No Human Involved - Barbara Seranella Page 19

  "Will you call my boss for me?" she asked. Her teeth chattered audibly "Damn," she said, "I can't seem to stop. It's so cold here."

  "Hang on, honey We're almost there." He knew to keep her talking. "You got a job?"

  "H—Happy J—Jack's, it"s in the Valley"

  He smiled down at her. "Didn't quite make it to the country, huh?"

  "N—not yet. I went to a rodeo."

  "How was it?"

  "Weird."

  He laughed at that. He squeezed her hand and noted the grease under her fingernails, the tiny cuts on her knuckles. They were working hands. "Don't worry, we'll get this all straightened out. I meant what I said."

  "I'm gonna take a little nap, so tired." Her voice began to slur.

  "Hey" he jostled her, "stay with me. See, there's the hospital. If you go to sleep on me, I'll have to fill out all those forms by myself."

  "Put whatever you want down, they never check." She smiled wanly and her eyes closed. The car jumped the curb in the emergency entrance driveway.

  "Watch it!" Mace barked at Cassiletti.

  "You're gonna ruin your alignment," she said, eyes still closed.

  Orderlies ran to the car with a wheelchair.

  She grabbed his collar and pulled him to her.

  "Tell them I don't do drugs. I got ten days and I want to keep them."

  "Don't worry; they'll take care of you."

  He watched her being wheeled off to the treatment room. Cassiletti came up behind him. "What a crock, huh?"

  "What?"

  "When she said she didn't do drugs. Fucking hype."

  "People change?"

  "That's not what you said before."

  "Yeah, well, maybe I was mistaken."

  Cassiletti stared inside the doors of the hospital. "I guess it's over?"

  "Is it?" Mace turned on the big man. They were standing on the curb at the entrance of the emergency room. A nurse came outside and asked them to stand clear. Before she went back inside she smiled encouragingly and added, "Officers" in that way women have of letting a guy know that they'd be open to additional dialogue. Mace shook his head; the more things changed . . .

  The two men walked a little way until they were standing between a bench and the brick wall by the side of the building. Mace turned on Cassiletti.

  "How did the bikers know she'd be at the restaurant?" Cassiletti's back was to the wall and Mace stood close to him, till their noses almost touched.

  "You were the only one I told about the meeting"

  Cassiletti's face drained of all expression. A poker face. Mace jammed a finger in his chest, but Cassiletti had nowhere to go.

  "And the siren in the alley, you warned her on purpose." Spittle flew from his mouth when he said "purpose" and sprayed Cassiletti's face.

  The big man made no move to wipe it clean. "This isn't over. I want to know who you told."

  "Nothing personal," He held up his hands.

  "Ernie asked me to keep him informed."

  He spun from the younger cop in disgust and stole a glance back into the emergency room. Ugly suspicions began forming in his mind. The curtain was still pulled around the bed they had put her in. He could see the doctors' legs as they surrounded her. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the prescription bottle he had taken off the girl. He should probably let the doctors know that she was on medication.

  He went back to the car and got the teletype Nan had sent him. She had scribbled a note that said, "Call Dr. Miller when you get a chance." Did she call him that in bed, too? He rubbed his eyes; he was tired of carrying so much anger.

  They would probably be a while yet at the hospital, so he decided to use the time productively He fished a dime out of his pocket and dialed Dr. Miller's exchange. They took the number Mace was calling from and said they'd have Doctor return the call. "Detective will be waiting," Mace said.

  He called his house. He needed to let Caroline know that he was going to be late. Seemed like old times. His answering machine picked up. His outgoing message played out and when the chime sounded he said, "Caroline, pick up."

  She lifted her receiver and he waited through the feedback until she figured out how to turn off the machine.

  "Mace—"

  "Listen, I'm sorry Something came up and I don't know when this will be over. I'm at the hospital with Munch. She took a knock to the head, she's going to need some stitches, but I think she'll be fine. She's a tough one."

  "Just be careful. I'll be here, waiting for you."

  "I'd like that."

  Three minutes later, the pay phone rang. It was Dr. Miller.

