Dark Eye

by William Bernhardt

  I took one of the end flaps and started to tear it open.

  “I don’t think that’s wise.” Patrick appeared at the top of the stairs. “It could be dangerous. I’ll call for a fluoroscope.”

  “What, like it might be a bomb? Nah.”

  “You can’t be sure.”

  “Well, I’ve read two-thirds of the way through the complete stories and poems of Edgar Allan Poe, and I’ve yet to encounter anyone being blown to smithereens.”

  “Susan, you know the proper procedure as well as I do. Let’s call the bomb squad and-”

  “He doesn’t want to kill me. He wants to impress me.” Once I had the wrapping off, I closed my eyes and opened the box.

  Nothing happened.

  I peeked into the box. My lips parted.

  I guess my shock registered, because Patrick immediately said, “You know, we can’t be sure this came from the killer. A case that garners as much publicity as this one is bound to generate copycats. This could be from some crank or would-be martyr or-”

  I pursed my lips. “No. This is from the guy.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  I tilted the box toward him. And thirty-two blood-caked teeth slid into view.

  It took us a few minutes to notice, but there was a note in the box, too, taped inside the lid. I put on some plastic gloves and carefully unfolded it.

  The same old code, or another one like it. But it appeared to be longer than the previous messages. “Darcy?”

  I showed him the note. It was fascinating to watch him go into action, his head tilting, his eyes slightly contracting. “Is it the same cipher?”

  “No,” he said quietly. He continued staring at the paper. “This is a toughie.”

  I suppose the killer realized, since we’d made the Poe connection, that we had broken his code. So he provided a new and even more insidious one. “Look, Darcy, it isn’t fair to put you on the spot like this. I’ll call my friend Colin-”

  “No.” He seemed bothered. I don’t know if he was offended or just determined. As always, he was hard to read. But I let him work.

  It was a full five minutes before he spoke again. “ ‘Misery is manifold. The wretchedness of earth is multiform.’ ”

  “I remember that,” I said. “It’s from one of the stories.”

  Darcy nodded. “ ‘Berenice,’ ” he said, pronouncing the c as if it were English, not like the Italian ch sound. How would he know? “The first line.”

  The first line. Something we would be sure to identify. He was making it easy for us. “That’s the story where the psycho yanks the girl’s teeth. We already knew about that. I was hoping for something-”

  Darcy interrupted. “There’s more.”

  Patrick and I huddled around him, as if we might be the slightest help.

  “It’s hard,” Darcy said quietly. “This one has five different symbols for each letter, but some of the letters don’t appear five times in the entire message.” As far as I was concerned, that made the whole thing impossible, but not a minute later Darcy read us the remainder: “ ‘I hope you like my present, Susan.’ ”

  “Susan?” I said, eyes wide. “It says that? He calls me by name?”

  He nodded, then continued: “ ‘There will be more messages. But only for you.’ ” He looked up. “And I guess the rest of it is numbers.”

  “Numbers?”

  “Seven of them.”

  “A phone number. Can you read it? Did he give us a number where we could contact him?”

  Darcy’s head twitched. “Do you think the bad man lives with you?”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  Darcy looked at me with sad eyes. “It’s your phone number.”

  Thank God I’d hidden the booze before I left the apartment that morning, because when I returned, it was with an entourage of twelve cops of various types, not to mention Darcy. While the trace team set up some extensions and all their recording equipment, I scurried around picking my underwear up off the floor and other such essential housecleaning chores.

  Patrick had come, too, and I have to admit it gave me a bit of a charge, having him there, in the very place where I sleep and all. I made a resolution-as soon as all these interlopers cleared out of my apartment, I was going to insist that he go out with me. Shameless, I know, but let’s face it-I’m a squeaky wheel.

  And I didn’t want to spend another night alone. Not if I could help it.

  “We’ve added two extensions,” Tony Crenshaw explained, “so we can listen in and make a recording. We’ve also added an open line to Bell’s electronic switching center-ESS-and to humor Agent Chaffee, a hotline to the FBI’s communications room.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. “How long does it take to make a trace these days?”

