Mad

by Miller, Renee

  She blinked. Andy hadn’t dated since high school. He had shown no interest in anyone his age for years.

  “Please tell me you didn’t find this date at the daycare.” If he was propositioning minors, they had a whole other issue to deal with, one Rochelle didn’t need anyone else to know about, particularly the members of this group.

  “Wasn’t a fucking kid, you psycho,” Milo said and then laughed. “Christ, you’re a piece of work.”

  “Please,” Rochelle said. “Enough with the aggression. You’re crossing a line.”

  “Your stupidity crosses more than just a line. He licked one kid, started the nut poking, and that’s where it ended.”

  “Tell me about the date, Andy.”

  “He and the dwarf lady hit it off over juice boxes and applesauce,” Milo said.

  Bernadette? Rochelle hadn’t thought of a romantic connection between the two. Bernadette was as small as a child, but Andy’s compulsion didn’t seem to extend to adults, no matter how small. Maybe she would be good for him. Maybe it’d be a nightmare. Rochelle didn’t like the uncertainty of it all.

  “You asked Bernadette out?” Rochelle asked.

  “Oh no.” Andy blushed. “I’d never do that. She asked me. Gave me her number.”

  “Really?” Rochelle never saw that coming. “And you’re comfortable with this?”

  “She’s nice,” Andy whispered. “And pretty. Her voice reminds me of when we used to suck helium from the balloons. Makes me laugh.”

  “Big tits?” Charlie asked. “I love me some big tits, although I’m more of an ass man.”

  Rochelle noticed Charlie’s hand on his crotch. “Charlie, do you need to step out of the room?”

  He blushed. “No. Sorry.” He put his hands on his knees. “I just like tits.”

  “If you need a break, please take one.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Could I have a break?” Estella asked.

  “No,” Rochelle said.

  Estella was fond of Andy, so the idea of him dating, when he’d never been responsive to her advances, might trigger her rage. Estella would need private sessions to work through that. Rochelle would not have another incident where Estella was involved. She barely covered up the last mistake.

  “When is this date?” Rochelle asked.

  “Tomorrow. She’s coming to my place for dinner.”

  While Rochelle doubted Andy had it in him to take a life, he might scare Bernadette. If she was frightened enough to call the police.... “Perhaps you should make it a double date.”

  “Me and Milo could go with you,” Estella said.

  “Oh come on,” Milo said.

  “What is it now?” Rochelle wished she’d kept his sessions to one-on-one. Her decision to let him into the group therapy was a bad one.

  “First, let me say Estella, you fucking know better. We’re not dating. Not fucking. It’s never going to happen again, so cut it out.”

  Rochelle noticed the way Estella blushed at his weird proclamation. She’d missed something between him and Estella. Had they…? No. Milo was too much of a loner for that. He was probably still a virgin, despite his claims to the contrary.

  “Second, he’s a grown ass man,” Milo said as he patted Andy’s shoulder, an unexpected gesture given his aversion to touching. Maybe he was making progress. “You don’t want to double-date with your fellow creepers. Hard enough to hide your own crazy without worrying about theirs.”

  “This isn’t your decision,” Rochelle said.

  “And it’s not yours either. Who are you going to send with him? Charlie here? That’d be great. Someone yawns and they get a dick in their mouth. Sexual assault anyone?”

  “Milo—”

  “Or maybe you can bring Estella, like she so desperately wants. Make it a threesome. You’d like that kinky shit, wouldn’t you?”

  Estella glared, “Maybe I would.”

  “Yeah, and over dinner Estella can scream like a little bitch because the rest of the world doesn’t wear mittens to dinner.”

  “I don’t scream like a bitch,” Estella said. “I bite the fingers off. Should’ve bit your cock off.”

  “Christ,” he grimaced. “Bitter much?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Never again.”

