by BJ Wingate
Jessica sat tapping her pen on the desk lightly as she took that in. “Is she capable of killing someone?”
Alyson shook her head. “I don’t think so. To be honest I stay away from her as much as I can. She only calls me if she needs something. Money, a ride somewhere, a lawyer.” She sighed. “So, what happens now?”
Jessica dropped the pen on the desk and sat forward. “I’ll be honest, I believe she could benefit from a night in jail.” She watched as Alyson shook her head. “You don’t agree?”
Alyson sighed. “No, I don’t. It wouldn’t be the first time and it has never done any good before.”
Jessica made a few notes on a pad of paper then looked up. “Okay, I can understand that. Has she ever been under psychiatric care?”
Alyson shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of, no.”
Jessica nodded. “Well, that is another option. We can remand her to the psychiatric ward of the hospital to be given an evaluation.”
Alyson swallowed. “What will that accomplish?”
“For one thing if she has a mental disability that is causing her behavior, such as sexual addiction, it can possibly be treated. If so, her behavior might change.” Jessica wrote something out on the pad of paper again. “I want you to understand that you are not at fault where your mothers’ actions are concerned. If she is sick maybe they can help her. It doesn’t always but you never know.”
Alyson nodded. “Can I see her? Maybe I can get more information out of her.”
Jessica smiled. “Yes, you can see her and don’t worry about getting a confession or anything. The evaluation will take care of that.” Jessica stood up and led Alyson down a short hall and opened a door for her. Inside Mary Elizabeth was sitting at a long metal table. “You can have ten maybe fifteen minutes.”
Alyson walked inside and the door closed behind her. Suddenly she was a little afraid of her own mother.
“Hello Mother.” Alyson walked over and slid onto the chair across from her mother.
Mary Elizabeth looked up. Her eye makeup was smeared, and some had run down her cheeks. Alyson pulled a tissue from her purse and handed it to her mother.
“Thank you.” Mary Elizabeth said softly. She carefully wiped at her cheeks and eyes. “Things are sooo messed up.”
Alyson nodded. “Yes, they are. What did you do mother? And who is Leroy? Last time I heard you were with some guy named Henry.”
Mary Elizabeth leaned back, waving one hand in the air. “Henry was last month, or was it the month before, I forget. Anyway, he went to the store one day and just never came home. I waited; I really did but I was so lonely. Then I met Leroy at the bar, and he seemed so perfect.” Mary smiled. “We actually went on a few dates. Real dates, can you imagine? He took me to dinner one night then to a movie and we had such a lovely time.” Mary Elizabeth’s eyes took on a faraway look. “Then we decided to live together, and things went downhill from there.” She started shredding the tissue in her hands. “He would disappear for a day and when I asked where he had been, he would tell me it was none of my business.” She continued to stare at her hands and the shredded tissue, totally ignoring Alyson on the other side of the table.
Alyson simply sat and let her mother talk. She couldn’t remember seeing her this way before and it was unnerving. The more she thought about it the more she liked Jessica’s idea about the psychiatric help. Maybe her mother could benefit from that. She sighed and her mother jumped a bit before looking over at her.
“Alyson. You never got me a lawyer did you.” Mary Elizabeth spoke softly this time
Alyson shook her head. “No money for one mom, sorry.” Alyson went quiet again as her mother looked back at her hands.
With a sigh, Mary Elizabeth sat up straighter and smiled. “Alyson, you go on home, okay? Don’t worry about me. I’m sure things will be fine.”
Alyson blinked, her mouth dropping open in her surprise. “Um … ah … sure mom, whatever you say.” Alyson stood up and for a minute debated walking around to hug her mother. It wasn’t something she normally did though, so instead she turned toward the door. Before knocking to be let out, she turned back for a minute. “Mom, they are going to send you to a doctor to be evaluated. Please be honest with whomever that is. You need help.” With that, Alyson knocked on the door softly. A minute later a police officer in uniform opened the door and let her out.
Alyson was escorted back to the room with all the desks and Jessica walked up to her. “Are you alright Ms. Harding?”
Alyson nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. And I think your idea of the psychiatric stuff? Is a good idea. Do I need to sign off on anything for that?”
Jessica smiled and shook her head. “No. We will handle it all. I can let you know what hospital she is taken to if you would like.”
Alyson looked back towards where the room with her mother was, as if she could see her. “Yes, please. I’d like that.” She smiled and held out her hand. “Thank you for everything.”
Jessica shook Alyson’s hand and smiled. “You are welcome Ms. Harding. Are you okay to drive home?”
Alyson nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.” With that, Alyson left the police station and drove home. Once there, she stayed sitting in her car for a good half hour before finally going inside.
Twenty
Jessica sighed and moved her head a bit trying to ease the tension in her neck. More bodies kept piling up and Connor was doing his best to keep up with it all, as was everyone. As she thought about calling Connor to ask him a question, her phone rang with an interoffice call.
“Connor you must be psychic. I was just thinking about calling you.” Jessica smiled as Tony leaned forward a bit in his chair. “What do you have for me?”
