The initial volume of Finn’s response drew the attention of the nearby correction officer. “I shouldn’t have brought it up?” It was you – you idiot. You brought it up.”
Kevin waved a dismissive hand. “It was a confusing scene, but it’s not really important who brought it up.”
“Let’s get out of here.” Finn didn’t look to see if Kevin was following him through the door.
“Hey,” Kevin called, “Do you think that guy Nick could be one of those demons Lasalle sent against us?”
The drive back to the city was quick and uneventful. It was after 11AM when Finn dragged himself into his office. The party, Meg, Nick, and Sing Sing had become afterthoughts, secondary to his discovery regarding the vent and shaft.
“Good morning, Gladys.”
“I guess it’s still morning, barely,” Gladys replied.
Finn ignored the snide remark. Before planting himself at his desk he tossed his soiled suit on the window sill. As soon as he completed his important phone call he was going to walk down the block to the dry cleaners to see if his suit could be salvaged.
Gladys took note of the stained, rumpled, grimy suit and shook her head. “I guess you had a good time at that party last night,” she commented.
“It was pretty good,” Finn replied.
“Pretty good, huh!” Gladys scoffed. “From the look of that suit I’d guess that you and the drunken bartender managed to make fools of yourselves.”
Finn wasn’t up to sparring with Gladys. “Now look Gladys…..”
Gladys cut Finn off. “I just want to know one thing. Are there going to be devil worshippers outside again today?”
Finn shook his head and pulled out his phone. He kept reminding himself that if he had nothing nice to say to his 83-year old secretary, he should say nothing at all.
“Detective Taggart, please.”
“Detective Taggart, can I help you?”
“Hi, Paul, it’s Finn Delaney.”
“Finn – what’s up brother?”
Finn was bubbling with excitement. He wanted to unload all his revelations instantaneously, but he knew he was only going to start babbling incoherently if he didn’t pace himself. He took a deep breath. “Paul, I found something.”
“Found what? In the case folder?”
“No,” Finn clarified. “At the scene.”
“What’s at the scene?”
“I found a tunnel.”
“What tunnel? What are you talking about?”
“Just listen for a minute, Paul.” Finn took another deep breath. He methodically detailed his discovery of the underground bridle path, as well as the vent and shaft. Finn was exciting himself by simply relaying the story to Paul. “And you’re not going to believe this, Paul, but that vent and shaft looks like it originates under the building where the armored car depot was located. I’m just sorry I told Rory Burns about it. My friend Kevin and I visited Rory in prison this morning, and I could see he got very excited. I’m also sorry I said anything in front of Rory’s asshole friend Nick, who used to work with Rory.” Finn caught himself. “I’m sorry, Paul – I’m rambling. What do you think?”
There was silence on the line. “Paul? Are you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here, Finn – keep going.”
Finn pulled his phone from his ear, stared at it for an instant of disbelief, and then returned it to his ear. “Keep going? That’s it. That’s the whole story.”
“And what do you think this proves?” Paula asked.
“Are you kidding, Paul? The armored car depot heist and the Demon Murders could be connected. Don’t you see? Someone could have got in and out of that vault via the vent and tunnel and gotten a mile away from the depot via the tunnel. When they came out of the tunnel they would have passed right through the murder scene as they passed through the park.”
Paul seemed less than enthusiastic. “I don’t know, Finn.”
“You don’t know?” Finn snapped. “Some of the details of the murder case make more sense when you factor in the depot robbery.”
“Like what?” Paul asked.
“Like Charlie Mills blurting out the name MORMO.”
“Who’s Mormo?”
Finn was becoming exasperated. “Mormo is the name of a demon. Charlie said it was a demon named Mormo who committed the murders. Come on, Paul. How could a slow kid like Charlie come up with the name of a real demon. If he was some master criminal, why did he just lay there in the blood and wait for the police?”
“Maybe because he’s insane,” Paul shot back.”
“Look, Paul…….”
