Mason & Morgan- The Serial Killer Collection

by Adam Nicholls

  “First time, honey? That’s okay.” The woman put a hand on Melanie’s. It was warm and gentle—assuring. “My name’s Lady. What do you say we find somewhere quiet?”

  Chapter Ten

  Mason and Evie arrived outside the jewelry store in their separate cars. It was a secluded spot, away from any other buildings. The parking lot was huge in comparison to the store itself, and Mason had a feeling business might not be doing so well at this end of town.

  They parked near the front, where a dark figure sat upright on a bench. Evie was first out the car, and Mason followed.

  “Mason,” she said, approaching the bench, “this is Diane Palmer, a friend of mine.”

  “Pleasure,” he said, shaking her gloved hand. He was surprised to see how beautiful she was. She was black and had kind features, reminiscent of a young Whitney Houston.

  “Thank you for coming.” She smiled and rubbed her arms in the cold. “I think I may have some information regarding Johnny Walker.”

  Mason took a step back. “How did you—”

  “I told her all about it,” Evie said. “I’m going to leave you guys to it. I’ll be in my car when you’re done.” She disappeared abruptly, as if she had no right being there.

  For a moment there was an awkward silence.

  “So,” Mason said, taking charge, “you think you know something that will help?”

  “Maybe. I knew the kid. I used to babysit him sometimes, back when he was a bit younger. He always had a bit of… let’s say, an unhealthy obsession for me.”

  “Okay.” This came as no surprise to Mason. She was stunning, and even the way she spoke made you feel like you had her whole attention. “What happened? He stalked you?”

  “No, no, nothing like that,” Diane said, waving a hand. “I mean, I never told his parents this—that would’ve been cruel—but I walked in on him masturbating once or twice. I kind of think he wanted it to happen, you know?”

  Mason nodded. Puberty was a painful time for most.

  “As he got older he stayed in touch, though I sensed he was embarrassed about those times. Perhaps even sorry. How nice he was to me after that was always a little uncomfortable, as if he felt guilty about having been that way.”

  Diane stood up and they began to walk.

  “You were friends with him when he died?”

  “I wouldn’t say friends, but he confided in me, yes. I…” Diane looked at her feet.

  “Go on.”

  “I’m worried this might be a waste of your time, but he turned up at my door a few nights ago and announced his love for me. When I turned him down—politely, I might add—he spoke about how he might resort to prostitution.”

  Mason already knew this, but he bit his tongue and stayed patient.

  “Is that of any use to you?” Diane stopped walking and looked up at Mason with sad eyes. She seemed worried she might disappoint him.

  “A little. You don’t happen to know where he might’ve gone to find one?”

  Diane’s eyes lowered to the ground, and she shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. But I know a popular spot for people who like to go… al fresco.”

  Mason snickered at the delicacy of the term. “Where’s that?”

  “Over at Adaway Park. Johnny once offered to take me there in his new car. I’m sorry if it isn’t much use, but it might be worth taking a look.”

  “Sure.” Mason nodded and reached into his pocket for his business card. “If you think of anything else useful, Miss Palmer, would you mind giving me a call?”

  “Absolutely.” Her smile was forced, but a pleasure nonetheless. “And please, call me Diane. You know… if we ever meet again.”

  “I hope we do, Diane.” Mason smiled and headed back to the cars.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Wait.”

  Mason heard Evie’s footsteps padding up behind him. He should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as getting into his car and leaving. “What’s up?”

  “Was she useful?”

  “Who?”

  “Diane.”

  “Oh.” Mason looked over her shoulder to see Diane slowly heading back their way. He guessed she must have lived in their direction. “Listen, can you drive her home? It’s not safe here at night.”

  “Sure.”

  Mason turned to leave, then felt that hand on his arm again. “What?”

  Evie sighed. “Can we… Could you come over tomorrow night?”

  “Why?”

  “Does there have to be a reason? You’re my brother, for God’s sake.”

  Mason really wanted to say yes, but for all he knew he could be locked up by this time tomorrow. Anyway, if he was being accused of murder, he could hardly stop for dinner. “I really can’t.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. My plate’s full. No pun intended.”

  “Damn you.” Evie shoved him, frustrated. “Why do you get like this? I understand you care about your work. That’s fine—good, even—but it’s the people around you who have to suffer your distractions.”

  As much as he hated to admit it, he knew it was true. It’d been a year since Sandra divorced him for that exact same reason. But what choice did he have?

  “Just forget it.” Evie stormed back to her car, waving Diane over.

  “Wait.” Mason stepped forward. “Dinner at eight?”

  Evie smiled. “At my place.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Great. And get some rest, okay?”

  Mason nodded, waved to Diane, and climbed into his Mustang. Although he’d agreed to go home just to keep Evie quiet, it was already getting late. Whatever he was looking for at Adaway Park, it could have to wait until daylight.

  Letting out a long breath, Mason started the car and headed home.

  He only hoped he wouldn’t wake up to the police banging on his door.

  Chapter Twelve

  Even first thing in the morning, the park swarmed with teenagers. Truants, Mason thought as he parked his car and walked toward the small lake. It was a beautiful day, or at least it would have been if he didn’t have a murder to solve.

