Deceitful Moon

by Rick Murcer

  “That’s enough for me. Let’s impound this unit, and you and Max can tear it apart,” said Manny. “Make the call, Alex.”

  Sophie walked up to the muscular guard, weapon drawn. “Time to start talking, or I’m going to kick the shit out of you. I’m Oriental, and you know what that means. I could Kung Fu your ass in about three seconds.”

  “Easy there, Black Tiger,” urged Manny.

  He turned to the guard. “Last chance. Here or at the station.”

  The big man sighed. “Okay. I don’t know anything for sure. She’s been acting strange since we found the first body three mornings ago.”

  “Like how?”

  “Leaving for a few hours at a time, acting more bitchy than usual. I figured PMS or whatever until . . .” His voice trailed away.

  “Until?”

  The guard shifted his feet and then looked directly into Manny’s eyes. “Until a couple of nights ago when she said something kind of scary.”

  “Go on.”

  “She said the world would be a better place without the pervs that come in here. I laughed, but she didn’t. I don’t think she was foolin’ around. I never saw that much hate in anyone’s face before.” He met Manny’s gaze. “I don’t like you people. I suppose I even loathe some of you, but not like that.”

  Manny nodded. “Anything else?”

  His shoulders slumped, and Manny thought he looked like he’d just sold his mother to Satan. “No. Can I go now?”

  “Yes. Don’t leave town, though.”

  “Good thing you cooperated. You would’ve had to eat from a straw for a month when I was through with you,” sneered Sophie.

  “Whatever.” He climbed into his pickup and left.

  “We need to find Evelyn. I’ll send a couple of units to her house, but I’m betting she won’t be there,” said Manny.

  “Good bet,” agreed Josh.

  “So we know there were at least two members of the club. But the way Stella talked, there were more,” said Josh.

  “The question is how many . . . and who?” asked Sophie.

  “This killing club thing is usually no more than three, in rare cases, four. The psychology of group dynamics says it’s safer, more intimate with a low number. Three to four falls in the arena of a group profile,” said Manny, running his hand through his hair.

  “If you’re right, then we have at least two other not-well bitches?” asked Sophie.

  The ringing of Agent Corner’s phone interrupted the conversation. He looked at the screen. “It’s Chloe calling from the CSU research lab.”

  “Yes?”

  Manny watched as the agent’s face evolved into a “you gotta be kidding me” look. He shook his head and hung up without saying goodbye.

  “What?”

  “You’re right; your town is going damn crazy.” Josh blew out a breath. “There’s been another shooting . . . it’s one of yours.”

  Manny’s heart hit the ground. “Who?”

  “Wymer found Kathy Ross’s body in an alley . . . shot four times.”

  Chapter-57

  The jail-cell door slammed shut. A brilliant vibration rang throughout the tiny basement facility, right through the very roots of his teeth. The guards walked away, laughing at their juvenile attempt at humor. Juvenile to Fredrick Argyle. But he knew from his days as a practicing psychiatrist that boys would be boys, and he was accepting of their behavior—for now. But soon he’d be laughing, and they’d be quaking in their black shoes.

  Argyle rubbed his jaw where the too-tight mask had resided. They thought they had things under control, him under control. The mask, the cold iron shackles that still restricted his movement, and, of course, the sedative they’d administered, were all supposed to calm the savage beast, slay the dragon, and send him to La-La Land.

  Wrong. So VERY wrong.

  They’d emptied the cell block to make room for him, akin to a dangerous animal prepped for a new zoo exhibit.

  No one wanted distractions when they brought him food or when his lawyers came to call. His counselors would invariably recommend that he plea-bargain for a life in a super security prison instead of an extradition to another state that could cost him his life via lethal injection or by someone’s version of Old Sparky. The lawyers didn’t understand either. They were all products of the same convention that governed mortals. But he didn’t fit that convention. Gods couldn’t.

  Fools.

