by Rob Ashman
Mechanic veered off left and walked along the front, hands in pockets, head down, glancing through windows.
About halfway along she spotted what she was looking for, a couple lying on the bed watching HBO and drinking beer. She stopped and bent down to adjust her shoe. They were both in their thirties with a pack of ten beers on the side table. Mechanic returned to her car and waited with her eyes firmly fixed on room 112.
Ideally she would have paid the Lucky 6 another visit, but because the investigation was ongoing, there was still the occasional police presence outside room G46. That was a shame but the Crimson Lake would do just fine. It was far enough away not to give Mechanic any unnecessary complications but close enough to make the point.
Back in the car Mechanic sipped water from a bottle and watched the lights go out in 112. The clock on the dashboard said 1am. The movie must have finished, along with the beer.
At 1.50 she was kneeling down outside the room pushing the picks into the lock. The occupants were sound asleep as the lock disengaged and Mechanic slipped inside, closing the door. She watched the couple as they slept. The guy was sprawled naked on his front while the woman had rolled herself up in the covers, hugging the edge of the bed. The room stank of smoke and bottles were stacked up on the floor beside the bed. Mechanic was tempted to shake the headboard to see which one woke first but she snapped out of it. This was business, not pleasure.
Mechanic drew her gun.
The Lucky 6 would have been better but the Crimson Lake will do just fine.
Lucas woke with a start as the sunlight poured through the drapes. It was gone eight o’clock and he needed to get to the news-stand. He’d tossed and turned all night unable to sleep, the troubles of the day playing on his mind. He’d last looked at the clock at 4.20am and then must have dropped off – shit, he was late.
He threw on some clothes and dashed from his room as fast as his dodgy leg and stick would carry him.
The Bulletin was dispensed from a standalone box located about one hundred and fifty yards away at the side of the road. Lucas made his way out of the hotel and along the sidewalk. He was eager to see his latest ad, keen to get things back on track.
He reached the stand and pulled a copy from the pile flicking through the pages looking for the personals.
As he scanned through the columns, a siren whooped and an ambulance swung into the road about sixty yards ahead. Lucas looked up and could see the red and blue lights through the trees. He was torn between searching for his ad and looking at the lights. After a frantic scrabble with the pages he found what he was looking for:
PRECIOUS POSSESSION BROKEN
MECHANIC URGENTLY REQUIRED TO PREVENT FURTHER DAMAGE
CENTENNIAL PARK AMPHITHEATRE TOMORROW 7AM
Lucas read the advert over and over with a renewed sense of determination. This would shake Mechanic up for sure. He folded the paper under his arm and walked back to the hotel.
A second ambulance whooped and pulled onto the road behind him.
A chill ran through his body.
He turned and watched the vehicle disappear in the distance and his stomach sank to his boots. It can’t be, not again.
Lucas walked to where the ambulance had emerged and came to the Crimson Lake motel. In the car park were two police cars and a crowd of people talking excitedly. He pulled his jacket collar around his face and walked towards them.
He arrived at the taped-off area.
‘What’s going on?’ he asked the woman next to him, desperately trying to get a better look.
‘Don’t know for sure, but it looks like someone’s been shot.’
The man on his other side wanted to get in on the act.
‘I heard someone say it was two people.’
‘Oh my,’ said the woman straining on tiptoes for a better view.
Lucas fought to stay calm. He needed to know.
Pushing his way to the front he could see into the room through the partly opened door. Figures dressed in white moved around inside but that was all he could make out. Then there was a bright flash of light from inside the room. There was no mistake.
Through the window Lucas could clearly make out the words written on the wall:
IN YOUR NAME
His head spun and he needed to get away. He turned and elbowed his way through the tight knot of people. He had to get back to the hotel.
‘Lucas,’ a familiar voice called after him.
He turned to see Detective Moran getting out of her car.
‘Is that today’s copy of the Bulletin under your arm?’