  As he was leaving the parking lot and stomping toward the grass, a four-by-four full of mouthy kids drove past, one of whom launched a half-empty soda can in his direction. “Gramps!” they called in unison.

  Mason kept on walking, pitying them for the so-called adults they were destined to become. It made him think of his own daughter. She was only fourteen but already miles ahead of these delinquents. He only prayed she would stay that way.

  It took fifteen minutes to reach the end of the park. There was nothing there to suggest it was a sexual hotspot of any kind. There were families here, even single moms pushing buggies along the paths. But they wouldn’t be able to help him.

  He spotted a picnic bench. With their feet on the seats and their asses perched on the tabletop, as if it were some kind of throne, sat five boys. They looked to be around sixteen, maybe a year or two older.

  Expecting trouble, Mason approached.

  “Hey,” he said, taking the PI badge from his pocket and flashing it in front of them. “You boys from around here?”

  For a moment they all looked at each other, trying to figure out which of them was being addressed. Finally, one stepped down. He was wearing a tracksuit with the jacket open, and gold chains that were probably fake. “What’s it to you?”

  Mason assessed them, cautious of the aggression. But he had no reason not to proceed with good manners. “I hear there’s some kind of area here where people come to fool around. Any chance you could point me in the right direction?”

  The boy stepped forward, leaning in close. “What are you, a fag or something?”

  There was obvious hostility there but not enough to make Mason draw his firearm—there were little kids around, far too young to be seeing things like that. Instead, he stayed on edge, prepared for any kind of attack. “No. A young man was murdered here a couple of days ago. I nee
d to find the crime scene, and you’re going to help me.”

  The boy’s grin dissolved into an insulted expression. He came even closer. Their noses would have touched if he hadn’t been so short.

  Mason shoved him back and watched as two of his friends shot to their feet. He’d known this kind of loyalty before. It was unbreakable, unless faced with the element of surprise. Luckily, the kid struck first, throwing a lazy right hook at Mason. Mason caught it in his palm, grabbed his wrist, and used the joint to contort him down to his knees in surrender. The other boys moved forward but stopped at the sound of their friend’s scream. “You move,” Mason spat, “and I’ll break every bone in his hand.”

  The boys stepped back.

  “Now,” Mason said to the kid, “let’s try again. I need to find this place—”

  “Okay, yeah,” he blurted. “You mean the Howls.” He grimaced in pain, his wrist turning pink.

  “The Howls?”

  “It’s another parking lot up on the hill.” The kid turned his head and nodded in that general direction, realizing his friends had abandoned him. “They call it that because of the—Ahhh… because of the chicks howling when they get laid.”

  Mason let go of his wrist and dragged him to his feet by the collar of his jacket. “Great. How difficult was that, huh? Now, lead the way.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  They took the Mustang, leaving the park entirely, and drove up around the hill to get to the next parking lot. When they arrived, Mason saw it was more of a gravelly wasteland than a parking lot.

  “Just up here, man.” The kid was pointing to a tree, which had five parking spots tucked away behind it. The dividing lines were marked by shoddy rows of rocks.

  “Get out,” Mason said, stepping onto the dusty path. He closed the door, stalked around the car, and dragged the kid again, this time by his arm. “Show me.”

  “This is it,” the kid cried. “This is it. Just let me go.”

  Mason obliged, releasing his arm, but he wasn’t done with him just yet. “Did you know this kid? The one who was murdered?” He glanced around at the site, wondering where he’d begin his search.

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Interesting. I didn’t tell you his name.”

  The boy flushed a hot red and rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean—”

  “Cut the crap. Tell me about him, and then you can leave.”

  “You swear?”

  “Unless you killed him yourself, yeah,” Mason said, only half-joking.

  “Fine. All right. His name was Johnny Walker. Bit of a nerd, if y’ask me. Always had a lot to prove.” He put a hand on his shoulder, rotating and stretching the joint. “If he came up here with a woman, he probably had to pay for it, ya know? Nobody liked him.”

  “You think he was specifically targeted?”

  “I don’t… Maybe. Nobody hated him. He was just an ugly kid.”

  Mason looked at him, wondering exactly who he was calling ugly. This Johnny Walker boy may not have been the most handsome, but at least he didn’t have a gaping hole in his ear and buck teeth. “All right. That checks out. Now get lost.”

  “Whoa, whoa. You’re not gonna drive me back?”

  “You can go, now,” Mason repeated, staring daggers at him.

  The kid must have seen the frustration in his eyes, as he turned and began the long hike back without another word.

  Alone now, Mason studied the site. Tire tracks were still evident, and they could have been fresh. It proved nothing, but it was a place to start.

  The further he considered this case, the less sense it made. Who’d want to murder an innocent kid? Why bring him all the way out here? What happened to the boy’s car?

  Looking around, Mason saw nothing of note nearby except a couple of bushes, though he wasn’t prepared to go rooting through them just yet. At least, not until he saw something glistening in the sunlight. He reached an arm through the thorns and pulled out the shiny object. The zipper of a Star Wars wallet.