  “Not as long as you might think. Depends on how the call arrives, but if it comes on all-electronic switches-and if it’s a local call from a residence, it will-we should have it in a minute.”

  “So I have to keep him rambling for sixty seconds.”

  “Not even. We’ve got a tone generator connected to your line. As soon as he calls, we’ll pick up and start tracing-but the tone generator will make a false ringing noise and fake him into believing you haven’t answered. We’ll cut it after four rings-otherwise he might hang up.”

  “So that leaves me with, what? Fifty seconds of talk?”

  “We could have someone else answer. Try to put him on hold.”

  I shook my head. “He won’t buy it. He may be crazy, but he’s also smart.”

  “Fine. After the fourth ring, click the interrupt button quickly to simulate the sound of the phone picking up. Then start talking.”

  “Don’t seem too eager to chat,” Patrick said. “He’ll get suspicious.”

  I agreed. “I think I can keep him talking. He’s concocted this brilliant scheme-in his eyes-but has no one to appreciate it. He wants me to be his audience. Who better to appreciate what you’ve done than the police officer who’s trying to catch you? He wants my admiration.” I gave Patrick a sly smile. “But I’ll make him work for it.”

  Darcy sidled up beside me. “I think sometimes people’s voices on the phone sound scary. Do you think sometimes people’s voices on the phone sound scary?”

  I patted his shoulder reassuringly. “I can handle it.”

  His father cut in. “Darcy, why don’t you catch the bus home? Susan is very busy right now.”

  Darcy frowned, then started stuttering again. “I-I-I would rather stay with Susan, I think. If-if-if-” He swallowed. “If you get scared, Susan, I’ll talk to him for you.”

  My eyes got strangely itchy. “Thanks, Darce. Appreciate it.” Which I did, especially given how scared he was of the voice on the other end of the line.

  After that, we sat around and stared at the phone. We had no idea when he might call. I wished I’d bought the latest Cosmo or something. My new apartment was distinctly short on reading materials, other than that Collected Poe. All my books were still packed up in boxes. It occurred to me that Darcy could probably recite any number of books to me from memory, but I declined to ask.

  “Remember this,” Patrick said, “next time you’re asked to talk about the glamorous and exciting world of law enforcement.”

  I laughed. “When I finally lose the rest of these chumps,” I said, “wanna go out and get-” I checked myself. “A sandwich?”

  He beamed back a smile filled with potential. “I’d like that.”

  “It’s a date,” I said, just in case there was any doubt about the direction I was heading. Before I could elaborate, the phone rang.

  We all stared at each other. This was it. This was really it.

  The machine picked up the line and the tone generator kicked in. I patiently waited for four rings. Crenshaw gave me the signal. Then I clicked the interrupt, took a deep breath, and spoke.

  “Hello. Susan speaking.”

  “Hey, Suze. Whatcha been up to?”

 
; Breath poured out of me like a deflated balloon. It was Lisa.

  “Haven’t seen you today.”

  “Well… I’ve been busy. O’Bannon is working me like a plantation owner.”

  “Want me to come over?”

  “I do, but the problem is-” I glanced at O’Bannon. He gave me the okay. “I’m currently surrounded by about a dozen police officers.”

  “What? What’s going on?”

  “I can’t go into it now. How about I meet you for breakfast tomorrow? Krispy Kremes sound good?”

  “I could live with that. Eight too early?”

  “See you then.” I hung up the phone and stared out into a sea of irritated faces. “Well, forgive me for having friends.”

  And then we all sat down to wait some more.

  After another hour or so, Patrick excused himself so he could review the security detail. I felt like I was probably safe at the moment, since I was surrounded by half the Vegas police force, but whatever. Maybe he just wanted to stretch his legs.

  I killed time by showing Darcy the two card tricks I had learned in Brownies about twenty-five years ago. The problem was, he could always see how it was done. In fact, after watching it once, he could duplicate the trick himself.