44
‘Are you sure?’ asked Harper. ‘Are you absolutely sure?’
‘I saw it, I tell you. It was written on the wall. I said she’d kill again, I knew it.’ Lucas was stomping around banging the ball of his fist against the furniture.
‘We gotta hand her back,’ Bassano said.
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We have Jo and that’s our main advantage. The new ad in the paper tells Mechanic we’ve done Jo some damage. That’s gotta make her see sense.’
‘You don’t get it do you, Harper? It’s over. We have hand Jo back and make this stop.’ Bassano sounded desperate.
‘We can’t risk any more killings and that girl-guide detective is constantly sniffing around. She called me over at the crime scene. I say we give Jo back and get the hell out of here,’ said Lucas.
‘No, no, no. We stick to the plan,’ Harper said wagging his finger. ‘We’re so close to nailing that bitch we can’t jack it in now.’
‘We’re not close to anything. We’re no closer to her now than if we’d stayed in Florida.’
‘We stick to the plan!’ Harper punched the table.
‘Damn it, we have no plan,’ Lucas shouted back thrusting the crumpled pages of the Bulletin into Harper’s chest. ‘Read it, damn you, read it.’
Harper didn’t have to read it.
In the personal column was written:
LUCAS
IN YOUR NAME
‘We don’t have a choice. It’s finished. We need to get her back to the Huxtons today.’ Lucas got up and made for the door. He needed space.
‘Where are you going?’ called Harper.
‘Out.’ He slammed the door behind him.
The bar was empty as Lucas lifted himself onto a stool and ordered a whisky.
‘It’s a little early for that isn’t it?’ Came a voice behind him, it was Moran.
‘You stalking me, Detective?’
‘I could say the same about you, Lieutenant. Everywhere I go, you seem to be there.’
Lucas huffed. His drink arrived and he took a large gulp.
‘This is getting out of hand. What were you doing at Crimson Lake this morning?’
‘I told you at the time, I was out for a walk and being curious.’
Moran shook her head and gestured to the barman, ‘Two more please.’
Lucas scowled and went to leave.
‘This is about Mechanic, right?’
Lucas stopped and reached for the remainder of his drink. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I think I do, Lucas.’
‘No you don’t, Detective. Mechanic is gone, probably dead. You can read it in the case notes.’
Moran reached down and swung a heavy bag onto the bar. It contained several buff-coloured folders.
‘I have,’ she said.
Lucas stared at the files as new drinks were slid in front of them on paper coasters.
‘I spoke with your boss, Hastings.’ She dropped the sentence like a grenade in his lap.
‘You did what?’
‘Yup, he sure likes to talk. I told him we could use his help because we might have a copycat killer similar to Mechanic. His office sent me a whole load of useful material.’ She patted the bag and smiled.
Lucas gulped hard on his second drink.
‘This is outrageous, I’ll have you—’
‘Yes, I’
m sure you will. Then there are these.’
Moran pulled a wad of newspapers from a second bag and thumped them down in front of Lucas. Certain pages were marked with yellow Post-its. Moran flicked them over.
‘So here’s the first ad: MECHANIC WANTED IN EXCHANGE FOR PRECIOUS POSSESSION. Then another: MECHANIC TO ATTEND CENTENNIAL PARK, PRECIOUS POSSESSION IS SAFE, COMPLY TO AVOID DAMAGE. Then PRECIOUS POSSESSION IS BROKEN. And so on and so on. Do I need to read them all?’
‘So what?’ Lucas stared into the middle distance slurping his drink.
‘That’s what I thought until I found this one.’ She folded the paper over so only the ad was visible.
YOUR PRECIOUS POSSESSION IS SAFE
IT WILL BE RETURNED IN EXCHANGE FOR YOU
BUY THIS PAPER AND AWAIT INSTRUCTION
Moran stabbed her finger at the advert.
‘Then it all began to make sense.’