  Please be Johnny’s. Mason fingered through it, looking at the ID cards. His breath caught as he read the name on the driver’s license: Jonathon Walker.

  “Thank God,” he muttered. Next he pulled out a stash of business cards, flipping them away as he read each one. He found nothing of interest until he reached the last one. It was pink, distinctive, and had a drawn silhouette of a woman lying by a fireplace.

  PRICELESS BEAUTIES

  THE ONLY PLACE FOR MASSAGES AND MORE!

  It had an address, and Mason intended to use it. He stashed the card in his coat pocket and took the money from the wallet. It was only fifty bucks, but that wasn’t the point. If anyone else stumbled upon it, he wanted it to look like a simple theft. The last thing he needed was the police asking why he was looking into this case.

  After wiping away the prints, Mason tossed the wallet back into the bush and went back to his car. At least now he had somewhere to check out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Melanie awoke, unable to move.

  Where am I?

  The last thing she remembered was leaving Bryan at home and heading out. Where was she heading? Food shopping? No. It was… It was more betraying than that. It was…

  The light blazed from above, nearly blinding her. Melanie wanted to move, even tried to, but her body was too weak. She had just enough energy to tilt her head, and she regretted it immediately.

  Her wrists were bound either side of her naked body, which lay spread-eagle across a wooden table. Her legs were apart, her privates on display, her breasts lilting to the sides.

  She wanted to scream, to cry out. But as the haziness filtered out as her head cleared, she realized her tongue was bone-dry and her jaw ached. Something had been stuffed in her mouth, and it was difficult to breathe.

  The door creaked open and a woman came in. Melanie recognized the red hair, and recalled what had happened last night. Up to a certain point, at least. She’d gone out looking for a woman, and she’d found this one. She’d introduced herself as Lady, and she acted like one, too. She was soft, kind, and patient. What happened after that? Melanie had no idea.

  Lady crossed the room and smiled. “Morning, sweetie. I didn’t expect you to be awake for this. Would you like another sedative?”

  Melanie squirmed under her bonds, mumbling through the gag.

  “That’s okay. I’ve run out of the stuff anyway.” She selected a tool from the side table. It was plugged into a power outlet and looked like something a professional would use. The only question was: a professional what?

  As she switched it on, it made a violent, vibrating noise, almost like hair clippers. It was then Melanie realized what it was—a tattoo gun. She’d had two tattoos before, but that didn’t stop her body from trembling as adrenaline flooded through.

  “Please, don’t do this!” Melanie screamed.

  “Oh, hold still,” Lady said, towering over her naked, vulnerable body. “It’s just a damn tattoo. It won’t hurt. I promise.”

  Melanie tried to relax, though she was unable to stop shaking. What was this crazy woman doing? Who was this crazy woman? What would the tattoo be?

  Whatever it was, she didn’t want it. Perhaps she could get it removed when she got out of here.

  If she got out of here.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Priceless Beauties was a humble little store in a quiet street on the edge of town. From the outside it looked like a respectable place for men and women of all ages to go for a professional massage. But as Mason walked inside, he got the impression it leaned more toward male clientele.

  Pictures of stunning young women lined the walls, most of which were exposed in one way lewd or another. Sex toys labeled as massagers were displayed on shelves all around the store. And there was a distinct smell, too—something sweaty but masked with summer fruits. It was how he imagined a girls’ locker room to smell.

  A beaded curtain shifted behind the desk, announcing the arrival of a blon
de-haired woman dressed for business. “Can I help you?” she asked.

  Mason, becoming aware now he simply looked like a cop, approached the desk. He chose not to flash his badge. It wouldn’t benefit him for this woman to hide her true business. “I’m looking for a woman who might work here. Goes by the name of Lady Luck.”

  She shook her head. “Nobody here by that name, sir. But we can find you someone similar if you tell me your preferences.”

  “I’m not here for pleasure.” Hopefully that was as much as he’d need to tell her. “Is there anywhere else around here that conducts, er… business like this? It’s very important I find her.”

  “People come here from all over. This is San Francisco. If you can’t find someone to give you a massage, you’re looking in all the wrong places.”

  “And if somebody did come here?” Mason held out Johnny Walker’s driver’s license. “Might he have come here two days ago, looking for a… massage?”

  The woman sighed, flipped open a ledger, and hummed a pleasant tune while scanning through it with her finger. “Two days ago… Nope, we were all booked up, and there was nobody by that name.”

  Mason wondered if Johnny used another name to save his embarrassment, but there was no way to tell. “Maybe you can help me with this, then.” He took the business card from his pocket and slid it across the counter. “Where do you distribute these?”

  The woman picked it up, looked it over, and handed it back. “I don’t. This is the only place you’ll find them, unless a friend gave it to you.” She leaned forward, obviously keen to show off her impressive cleavage.

  Goddamnit. He was hoping she wouldn’t have said that. It was beginning to look as if he’d have to talk to Johnny Walker’s parents. Not only would that be difficult, but there was a risk they would contact the police. Mason wondered how interested the police would be to learn he was looking into his own case.