Death Notice

by Lolli Powell

  He opened the car door and got out, leaving it unlocked. Maybe he would go inside, after all. It was crowded. He didn’t have to be seen unless he wanted to be, and a beer might calm his nerves. But only one, he cautioned himself. Too many and he wouldn’t be sharp for what was to come.

  CHAPTER 26

  As on the night she and Will had stopped in, the music was loud and the lights dazzling. As she and Trish shouldered their way through the crowd to a small table, Jen wondered if she were getting old. Loud, crowded nightclubs didn’t do it for her anymore. Actually they never had. They were too impersonal, and she felt names like The Factory suited them. Why, she wondered, had a girl who seemed as real as Vicki liked this atmosphere? Had it been a way to keep from getting involved and hurt again?

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She looked up into the smiling face of a man at least ten years her junior. He looked nice enough, with medium length brown hair, green eyes, and a nice smile, not like the monster they were looking for, But then who knew what mask the monster might be wearing?

  They gyrated to two fast numbers played back to back, then Jen begged off. Trish was dancing when Jen returned to the table. She downed her Pepsi and ordered another, sighing as she realized this could be a long and boring night. Thinking of how it had felt to be in Will’s arms, pressed against his body, she knew what she’d rather be doing.

  She didn’t know what she had expected when she’d suggested the outing to The Factory. Perhaps she’d thought that a serial killer would stand out in some way, even though she knew better. Or maybe she thought he would trail them home where they could make a heroic effort and place him under arrest, thereby saving the women of the city.

  She shivered a little as she thought of the latter scenario and suddenly felt afraid. The feeling was alien to her. She supposed she was spooked by having seen the condition of the victims, or maybe Will’s attention had touched off some subconscious female desire to be protected. Whatever the reason, she felt, as Ada would have said, as if someone had just stepped on her grave.

  “Hello, ladies. Having a good time?”

  Larry Adams from the coroner’s office stood by their table, a can of beer in his hand. He spoke to both of them, but he was staring at Trish.

  “Hello, Larry.” Trish looked uncomfortable. “How have you been?”

  “Can’t complain. How about you?”

  “I’ve been okay.”

  A slow number had just started playing. Larry ran his hand through his wavy brown hair and smiled at Trish. Jen noticed that only his lips did the smiling; it never quite reached his eyes.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to dance,” he said to Trish.

  “No, thanks,” Trish said. “I’m really a little tired. I think I’ll take a breather from the dance floor.”

  “Yeah, you have been pretty busy tonight.” An ugly tone had crept into his voice. “I don’t guess you need me.”

  Jen saw Trish beginning to get angry, but before she could speak, Larry moved away from their table, disappearing rapidly into the crowd.

  “Jerk.” Trish looked rattled by the encounter.

  “So fill me in. What’s with you two?”

  “We went out a couple of times.” Trish shook her head. “I don’t know why I accepted the second time, since I suspected he was a weirdo from the beginning. It was right after Les, though, and I don’t think I was thinking clearly about anything.”

  “What do you mean by weirdo?”

  “Oh, I don’t know exactly.” Trish shrugged. “It’s hard to put into words, more a feeling than anything else. I just know when he touched me, my skin started crawling. At the time, I wrote it off to the heebie-jeebies because of what he does for a living.”

  “You don’t seem the type to get creeped out just because a man spends his days doing autopsies.”

  “I don’t see myself that way either. For a while, though, I thought maybe that was it. You know, on a subconscious level that I wasn’t even aware of.” She shook her head again. “I don’t know if that was it. All I know is, I put some distance between myself and Larry Adams as soon as possible.”

  “How did he react to that?”

  “He didn’t, thank goodness. I told him I didn’t think we should go out anymore, and that was that.” Her expression was troubled. “I told him in person. I thought that was only fair.”

  She hesitated for a moment and then continued.