‘I don’t know why you’re showing me this shit.’
Moran allowed the silence to drift between them.
‘Do you know what the key to all this is?’ She waved her hand across the files and the papers.
Lucas said nothing.
‘The precious possession. Now what do you think that could be, Lucas?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ His standard response was wearing thin.
‘If I put all this together,’ she patted the stacks of newspapers and files, ‘and throw you, Harper and Bassano into the mix, I come to one conclusion.’
Lucas waited, his stomach churning.
‘The precious possession is Dr Jo Sells and you have her held somewhere.’
‘That’s absolute horseshit and you know it.’
‘I don’t think it is, Lucas. You snatched Jo in order to flush Mechanic out into the open. Only she didn’t play ball did she? And that’s why we are stacking up the bodies in the morgue. “In Your Name”, Lucas, that’s what it says. It’s written here in the newspapers and scrawled on the walls in blood. And here is the clincher. If I follow the chronology I reckon Mechanic posted this ad in the paper after you took her sister.’ Moran forced the page under Lucas’s nose. It read:
PUT HER BACK
‘That’s right isn’t it? You snatched Jo, and Mechanic started her latest killing spree until you return her sister. “Put her back or I continue filling body bags in your name.” That’s what she’s telling you. Those poor people are on a slab because of you.’
Lucas stared into his drink, unable to respond.
‘I can’t figure how you knew Mechanic was in Vegas. But then in the scheme of things it doesn’t matter. You’re here, Mechanic is here and her sister Jo is here, somewhere.’
Lucas drained his glass.
‘Are you going to talk to me, Lucas?’
‘I still don’t know what you mean. This is crap and you know it. You’re overreaching yourself, Detective, and it’s beginning to piss me off.’ He had no option but to go on the offensive.
‘Save the bullshit for your disciplinary hearing.’
‘This is circumstantial crap. It proves nothing. It’s nothing but a bunch of adverts which happen to include my name and the name of a probably dead serial killer, plus some writing on a hotel wall. None of this would stand up, none of it.’ Even as he said it Lucas had to admit it was a shitload of circumstantial.
Moran leaned forward and beckoned Lucas to do the same.
‘I’m going make this really simple. Here’s the deal. I keep this off the grid and in return you give me Mechanic. If I declare this to my chief, I’ll be taken off the case as fast as you can say new starter. I’m three streets smarter than anyone else I work with and this one is mine.’
Lucas started to make another lame protest, but Moran put her hand up and stopped him.
‘The alternative is I go to my chief and see what he makes of it all. Maybe he doesn’t share my vivid imagination and it will all blow over, or maybe he’ll put two and two together and haul your sorry asses into the station. What do you think?’
Lucas looked at the stack of paper and back at Moran.
‘You give me Mechanic and I give you a way out. Otherwise I sink you so deep they won’t even bother with your disciplinary.’
Even for a black guy Lucas was beginning to look a little pale.
‘The first thing to do is give her back before more people die,’ Moran said.
Lucas spun his empty glass on the bar.
‘I need to talk to some people,’ he replied.
‘Yes you do, Lucas. But remember we don’t have much time if we are to avoid another early morning wake-up call with ambulances.’
45
Bassano pressed the button on the tail lift and the wheelchair lowered to the ground. Jo sat bolt upright staring straight ahead.
The drive to Victorville had been easy with very little traffic. Lucas went with him to share the driving, however, the seven-hour round trip had taken its toll on both of them. Most of the journey they sat in silence – after all they only had one topic of conversation and that one had been talked to death. The key thing now was to pick up Jo and return her to the Huxtons.
The nursing home was put out by the unexpected nature of Lucas’s call. They normally required twenty-four hours’ notice to discharge a patient early and were pretty shitty when Lucas said he was not prepared to pay the cancellation fee for the remaining days. He would be there in three hours and they better have her ready to go.
