Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance

by Patterson, James

  Weiscz barely acknowledged me. His legs were fastened and his hands tightly cuffed behind the chair. His eyes had a steely inhuman quality to them.

  “I'm Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer,” I said, stopping about five feet from him.

  Weiscz said nothing, only tilted his eyes toward me. Narrow, almost phosphorescent slits.

  “I need to talk to you about some murders that have taken place. I can't promise you much. I'm hoping you'll hear me out. Maybe help.”

  “Blow me,” he spat with a hoarse voice.

  The guard took a step toward him, and Weiscz stiffened as if he'd taken a jolt from the taser. I put up my hand to hold him back.

  “You may know something about them,” I continued, a chill shooting down my spine. “I just want to know if they make sense to you. These killings... ”

  Weiscz looked at me curiously probably trying to size up if there was something he could get from this. “Who's dead?”

  “Four people. Two cops. One was my chief of police. A widow and an eleven-year-old girl. All black.” An amused smile settled over Weiscz's face. “In case you haven't noticed, lady, my alibi's airtight.”

  “I'm hoping you may know something about them, then.”

  “Why me?”

  From my jacket pocket, I took out the same two chimera photos I had shown Estes and held them in front of his face.

  “The killer's been leaving these behind. I believe you know what it means.”

  Weiscz grinned broadly. “I don't know what you came in here for, but you don't fucking know how that warms my heart.”

  “The killer's a Chimera, Weiscz. You cooperate, you could gain back some privileges. They can always move you out of this hole.”

  “Both of us know I'll never get out of this hole.”

  “There's always something, Weiscz. Everybody wants something.”

  “There is something,” he finally said. “Come closer.”

  My body stiffened. “I can't. You know that.”

  “You got a mirror, don't you?”

  I nodded. I had a makeup mirror in my purse.

  “Shine it on me.”

  I looked at the guard. His head twitched a firm no.

  For the first time, Weiscz looked in my eyes. “Shine it on me. I haven't seen myself in over a year. Even the shower fixtures are dulled here so you can't see a reflection. These bastards just want you to forget who the fuck you were. I want to see.”

  The guard stepped forward. “You know that's impossible, Weiscz.”

  “Fuck you, Labont.” He glared viciously up at the cameras.

  “Fuck you, too, Estes.” Then he turned back to me. “They didn't send you in here with much to bargain with, did they?”

  “They said I could take you out for a Happy Meal,” I said with a slight smile.

  “Just you and me, huh?”

  I glanced at the guard. “And him.”

  Weiscz's goatee split into a smile. “These bastards, they know how to ruin everything.”

  I stood there nervously. I didn't laugh. I didn't want to show the slightest empathy for him.

  But I sat myself at the table across from Weiscz. I fumbled in my bag, took out a compact. I expected any minute a loud voice was going to blare over the intercom, or the stone-faced guard was going to rush over and knock it away. To my amazement, no one interfered. I cracked the compact open, looked at Weiscz, then I turned it toward him.

  I don't know what he looked like before, but he was a horrific sight now. He stared at himself, wide-eyed, the truth of his harsh confinement setting in. He fixed on the mirror as if it were the last thing he would see on earth. Then he looked at me and grinned. “Not much to go on, for that blow-me thing, is there?”

  I don't know why but I gave him a begrudging smile.

  Then he twisted his neck around to the cameras. “Fuck you, Estes,” he roared. "See? I'm still there. You try to squeeze me out, but I'm still there. The reckoning is going on without me. Chimera, baby... Glory to the unstained hand who stills the rabble and swarm.

  “Who would do this?” I pressed. “Tell me, Weiscz.” He knew I knew he knew. Someone he had shared a cell with.

  Someone he had traded histories with in a prison yard.

  "Help me, Weiscz. Someone you know is killing these people. You've got nothing to gain anymore.