  “Weren’t complaining when your dick was—”

  “Not even if you put bells on your nipples and a million dollars in your snatch,” He said and then turned back to Rochelle. “Why not send Nina instead? She can flirt with everyone and then hide Andy’s little pocket hottie. I bet Bernadette would make a lovely addition to Nina’s stash of whatever it is she hoards. Or maybe you can take Buggy here. You’d like that, eh Buggy? Make the night more interesting by stealing his glasses during dinner. Watch him freak the fuck out when they serve the salad. Give the fucker another stroke. How the hell does that work anyway? You’re terrified of green, but you gorge yourself on the greenest piece of shit vegetable… you do realize broccoli is green, right?”

  “I do,” Buggy said. “Thanks for the reminder.”

  Rochelle was still digesting Milo’s “never again” comment. She’d have to do something about him and Estella, but for the moment, she had to make him shut up. Andy couldn’t go out with Bernadette alone. If anything happened, Rochelle would feel terrible. She liked Bernadette, not to mention the trouble she’d be in when the police connected Andy to her clinic.

  “I know she treats you all like babies,” Milo continued. “But you’re not. Grow a pair of fucking balls and make your own decisions. She’s a doctor, not fucking Gandhi.”

  “Attacking your friends helps no one.”

  “I don’t have friends.”

  “I’m shocked,” Estella said. “You’re so charming.”

  “Fuck off, freak show.”

  Rochelle had to stop this before he pushed Estella over the edge.

  “My point is Andy needs guidance,” Rochelle explained. “A double-date ensures someone is there to watch for triggers.”

  “Yeah? And what about the buddy’s triggers? Christ, you have no clue what you’re doing.”

  “There are dangers you’re not aware of,” Rochelle said. “I’m looking out for Andy.”

  “By smothering him?” Milo argued. “This Bernadette broad knows Andy’s quirks, saw him lick a kid, and she still asked him out. She knows what she’s getting, so it’s not like you’re leading a lamb to its slaughter. Plus, didn’t you say he has no cannibalistic tendencies? What’s the big deal? Let the boy get some tail if that’s what he wants. Pretty sure she’ll be cool with his licking thing.”

  “Yeah,” Nina added. “Everyone needs a little tail now and then. Speaking of....” She smiled at him. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Not you.” Milo crossed his arms. “No offense, but I’m not into crying sex or sex with you at all.”

  Rochelle sighed. “Okay, you all make valid points. This goes against my better judgment, but Andy, I am choosing to trust you. Go out with Bernadette. I suggest a restaurant rather than cooking in your home, but that’s a call you’ll have to make.”

  “We can go to a restaurant,” he whispered. “I like restaurants.”

  “My only caveat is that I’d like you to check in with me every hour. Is that acceptable?”

  Milo’s snort grated on Rochelle’s nerves, but she ignored it. Andy nodded. It’d have to do. Rochelle would have to stay close to his apartment, just in case the evening went awry. Damage control was most effective when carried out immediately after the crime.

  But there would be no crime, she told herself. She’d done good work with Andy. Dating was a step forward. Sure, his date looked and sounded like a child, but she was still an adult. This was good.

  “Is that it?” Milo stood. “I’ve got better shit to do.”

  Rochelle nodded. “That’s all. Estella, could you stay behind? We have a few small matters to discuss.”

  Estella blushed. “Yes.”

  “I�
�m outta here.” He practically ran to the door.

  “And Milo?” Rochelle called.

  He stopped, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

  “Next session, which is Wednesday evening, we begin discussing a test for you.”

  “Whatever.”

  Rochelle watched his retreating back until he disappeared through the doorway. It was time to take Detective Smalls down a few notches. He was far too sure of himself to make any progress.

  CHAPTER 10

  Milo sat outside Captain Cunt’s office for an hour, which was ridiculous. He’d made an appointment, for fucksakes. Even showed up early. Still, he sat in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs across from her receptionist’s desk, while she masturbated or whatever behind the closed door in front of him. She was trying to piss him off and it was working.

  “Hey, Joy,” he said to the woman currently typing happily at her computer, pretending she wasn’t aware that he was about to lose his shit. “She die in there or what?”