They took the precaution of dropping Lucas off before they got to the home. It was Bassano who took her there so it should be him doing the collection. Similarly, Lucas went back to the hotel when they reached Vegas because Bassano needed to do the Huxton trip on his own.
The gravel crunched under the weight of the chair as Bassano approached the house and Jenny-Jay Huxton spotted them through the living room window.
‘Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,’ she chanted as she ran to them. ‘I didn’t think you’d be back for a little while yet. What a lovely surprise.’
Bassano retrieved a clipboard from the front seat to make himself look official.
‘How come you’re back so early?’ Bassano was going to respond then realised she was talking to Jo.
‘Did you have a lovely time? We missed you while you were gone,’ Jenny-Jay continued chatting to Jo. ‘Mary-Jay has not shut up since you left. She’ll be delighted you’re back.’ Bassano needed to get out of there fast.
‘Mrs Huxton, our apologies for not calling ahead. I hope bringing Jo back is convenient for you?’
‘Yes, of course. We’ve missed her and we’re so pleased she’s back. She’s looking so well, it’s done her the world of good. Hasn’t it, Jo?’ She patted Jo’s arm.
‘Is there anyone else at home?’
‘Me and Mary-Jay, that’s all.’
‘Okay, if we can get Jo into the house I’ll be on my way.’
‘I won’t hear of it, young man, I have some pink lemonade made special. You come inside and take a drink with us.’
‘Actually, Mrs Huxton, I need to get back.’
‘Nonsense, I won’t take no for an answer. Do I need to phone your boss and tell him you refused my lemonade?’
Bassano considered his options. He couldn’t risk a call to the nursing home as they would deny all knowledge of him or Jo, after all, she was supposed to be taking a break in a local rest home not one in Victorville. He needed to placate Jenny-Jay and get the hell out of there.
‘Lemonade would be great, Mrs Huxton.’ Before he knew it he was perched on the sofa looking at the two women in wheelchairs sitting side by side.
‘They don’t shut up their chatter, do they?’ Jenny-Jay called from the kitchen.
Bassano raised his eyes and shook his head.
Jenny-Jay arrived with four glasses of pink fizz.
‘So how come she’s back early?’ This time the question was directed at Bassano. It took him by surprise as he wasn’t expecting to have to join in the co
nversation.
‘Er, she said she missed you and wanted to come back.’
‘Ah that’s nice. Did you lose your arm in a car accident too? Only Mary-Jay has been dying to ask.’
Bassano couldn’t believe this was happening.
By the time Bassano returned to the hotel it was 6.30pm, he was hungry and the experience had left him shell-shocked. He’d endured the Huxtons’ peculiar sense of hospitality for far longer than expected and was feeling all the worse for it.
All three of them sat in the bar.
‘You said what?’ Harper asked.
‘It was the first thing that came into my head.’
‘You came back because a woman with locked-in syndrome said she’d like to go home early?’
‘Yeah, pretty much. Anyway, the important thing is she bought it.’
‘No, the important thing is, did you deliver the message?’ Lucas was less concerned with the surreal aspects of Bassano’s visit to the Huxtons.
‘Yup, I told her to call Jess to let her know her sister was back. I told her it was really urgent.’
‘Good.’
‘I tried to get her to phone there and then but she was too preoccupied catching up on Jo’s adventures and coping with her daughter’s overexcitement, despite the fact both women were totally fucking inert.’
‘Okay, so now we sit and wait and hope Mechanic hasn’t gone hunting.’
‘We could work out what to do with this?’ Bassano pulled a scrap of paper from his back pocket and handed it to Lucas. When we weren’t having one-way conversations, me and Jenny-Jay did get to talk a little. So I took a chance.’
‘And?’ Lucas unfolded the paper.
‘It’s Mechanic’s phone number.’
Across the city Pachelbel’s Canon in D played through the headphones as Mechanic lay on the sofa mentally enacting the chain of events which would take place at the Bossanova motel later that night.