by B Anders
"I am," Faust countered. "If you can't function, the entire investigation is worse than back to square one and more people are gonna die."
"This investigation went to shit the day we found the first corpse rotting on the Esplanade. And, in case you hadn't noticed," Colby sneered as she continued, "more people have died since then and more are going to die before this guy is finished. We are fuckin’ useless when it comes to getting in front of him. He’s got no pattern, no mythology, no timetable. Nothing we can use to figure him out. The only clues he leaves are deliberate and intentional. It's impossible to get in front of him. All we can do is wait for the next corpse to show up. The fucker is screwing us over and we’re letting him.”
Faust glared at Colby and spoke in a low voice almost a whisper, "I've just about had it with you. You are fuckin’ worse than useless. You are nothing but a waste of space, Colby. You act like you're dead only you haven't fallen down yet."
The familiar ring of the words sent a shiver down Colby's back. But any rebuttal she might have offered was stifled by the Captain's angry bellow.
"Faust! Willis! My office! NOW!"
"Fuck, this day just keeps getting better and better," Colby cursed.
Faust snapped a snide remark over her shoulder. "Yeah? Well, Willis, the guy in the snowbank would probably be happy to trade his last bad day for yours, right about now."
“Bleedin’ heart rookie,” Colby muttered under her breath, just loud enough to be heard by the woman walking in front of her.
Colby dragged her feet as she followed Faust to the Captain's office at the far end of the corridor. His door was slightly ajar as they approached. The strangest sensation of déjà vu overtook Colby. She found herself unable to breathe, caught inexplicably in a sudden wave of stifling, summer heat in the middle of a chilly March morning. She needed to make a break for the emergency exit, run down the stairs out into the street before the door was pushed open to reveal a dead man sitting behind the desk.
Without warning, the Captain pulled the door wide open, his chest puffed out like a peacock, all prepared to unleash another barrage of frustration on the outside world. Bitter disappointment in his scream denied showed in his deep brown eyes as he spied the two women standing in front of his door.
"Get you asses in here double time!" He barked. The order was unusual for the Captain who prided himself on his self-control. Unlike most of his peers, he never got sent by the brass to undergo counseling for anger management issues. "Hit the hard wood and keep your yaps shut until I tell you to take a breath."
Both women knew not to talk back when the Captain's mood was so foul. Any crap at times like this and you could find yourself on shit duty for the rest of the month or worse. The Captain was smart enough not to get into a pissing match with the union unless he followed progressive discipline to the letter and the man knew how to dish it out. Colby learned about his methodical approach to management first hand. The door slammed shut and Colby sunk into the chair furthest from the desk.
"I just got off the phone with the Superintendent, who just got off the phone with the Mayor, who just got off the phone with the Governor, and he ain’t feeling no love." The Captain stood with his hands firmly planted on his wide hips.
"The Governor has had it with the stalled investigation. He wants action and he wants it yesterday. The Mayor is just about ready to let the Staties or the Feds take the lead. They’ve been drooling for years to get a crack at our killer. And, fuck save us if the Feds get the green light to swoop in. We'll be jumping through FBI hoops if that happens."
His dark brown brow furrowed and he continued speaking in a softer but more menacing voice. "I don’t need to tell you losing the lead role for a serial killer with as much publicity as the Ripper’s Daughter in our own jurisdiction will do nothing for our cause at the next round of contract negotiations. We'll be lucky his honor won't be looking for a refund of our last cost of living raise."
The room was silent except for the Captain's asthmatic wheeze.
"Keeping those facts in mind, what do you have for me?"
"It's the same killer," Colby ventured.
"Well, there's a news flash, Willis. My Mrs. knew it was our girl when my phone rang at the crack of dawn. You think we ought to get my Mrs. down here to look the case files over? Maybe she’ll make a break through and finger the woman down at the bakery. Willis, you been doing nothin’ but looking the case files over for five years and you can’t even finger yourself."
Faust rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Captain, maybe we do need fresh eyes reviewing the evidence."
"What evidence?" Colby smirked.
For a brief moment it looked like the Captain's head was going to explode. "I’ve had it with that mouth of yours, Wills. You shut the fuck up! I'm in a shitty mood and I'm armed."
Colby swallowed hard. She knew she was on thin ice with the Captain. Her head was throbbing and she was still hung-over from last night’s bender. She was in no position to be clever. Easing back into the chair, she gave a little nod and fixed her gaze firmly on the floor.