  Mace said, "Thanks for your help, we caught the guy, the main one anyhow."

  "More than one?"

  "Yeah, it was a motorcycle gang."

  "Oh no, very unlikely You are looking for an individual. Your offender would never belong to a group. He will be a loner. He will feel too superior to belong to a fraternity."

  "Maybe you didn't hear me. I'm not talking Phi Beta Kappa, he was the president of a motorcycle gang. We got him. He's dead."

  "President? No, you are mistaken. Your killer is not a leader. Perhaps an executive of some sort, but he lacks the social skills to command."

  "Listen, Doc, really I appreciate all your help, but I think you're off base. Let me talk to Nan."

  "What makes you think she's here?"

  "Call it a suspicious-paranoid hunch. Will you put her on?"

  "All right." There was a pause, a hushed discussion, and then Nan came on the line.

  "You caught the guy?" she asked.

  "Your boyfriend doesn't think so. I was looking through the lists you sent me. One name ties into our investigation, Daisy Signman. Ring any bells?"

  "No. Where was she treated?"

  "Van Nuys."

  He waited while she shuffled through her papers.

  "Here it is," she said. "Hey we need to find this girl. We sent a telegram to her address, but it came back to us. She was treated for gonorrhea, but the results of her labwork showed that she's carrying two separate strains. She needs to come back to the hospital and get another prescription."

  "Why is that?"

  "She's got that PPNG I was telling you about and apparently she's very active. Mrs. Canopolis made a note on the Signman File. When Mrs. Canopolis asked the girl to make a list of sexual contacts—" Nan paused. "I shouldn't be telling you this."

  "It won't go any further. Please, Nan, it's important."

  "The Signman girl didn't know the names of most of the men she had been with. Isn't that sad? It says here that she called one guy 'Mr. Potato Head'. You know, like that kids' toy? The plastic potato that you can put different noses and faces on. According to Mrs. Canopolis's note, thats why she called him that. The girl said it was because he looked like the one you see on the box with the bow tie and glasses."

  ‘

  Mace felt the hackles rise on his back. What had Munch said? He told her that she didn't have to worry about Crazy Mike and her next sentence was, 'and the guy I got the gun from'."

  "Nan, I gotta go." He paused. "Listen, I want to tell you something."

  "Yes?"

  "Be happy"

  "Thank you . . . you too."

  He hung up and ran back into the emergency room. An upset nurse stopped him.

  "I'd like to lodge a complaint against one of your officers," she said.

  He pushed back the curtains surrounding the bed where he had left Munch.

  It was empty.

  "Where is she?" he demanded of the nurse.

  "I told the detective that we wanted to keep her overnight for observation, that she shouldn't be moved. He was most insistent and very rude. Shouldn't he have had a female officer with him for transporting the prisoner?"

  "Bald guy? Funny little mustache, big nose, bow tie?"

  "Yes, that was the man."

  "Did the girl say anything when she saw him?"

  He gripped the nurse's arms tightly
/>   "I think she knew him."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "When he entered the room, her eyes got real big, and she said, 'You?' like they had met before. She seemed afraid."

  He grabbed behind the nurse's counter for the phone there.

  "Hey" an orderly began to object, but the words froze in his throat when he saw the determined look on the detectives face.

  "Do I need to dial nine first?"

  "No, sir."

  Mace called his ex-wife again. "Nan, put Miller on. The doctor got back on the line and Mace questioned him feverishly "If the killer were about to be found out, where would he go?"

  "Assuming he isn't dead?"

  "Yes, yes. What would his next move be?"

  "You must put yourself in the man's head. He considers himself the victim now. He has justified his acts and now he sees himself as persecuted. Perhaps, if he knows he has come to the end, he will return to the beginning."

  ‘You're talking in riddles, Doc."

  "He will want to return to a simpler time, where it all began for him."

  "The first killing?"

  "Or at least the first manifestation of his sadistic tendencies."

  ***

  He went back outside where Cassiletti waited for him. "Come on, you drive."

  "Where are we going?"

  "Head south."

  26

  AS THEY DROVE DOWN LINCOLN, MACE FILLED in Cassiletti on his suspicions. The younger man gripped the steering wheel and listened.

