Red Death

by Alan Jacobson

  “Without you, I never would’ve learned to kill so efficiently. And effectively. If I do it right, the police will never be able to catch me.

  “Without you, I never would’ve experienced the most exciting thing I’ve ever done in my otherwise miserable life.”

  He made eye contact, trying to gauge her reaction. She knew what was happening. She knew what he had done to her.

  “I’d say, ‘rest in peace.’ But I’m sure you’re going straight to hell, Mary. And peace is one thing you won’t have.”

  Her arms gave way and her forehead hit the floor.

  He slipped on a pair of latex gloves, took the soap from Mary’s hand, and placed it—and the wrapper—in a plastic bag. He would dispose of it later.

  Scott felt the rush build in his chest. He stood up and looked down over Mary’s corpse. Then he unzipped his pants and reached inside.

  48

  Scott left the apartment and went home. He had experienced euphoria in the hour after Mary had died. But then it wore off.

  Something was missing.

  He went outside and walked for twenty or thirty blocks, oblivious to the outside world. Off in the distance, he heard taxis honking, people shouting and cursing, and trucks rattling amongst the potholes as they whooshed by.

  He racked his brain to figure out what was bothering him.

  And then it hit him. He needed to see Nick. He had to see him grieve, or at least feel out of sorts. He grabbed a cab and went back to Astoria, getting out several blocks away and hoofing it the last quarter mile.

  He walked up to the apartment and knocked. Everything looked normal. Nothing unusual.

  And then the door swung open.

  “Nick.”

  His stepfather looked distraught, lost, his face sagging—perhaps from age and fat, or maybe it was anguish.

  It took a moment for Nick to put it together. “Scott. What’re you doin’ here?”

  “I had a meeting in the neighborhood and stopped by the bagel shop to eat. I heard. About Mary—about Mom. I wanted to come by, see if it was true.”

  “It’s true.” He said it in a voice barely louder than a whisper.

  Scott pursed his lips, then nodded slowly. “Good.”

  Nick squinted. “Good?”

  “Good. She was a bitch. Treated me like shit, abused me.” He chuckled. “Like you. Only she let you abuse me. How could a mother do that? She knew what you were doing. And she let it happen. She brought you into our house. It was all her fault.”

  “Get the fuck outta my life. Always been stupid. Good for nothin’ piece a shit.”

  Scott snorted. “Apparently I’m good for something, Nick.” He locked eyes with the man, then turned and walked off. The door slammed behind him.

  On the walk back to the subway, Scott realized that he needed some kind of closure with the murders. Perhaps returning to each Mary’s house to check in on them, make sure they’d died, would fill that need.

  He would have to think on that for a while.

  For now, reveling in the knowledge that his poison-treated soap wrapper worked as planned would suffice.

  49

  Vail and Russell walked briskly down the corridor toward the elevator bank.

  “You think Benny will be okay?”

  “Don’t know,” Russell said. “You laid it on pretty thick.”

  “Did I?”

  Russell was navigating his phone as Vail pressed the up button. “Just a bit. Hey, something else for you to work on.” The line connected and Russell asked for the district attorney. “I need a warrant to search a time-share suite. Which judge we got?” He listened a moment, then explained the situation.

  While Russell made his call, Vail dialed Del Monaco.

  “You know, Karen, this six-hour time difference is a real pain in my ass. Either that, or you’re doing it purposely. Waiting till late in the day to bother me with some stupid request.”

  “Yeah, Frank, that’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m not really busting my tail out here to help HPD find an UNSUB. I’m doing all this just to make your life miserable.”

  “Pretty much what I thought.”

  Vail ignored that. “Got a lead on suspect and I need you to find out everything you can on him—but first see if you can get me a photo. DMV, military, whatever—recent if possible but at this point I’ll take anything. Gotta get it to all ports and avenues of exit before he can get off the island.”

  He groaned loudly. She wasn’t sure if he was expressing his displeasure or pulling his bulky frame out of bed. “That it?”

  “That’s a lot, I know. But Meece has killed a lot of women in multiple states and he may be unraveling.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it. Okay … Scott Meece. How do you spell that?”

  “S-c-o-t-t.”

  “Karen …”

  “Sorry. I’ll play nice. Pretty sure it’s M-e-e-c-e. But if you’re not finding anything, try other permutations.”

  “That all you can give me?

  “I’ve got a phenotype image, but hard to say how accurate it is.”

  “Send it over. Maybe I can run it through facial recognition.”

  Vail harrumphed. “Didn’t think that’s possible.”

  “Don’t know if it is. Can’t hurt to try. Could get lucky. Anything else?”

  “He’s disabled. Wheelchair bound. It’s possible he served in Iraq—where he suffered an injury to his spinal cord. But I have strong doubts about his service. Can’t rule it out though.”

  Okay, let me get a shot of caffeine into my body and I’ll get to work.”

  “Thanks, Frank.”

  “Really?”

  “Really what?”

  “You never thank me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  Actually, it might be.