"She has a point, Captain. We've collected over twenty two hundred pieces of evidence but none of it leads anywhere," Faust began with a quiet sigh. "Vics’ demographics are all over the place, almost conspicuously random. The bodies were left in public locations throughout the greater Boston area, in the open but never in plain sight. Items used to bind the victims and seal their mouths are so common even Assisted Living Facilities carry them in their gift shops. The items, trinkets as the press likes to call them, left in the vics’ mouths have DNA evidence but it is as random as the vics themselves. And, it's all junk. It looks like somebody scoured a wastepaper basket in a ladies' bathroom for souvenirs. Some of the vics have trinkets bundled into a ball of cotton. But, there were trinkets left in other places as well. Victim Gamma, for example, had a used tampon jammed in his ass and three press-on nails driven into his tongue. Genetic information from six different sources was identified on those items but none of those characteristics were found on any other evidence recovered at any of the Ripper’s other murder scenes."
"Which one was Gamma again? Why can’t we just given them goddamned numbers instead of code names, whose fuckin’ stupid idea was this?” The Captain mumbled as he shuffled the folders piled on his desk.
Colby cleared her throat. Nobody told her shut up so she continued, "The Commissioner thought it sounded more personal to refer to the vics with code names instead of numbers. Gamma was the guy staked out on the roof of Wentworth facing the MFA."
"Right, like the bodies in that cool scene from the Planet of the Apes," the Captain quipped as he pulled the file free.
Both women looked as each other and shrugged.
"So, none of the DNA recovered from any scene will lead us to the killer. What about those friggin' flower petals we keep finding?"
"Sometimes they are placed under the eyelids before the eyes are glued shut and sometimes not. Why, we aren’t entirely sure. It could be an afterthought on the killer’s part or a reference to some event or person that the killer associates with a particular victim," Faust answered.
"Could even be a seasonal thing like the flower maybe," Colby stated.
The Captain nodded in agreement before switching tactics. "What do you make of the dump sites? Our killer likes hanging around the MFA, it seems."
"Except we also found bodies at the JFK library, the Esplanade, and the Public Gardens," Faust replied as she clicked off the grim tally.
Again Colby interjected, "There was the one on Malibu Beach too.”
Unexpectedly, Faust chimed in, “Let’s not forget Lieutenant Walsh, isn't it time to admit his murder fits into the randomly deliberate pattern?”
Grief traced a path across the Captain's worn face, "It doesn’t, Faust. So, drop it. Officially, Detective Walsh died protecting his daughter during an attempted burglary at his home."
Colby rolled her eyes and the Captain's rage finally exploded.
"We are not letting Marty become the poster child for police incompetence. The lead investigator killed in his own home by the psycho he's been hunting for years? Right, the press will crucify him. I won't let that happen to Marty. I … we owe him that much. So, someone should just shut her goddamned fuckin’ mouth about conspiracy theories to cover her own ass because she can’t fuckin' remember ditty squat!"
"Easy Captain, we all know if Willis could assist in the investigation into Walsh’s murder, she would."
Faust's uncharacteristic defense of her mollified the Captain, but pissed Colby off. She didn’t need anyone much less Faust to come running to her rescue before the boss man.
The Captain took a quiet moment to regroup and his features soften, "Right, my apologies. Just frustrated and tired. I miss that old son of a bitch. He was best man at my wedding.” He sighed and shrugged, "Okay, back to our useless evidence. My summary to date is, we got nothing and my guess is this latest vic will give us nothing we don't already know. Which, of course, is nothing.”
“The killer is just toying with us," the Captain stated with a heavy sigh.
"Maybe we just need to get back to basics," Colby suggested out loud. When the Captain didn't shoot her, she continued. "Marty's notebook."
"Oh fuck, here we go again," Faust shouted as she lost it.
"Let it rest, Willis. His notebook, if it ever existed, is long gone. The entire Boston PD looked everywhere for it for six fuckin’ months on your say so and what did we find? We found zero, nada, zilch. Bigfoot is more real than Marty’s notebook."
"Okay, you think it doesn't exist. I get it. Can't prove it's real until I get my hands on it so let me interview Jessie Walsh. She knows where it is. I swear I’ll get her to talk."
"You friggin' twit!" Faust stood up so fast she knocked her chair over. "Why can’t you get it into your thick skull that Jessie Walsh is beyond gone. Even if she told you the name and address of the Ripper it won’t do a single fuckin’ thing for us! Nothing she says matters in court, she’s mentally incompetent to testify."
“We need to talk to her because we need to know where to start, you fuckin' freakin’ Rican," Colby swore ignoring the Captain's growing ire. "I know Jessie wouldn’t have been able to take Marty down herself. She’s faking a breakdown to beat a murder rap. I know she's involved.”
“Here we go again, you just know things. Right. Like you knew out of the blue Marty’s kid was skewering him that night." Faust shouted. “Only she wasn’t doing anything of the sort. She was going to be the next victim if you hadn’t stumbled in! And, what did you do at the magic moment? You blacked out. You can't even stumble into a murder in progress without hitting the floor and biting through your own tongue."
“Jessie was watching Marty die for more than an hour before I got there. Jessie knows the killer. She’s connected to him. If they're not in this together then she's at least an accessory after the fact,” Colby insisted stubbornly clinging to her position.