  His eyes lit up with a sudden fury. “You think I give a shit about your dead niggers? Your dead cops? Soon the state will be gathering them up anyway. Putting them in pens. A twelve-year-old nigger whore, some monkeys dressed up as cops. I only wish it was my finger on the trigger. We both know, whatever I say to you, I'll never get as much as a second meal out of these bastards. The minute you leave, Labont's gonna stun me anyway. There's a better chance you'll suck my dick.”

  I shook my head, stood up, and motioned for the door.

  “Maybe one of your own assholes has come to his senses,” he yelled with a smirk. “Maybe that's what it was, an inside job.”

  A tremor of rage burned through me. Weiscz was an animal. There wasn't an ounce of humanity in him. All I wanted to do was slam the door in his face. “I did give something to you, even if it was for a moment,” I said.

  “And don't be so sure you didn't get something in return. You'll never catch him. He's Chimera... ” Weiscz jerked his head down to his chest, pointing at a tattoo high on his shoulder. All I could make out was the tail of a snake. “We can endure as much as you can dish, copper lady. Look at me... They stuff me in this hellhole, they make me eat my own shit, but I can still win.” Suddenly, he was loud and angry again, twisting at his restraints. “Victory comes in the end. God's grace is the white race. Long live Chimera.”

  I moved away from him, and Weiscz twisted defiantly.

  “So what about that Happy Meal, bitch?”

  As I got to the door, I heard a zap followed by a garbled grunt, and turned as the guard pumped a thousand watts into Weiscz's twitching chest.

  Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance

  Chapter 61

  WE CAME BACK TO TOWN with a few names, courtesy of Estes. Recent parolees thought to be members of Chimera.

  Back at the Hall, Jacobi parceled out the list to Cappy and Chin.

  “I'm gonna start calling a few PQ's,” he said to me. "You want to join?

  I shook my head. "I have to leave early, Warren.

  “Whatsamatter, don't tell me you got a date?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. No doubt my face sort of lit into an incredulous smile. “I've got a date.”

  The downstairs buzzer rang about seven.

  When I opened the door, my father was peeking out from behind a catcher's mask, his hands outstretched in a defensive pose. “Friends...?” he asked, an apologetic smile sneaking through.

  “Dinner... ” I smiled begrudgingly “That's the best I can do.” “That's a start,” he said, stepping in. He had cleaned himself up. He was wearing a brown sport jacket, pressed pants, an open-collared white shirt. He handed me a bottle of red wine wrapped in paper.

  “You didn't have to,” I said, unfurling the wine, then gasping in surprise as I read the label. It was a first-growth Bordeaux, Chateau Latour, the year 1965. I looked at him; 1965 was the year I was born.

  “I bought it a year after you were born. It was about the only thing I took with me when I left. I always figured we'd drink it on your graduation or something, maybe your wedding.”

  “You kept it all these years.” I shook my head.

  He shrugged. “Like I said, I bought it for you. Anyway, Lindsay, there's nothing I'd rather do than drink it here tonight.”

  Something warm rose inside me. "You're making it hard to continue to completely hate you.

  “Don't hate me, Lindsay.” He tossed me the catcher's mask.

  “This doesn't fit. I don't ever want to have to use it again.”

  I took him into the living room, poured him a beer, and sat down. I had on a wine-colored Eileen Fisher sweater, my hair pulled up in a
ponytail. His eyes seemed to twinkle at me.

  “You look gorgeous, Buttercup,” my father said.

  When I scowled, he smiled. “I can't help it, you just do.”

  For a while we talked, Martha lying beside him as if he were an old friend. We talked about trivial things, things we knew. Who was left from his old cronies on the force. Cat, and her new daughter he hadn't seen. Whether Jerry Rice would call it quits. We skirted the subject of Mercer and the case.

  And as if I were meeting someone for the first time, I found him different from what I imagined. Not garrulous and boastful and full of stories as I remembered, but humble and reserved. Almost contrite. And he still had his sense of humor.

  “I've got something to show you,” I said. I went into the hall closet and came back with the satin Giants baseball jacket he'd given me over twenty-five years before. It was embroidered with a number 24 and had the name Mays on the front chest.