  “Hey, Chief,” I said, “did you know you have a potential cardsharp on your hands? I could see him running a three-card monte operation on the Strip.”

  O’Bannon grunted.

  We were all having a perfectly merry time-when the phone rang. Tone generator, four rings, and then I was on.

  “Hello. Susan speaking.”

  “Did you enjoy my gift?”

  I closed my eyes and tried to focus. Friendly, but not too eager. Don’t challenge him. “It got my attention. I think the forensic lab will probably have more fun with it than I did.”

  “They won’t learn anything.”

  “You never know.”

  “What are you doing, Susan? You’re not falling back into bad habits, are you?”

  What the hell was that supposed to mean? “Just spending a quiet evening at home.”

  He chuckled. Actually chuckled. “I rather doubt that.”

  “So what are you up to, anyway? Why are you doing this?”

  “I can’t tell you. You’re not ready.”

  “Aw, please. Fill me in. So I can appreciate what you’re doing.”

  “You’re very clever, Susan. If you open your mind, you will find the truth. I only have time to tell you this: you would look beautiful in neon.” And then the phone went dead.

  I checked my watch. Thirty seconds, tops.

  I looked at Crenshaw. He was on one of the extensions, talking to the switching center. “Did we get a fix?”

  After a few moments, he put down the phone. “No.”

  Granger pounded a fist into his palm. “Nothing at all?”

  “It’s local. We’re sure of that. But we don’t know where he is.” He looked at me sadly. “I think we should leave the recorder on and the equipment in place. In case he calls again.”

  “Sure,” I said. “But he won’t. He’s already accomplished what he wanted.”

  “We’ll get that tape recording to the sound lab. See what they can tell us.”

  “And then?” Patrick asked.

  “Then,” I said, “we have to figure out what he meant by that gibberish about the truth. And that crack about me looking good in neon.”

  “It was just bullshit,” Granger said. “He was flirting with you.”

  “Maybe, but I don’t think so.”

  “Then what?” O’Bannon asked.

  Good question. I fell back against my sofa and thought a good long while before answering. “It was a clue. To whatever he wants us to find next.”

  This was a new experience for me. Being at a bar-The White Feather-but not ordering a drink. It was almost as seedy as Gordy’s, but it was near my apartment, and they served sandwiches as well as libations.

  The three of us found a table-Darcy tagged along-and I ordered a club soda. Patrick relaxed as soon as I placed my nonalcoholic drink order. Maybe Darcy did, too. I felt proud of myself. I’d passed the test.

  And periodically, as needed, I excused myself to powder my nose. And safe within the confines of a stall with the door closed, I took a deep swig from the flask tucked inside my jacket. Crunched a few Altoids and I was back in action.

  As I passed by the bar on my way back to our table, this guy leaned backward from his bar stool and blocked my path. He was big and black and had a shaved head. He couldn’t have exuded more testosterone if he’d poured a bottle of it over his head.

  “What you doin’ in a dive like this, Susan?”

  I gave him a look. I knew him from somewhere… the courtroom, that was it. He was a bail bondsman. He’d made a few passes at me through the years; I’d never given him the time of day. I thought his name was Jake, but I wasn’t sure enough to give it a try. “Just drinking in the atmosphere.”

  “I think you came lookin’ for me.”

  “Do you now?”

  “Yeah. Me, or somebody like me.” He had a laconic, deliberate way of speaking that set my teeth on edge.

  “Well, you’re wrong. I’m with someone. Two someones, actually.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “Yeah, positive.”

  He gave me a look I didn’t like at all. “You change your mind, you come back and see me, okay? I’ll give you what you want. I’ll make you feel alive.”

  Jesus Christ, some guys. I pushed past him and returned to my seat.

  “You’ve changed your perfume,” Darcy said upon my return.

  Was he talking about Chanel No. 5 again? Or did he know what I’d been doing in the ladies’ room? The kid was a damn bloodhound. “Yeah. I prefer something smokier when I’m out at night.”