  They all frolicked in a fantasy world that didn’t exist for him. But their awakening was coming. They’d see the light just before they died.

  He stood up and shuffled to his cell door, manacles clanging in soft rhythms. The first red rays of the early morning sun streaked through the window in the adjacent cell like probing fingers, allowing the jagged Lansing skyline to silhouette against the night. He remembered an old saying.

  Red at night, sailor’s delight. Red in the morn, sailors be warned. How appropriate.

  “It’s always good to be home among my people. Always. And I’m so looking forward to the reunion,” he whispered.

  He threw back his head, laughing. .

  Chapter-58

  “What the hell are you doing?” Evelyn Kroll said in a low tone. “You killed Stella, then you shot Ross, not to mention you killed a rookie cop, all in about three hours. You trying to get us fried?”

  The two women sat in the back corner booth of Kewpee’s all-night restaurant, away from prying eyes and ears. Penny savored another bite of cherry pie, put down her fork, and looked back at Evelyn with a puzzling gaze. She liked Evelyn. The girl had a story, and it had struck home with her, enough to have her throw away more than a few lifetime perceptions and embrace the type of justice Evelyn preached. But she sensed the girl was getting weak. Weak wasn’t tolerated.

  Looking at Evelyn and her fear, Penny realized just how strong she had become. How willing Penny was to take care of whatever she deemed necessary to keep her life, her other life, safe—and at any price.

  “Stella and Ross were putting the whole Club in a bad place. Stella was reckless and dangerous. Ross was thinking about doing us both. I could tell by the way she talked to you on the phone,” Penny answered. “Because of them, I almost got caught by Ross’s partner. It’s a good thing Wymer weighs more like a rhino than a gazelle. And frankly, dying or going to jail isn’t on my list of things to do today.” She stared into Evelyn’s face. “How about yours?”

  Evelyn looked away without answering.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Evelyn sat up a little straighter. “I started this thing, and I still believe those perverted bastards should pay. I just didn’t think any of us would die. Maybe worse, get soft. You’re right. We need to keep on track. I think we’re safe for now. But I need to get my car and then not go back to work at the White Kitty, ever.”

  “That’s probably a good idea. Someone could’ve seen you, or maybe one of the other employees doesn’t like your work habits.”

  Evelyn stretched out her hands on the table. “What’s next? Do we lay low?”

  Penny looked at Evelyn’s hands. The cosmetic fingernail was missing from the index finger of her left hand. “For now, I think that’s best. Maybe get you into a motel or a flophouse for a few days. But there are a couple of real sick pricks being released tomorrow, so . . .”

  “You’re probably right,” sighed Evelyn.

  Penny shoved her empty plate forward. “Lost a nail, huh?”

  “Yeah. Not sure where. But I was in such a hurry to get to work. I probably didn’t get it on before I left home.”

  Penny nodded. Or you lost it where someone could find it and ID your stupid ass.

  “Let me give you a ride back to your car. We’ll talk some more later today, after we both get some sleep.”

  After Penny left a twenty on the table, they exited Kewpee’s, putting on leather gloves before they climbed into the stolen Mustang liberated from an all-night parking garage.

  They rode the f
irst ten minutes in silence. Then Evelyn started to cry.

  Penny rolled her eyes. More wood to fan the fire. “What’s your problem?”

  “I was just thinking of what my sister would think of me if she knew.”

  They twisted down a side street, drove a block, and parked under a large, silver maple tree. Turning to Evelyn, she smiled. “She probably wouldn’t clap her hands with joy, but if she’s any kind of sister, she loves you no matter what.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Evelyn let out a breath. “You’re right. Listen, the White Kitty is only a few blocks away. I’m going to walk and clear my head. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Evelyn got out of the car and started walking along the pothole-lined street.

  Penny’s hands gripped the wheel so hard she felt the leather imprint in her fingers.

  What would my sister think? The bimbo is going to cave. That won’t do.

  She started the engine and swung the Mustang around, lights shining bright on Evelyn’s tall frame.

