigantic Ziploc bag. All I could come up with was that he had most likely borrowed a car and buried her somewhere off Chef Menteur Highway or in the marshes around Chalmette. Because Paulina’s disappearance was in my mind, I got an itch to drive to the Dixie-Mart and check out the alley behind the store.

  After I arrived, I sat for a while recalling the night’s events. Everything played out the same, exce
pt for a detail that had been trampled with all the crap from the case.

  The morning after the disappearance, when I was helped to my feet next to the Dumpster, I glanced through the side hatch and saw a pile of half-gallon containers of an old, discontinued Dixie-Mart brand ice cream. We threw away merchandise all the time, but this stuff had been in the freezer forever. At the time I thought it was odd it had finally been dumped but then forgot about it.

  As I stared at the infamous spot next to the Dumpster, I realized there had been no time for anyone to clean out the freezer before they found me. And an idea hit me so hard it actually made me dizzy. It was too wild to even consider, but it was the only thing that made sense.

  The double steel doors of Dixie-Mart were open to anyone who wanted to tour a gutted, half-burned store. I walked inside, dodging old metal carts and cinder blocks. A stale and moldy smell was amplified a hundred times. I also caught a whiff of ammonia, which was probably animal piss. The roof still covered portions of the store, but halfway toward the front, the rain fell in.

  I walked only about thirty yards before I found myself in front of the freezer. It was still standing, door on its hinges.

  I thought of the old crew and where they might be now. I figured they either quit or got transferred. I knew Robinson went to Chalmette and Donny Packard got moved to Veterans Boulevard.

  The door was cracked open, and I grappled with myself to remain calm. A huge burst of cold fog would have escaped if the store was still in business. Now a pungent smell of decayed food that had been left for a bulldozer punched me in the face. No one had disturbed this area since Katrina except for scavengers. I backed away and coughed, nearly passing out. I could never describe this smell to anyone. I coughed again and fought the urge to vomit.

  I became hot and sweaty as I reached for the large handle on the metal door.

  Something crunched beneath my shoes. The front shelves by the door still had packages that once held merchandise: frozen dinners, orange juice concentrate, potpies, and so forth, smashed down to half their original height. But the packages of the same discontinued ice cream were in the back in the same exact spot as the day I quit. Even though the ice cream had melted long ago, the containers were thick and coated with wax, leaving the wall intact, though sagging a bit.