  My father's eyes flashed in surprise. “I'd forgotten about that. I got it from the equipment manager in nineteen sixty-eight.” He held it in front of him and looked at it a long time, like an old relic that had made the past suddenly vivid. “You have any idea what that thing must be worth today?” “I always called it my inheritance,” I told him.

  Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance

  Chapter 62

  I DID SALMON on the grill in a ginger-miso sauce, fried rice with peppers, leeks, and peas. I remembered that my father liked Chinese. We cracked the '65 Latour. It was a dream wine, silky and gemlike. We satin the alcove overlooking the bay. My father said it was the best bottle of wine he'd ever tasted.

  The conversation gradually drifted toward more personal things. He asked what kind of man I had been married to, and I admitted, unfortunately, someone like himself. He asked if I resented him, and I had to tell him the truth. “Yeah. A lot, Dad.” Gradually, we even talked about the case. I told him how tough it was to solve, how I held it against myself that I couldn't crack it. How I was sure it was a serial, but four murders into the case, I still had nothing.

  We talked for three more hours, until after eleven, the wine bottle empty, Martha asleep at his feet. Every once in a while I had to remind myself that I was talking to my own father. That I was sitting across from him for the first time in my adult life. And slowly, I began to see. He was just a man who had made mistakes, and who had been punished for them. He was no longer someone I could blindly resent, or hate. He hadn't murdered anybody. He wasn't Chimera. By the standards I dealt with, his sins were forgivable.

  Gradually, I could no longer hold back the question I'd been wanting to ask for so many years. “I have to know the answer to this. Why did you leave?”

  He took a swallow of wine and leaned back against the couch. His blue eyes looked so sad. “There's nothing I could say that would make sense of it to you. Not now... You're a grown woman. You're on the force. You know how things get. Your mother and I... Let's just say we were never a good match, even for the old school. I had squandered most of what we had on the games. I had a lot of debts, borrowed money on the street. That's not exactly kosher for a cop. I did a lot of things I wasn't very proud of... as a man and as a cop.”

  I noticed his hands were trembling. “You know how sometimes, someone commits a crime simply because the situation gets so bad that one by one, the options just close off and they're unable to do anything else? That's how it was for me. The debts, what was going on on the job... I didn't see any other choice. I just left. I know it's a little late to say this, but I've regretted it every day of my life.”

  "And when Mom got sick.

  “I was sorry when she got sick. But by then I had a new life, and no one made it seem like I was welcome to come back. ”I thought it would hurt her more than help.“ ”I know Mom always told me you were a pathological liar."

  “That's the truth, Lindsay,” my father said. I liked the way he admitted it. I liked my father, actually.

  I had to get up, shift gears. I started taking the dishes into the kitchen. My chest was heaving. I felt like I might be going to cry. My father was back, and I was starting to realize how much I had missed him. In a crazy way I still wanted to be his girl.

  My father helped with the dishes. I rinsed them off, and he loaded them in the dishwasher. We barely said a word. My whole body was vibrating.

  When the dishes were done, we just sort of turned and met each other's eyes. “So where're you staying? ” I asked.

  “With an ex-cop buddy of mine, Ron Fazio. He used to be a district sergeant out in Sunset. He's got me on his couch.”

  I washed out a pasta pot. “I have a couch,” I said.

  Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance

  Chapter 63

  ALL THE FOLLOWING DAY we pounded on the list of names Warden Estes and his people had given us. Two we crossed off immediately. A computer check indicated they had become re-associated with the California penal system, currently residing in other institutions.

  Something Weiscz had said the day before had stuck in my head.

  “I gave you something,” I had said, as the convict raved about the white race.

  “And I gave you something back,” he had replied. The words hung in my mind. They had first hit me at two in the morning, and I rolled back to sleep. They had accompanied me on my morning drive. And they were still with me now. I gave you something back."