  Evelyn turned to wave and then kept walking.

  She slammed the car in gear and stomped on the accelerator.

  That won’t do at all.

  ***

  The red Mustang smashed into Evelyn, sending her over the hood and off the left side of the windshield. She felt her leg shatter and something go terribly wrong with her hip. Her head throbbed, but she held onto some semblance of consciousness.

  Somehow, she found a way to raise her eyes as her world became as bright as any noonday. The lights were mesmerizing, but not as paralyzing as the stark realization that accompanied the light. She really had no time to be afraid. Evelyn grasped the gold cross around her neck and held tight.

  The last thing she saw was the wide, black tire inches from her face.

  Chapter-59

  Manny stood outside the yellow tape, arms crossing his chest, staring at the flashing blues and reds emanating from the squad cars, wondering how things could get worse. Two cops in one night: one with a bright future, the other living her dream of being a detective. Each one snuffed at the whim of a heartless killer riding an agenda every cop dreaded: vigilantes-r-us.

  He’d sent Wymer home with a couple of blues and ordered them to watch him until the department shrink could get there. The man was such a mess that he hadn’t eaten in an hour.

  Frank had sat on the curb in front of the alley mumbling and apologizing over and over. “Manny, I’m sorry. We broke protocol. It’s my fault. It’s my fault. She’s dead and it’s my fault . . . those rats . . . those damned rats.”

  He’d heard very few people as distraught as the rotund detective. His despair was the kind that ran just the other side of spooky. Detectives had quit the force for less, much less.

  Max and Alex were in the process of taking apart Evelyn Kroll’s car while Sophie, Chloe, and Josh were headed to Evelyn’s apartment to see what they could find that would add more light to the twisted past three days. They were all to meet him back at the forensics lab where Buzzy Dancer had been called in to decode Ross’s cell phone’s memory card. Maybe the call that the woman was on before Frank interrupted her would lead to something, someone. Too many pieces to the puzzle, leading to everywhere and nowhere. And how did Ross’s murder fit into all of this?

  But that is the question, isn’t it? Was Ross killed because she got too close to one of the Justice Club members, or was it some random coincidence?

  Sophie and Agent Corner respected his wish to spend some time away to think. He worked better when he could step back and escape the hurricane.

  For the second time that night, he watched the ME roll away the body of someone he cared about. Ross hadn’t been close to him like Stella, and there would be no kiss this time, but she’d worked hard to climb a ladder still regarded as men’s work: a legacy she’d leave for other women cops to follow. Legacies were sometimes all folks had, if they were fortunate.

  Manny ducked under the tape and walked slowly down the alley. He stopped at the place where her gnawed body had been discovered.

  The CSU’s other team had done its preliminary processing, but wanted to come back in the morning to finish when the light was better. They’d found no bullet casings or guns, but would give it the microscopic treatment in a few hours. Meanwhile, they’d left the large portable floodlights to drive away some of the darkness, at least on the outside.

  The dark-red splatter was evident against the pale bricks of the building where Ross must have been standing when she was shot. The pattern climbed the wall a few feet, indicating a high-powered weapon or that the source of the shot came from a lower angle. That evidence, and based on the first entry wound at her temple, indicated the killer was shorter than Ross. That ruled out someone as tall as Evelyn Kroll and jived with the description Frank gave—although Manny guessed Frank would have agreed that the woman was orange if Manny had asked.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure the scene that took place just before Ross was killed.

  She must have been up against the wall, the gun at her head, and standing at an angle that would cause a blood spatter pattern like the one on the wall.

  He moved to the blood-covered bricks and stood about where she would have. Ross would’ve had to look straight ahead while the killer stood at a forty-five-degree angle on her right. He moved into the shooter’s position, trying to squat about the right height.

  Stepping away, he guessed the killer was about five-foot-six. And he got a sense—for no particular reason, other than he felt it—that she was strong, in shape. A gym addict?