  Joy smiled. “She’s on a conference call.”

  “She’s not on a fucking conference call.”

  “Just doing my job. Sorry.”

  He sighed. “Anything interesting happen this week?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Joy stopped typing. “The captain said no one was allowed to tell you anything.”

  “She told me about the bird case. If she didn’t want me to know anything, why would she do that?”

  “They’re stumped,” Joy said. “I’m sure you made her regret the decision immediately.”

  He nodded. Joy was a nice lady. A little plump because of her fondness of baked goods, but nice. She was the only person in the department who didn’t treat him like a pariah, and she respected his need for space. He’d been glad when she stayed on after Lou died. He listened to the sound of her fingers hitting the keyboard. He counted, and made it to thirty-five before Cunt’s door opened.

  Thirty-five made him nervous. Just one more tap.

  “Well?” Cunt said. “You coming in or not?”

  Joy clicked the keyboard once more. He glanced at her and she winked. Clever girl. He stood. “About fucking time.”

  “My world doesn’t revolve around you, Detective Smalls. You’re not even supposed to be here, so you should be happy I’m willing to see you at all.”

  He walked past her into the office and then took a seat in the dirty chair across from her desk. Captain Cunt’s work habits were lackadaisical to say the least. Papers covered the top of the desk, overflowed from the dented wastebasket next to it, and files full of more paper had been stacked against the filing cabinet near the back wall. Empty and half-empty takeout food containers lined the window sills, and her computer was covered in post-it’s from Christ’s childhood. Did the woman ever clean? He was sure the department had a custodial crew. They were probably too terrified of what they’d find in this shit hole to bother.

  “So, what do you want?” Captain Cunt sat in her chair and then picked up a pencil.

  She was taunting him.

  He looked away from the tooth-marked pencil and focused on the speech he’d rehearsed in the shower. “I’ve been going to that therapy group for a week, and I can tell you, it’s a crock of shit.”

  “Rochelle Middleton is a highly respected doctor. She’s more than qualified to help you.”

  “I just accompanied a guy to a daycare, where I watched him lick a child. He licked a fucking child.”

  “So?”

  “That’s against some law, I’m sure.”

  “Was the child harmed?”

  “He was licked.” Obviously, he had to spell it out for her.

  “But was he harmed?”

  “No,” he admitted. “The kid was oddly okay with it, but he’s a kid. They don’t know shit.”

  “I’d say there’s nothing to worry about.”

  “This guy has fantasies about eating kids. Christ, he’s even Googled recipes. Did you know people post recipes for cannibals on some place called the Darknet?”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “People like Andy should be locked up, not taking day trips to a daycare.”

  “Well you know as well as I do that unless he actually has eaten a kid, we can’t arrest him. He’s getting help. That’s a good thing.”

  “He’s got a date with a midget.”

  Cunt blinked. “Your point?”

  “I see bad things happening. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. I mentioned Shamus and they all got weird.”

  “Shamus?”

  “The bird eater?”

  “Not your case, Milo.” She said, but he could tell by the way her beady eyes got bigger that she was curious.

  “Why’d you call me with information about it then?” he asked.

  “A moment of weakness. But since I can tell you’re dying to tell me, I’ll ask; what did they say about him?”

  “Nothing, but one of the guys, Charlie, got weirder than usual.”

  “That’s not evidence of anything.”

  “Charlie puts his dick in holes, by the way. Any hole. I’m sure there’s a rape somewhere in his past, or there will be in his future. Actually, they implied he fucked someone’s dog. Pretty sure that wasn’t consensual. Is that a chargeable offence? I think it is. Cruelty to animals at the very least. Poor fucker had to be put down.”

  She closed her eyes. “What is the point of this?”

  “You need to investigate this group. They’re hiding something.”

  “You can’t get out of therapy by arresting the doctor.”