  After hanging up, she emailed the phenotype image to Del Monaco, then nudged Russell’s elbow. “So?”

  “Got a text from Dr. Kuoko. They found two more vics, one from Oahu and one from Kauai, mid-December, nine years ago. They’re still looking for others.”

  “Makes sense. He’s obviously familiar with killing on Kauai. But I meant about the affidavit.”

  “I’m going to dictate it and email it in.”

  “How long till we get the warrant?”

  “Truth?”

  “No, lie to me.”

  “Hour and a half.”

  “Oh.” Vail waved a hand. “Not nearly as bad as I thought.”

  “You told me to lie to you.”

  She looked at him. Daggers.

  “Three hours,” he said. “Best case. Likely more. Every time I think it’ll be faster, some kinda shit happens. Printer goes out. Judge is at lunch or has the runs. Realistically, three hours is the fastest.”

  Russell began walking down the corridor, dictating the affidavit into his phone as he went.

  Vail thought about Scott Meece and his soap and chocolate bars and unsuspecting women. She checked her watch. It was four o’clock, which meant that Meece—wherever he was on the island—could be handing his poisoned products to an unsuspecting woman. If they went public with this info, could they prevent all sixty-something females named Mary from washing their hands or breaking their diets?

  Vail called Kuoko and asked if he could talk with his superiors and get an alert issued along with a press release to the media on the island.

  “I’ll do my best, but I’m a medical examiner. Where’s—why isn’t Adam requesting this?”

  “He’s writing up the affidavit for the search warrant.”

  Kuoko sighed audibly. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. But honestly, this is not my job.”

  Vail did not have time to quibble over that true, but ridiculous, comment, so she hung up—then called TSA and issued a hold on all p
assengers named Scott Meece. She referred them to the phenotype image they had previously received and asked them if TSA could grab a government ID photo. Maybe they could access one faster than Del Monaco.

  Immediately after the call ended, someone else buzzed her handset: a number she did not know. She groaned and answered it.

  “If you’re selling a Hilton Hotel time-share, now is not the t—”

  “My name is Dylan Price. Jackson Parker asked me to make contact.”

  “Oh—sorry. I’m—yeah. Karen Vail.”

  “Jackson filled me in on the details, so no need to recap them—at least not right now. He said you’re in the middle of a case in Hawaii.”

  “That’s true.”

  “Then I’ll be brief,” Price said. “You need me to tell you my qualifications or can I get to work ASAP on this? I’ll send you my retainer contract and we can go from there.”

  “Is it as bad as Jackson’s?”

  “Afraid it is.”

  “Lucky me. Send it over. May be a few hours before I can get to it. Meantime, can you give me some thoughts as to where this can go? What can OIG do to me?”

  Price laughed. “You want me to make you feel better, is that it? Because surely you know that I can’t give you any kind of accurate evaluation of the case until I see the complaint, ask you questions, and so on.”

  “Right.”

  “First off, some general impressions. OIG doesn’t discipline. That’d be up to the Bureau. I assume you’re familiar with OPR.”

  “What agent doesn’t know about the Office of Professional Responsibility? The cops for the cops.”

  “Pretty much. Just understand that there are a lot of ways this can go. It can get complicated and convoluted. I’ll give you my best guess—which could change if I find out you really did fuck up and someone’s got video.”

  “I didn’t and there isn’t any.”

  At least I hope not.

  “Very unlikely something bad’s going to happen. Just to be clear, I said, Very. And unlikely. In the same sentence. Got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Now that said, OPR could decide to discipline you, which is obviously not good—it’ll affect promotions, future placements, and so on.”

  “Not worried about that stuff. I like being a profiler. No desire to be an administrator.”

  “That makes it a little easier. Either way, a civil rights violation won’t look good in your jacket. But I’ll do my best to make sure they close it out without action.”

  “How long does this thing take? We talking weeks? Couple of months?”

  “Months,” Price said. “Probably longer. A year? Could be.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “I don’t shit. Well, not like that. You, um, you get what I’m saying.”

  Her phone vibrated. Del Monaco.

  “Hey,” Vail said, “gotta go. Could be a break on this case.”

  “Take a few deep breaths and clear your mind,” Price said. “Let me worry about this, okay? I’ve got your back. Jackson told me to make sure I take good care of you.”

  Take a few deep breaths? Clear my mind? Who the hell has time for that?

  50

  As Vail switched over to Del Monaco’s call, her heart started racing. Never was she so excited to hear from him. But she couldn’t tell him that because he would inevitably twist it into something sexual.

  “Talk to me, Frank. Good news?”

  “Got an address on Scott Edward Meece. Grew up in Queens. Owned an apartment in Manhattan but the info’s about twenty-five years old. Still digging, but I figured you’d want to run with that.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Just texted it to you.”

  “Awesome job, Frank.”

  “Wow. ‘Awesome’ and ‘Frank’ in the same sentence. From your mouth. This is a momentous event.”

  “More like a onetime event. Must be all the ‘aloha’ going around.”

  “The what?”

  “Gotta go.”

  Before I say something that’d spoil the moment.