  Stella had worked hard to get in great shape over the last few months, and it was obvious Evelyn stayed in condition. Maybe there was something there. He made a note to investigate Stella’s gym.

  If it checked out, and Stella and Evelyn worked out at the same place, maybe that’s where things got started and someone might recognize others in the Club. It was worth a shot. Then again, maybe it was a coincidence. The old saying about throwing enough shit against the wall and some sticking came to mind.

  He stood scanning everything in the twenty-foot lighted area like an eagle looking for a trout. After a few minutes, nothing jumped out to say hey, look at me . . . until he turned to leave. One of the biggest rats he’d ever seen strolled leisurely from the pile of junk and garbage on the opposite side of the alley into the edge of the searchlight. It stood on its hind legs, and he swore it winked at him. Hanging from the rodent’s mouth was Ross’s small handbag. The strap had been torn and hung limply to the ground, looking like it had been dragged to hell and back. He crouched on his haunches and studied the animal; it didn’t back away, but stood still, sizing up Manny. A little weird for a rat to be this composed, but then again, they could be as aggressive as a caged tiger, and for no apparent reason.

  He was suddenly struck with one of those feelings that he’d grown to trust.

  “I need that bag, buddy.”

  The rat dropped to all-fours and backed up two steps, purse still clenched in his teeth.

  “We can do this the hard way or the easy way,” said Manny, pulling his Glock from the holster.

  The rat seemed to sense the danger and stood again, baring its teeth, dropping the bag.

  Manny took two steps toward the monster rodent from the Abyss and yelled. It scurried away, out of the light’s range. He started to reach for the bag, then realized he needed latex gloves for two reasons: evidence and rat saliva.

  Where is Alex when you need him?

  Looking around, he placed an old rusted pot on top of the purse and went back to the patrol car where two officers guarded the entrance to the alley.

  Borrowing a pair of gloves, he pulled them on and returned to the alley.

  As he picked up the bag, something fell out, and the object sent his thoughts in a different direction.

  Why did Kathy Ross have two cell phones?

  Chapter-60

  “We didn’t find
her,” said Sophie, slapping the forensic lab’s conference table. “It looked like she’d been there, but the place was pretty neat and clean. I hate neat and clean.”

  “Why? Because that means she’s organized?” asked Manny.

  Her face soured. “That too, but I can’t keep my place picked up, mostly because of my husband, so I’m thinking of booting his ass.” She winked at Josh sitting across from her. “Are you a neat freak? I bet you are.”

  “Can we stay on task here?” said Manny, shaking his head. “What else did you three get from her apartment?”

  “Not much,” said Josh. “We took her laptop and an e-book reader, but the CSU will have to send out another team.”

  Alex rubbed his stubble. “Yeah, like we don’t have anything else to do, even rougher with Dana out of commission.”

  “There are two Fed teams coming up from Detroit this morning to help out for the day, so that will let us take a step back and look at what we have,” said Max.

  The group around the table looked tired. Talk about déjà vu all over again. It reminded Manny of the cruise ship investigation. But they were a tough bunch, and Chloe seemed to fit right in. “Not to mention, we’re all running on no-sleep mode”

  “That too,” said Josh.

  “Tell him about the clothes,” said Chloe.

  “OH MY GOSH,” blurted Sophie. “How could we leave that out? I’m so jealous. The girl must have spent everything she had on that stuff. Designer skirts, bags, jeans, and what a rack of shoes. Pumps, stilettos, flats, even jogging shoes that cost $150 a crack. The heifer!”

  “Did any of you geniuses think about bagging the heels because of the tap dancing on the victim’s backs?”

  “Of course,” said Josh, a little indignant. “They’re on a table in the lab. All ten pair.”

  “We’ve saved the best for last, though. Alex, this is for you,” grinned Sophie, flipping something like leopard skin at the CSI. “This should go with your collection.”

  Alex held the thong panties up with both hands and stared.