  “He had a look in his eyes, Jen, that scared the heck out of me. His mouth was saying all the right words, being very civilized about the whole thing, but his eyes looked like he wanted to hurt me. I didn’t sleep well for a while after that, but nothing happened, so it was probably my imagination.”

  Jen sat back in her chair, staring into the crowd in the direction Adams had gone. She didn’t know much about the man, only that he wasn’t from the area. Maybe it was time she found out more.

  CHAPTER 27

  He hated places like this. The sluts pressed against him, their musk nearly smothering him. Still, it was better than sitting in the car, waiting and thinking and growing more tense.

  He’d spotted her the moment he entered the place. She was dancing with some unsuspecting young man, wiggling and writhing in her attempt to ensnare him. He snorted derisively. They called it dancing, but it was just simulated fornication.

  Unbidden, scenes from his childhood popped into his mind, and his hand tightened around his beer. Mother. Beautiful, bewitching Mother with the ribbons in her hair. He’d tried to forget, but he’d never been able to block the memories. In vivid detail, he remembered the endless nights spent alone, crying and afraid, while Mother was out looking for men. He had been small then, but he’d never forgotten the fear.

  He’d never forgotten the sounds either, the sounds that Mother and the foul-smelling men she brought home had made in the bed next to his. He had always lain quiet, feigning sleep, but once he had inadvertently made a noise, and she had realized he was awake. He still had scars on his back from the beating with the coat hangar. She had called him a “nasty little boy.” That had hurt worse than the coat hangar.

  But then she brought home the man he came to know as “Father,” and for a while, she stayed home with them and life was good. Then she left them, like they meant nothing, like they were a set of old clothes to be discarded once they’d served their purpose. Father had explained to him how they were in words his eight-year-old mind could understand and began to teach him the intricacies of the hunt.

  Life was good again.

  CHAPTER 28

  As Jen exited the ladies’ room, she glanced at her watch. It was a quarter till twelve, and she’d just about had it. They had both danced with a steady stream of men, but so far no one had aroused their suspicions. She was tired of the whole scene and wanted to get out of there, drop Trish off, and go home to her son.

  On her way back to the table, she stopped at the bar and asked Rick about his friend, Troy. He laughed at the implication, telling her Troy was—in his words—a “pussycat.” Further, Troy had an alibi, since he and Rick had been in an all-night card game with three other friends. Jen copied down Troy’s last name and address, as well as information on the three friends, for further checking.

  Trish was just returning from the dance floor as Jen sat down.

  “I don’t know about you,” Trish said, “but I’m ready to call it a night.”

  “You must have read my mind. If I don’t get out of here, I think I’ll go deaf.”

  She waited while Trish stopped in the ladies’ room, then the two of them walked to her car. The night was cool and blessedly quiet after the cacophony of music and voices inside.

  “So what did you think?” Jen put the car in DRIVE. “Did anybody strike you as suspicious?”

  “Not that I could tell,” Trish said. “Not that it means anything. You know that. I mean, he’s not going to have an ‘x’ tattooed on his forehead.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess I w
as just hoping we’d luck into something—maybe have a little run of woman’s intuition.”

  “Too bad it didn’t work. I guess you’ll just have to get leads the old-fashioned way, with plenty of hard work and late hours.”

  “Where do you start with this kind of killing?” Jen smacked the steering wheel in frustration. “There’s no motive. I mean, at least not a sane one. They probably didn’t even know him until he showed up to kill them.”

  “No sane motive, true, but there still has to be one, right? Or at least a plan, some method he uses to pick his victims. Once you figure out what that is, maybe you can get one step ahead of him.”

  “Makes sense. Now, do you have any ideas on how to figure his plan out?”

  “Hey.” Trish held up her hands, palms out. “You’re the detective. I can’t do everything.”

  Jen chuckled, slowing the car as the light at the corner of Ross and Defiance turned red. She switched on the radio, scrolling through the choices till she came to a soft rock station. When she looked up, she saw a flash of red in her rearview mirror. Before she could get a better look, her attention was distracted by a middle-aged man in blue shorts and a blue T-shirt with reflector stripes. He was just entering the intersection from the opposite corner at a slow jog. At the same time, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a vehicle barreling down Defiance from the south, moving too fast.