  “What do you think he meant?” Patrick asked. He was nursing black coffee, but oddly enough Darcy hadn’t given him the lecture on the evils of caffeine. “That crack about neon.”

  I waved my hand, smiling, my eyebrows arched provocatively, leaning forward. I didn’t want to be obvious, but I was feeling pretty bold. Maybe it was the Jack Daniel’s coursing through my system. “I don’t want to talk about business tonight.”

  “Neon is an inert gas,” Darcy informed us. “It’s odorless, colorless, tasteless, nontoxic, and monatomic. In a vacuum tube, neon glows reddish orange. Its chemical symbol is Ne. Its atomic number is ten.”

  “Fascinating,” I said, fluttering my eyelashes, still gazing at Patrick. “But like I said, I don’t want to talk about work.”

  Darcy grew quieter. “I was trying to be useful. It’s the most important thing in life. To be useful.”

  “That’s a lovely sentiment.”

  “John Adams, the second president of the United States, said that in 1814 to his-”

  “Darcy…” I sighed. “It’s late. I appreciate you seeing me here, but this might be a good time for you to head home.”

  “Are you also going home? I’m sure the police officers have left.”

  I ignored him. “I’ll be along. But you should go now. I’ll pick you up early tomorrow morning. We’ll see what we can get out of that phone call. Till then-get some rest.”

  “I never sleep more than four hours a night. Some nights my dad turns out all the lights and I just stare at the clock for hours.”

  “Darcy-” I tried to smile. “There’s a bus stop at the corner. Just turn left outside the door. You can ride it all the way home without changing.”

  He stood, looking uneasy, fidgeting with his hands. “Do you think that you will be all right?”

  Adorable. I was amazed at how much affection I felt for him, after knowing him only a short while. But I wasn’t going to get laid with him around. “I can take care of myself, Darcy. Good night.”

  “ ’Night.” He stumbled out of the bar, glancing back at me over his shoulder.

  “Cute kid, huh?” Patrick said, sipping his coffee. “And what
a memory.”

  “Yeah. Incredible.” I leaned forward. Had I remembered to unbutton the top button of my shirt? “I don’t want to talk about him, either.”

  “Indeed. What do you want to talk about?”

  I leaned in even closer. “Come to think of it, I don’t really want to talk at all.”

  “I’m astonished.” My God, but he was sexy up close. Or far away. Or with a paper bag over his head. “I was told you were very aggressive.”

  “Me? I’m a pushover. Try me.” Just another inch, and my lips were planted firmly on his. They tasted sweet. I’d almost forgotten. He put his hand at the base of my neck and sent tingles radiating up and down my spine. This was going to be good. I knew this was going to be good.

  “What do you want?” he whispered to me.

  “I want to feel… something different,” I said, peering into his beautiful blues. “I want to feel like I’m really alive. Not just going through the motions.” Enough with the damn talking. I pressed my lips against his and we didn’t come up for air for a good long while. I didn’t care who saw or what they thought. I needed this. I needed this.

  “Come home with me,” I said finally. “Or I’ll go with you. Whatever’s closer. What’d’ya say?”

  He looked at me a long moment. His expression alone was sufficient to convey everything I needed to know. Everything I didn’t want to hear. “No, I can’t.”

  “But-I thought you felt like-”

  “I do.”

  “Then come on.” I snaked my hand between his legs and gave him a squeeze in a strategically chosen area. “I’ll make it worth your while. It’ll be great. Promise.”

  “I know it would,” he said, pushing my hand away. “But you’d hate me in the morning.”

  “Don’t be dumb. I-”

  “You would. You’d be embarrassed and ashamed and regretful. We wouldn’t be able to work together anymore.”

  “Are you saying-we can’t ever-”

  “No. I’m just saying it’s too soon.” He stood. “I think it’s best if I go.”

  “Please-”

  He took my hand. “You’ll be glad. Later.”