“I have an ID on two of our victims. Thought you might want to come down and see what else I found.” Connor sounded tired over the phone. He did have a helper down there but did most of the work himself.
“Sure thing Connor, we’ll be right down.” Jessica hung up the phone, motioned to Tony and together they headed to Connor’s lab.
Once in the lab the first thing Jessica noticed was the absence of the last victim they had found, the one from the trailer. The one that had been found on his bed in an apartment was out and so was the man that had been found in an alley. Connor was standing between the two tables the victims were on.
“So, what do you have Connor?” Jessica stopped a short distance away.
Connor nodded at Jessica and Tony. “Okay, first this one,” He indicated the one from the apartment. “His name is George Billings. Small time financier or at least that is what I came up with. Apparently, he was living in that apartment alone so was the perfect victim for our killer.” He turned to the other body. “Now this one is a little more interesting. Name is William Flynn. More or less a nobody until you look deeper. I found he has a record. I’ll leave it up to you two to find out what sort.” Connor moved out from between the two tables and motioned for his assistant to put them back on ice. Connor peeled off the surgical gloves he was wearing and tossed them in the trash. “It’s going to take a bit to get an ID on our decomposing friend. I know the owner of that trailer said he was one Duke Sparks but I’m still checking dental records and the like to be sure.”
Jessica wrote it all down as she stood there. “Well, we know the ID on Calvin Douglas. From both his wallet and his friend’s verification.”
Connor nodded. “Right. But I did find something on Mr. Douglas’s body that I hadn’t found on any of the others.”
Jessica blinked. “What?”
Connor picked up a small plastic bag that appeared empty unless you looked closely. Inside was a single blond hair. Jessica opened her mouth to say something, but Connor cut her off.
“No, our killer is not blond or well, maybe but this isn’t going to prove it.” Connor shook the small bag then put it back on the table where he had gotten it from.
“And why is that?” Tony asked. Jessica glanced at her partner for a m
inute.
“Because it’s from a wig.” Connor sighed, sagged against the edge of the table and ran a hand through his hair. “I have a feeling the reason you have been getting varied descriptions is because the person wears different colored wigs every time she or he goes out.”
Jessica closed her eyes for a minute than reopened them. “So, we’re still no closer to determining if the killer is male or female.”
Connor shrugged. “Afraid so.” He looked worn out. “I keep checking and rechecking what we have and I’m just not coming up with anything.”
Jessica tapped her pen on the notepad in her hand for a minute. “What about those prints we found in the alley? Any help there?”
Connor shrugged again and walked to where a plaster cast resided. “Well, we did determine that the shoe had to be a spike heel. That gives our culprit a couple of extra inches in height. As to the size, well, the muck was very moist and whoever was standing there moved their feet around making the size hard to determine. Could be anything from a size eight to a size eleven.”
Jessica nodded. “We do have one witness for the victim found in his apartment. With the idea about the wigs that means it could be the same person.” She sighed. “Whoever this is they are very smart and are good at hiding their identity.”
Connor nodded. “That’s what I’ve been saying. Whoever it is has either researched how to hide their tracks, has inside information, or they are very, very lucky.”
Jessica nodded again. “Thanks Connor. Just let us know if you find out anything new.”
With that Jessica and Tony went back to their desks where Jessica decided to check out the local wig shops and see if anyone had been buying a lot of wigs lately.
* * *
Alyson got the letter concerning the sleep study from her doctor two weeks after she had been to see him. The sleep study was set up for the end of the month, another three weeks away. In a sense, she was looking forward to finding out what was wrong but in another she hated the idea. She had never liked being watched or prodded or poked for any reason. And she didn’t really like doctors, which is why she seldom went to see one. But her tiredness was worrying her plus she was forgetting things apparently. Like she could have sworn she spent her entire paycheck a couple weeks back only to find close to two hundred dollars in the account in the middle of the following week. Things kept getting put in strange places both in the kitchen and her bedroom. She had found her favorite cup in the sink when she knew she had washed, dried and put it away the night before. Then she had found a silk blouse on the floor of her closet that she couldn’t remember ever buying. It was bright red, more like what her mother liked than herself. Had her mother bought it for her, and she had just forgotten? She wasn’t sure.
Work had been dragging on as usual and Alyson wanted so much to just up and quit but she needed the income to support herself. She would not move back in with her mother. She had tried that once after she had broken up with her one boyfriend George and it had lasted maybe a week. Her mother never changed, or at least she hadn’t. Maybe with the help she should be getting now it would be different. Oh, how she hoped and prayed it would be different.
Sighing, Alyson turned on the news. It was close to ten p.m. on a Friday night and she just wanted to see what had been going on in the world. She watched as they showed a cute video of a dog playing in a field for a minute before the real news started.
“Two of the Slicer’s victims have been identified. The first one was George Billings, an investor and financier. Mr. Billings was found in his apartment by his sister, Stephanie, when she stopped by to check on him. The other victim was one William Flynn. Not much is known about Mr. Flynn at this time and police are asking for anyone with information about him or his activities to contact their hotline.” The broadcaster went on to other reports, but Alyson was staring at the TV in stunned silence. George? It was George that had been murdered?