  Instinct told her what was about to happen. She reached for the portable radio under the car seat just as the white Chevy Cobalt sounded its horn and applied its brakes, tires squealing. The man glanced up, surprised, but his reaction time wasn’t quick enough. Jen and Trish watched, horrified, as the Cobalt slid into the intersection, striking the man and knocking him several feet into the air.

  “Ten-thirty-one, corner of Ross and Defiance.” Jen shouted into the portable. Trish was already out of the car and running across the intersection toward the victim who lay motionless on the sidewalk. “Pedestrian down.”

  “David 10, do you request an ambulance?” The dispatcher had recognized Jen’s voice without being told and had responded with her proper designator.

  “Ten-four,” Jen confirmed. “Unknown extent of injuries, but you’d better tell them to step on it.”

  The Cobalt had slowed after turning onto Ross as if the occupants were debating with themselves. Now the driver accelerated rapidly. Jen could see two people through the rear window before they began to pull away.

  “It looks like we’ve got a hit-skip, Control,” Jen said into the radio. “The vehicle’s attempting to leave the scene. I’ll be in pursuit in my personal vehicle.”

  “Vehicle description?”

  “White Chevy Cobalt, older model, plates unreadable, possible 3 and possible 6 in the number. Westbound on Ross from Defiance. Officer Peters is with the victim, no radio.”

  As the two vehicles flew down Ross, Jen watched her speedometer climb to sixty, seventy, then eighty. She heard the radio crackle as the marked units advised their locations and realized none were closer than five minutes away.

  The Cobalt braked sharply and made a left turn southbound onto Coleman Road. Jen felt the Mustang strain as she made the turn. She advised Control of the vehicle’s new direction, then saw the Cobalt turn west again at Jericho Avenue, fishtailing as it negotiated the turn.

  “Lose it!” she shouted and swore as she saw the car straighten and pick up speed down Jericho.

  “West on Jericho,” she reported into the portable. Control repeated the information in case the marked units had been unable to read her transmission.

  “David 10, Lincoln 6 to David 10.” Jen didn’t like the urgency in the voice that was calling her.

  “Lincoln 6, go ahead.”

  “There’s an N&M train southbound at Jackson and Ross now. It’s moving at a pretty good clip.”

  “Control, contact N&M and let them know what’s going on. See if they can stop that train.”

  Jen knew it was unlikely they would be able to contact the train in time to stop it before it crossed Jericho. The Cobalt was at Elm and Jericho now, with Jen less than a block behind. They crossed Poplar. Jen expected to see the fleeing car turn at Carberry Avenue, a smooth four-lane highway just past Poplar. Instead it continued across, Jen in pursuit. As the Cobalt crossed Willow, Jen began to brake. She couldn’t see the train yet, but she knew it had to be close. The gates were down, and the lights were flashing.

  “Suspect vehicle is approaching Jackson and Jericho, still westbound. I’m backing off.”

  The Cobalt never slowed as it approached the railroad tracks. It was approximately fifteen feet from the crossing when the train appeared from behind the building on the right. There was a high-pitched squeal as the engineer applied the brakes and a nearly deafening blast as he sounded the horn. The Cobalt’s brake lights flickered briefly, as if the driver had a moment of hesitation, then the car accelerated, swerving around the lowered arm.

  For a moment, it looked as if the people in the Cobalt had played the odds and won. Then the train made contact with the right rear quarter panel of the car, hooking it, and the car and the train’s engine crossed Jericho, disappearing out of sight behind the building on the left side of the street.

  Jen slowed to a stop and watched the tons of steel screeching and jerking by in front of her car, the engineer trying vainly to bring the train to a halt while there was still something left of the Chevy. Jen spoke into the portable, her voice shaking.