Paul cut in. “You look, Finn. I don’t want to be rude, but I don’t have time for this. I’m dealing with a home invasion pattern and the Chief of Department is yanking the entire squad down to Compstat next week. If we don’t have some answers by then, we’ll be crucified.”
Finn was completely deflated. “OK, Paul. Sorry to bother you.”
“It’s not a bother kid.” Paul was feeling bad for snapping at Finn. “Just leave the criminal detective work to the NYPD.”
“OK, Paul, take care.”
The somber sound of Finn’s voice made Paul feel a bit guilty for crushing hi spirit. He shrugged, took a deep breath and continued studying the folder containing the home invasion pattern details. A few seconds later he closed the folder and called out to the opposite side of the detective squad office. “Hey Louie. Where’s the case folder on that armored car depot burglary from a couple of years ago?”
May 26th
“Good morning, Gladys.” Finn smiled and tried to remember his campaign of kindness toward his late-arriving ancient secretary.
“Ugh!” Gladys grunted and waved a dismissive hand as she hobbled to her desk.
Finn placed his hand on his chin and studied this person at the other desk. She was as grey as the cheap linoleum in the office. Was there ever a real person inside that shell? Finn wondered how much time he would have to rewind to find it. Ten years? Twenty years? Fifty years? It was hard for Finn to imagine Gladys as a kid, someone with all the hope in the world, eager for the future yet to unfold. All this time on earth must have robbed her of all that and brought her to some half-alive state where crossword puzzles seemed to be the driving force. Maybe Gladys was never young and hopeful. Maybe she was born old and grumpy.
“Anything new, Gladys? Any clients I have to call?”
“Don’t rush me – don’t rush me,” she scolded. “Can’t you see I just sat down.”
“Sorry.” Finn shook his head. He took his phone in his hand and accessed text messages from Kevin. He scrolled to the most recent messages. There it was. He scribbled the number on a notepad. After his deflating conversation with Paul Taggart, Finn found solace in his father’s advice to leave no stone unturned. He knew it was a long shot, but Finn needed information from Kevin before attempting to pick up one more stone.
“Mr. Dominguez, please.”
“This is Tom Dominguez. How can I help you?”
“My name id Finn Delaney, sir. I’m a private investigator and also a friend of Rory Burns.”
“Oh, really.” Dominguez responded.
To Finn, the declaration did not sound like a person happy to receive the information. “I know you were Rory’s lawyer, and I just wanted to let you know about some information I discovered during one of my cases.”
Finn explained in great detail everything from his involvement in the Demon Murder case, to meeting the Hillmans and discovering the tunnel, to finding the vent that led to the location of the armored car depot. As he spoke, the intermittent “Uh huhs” he was receiving as feedback, gave Finn the distinct feeling that Tom Dominguez was busy doing something else while he was speaking. When Finn completed the story, there was silence on the line. “Mr. Dominguez?”
“Oh yeah. That sounds good. Do you have pictures of that bridge?”
Finn was deflating fast. “It was a tunnel.”
“Oh, right. A tunnel. D
o you have pictures of the tunnel?”
“Not many,” Finn responded. “Not for the purposes of an investigation.”
“Well get some good pictures and send them to me.”
“Ok, I’ll……” Finn stooped in mid-sentence. Tom Dominguez was already gone.
Finn rose from his desk and stared out the window. A fender bender in the southbound lanes was fouling up traffic worse than the satanic demonstration had. Finn sighed. He had to face the fact that he had reached the end of the road. No one seemed to care about his big find, and maybe they were right. Why waste his time returning to Alley Pond Park to take pictures for an obviously disinterested lawyer? Maybe he should call Nancy Mills and tell her he was done.
“If you’re just daydreaming, why don’t you run downstairs and get me a bagel with just a little cream cheese.”
Finn turned toward Gladys. “Is that all?”
“Orange juice,” she added, making no movement toward her purse.
Finn waited for the Bagel Boy clerk to acknowledge him. Calling Nancy Mills was only going to further depress him. He placed the order for Gladys and resolved that his call to Nancy could wait for another day.
