Houston, 2030

by Mike McKay

  Chapter 21

  Precisely at eight-thirty in the morning Mark's phone rang with the dedicated Police tone.

  “Mark Pendergrass.”

  “Mister Pendergrass, Deputy Kim here. The GRS.” Oh, no, Mark thought. Not two bodies in the woods again. As the second week was passing since the previous kill, he became more and more nervous. Although, the last evening it was still raining, so there was a hope…

  “Mister Pendergrass, our Kate-on-Skate, she believes she dug out something of importance.” Kate-on-Skate. Oh, we were not shy anymore, Mark smiled to himself. He was ready to listen to any crazy idea. All better than driving to investigate a new crime scene and then leave FBI in a hurry.

  “Jus' gimme the goddamn phone!” he heard in the set, then Kate's voice: “Mister Pendergrass, sorry. We are fighting over the handset… This is Kate Bowen.”

  “How are you, Kate?”

  “All great, thanks, sir. Sorry: Mark. Why I'm calling, I think I got something for you… Only, Kim says, it's garbage.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I was going over those old reports… It was raining, so I can't walk the Loop most of the time. Well, I can't walk it at any time. Should I say: ‘do the Loop?’ This Texan talk is funny… Anyway. There is one particular report I would like you to check, Mark. I have entered it already. Do you have a pen?”

  Mark confirmed, and Kate dictated him the database ID. In seconds, Mark had the report open at his screen. What he saw made him jump in his chair.

  “Kate, please inform Deputy Kim that if he calls this ‘garbage’ once again, I'll ask the Russian Bear to swing by your beat and give the deputies an extra lesson of self-defense. With all the bells and whistles! This is not garbage, big time.”

  “Kim, did you get that?” Kate's voice sounded victorious.

  “Now, Kate, you have the victims' addresses and phones here. Do you know if they still can be reached?”

  “Yes, Mark. I phoned them this morning. Linda Cherby, one of the victims. Now she calls herself Linda Espinoso. Kind of married, to the second victim, although the marriage is not officially registered. Linda is at home. They changed the address since the incident, but the cell phone is still the same.”

  “Kim, are you listening?”

  “Yes, sir! We are on the speaker.”

  “Get on your bike. I will meet you at the corner of the King and Garret. Now!”

  Mark hung up and rushed to his bike. He bumped into the Station Chief.

  “It seems Santa gave you all your Christmas presents half-year early,” Ben commented.

  “About right. We may very well have a case number zero in the Butcher investigation, Ben. I will spare you the details. Don't spook my luck away.”

  “I will personally strangulate anyone who tries to spook your luck, Mark. Bring me the good news, dude.”

  Mark pushed his bike hard, barely touching the seat with his buttocks. Finally! Finally! There was something! Perhaps, this would give them the exact time reference, or some extra insight on the killer's identity. Or this time the serial killer made a mistake. Both victims survived, so the attack did not go by the Butcher's plan…

  As they agreed, Kim was waiting with his bike at the intersection. But he was not alone. Kate waved to Mark from the bike's cargo platform.

  “I could not just sit and wait in the office, sir. So exiting! It's my first Police investigation! Could I?”

  “Well, Kate, this will be a formal Police interview. I am afraid, civilians are not allowed.”

  “I thought it's OK, sir,” Kim said apologetically. “Kate is practically a Police employee now. Well, the papers are not through yet, but she is this close.” He demonstrated with his fingers that Kate was about two inches away from being in the Police officially.

  “Really?” Mark did not believe it would happen so fast. Only yesterday morning he had a short talk with Ben, hinting that the document clerk position must be created in the Garret Road Slum Beat. The Station Chief nodded and promised to make few calls, but he was not too optimistic about the success.

  “Well, last afternoon, I suddenly receive a call from the Downtown HR. They ask for Kate's CV. But it's just a formality, they said. They had her military record already, from the Navy. Half an hour later, they sent me an application form for her to fill. She is hired!”

  “Wow! That's what I call fast! Did they mention the pay?”

  “Yep. Two hundred and ten, pre-tax,” Kate smiled.

  “Two hundred and ten per day? Not bad.”

  “No, Mark. This is per week. Because it's a part-time position. I am not supposed to work for more than twenty hours each week.”

  “Cheap scoundrels! The document clerk's salary is four times that.” The extra-low pay explained the HR quickness. They received an objective this year to reduce the average rate. Obviously, in case of a legless vet, all the negotiation leverage was on their side. The goddamn ‘Social Optimum’ once again, Mark observed.

  “Well, a half-time multiplied by a half-girl… Exactly one-fourth. No complains. Working twenty hours per week, nothing prevents me from taking my red bucket and doing my Loop, after all.”