  "Didn't he grow up around here?" Cassiletti asked.

  Mace nodded. "Palisades del Rey That's where it began."

  Without being told, Cassiletti attached the beacon to the roof of the car, but left the siren off. At Culver they turned right. The coroner's wagon was still there. They whizzed past. They tumed off Vista Del Mar and up Sandpiper. The house wasn't difficult to spot. It stood alone with its broken windows and shriveled landscaping. A Ford was parked in the driveway Mace leaped from the passenger seat, not stopping to shut his door. He lay a quick hand on the hood of the Ford and noted that the engine was still warm. He could smell fresh exhaust and hear the crackle of the muffler as it contracted.

  The front door was unlocked. He entered cautiously revolver drawn. Slowly he walked down the front hall. Faded squares of paint marked the spots where pictures had once hung. The hall runner was stained and smelled of urine. He could make out wiring conduit through fist-sized holes in the drywall. The first door he pushed through led to a kitchen. Once-cheerful wallpaper peeled from the corners. The appliances had been yanked, leaving hollow tentacles of gas and water lines. He pushed on.

  Cassiletti followed, surprisingly catlike for a man his size. Mace gestured with the barrel of his gun for the other man to check the upstairs bedrooms.

  After Cassiletti was out of sight, Mace stood motionless and became one with his surroundings. He listened. He blocked out the noises around him that belonged there and strained to hear what did not.

  There was a rustling noise. A jingling, a grunting. A whimper? It was coming from the floor-boards. He crouched low and concentrated. Next to where the refrigerator had stood, there was a door. There had to be a basement. He stayed low and moved slowly across the floor, every nerve open and receiving. He pushed the door open slowly and waited for his eyes to become accustomed to the dark. He felt for and found a wooden banister. Then, cautiously quietly he felt for each step, heel first. The voice below got clearer. It was a man. Ernie. He was cursing. And laughing.

  "Shit," he chuckled, "that was close, huh?"

  He was speaking to what appeared to be a life-sized crucifix. As Mace's vision adapted, he saw that it wasn't a crucifix, but a body suspended in the air by chains. It was Munch. Her eyes were open and unseeing, her mouth slack. Underneath her was a child's wading pool, empty. Ernie stood next to a workbench. His hand reached for a crank mechanism. It was a winch wrapped with the same chains that were secured to Munch's ankles. The chains snaked through a simple pulley system. They pulled simultaneously on her legs, spreading them apart. A similar system attached to her wrists.

  Mace took aim with his gun. "Release her," he said, "now."

  Potts's hand froze on the handle. He didn't turn around.

  "Unlock that thing, you sick son of a bitch, or I'll drop you. Do it."

  Potts flicked up the catch mechanism and the gears quickly unwound. Munch collapsed in a lifeless heap on the floor, like a puppet with its strings cut. "You finally got here," Potts said. "I called for backup fifteen minutes ago. Where the hell you guys been?"

  "Save it, Ernie. I know."

  "Hey can I help it if the guys got away? Must have been those bikers. They're big on revenge. Did you put out an APB?" As he spoke, he turned slowly around. His face was calm, almost peaceful.

  "I know," Mace said again.

  "It ends here," Potts said. "You want the collar?" He threw his hands up in the air, palms open. "You got it." He made a dismissive gesture behind him. "Forget about the bitch, she's done."

  "Don't make me do this," Mace said through clenched teeth, more of a plea than a command. Potts held up a hand like he was greeting a buddy at a beer hall. He smiled almost lazily but his eyes remained calculating. "Relax, buddy. What do you care? She's a waste. You've seen her rap sheet. I'm doing her a favor." As he spoke, he gestured wildly The sentences came more rapidly now, but his eyes never reflected panic or fear. Just a cold calculation as he poked around the underbelly of Mace's psyche. "I'm a brother, I'm a cop. Look at yourself. What are you doing? You gonna shoot me? You didn't even shoot that asshole biker. You're not gonna shoot. You know better. Hey if we don't got each other, who do we got? You're a shoo-in for lieutenant. Won't your dad be proud? How is Digger? Let me be the first to congratulate you."