  She shoved the phone back in her pocket, then immediately withdrew it. Without thinking—her special talent—she called her friend and past mentor, Captain Carmine Russo. It went to voice mail. Rather than leave a message, she redialed.

  “What the fuck? Karen?”

  “Sorry to wake you, Russo.”

  “I’m dreaming, right? A nightmare?”

  “Listen. I—”

  “You need something. A favor.”

  “No. Yeah. I mean, not for me. A case.”

  “Of course it’s for a case. I may be half asleep but I figured that much. Whaddya got?”

  “I’m in Hawaii. Which explains the late hour in New York.”

  “Not really. But go on.”

  “Serial offender. A poisoner. He operates in multiple cities all across the country. But he lived in Manhattan.”

  “Lived. As in past tense?”

  “Don’t know. Still investigating. But he did live there several years ago.”

  “Several? How many does that really mean?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “I define ‘several’ differently. But why do you think he’s still there?”

  “Because I have to start somewhere. And it’s where he grew up, in Queens. He knows the area.”

  Russo sighed. Audibly. “And you want me to …”

  “Find him.”

  “You still haven’t explained why you’ve called in the middle of the fuckin’ night and spoiled my beauty rest. And at my age, I need all the sleep I can get.”

  “He’s a prolific killer and he’s been at it for a long time. I can’t even begin to guess how many vics he’s got.”

  “Karen, I’m losing patience. Get to the point. Why now?”

  “Because we’ve now got a name and some leads. And Manhattan is our best lead. And I’m betting you’ve got some of his vics in your backyard and don’t even know it.”

  “How would we not know it? You mean unsolved cold cases?”

  “Very cold—but they’re not even cases because cause of death was acute myocardial infarction, not murder.”

  There was silence.

  “Russo, you fall asleep on me?”

  “Nope. Just realized I’m probably not gettin’ back ta sleep. Sylvia’s got us theater tickets tonight so I’m gonna nod off before intermission.”

  “Shit, Russo, I’m sorry.”

  “Me, too. I usually make it ten minutes into the second half before fallin’ asleep.”

  Vail explained the mechanism of death.

  “Well, you’ve succeeded,” Russo said. He was huffing a bit, as if he was moving around.

  “In what?”

  “In waking me up. I’m making some coffee because I’m gonna head over to the office and snag me a rookie to help me out.”

  “So you think this is … intriguing?”

  “No. I think this is a pain in the goddam ass. But yeah, if this guy’s killed in my city and we don’t know about it, that’s a scary proposition. Piss me off, too.”

  “We know he’s been here on Oahu. May still be if we’re lucky. Found a time-share suite we think he’s using. The detective out here is writing up an affidavit. I’m gonna have him send it to the Honolulu’s FBI field office and make sure the doc’s also faxed to the New York City division. That’ll save time.”

  “Sleep. I need it to save me some sleep.”

  “Again, I’m sorry. This is important.”

  “And working with the FBI … you think that will save time? They’ll fuckin’ screw up—”

  “He’s killed four here in Oahu, Russo. I think we’re up to ten nationwide. That we know of.”

  “Jesus Criminy. Ten’s enough. You g
ot my full attention.”

  “I had it the minute you decided to answer the phone.”

  “You know me too well, Karen.”

  “I’ll keep you posted. Thanks Russo.”

  Vail called Russell and told him they now had the NYPD pursuing a New York address for Meece. “You know a guy at the Honolulu field office you’ve worked with?”

  “Yeah. I know a guy. But he’s a she. You mind?”

  “You’re asking me, a woman, if it’s okay if you bring in another female LEO?” she asked, using the insider term for law enforcement officer.

  “I’ve given up trying to understand you, Karen. Better to be safe.”

  “Send her the warrant and ask her to fax it to the FBI’s New York division. I’ve got my old mentor, an NYPD captain, on his way over.”

  “In the middle of the night? Must like you.”

  “I know. Imagine that.” She holstered her phone and walked up to the door of fourteen-eleven. No matter what strings she could pull or favors she could ask, this was not going to be a quick process. And yet lives were at stake.

  Sometimes the easiest solutions were overlooked. She made a fist and knocked on the door. Nothing. She leaned in close. “Mr. Meece, I’m a manager with DV Squared. We have a hundred-dollar American Express gift card for you. I’m sorry, I forgot to put it with your paperwork when you checked in.”

  Vail rested her left ear on the door and waited. She heard no movement.

  So much for easy solutions.

  At the end of the long corridor Vail saw a maid’s cart parked outside a room. She jogged over to it and found the door open. Vail stepped inside.

  “Yes?” A man in his late twenties poked his head out of the bathroom. “Can I help you?”

  “I did a stupid thing,” Vail said with a coy, flirting smile. “I—I was with Scott last night and I left something in his suite.”

  “Scott?”

  “Scott. Scott Meece, fourteen-eleven,” she said matter-of-factly. “I just need to get my phone from his room. He was supposed to be back an hour ago. And I have to get to a dinner reservation across town.”