Chapter 15: No Stone Unturned
May 30th
When Finn opened his investigations business, one of the pieces of equipment his father purchased for him was a beginner-friendly DSLR camera for his investigative photography needs. Finn had recently purchased an iPhone 8 Plus and was instantly impressed with the high-quality photos captured by its camera. So, as Finn motored toward Alley Pond Park, he had no bulky camera and case to carry to the tunnel. His entire investigative photography system was secured in the phone case on his belt.
Finn had no real hope that his trip to photograph the tunnel and vent would result in anything positive. To the contrary, he had accepted that his investigation was done. This exercise in futility was simply a way to put off that call he still had to make to Nancy Mills.
Finn faced two choices. He could park near the Italian restaurant on Union Turnpike where he would be extremely close to one of the tunnel entrances, or he could hike through Alley Pond Park via the same route he took when he met the Hillmans. Finn chose the hike. The leisurely walk along the rural trail would be good exercise for his knee. The main reason for his choice however, was that he wanted no part of vaulting that chain link fence again on Union Turnpike.
Finn turned off Woodhaven Boulevard onto the entrance ramp for the eastbound Long Island Expressway. He glanced in his rear-view mirror and observed a dark blue Caprice behind him. Finn was concerned. Hadn’t he seen this same car several times over the past few days? And now that he thought about it, there were two or three other cars he had seen multiple times. Finn settled into the right lane and shook his head. What was wrong with him? He was becoming paranoid. All this stuff with Lasalle was getting to him. He was beginning to see demons behind every tree, or in this case, in every car.
The trail in the park was a million hues of brown, more than Finn’s eyes could detect, yet they were there. The differences were magnified by the moisture, variation on variation. Mingled in were some stones, adding their greys to the mosaic beneath his feet. The trees were khaki over the bark, kissed with moss. Finn let his eyes rest on the trees, their bark scarred by woodland animals seeking insects. He was a typical New York City boy, and had rarely, if ever, taken the time to appreciate the nature within his metropolis. Each of the trees was soft brown, their injuries mahogany and deep even where the light reached them. Periodically there was a raised ring under the bark going right around the girth, regular and chaotic all at once.
The trees were veiled in the lightest of mists, their trunks somber brown with sable cracks that gnarled the bark. The sound of Finn’s steps was joined by a chorus of birds, insects and the rustling of squirrels and other wildlife scurrying through the brush. Finn put the appreciation of his nature walk on hold. Up ahead he saw a familiar sight. He was about to enter the clearing where the murders were committed. Once through the clearing it would be only a few more minutes until he reached the tunnel.
Finn’s satisfaction in communing with nature was replaced by an uneasy feeling. He entered the clearing and looked around. Was it the knowledge of the terrible crime that had taken place here, or was it his ever increasing paranoia. The stillness of the air seemed to suck even the sound of his steps into nothingness. Even the trees seemed not to rustle as if they were tense with nerves for what was to come. The birds and wildlife had suddenly fallen silent. Finn could describe the scene as creepy, but eerie was probably closer to it. Whatever word he decided on, Finn didn’t like it.
The woods were beginning to speak again, but it wasn’t the chatter of the birds and squirrels Finn had enjoyed during his walk to the clearing. This sound was different – a much heavier sound. He squinted in the direction of the noise. Finn could see movement behind a thick landscape of trees and bushes. The dark form set against the green of the woodlands was moving progressively closer. Finn’s wits were abandoning him. Should he run out of the clearing in the opposite direction? Should he call out to the moving form? He did neither. Instead, he stood frozen in the clearing and thought about how stupid he was to place himself in this vulnerable position alone in the woods. Another ironic thought entered his head. Why did he never carry his licensed firearm? Finn grit his teeth and shook his head, noting what a fine time it was for him to recognize that error.