  “You know what, Kate?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “If your discovery works out today, you can ask Sheriff's Office for a pay raise. Right away.”

  Kim led the way towards the heart of the Garret Road Slum. Soon they had to dismount the bikes and push them along the muddy footpaths. “Here it is,” Kim pointed to a clumsy shack constructed from old furniture, cardboard, and old tires. He knocked on the resemblance of the entrance door. “Missis Espinoso? This is Police…”

  The door opened, and a heavily pregnant teenage girl appeared in the frame. With all possible effort, Mark could not make himself to call her a woman, – by the looks, she was anywhere between fourteen and sixteen. This pregnancy was obviously not her first – she held a naked toddler girl in her arms. Why the heck the youngsters were so in-hurry to make babies nowadays, Mark scratched his head. Perhaps, the locally made rag and wooden dolls were not as good as the factory-produced plastic baby toys of the pre-Meltdown time?

  “Good morning. Missis Linda Espinoso?” Kim asked.

  “Sure thing. Espinoso, who else?”

  “May we come in?”

  “Oh… Yeah. You're Police, sure thing. Only – sorry, it's, like, messy. We don't have no space… I guess, it's OK…” Mark mentioned how the girl's eyes trimmed on the space below Kate's truncated body, and how the girl pretended she was not even looking.

  Kate put her elbow over the bike seat, slid from the cargo platform, and reached the ground. She did not have the skate with her, just the wooden blocks. Confidently smacking muddy ground with her blocks, she crawled towards the door and swung her body inside. Kim and Mark followed, leaving their bikes at the door. Typical for this overcrowded slum, there was not much room at all. The king-size bed, with a dirty blanket and a couple of pillows, occupied almost all the space. It did not help that the shack was clattered with clothes, pots, baby's bottles, packs of recycled paper and other stuff. Mark, as the most senior of the three guests, was given the only stool in the room. Kim and Mrs. Espinoso sat on the bed. Kate decided not to add more dirt to the blanket with her muddy shorts, politely refused to join Kim at the bed, and remained at the filthy linoleum floor.

  “I called you this morning, Mrs. Espinoso,” Kate started after some introductions. “That case two years ago… You have reported an attempted robbery, right?”

  “Sure thing, we did. But like, we weren't robbed at all. The man ran away. Sure thing. Actually, I, like, convinced Pedro to go to the Police. There was no nothing.”

  “I have read the Police report, and I do believe you can help the FBI with one very difficult case ma'am,” Mark insisted. “Any details you can recall…”

  “Sure thing, any details. No prob, sir. I, like, remember it quite clearly, Mister Per… Pendigus. Please ask, like, anything.”

  “Please
tell us the entire thing, slowly. I will ask questions if something not clear.”

  “So we were, like, in the woods. Having fun. With Pedro. We're, like, dating back then… 'bout half a year. He was, like, just back. From the Army, sure thing. My Pa, like: no way you marry. You are thirteen! I don't let you! And I, like: take a hike, dad! All my friends, like, slept with boys already! I am no stupid… Never mind. So we had to… you know… do it in the woods as everybody else. So we found, like, a nice place. Yeah. Very private, can't see from the road, sure thing… There's a clearing, like, crossing at the Garret Road? Where the power line used to be? Then, ‘strippers’ cut the poles, like, for scrap. And the bushes went quite tall, very cool…”

  She must be exactly fifteen now, Mark calculated. And having her second baby. How wonderful.

  “I went to the place,” Kim confirmed, simultaneously playing with the touch screen of his phone. “Here. Only on the sat photo they still have the power line and no bushes. Too old.”

  The woman looked at the screen and nodded. “Looking 'bout right, sir. I'm, like, no good with the maps… So, me and Pedro, we were coming to the bushes every other night or so, to have fun… That night, like, everything was usual. I left from home at 'bout half past eight. Told Ma, like, I'll be with my friends. From work. I worked in a tailor shop… Sure thing, before the first baby…”

  “Do you remember the date?”

  “Sure thing. April. Like, fifteenth or sixteenth. Not sure.”

  “The report was marked at eleven thirty PM on the sixteenth,” Kate reminded from the floor. “Did you submit on the same day?”

  “Sure thing, the same day. When else?” The pregnant girl glanced again at the space below Kate's body and pretended she did not look.

  “So it was April the sixteenth, 2028.” Right, Mark thought. Just over two years ago, and two months before their first reported case.

  “So we were in the bush. The usual, kissing, little fun. Getting ready to… you know… And that man, like, jumps out. From the bush! And he, like, got a knife…”

  “The knife. Was it in his right hand or left hand?”