  He actually stuck out his hand.

  "You're right, it's over." Mace's hand holding the gun trembled. Potts made a quick ducking move, a feint, testing Mace's resolve. Mace's hand steadied.

  "Don't make me do this."

  "Lighten up, buddy Nobody's doing anything."

  The hands windmilled through the air in front of him, punctuating each word.

  Mace took a step backward and glanced up the stairs. For an instant, he looked away. When he checked back on Ernie, his bowels constricted. Ernie was holding a big .357. There would be no misses at this range. The weapon filled the room. It cocked. The finger squeezed the trigger back.

  Mace's gun began to swing back into position, seeming to lead his hands. But he knew he was too late. The doubt spun by Ernie's web of lies had defeated him. His hesitation cost him. He steeled himself for the hot blast, staring into the face of his executioner. The world froze, then began again in an excruciating state of slow motion. Mace saw everything in minute detail, frozen frame by frame. Yet, oddly he wasn't afraid. There was no time to be afraid, no last words, just Ernie's soulless eyes, black and cold. Ernie's lips raised slowly on one side in a satisfied smirk. Then formed the words, "So stupid," as he cocked his head to one side. The words reached Mace at reduced speed, like a 78 rpm record played at 33. The gun raised another inch. Mace stared down the cold black barrel. His death would come from there and nothing would ever matter again. It had already started.

  Would his dad ever remember that he had had a son? Was there any mark on the world left by the event of Mace's small life? Had he ever lived? Mace looked back to Ernie's face. A new expression appeared there. He was not angry or happy Merely—surprised. Unbelievably his hands released their grip on his weapon. His mouth formed a round O, and then he fell forward. A pair of surgical . scissors were planted between his shoulder blades.

  When he fell, another figure rose behind him. Hair askew, eyes wild.

  Munch.

  Her arms still stretched out in front of her, hands clasped together, almost as if she had been praying. Tears streamed down her face and then sound returned to the world. She was screaming, an animalistic keen of mortal passion. As she screamed, she
kicked the body lying in front of her. The sound rushed from her in a fury that all ran together, like an ancient chant. "IATEU, IATEU." Her words began to separate in distinguishable syllables. She was yelling, "I hate you. I hate you." Over and over again, punctuating the word "hate" with a kick to his head.

  Mace let her go till she had wound herself down. Let all that venom leech from her tiny form. He was there to catch her when she slumped to the floor. He rubbed her wrists where the chains had bitten into her.

  "It's over, it's over." He kept repeating the words as he smoothed back her hair. The emergency room doctor had sutured the cut on her cheek with black thread. Her nose swelled between two blackening eyes. But her eyes were clear and very much alive. He pulled her to him. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I couldn't stop him sooner. "

  "It's okay" she assured him. "Like my sponsor always says, ‘Welcome to the human race'."

  Cassiletti appeared on the landing at the top of the stairs. "Everything all right?" he called down.

  "We're going to need a wagon," Mace said. "And the CS crew. Cassiletti, get the tape. I don't want anything disturbed."

  "Am I under arrest?" Munch asked.

  "No, babe, what we got here is a clear case of human versus animal." He helped her up and wrapped a supporting arm around her shoulders. She was so thin. He could feel her bones through the fabric of her blouse. Her hair smelled of anise and sagebrush, the wild spices of the wetlands. "I understand that you're quite a mechanic. Ever work on a train before?"

  27

  AFTER A LONG EVENING AT THE STATION, FILLING out reports and taking depositions, Munch explained the events that had led up to the death of her father, the unlamented Flower George.

  "He sold me to those assholes for a bag of speed. He didn't even like speed." She wiped her nose with her sleeve. "When they got through with me, they were going to sell me again—to Mr. Potato Head. I'd been with the guy before, he wanted to stick a flashlight up me. I bit his hand and ran away"

  "Where did that happen?" Mace asked.

  "He had a van. We were parked by the beach. After that, all the working girls knew to avoid that van. I wasn't the only one."

  "How did he know the bikers?" Captain Divine asked. Mace had called him at home to be in on the debriefing.