Finn’s heart was racing progressively faster as the form moving through the trees began to take shape. Finn’s eyes widened. This couldn’t be happening, but as the shape crept closer to the edge of the trees, there was no mistaking its form. The hideous snarling face of something that looked like a cross between a wolf, a lion, and a man was about to enter the clearing. Finn shook his head in a gesture of unacceptance. This was impossible. He didn’t care what had happened with his dreams and Kevin’s paranoia at the bar – this was New York City in the twenty-first century – demons just don’t fly around the neighborhood. And yet, here was this menacing, dark hooded, robed creature emerging from the trees.
Finn was paralyzed. Was this his own fear or the product of this specter? He wasn’t sure. The long, flowing robe gave the appearance that the dark spirit was floating in front of him. In his petrified state, Finn’s eyes found focus on something - something very odd. This demon was holding an object against his hip in his right hand. Finn squinted at the object. Was that a gun? It was a gun. The demon was pointing a gun at Finn that looked just like the Glock 19 semi-automatic pistol he carried during his short police career. In this whole bizarre sequence of events, Finn had yet another question to ponder. Why would a demon need a gun?
In the midst of his terror, Finn thought of Occum’s Razor. Had Lasalle conjured a demon with a gun to terrorize him, or was there a simpler explanation. Clarity was swift and certain. This was no dark, supernatural possession taking place. This was Aamon Lasalle himself pointing the pistol at him. Obviously, Chris’s front door exorcism had not had the desired result.
For an instant, Finn saw it out of the corner of his left eye. He identified it as a thick tree limb a split-second before it slammed into the left side of his head and face.
Finn had no idea how long he had been unconscious. Was it hours or only seconds? He rolled in the dirt and tried to get up, but his hands would not move from behind his back. They were tied. At least he knew he was unconscious long enough to have his hands securely tied behind his back.
Finn turned his head and observed another hooded, masked figure with Lasalle.
“Get him up!” Lasalle growled in a gravelly voice.
The second demon roughly yanked Finn to his feet and addressed the gun-holding ghoul. “Just shoot him, Mormo, and let’s be done with this.”
“Mormo!” Finn thought. The same demon name Chris had heard during the murders. So, it was Lasalle all along. A lot of good this information would do him now.
The masked Lasalle approached to withi
n a foot of Finn. “No! - sacrifice is the greatest gift to Satan – even self-sacrifice. This has to look like a suicide.” He then turned his mask directly to Finn. “I would much prefer to slice your head off and leave it sitting on a stump, but you wouldn’t be able to do that yourself, would you? No, I’ll have to be satisfied with something less artistic, yet still poignant. Think about it. The incompetent private eye is so tormented, he goes to the scene of the Demon Murders and ends his pathetic life by hanging himself.” The gravelly growl transitioned to a laugh. “Or maybe the demons did it.”
“Over there,” Lasalle directed his partner. “That stump.”
The second demon pulled Finn to a large stump at the edge of the clearing. He released his grip on Finn and began tying a noose in a length of rope. Lasalle kept his pistol trained on Finn. “Make a move in any direction, and I will make this a suicide by gunshot – your choice.”
Finn couldn’t watch the second demon at work, but he realized his task was complete when the rope fell over his neck and the noose was pulled tight. Reality and panic fully set in. He was only moments away from swinging from a tree.
“Get up on that stump,” Lasalle ordered.
Finn remained stationery.
“I said get up there,” Lasalle repeated while training the pistol directly at Finn’s face.
Finn wouldn’t and couldn’t move. “Just shoot him already,” the apprentice demon commented.
“No,” Lasalle barked. “Lift him onto the stump. He only has to be up there a second to tighten the rope and push him off.”
The demon assistant grabbed Finn around the waist from behind and began lifting. Instinctively, Finn wiggled and kicked with every ounce of strength he possessed. He realized if he made it onto that stump it was over.
“Get up there, you bastard,” the demon yelled as he struggled to move Finn.
“Come on,” Lasalle said. “I want to get this over with and get out of here.” Lasalle put his pistol on the ground and picked up the other end of the rope. He tossed it over the thick tree limb above the stump and took hold of it again. He pulled the rope tight. ”Now just get him up there for an instant.”
The Demon Within Page 16