  “Sure thing, it was in his hand. Where else? His right hand, as normal.”

  “What kind of knife?”

  “Like, the usual knife. The Army knife. Like, everybody have such knives.” She rose from the bed and made two heavy steps towards the tiny dinner table at the window. “Yeah, sure thing. This kind of knife. What else?” She held the standard-issue Army knife, battered and thin from the prolonged use, but still recognizable.

  “That man. How did he look like? Tall, short? Do you remember his face?”

  “Not too tall. And not, like, short. Average. Sure thing. Five -eight, yeah. Five-eight. Or five-nine. But well built. Like, pumping the weights. Big arms.”

  “How was he dressed?”

  “Like, tank top. Black. Pants… Sure thing. Like, military, but not standard. Not, like, the field uniform. The standard pants – I'd know them. Like this. Easy. We used to modify them, – in the tailor shop.”

  “The face, do you remember the man's face?”

  “Sure thing. I am no stupid. Like, a normal face. A bit thin. Dark hair. The face I, like, don't remember too well. I'm, like, look'n at the knife, like, all the time. What did I, like, forgot at his face?”

  “Was he White? Hispanic? Black? Asian?”

  “Sure thing. White. He was White. As I said: a normal face. Or maybe a Latino. But – the type, like, very close to a White.”

  “What about his nose? Lips? Eye color, by chance? Beard, mustache?”

  “Nose? Normal nose. Usual. Sorry sir. I don't remember no nose. And his eye color I, like, couldn't see anyway. It was, like, too dark. And he didn't have no beard. No beard, and no mustache, sure thing.”

  “What was the man's age, by your guess?”

  “Sure thing, he was old.”

  “Old?”

  “Sure thing. Old. What, young? No, he wasn't no young. Old, as I said. Well, not as old as you…”

  Thanks, Mark thought, now I had been defined as being old. Indeed, for this busy teenage mom, any man past her husband's age would be in the ‘old’ category. He pointed to Kim and Kate. “Would you say, the man was about the Deputy Kim's age or about the Miss Bowen's age?”

  The girl looked down, again carefully avoiding Kate's missing legs.

  “Older. Older than the Deputy. Looked like thirty. Sure thing, thirty. Or thirty-five. Not sure.”

  “OK, anything else unusual about the man?”

  “Sure thing. The gloves, sir. He was wearing, like, the Mickey's gloves.” She pointed at the wall above the bed. The plastic Mickey Mouse clock was happily showing time.

  “What about his feet? Was he in sandals or in boots?”

  “Sure thing. Not sandals. Shoes. Like, sporty type. Light. Not sure. As I said, I was look'n at the knife. What I forgot at his shoes?”

  “Light shoes? Do you mean the color? Or weight?”

  “Color, sir. What else? But they were no heavy shoes either. Sporty, jus' as I said.”

  “OK. So what happened next?”

  “As I said, Pedro was in the Army. He was, like, a normal soldier. Yeah, an Infantry, what else? But he had, like, some special ops training, for four months… He, like, saw the man. With the knife. And, like: bang! Jumped to his feet! And that man… with the knife. He also: bang! And jumped… Like, to our left. And ran away. To the bushes! Pedro, like: I'll catch the sucker and cut his balls off! And I, like: ya what? Bananas? No way! I didn't want to stay alone in the woods. I am no stupid!”

  “How far was the man, when Pedro jumped up?”

  “Ten feet. Sure thing. Ten, twelve feet.”

  “And you decided to report this to the Police?”

  “Sure thing. I, like, told Pedro: let's go report the man. He's, like, dangerous. May kill somebody, or something. And Pedro, like: he isn't no dangerous! Pedro said, if this ass-hole comes back, he said, I take his own knife and stick it to his own ass. No sweat! And I, like: what are you? A superhero? The Beat's on the way. Jus' tell the Police, and they will catch the guy, OK? Let's have some fun now, and then go tell the Police! So we had some fun. Then, went to the Beat, and this officer, like, wrote the report…”

  “I remember writing this down,” Kim admitted. “But frankly, before today, I saw absolutely no connection between this man with the knife and your case. Perhaps, only the knife. But everybody has the same, right?”

  “Pedro. He is now your husband?”

  “Sure thing. My husband, sir. We went to the church!”

  “Is Pedro strong? Well-built?” Mark asked. Interesting to see the priest who agreed to do the ceremony for these two, Mark thought. Did he even ask about the bride's age? Well, all the indications hinted the teenager came to the church with a nine-month belly. ‘The groom may now kiss the bride. And the bride can now lie down and deliver,’ Mark smiled for himself.