  He knew she wouldn’t see the obvious, but he had to try anyway. “I don’t care about getting out of therapy, not that she’s really done much to treat me anyway. I care about the things that don’t add up with this group. Did you look at the cases I had Joy pull for you? The victims might have a connection to the group. That’s all we need to—”

  “No.” Captain Cunt stood. “I’m not opening an investigation into anyone just because you’re pissed. Go back to treatment and do whatever it is the doctor asks you to do. You have three weeks left. Just suck it up or give me your resignation.”

  He stood as well. “You’d like that.”

  “I can’t say I’d hate it.”

  “Fuck you,” he said. “When the shit hits the fan with these nutcases, I’ll be sure to say I told you so.”

  “Okay.”

  “You seriously don’t care?”

  “I think you are chasing shadows to avoid dealing with your problems. Just do this and stop whining about it. I’m trying to help you.”

  He stared. She was helping herself. Fine. He’d figure it out alone, and when another whackadoodle ended up dead, he’d be able to connect the dots while Cunt twiddled her thumbs. The public would love to hear how she so royally fucked up one of the most important cases to ever cross her desk.

  “Are we done?” she asked. “Because I have work to do.”

  “Yes. We’re done.” He walked to the door, but didn’t open it. Instead, he reached into his pocket and took out the handkerchief he always kept on him. Covering the doorknob with it, he pushed the door open and then walked out, his head high.

  “Went well, I see.” Joy said from her desk.

  “She’s a cunt.”

  “You catch more flies with honey.”

  He scowled. “I don’t like flies or honey.”

  Joy sighed. “It’s been dull around here without you.”

  “Of course it has.”

  ***

  Rochelle paced the driveway in front of Andy’s house. Bernadette’s car was gone, so that was a good sign, right? But why wasn’t she answering her phone?

  Andy hadn’t answered his since midnight either. A fact that made Rochelle uneasy. He’d checked in every hour until then. His last text read, “I think I’ve made a breakthrough. More tomorrow.”

  She had been pleased at first, but that quickly turned to concern after calling Bernadette to get the scoop, and
getting her voicemail for the past eight hours. Rochelle knew her control was slipping. If she had to eliminate any more of them, he would know and he’d take the rest from her.

  No. This was her clinic. Her patients. He had no power over them or her decisions.

  Rochelle stopped pacing and turned to look at Andy’s house. It was actually a small cottage that belonged to his parents. They died when Andy was in college. Andy’s father, a wealthy executive in some type of investment firm, was a pilot in his youth. He’d been able to afford his own plane and often flew to exotic places with his wife and his coworkers. Their last trip, something went wrong with the engine or it ran out of gas—Andy was unclear about what happened. He didn’t find out about their deaths for several days after the crash.

  Rochelle realized Andy’s childhood had been very lonely when she researched the family. The parents, both overachieving workaholics, left Andy with the housekeeper for long stretches of time. The housekeeper was a vicious woman who appeared to hate Andy. Well, she probably hated all children, but Andy was the only one stuck beneath her thumb. After his parents’ deaths, Andy sold the large estate he’d suffered his childhood in, and kept this tiny cottage. Perhaps it held good memories, because the housekeeper wouldn’t have been needed there. Andy once told Rochelle the cottage belonged to his mother’s family. They didn’t visit often, though, and his father had rented it out to an elderly couple for many years.

  Andy moved in when they died. He’d lived there ever since.

  It was cute, but rundown. Andy had enough money to buy any home he liked, but he didn’t. Rochelle imagined the cottage made him feel safe. Maybe it let him imagine a happier childhood he never had. If it were her in his place, Rochelle would’ve found something a little more modern. Andy was a simple soul, though. A good soul, she reminded herself.

  At the back of the cottage, she saw a wood shed. Andy told her once that the old man who’d rented the cottage had turned the shed into a workshop. He liked to build furniture and birdhouses, which the couple sold at the local market to supplement their retirement income, which was criminally insufficient in Andy’s opinion.

  All those saws…

  Rochelle turned on her phone. She pressed Bernadette’s number again and waited. One ring. Three… five… “You’ve reached Bee. Leave a message.”