  “Control, get a squad out here! Ten-thirty-one involving a vehicle and a train. Better send a pumper, too. Location will probably be Jackson and Ellen by the time they get the train stopped. Notify N&M.” As an afterthought, she added, “You’d better notify Adam 1.” Adam 1 was Chief Buchan’s designator.

  Jen turned her Mustang around, heading back toward Willow. She could take it the two blocks or so down that she knew it would take the train to get stopped. She took several deep breaths, trying to combat the aching in her chest and the sudden weakness that was the aftermath of the adrenaline burst her body had just sustained. This was not the time to relax. A man could well be lying dead on a sidewalk several blocks away, and his killers’ vehicle had just been struck by a train. It was going to be a long night.

  CHAPTER 29

  Three cruisers were still on the scene at Ross and Defiance when Jen returned. Several civilian vehicles had also stopped, most out of morbid curiosity. A uniformed rookie was angrily motioning them on. Jen spotted Trish talking to the midnight relief sergeant, Herman Veasey, and walked over.

  “How bad?”

  “Bad,” Trish said. “He might make it, he might not. Several broken bones and probable internal injuries. I heard the driver lost out to a train.”

  “Yeah. The passenger may lose out permanently. She’s hurt pretty bad.” Jen rubbed her hand across her eyes, trying to wipe away the sting of the tears that were lurking there. “She’s only sixteen, Trish.”

  “My God! What about the driver?”

  “Not much older. He’ll make it. He was flying so high he probably thinks an airplane hit him.”

  “Why don’t you come over here and sit down, Dillon?”

  Sergeant Veasey put his arm gently around her shoulders and led her to his patrol car. He was one of the old-timers, past due for retirement. Jen couldn’t remember ever hearing anyone call him by his first name, not even the chief. She sat sideways on the passenger side of the bench seat, her feet on the ground, and rested her face in her hands.

  “I should have backed off earlier,” she said. “We’d have gotten them later. We usually do.”

  “Dillon, listen to me.” Veasey squatted on the ground and took Jen’s hands in his, pulling them away from her face. “There is a man in the emergency room fighting for his life. The odds are good he’s not going to make it. He’s fifty-three years old. He was out for a jog, probably thinking about how the exercise was going to keep him from having a heart attack like all his buddies his age. Now he’s probably not going
to live long enough to die from a heart attack. If he dies, two kids killed him. Remember that. And remember that you did the only thing you could do. You went after them. That’s what you’re supposed to do. You didn’t cause them to be hit by the train. They made their own choices, and this is what it got them. It’s not your fault.”

  “I know all that,” Jen was almost whispering. “I’m not stupid. I know all that. But you didn’t see her, Sergeant. She’s so young!”

  “That fellow in the emergency room’s grandkids probably are, too,” Veasey said. “It happened, Dillon. There’s nothing that can be done about it now.”

  She stared at him, knowing he was right. It didn’t make it any easier, but he was right.

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” He stood, grimacing as his knees popped. “That’s why I’m paid the big bucks. I’ll get Peters to drive you down to the building in your car. You don’t need to be behind the wheel just now.”

  “I guess it’s going to be a long night.” Jen sighed. “Were there any witnesses besides Trish and me?”

  “One.” Sergeant Veasey motioned toward Vic Hensley. “Vic’s talking to him now.”

  Hensley was standing by his cruiser, taking a statement from a man in jeans and a black T-shirt who was sitting in the passenger seat, the door open. Jen couldn’t see his face. “Who is he?”

  “Works for the post office,” Veasey said. “Mail carrier. Apparently he was behind the two of you.”

  Jen remembered the red car that had been behind them at the intersection. She got up and walked over to the cruiser. As she approached, the man glanced up at her over Vic’s shoulder and smiled. She was surprised to see it was Carter Holiday, the mailman who had found Vicki Kaufmann’s body.

  “Detective Dillon, hello,” Holiday said. “We’ve got to start meeting under more pleasant circumstances.”