George Billings had been Alyson’s last boyfriend. They hadn’t known each other that well even though they had dated for a month. He had always talked about himself. About his business, what he did, how much money he had made etc. Alyson had always felt as if he just wanted someone around to hear him talk. When he flat out told her that it was high time they screwed, she had told him to get lost. He had laughed and told her that he was the best she was ever likely to get and then walked off still laughing. It had hurt then, and still hurt even now. That had been a year ago.
Alyson went to the small side table that stood just inside her door and opened the drawer. Taking out her address book she looked up the number for George’s sister. It was the only number she had kept. She debated calling the number for a few minutes, glanced at the clock and saw it was just ten p.m. She picked up her phone and dialed before she could change her mind.
“Hello?” the woman’s voice on the other end sounded sad.
“Um, Stephanie? Is that you?” Alyson waited.
“This is Stephanie. Who is this?” Stephanie sounded guarded at best.
Alyson took a breath. “It’s Alyson. Alyson Harding. Do you remember me?”
“Yes, yes I remember you. You dated my … my brother for a short time last year. I … I remember telling you he would probably break your heart.” Stephanie wiped at her eyes. “What … why did you call?”
Alyson sighed. She had liked Stephanie. “I just … I saw on the news what happened. I’m so sorry for your loss.”
“Yes, it is tragic. No one has any idea who did it or why. And to leave him that way! Half-dressed on the bed.” Stephanie stopped suddenly and Alyson had a feeling she shouldn’t have said that. Then Stephanie sobbed and Alyson winced. “I … I’m sorry. I can’t talk right now. Maybe we can meet at some time? I just … the police are wanting to talk to me, so I have to go. Bye.” Stephanie hung up.
Alyson stared at her phone for a few minutes before shutting it off and heading off to bed. George was dead. Murdered. It just didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the greatest person in the world but murder? She fell into a fitful sleep.
* * *
That night, Alyson had a dream where she met George and he laughed at her repeatedly. Calling her names and trying to rip her clothes off at the same time. In the dream she had yelled at him, calling him a few names then she had swung this huge knife at him and slit his throat. Blood had sprayed her from head to toe and she screamed.
Alyson awoke mid-scream and sat in up bed, one hand on her chest as her breathing slowly returned to normal. She glanced at the bedside clock. Three-thirty a.m. Shakily, she went to use the bathroom then got back into bed to try to sleep a bit more.
Twenty-One
Vanessa was worried. Knowing that Robert had seen her up close with Calvin was bothering her. What if he told the police about her? Could they use his description to get close? She started parking outside the bar where she had met the two men and watched for Robert to go there. Worst part was, she had no idea what his last name was or where he lived. All she did know was he had talked to her and Calvin and that he was married. At least that had been his excuse to leave that night.
For a week straight, Vanessa haunted the bar’s parking lot. Once or twice someone would stop by her car to ask if she were okay or if they could help her. One night, while she was pacing next to the car - she was wearing a dark blue pantsuit that night with her black hair in a cut resembling that of Cleopatra - a drunk from the bar had almost knocked her over. He had been a bit ‘handsy’, but she had shoved him back and crossed her arms over her chest. The man had laughed, belched, then asked if she was waiting on someone inside. She had said no but that she thought her husband might be frequenting this bar and she was trying to catch him. She gave Robert’s description and the drunk said he had never seen the man. Disgusted, Vanessa had gotten in her car and driven away.
Three weeks after Calvin’s death, Vanessa finally decided it was time to stretch her wings again, so to speak. She dressed nicely in a shimmery dark green dress. It was form-fittin
g for the most part though the skirt flared just a bit as it reached her knees. Tonight, her hair was a soft auburn color cut in a sort of pixie to frame her face. She applied her makeup carefully matching the colors she was wearing. For a brief moment as she looked into the mirror, she debated doing colored contacts. She could probably afford it. The only problem would be finding the time. She had a post office box number for shipments so she could order them to be mailed to her, but she would have to have an eye exam first. She didn’t think her vision was all that bad, she just wanted to change her eye color.
Vanessa drove to a new part of town this time. It was a bit classier than previously so the men would be nicer. The one thing she worried about was that most men might bring their wives with them. She would just have to chance it. She got out of the car that she parked in a far corner of the lot and walked into the place.
The bar itself was a bit more upscale. It was still dimly lit and smoky but there were more people inside, the floors looked clean, and the tables actually had short clothes on them laid so they looked like a diamond pattern on each. The booths she noticed, had what appeared to be runners in the center. Nice touch. Vanessa chose to walk to the far end of the bar and slid onto a stool there. The bartender headed her way almost immediately.
“Mam, forgive me if I’m wrong but if you are here for … let’s say clients? … then I have to tell you we don’t allow that in here.” His voice was deep, and he kept his tone even and soft as he spoke.
Vanessa leaned toward him a bit. “I’m not. What I really want is a cold drink and to relax for a bit. Can I get a rum and coke please? Easy on the rum. I’m not out to get stoned either.” She smiled.
The bartender straightened up, nodded and fixed her drink. He took her payment as he set the glass in front of her then moved down the bar, tending to other customers.