  I slipped my feet out of my pumps and stared out my window at the freeway ramp starting to back up with traffic. I tried to retrace my encounter with Weiscz.

  He was an animal who never had a chance of seeing the light of day. Still, I felt there had almost been a moment with him, a bond. All he wanted in that hellhole was to see what he looked like. I gave you something back.

  So what did he give me?

  “You think I give a shit about your dead niggers?” he had seethed. “Long live Chimera,” he had hollered as they put him under.

  Then, slowly, my mind settled on it.

  “Maybe one of your own assholes has come to his senses. Maybe that's what it was, an inside job.” -

  I didn't know if I had gone off the deep end or what. Was I reaching for something that wasn't there? Was Weiscz actually telling me something he could never be held accountable for?

  An inside job... I dialed Estes at Pelican Bay. “Any of your inmates up there ever been an ex-cop?” I asked.

  “A cop.” The warden paused.

  “Yeah.” I explained why I wanted to know.

  “Excuse my French,” Estes shot back, “but Weiscz was fucking with you. He was trying to get inside your head. The bastard hates cops.”

  “You didn't answer my question, Warden.”

  “A cop...?” Estes grunted a derisive snort.

  "We had a bad narcotics inspector out of LA., Bellacora.

  Shot three of his informants. But he was transferred out. To my knowledge, he's still in Fresno." I remembered reading about the Bellacora case. It was as dirty and low as law enforcement got.

  “We had a customs inspector, Benes, who on the side was running a dope ring at San Diego Airport.”

  “Anyone else?”

  “No, not in my six years.”

  “What about before that, Estes?”

  He grunted impatiently. “How far back do you want me to go, Lieutenant?”

  “How long has Weiscz been there?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “Then that's how far.”

  It was clear the warden thought I was crazy. He hung up saying he would have to get back to me.

  I put down the phone. This was wild - trusting Weiscz for anything. He hated cops. I was a cop. He probably hated women, too.

  Suddenly, Karen, my secretary, burst in. She looked stunned. “Jill Bernhardt's assistant just called in. Ms. Bernhardt's collapsed.”

  “Collapsed...?”

  Karen nodded blankly. “She's bleeding. Upstairs. She needs you up there, now.”

  Womans Murder Club 2 - Sec
ond Chance

  Chapter 64

  I RACED DOWN THE HALL to the elevator and then to Jill's office.

  As I charged in, she was on the couch, reclined.

  An EMS team, which had fortunately been at the morgue, was already there. There were towels, bloody towels, stuffed under her dark blue skirt. Her face was averted, but she looked as gray and listless and afraid as I had ever seen her.

  In an instant, it was clear what had happened.

  “Oh, Jill,” I said, kneeling beside her. “Oh, sweetie. I'm here.”

  She smiled when she saw me, slightly wary and afraid.

  Her normally sharp blue eyes reflected the color of dismal skies. “I lost it, Lindsay,” she said. “I should've quit work. I should've listened to them. To you. I thought I wanted the baby more than anything, but maybe I didn't. I lost it.”

  “Oh, Jill.” I grasped her hand. “It wasn't you. Don't say that. This was medical. There was a chance of this. You knew that going in. There was always this risk.”

  “It was me, Lindsay.” Her eyes suddenly welled with tears.

  “I think I didn't want it badly enough.”

  A female EMS tech asked me to step away, and they hooked Jill up to an IV line and a monitor. My heart went out to her. She was usually so strong and independent. But I had seen a transformation in her; she had looked forward to this baby so much. How did she deserve this?

  “Where's Steve, Jill?” I leaned down to her.

  She sucked in a breath. “Denver. April reached him. He's on his way back.”

  Suddenly, Claire burst into the room. “I came as soon as I heard,” she said. She glanced worriedly at me, then asked the med tech, “What do you have?” She was told that Jill's vitals were good, but she'd lost a lot of blood. When Claire mentioned the baby the technician shook her head.

  “Oh, honey,” Claire clasped Jill's hand, kneeling down.

  “How're you feeling?”