Faust let out an exasperated scream.
“How many times do we need to go through this? How many fuckin’ times, Willis? Jessie Walsh was found in a catatonic state hunched over the disemboweled remains of her father, Detective Lieutenant Marty Walsh. There is nothing to suggest she took part in some sort of frenzied attack on Detective Walsh and there is nothing pointing to her being an accessory to some serial killer. The evidence shows she actually tried to repack the wound. She was trying to save the man. For crying out loud Willis, the woman suffered a psychotic breakdown. She fuckin' lost her mind because of the Ripper and so have you. You just fuckin’ don't know it yet!”
"I’ve heard enough, Faust. Back down, Willis. Let me make a few facts clear," the Captain raised his voice an octave shy of shouting in order to interrupt.
“I know Marty had problems with Jessie. He didn’t say what, drugs, maybe or it was the company she kept. She always toyed with the wild side. Jessie was a smart kid, but maybe a bit unstable. She wasn't so sane a psychotic break under duress is outside the realm of possibility. As for Willis collapsing at Marty's the night of the murder, it was a seizure. We were all with Willis earlier, Faust. We saw her kiss the floor in the bar during the first fit. Whatever triggered it, it was real and the revelation that came next was real, unexplainable but real. She knew Marty was in trouble the moment her eyes opened.”
The Captain gave a heavy sigh as Faust shot him an incredulous look. “I can’t explain it any better to you, Faust. If Colby hadn’t managed to bolt while I was trying to get her in the ambulance, if I hadn’t tracked her down to Marty's place, we wouldn’t have discovered … shit, maybe if I hadn’t taken so long getting there, I could have done something. Maybe called Emergency Services and gotten Marty some help … there was so much blood. I don’t know."
The Captain looked very old, "And you, Willis, you know you can’t speak to Jessie. Nobody can speak to her without counsel present. After Afonso’s last stunt, the esteemed team from Robeson, Grace, and Strake will have my head on a silver platter if I assign anyone to go within a mile of the Abhordale Clinic.”
Colby grinned, “I can talk to her if her lawyer agrees to it.”
Faust took a deep breath before looking over to the Captain. "Sir, I respectfully request to change partners. This situation has been going on far too long and it just crossed the line into out of control."
"When you say situation, you really mean me don’t you?" Colby taunted. "Grow a pair, little girl, spit it out."
"You're nothing but a stinking, shittin' drunk. You’re sick, Colby, and you’re dangerous. I'm done babysitting you.”
“Captain,” Faust turned to him with a plea. "Captain, I cannot continue to work with Detective Willis. Her deteriorating mental state speaks for itself. If you need me to file a complaint about her ongoing substance abuse just give the word."
"Fuck you, asshole!" Willis shouted.
The Captain ignored Willis for the moment, "Okay Faust, you'll be reassigned to Sampson. I'd appreciate it if you'd hold off on an official complaint at this point, but that's not an order."
"Thanks for the support, Captain," Colby muttered.
He continued to ignore her. "Faust, go connect with Sampson then hit the showers. You probably need to clean up after being in the field since dawn."
"Thanks, Captain." Faust left without another word or a backward glance at the woman she had protected out of a sense of duty for the past year.
"Another one bites the dust, lasted all of twelve months too. Must be some kinda of record for me," Colby deadpanned.
"You better zip it," the Captain growled.
Colby shuddered with the familiarity of his words.
“Faust tried her best to keep you from falling face first into the shit you keep stirring up. The drinking and the drugs are beginning to show. I don’t blame her for wanting out. She’s a smart kid. You were smart once. I can't protect you anymore, Colby. You’re out of control and everyone knows it. I did what I could out of respect for Marty but you've used up all your good will and his and now you’re starting to cut into mine. Can't let you do that to me. My guess is Faust will contact IA by tomorrow or the next day at the latest about your problems. As much as she admires the work you used to do she hates your guts more because of what you've let yourself become. You used to be a cop, Colby, a good one. We would never have broken the Peterson kidnapping without you. You found the kid. Now you’re nothing but a washed up pile of shit. IA will be in here before the week is out asking for you to piss in a cup or give up a hair follicle. Either way, you’ll come up dirty and they'll take your gun away."
He waited but Colby offered no defense. "The number for the EAP is on the bulletin board by the women's bathroom. Call them. Call the union rep too. I'm not asking you for your gun but I wish you'd give it to me."
"Sorry Captain, you know the answer to that."
The Captain's lips curled back in frustration as he snarled at her, "Then you be sure you do the job right and ge
t the mutha’ fuckin’ barrel all the way back in your damn mouth before you pull the trigger. Don't fuck it up, Colby! Don't leave me to pull the plug on you."
Colby stood before she replied, "Nice to know you care so much. By the way, I'm gonna hold off capping myself and drive out to scenic Wellesley Hills to take in the air. That’s if it’s alright with you."
"I don't give a rat's ass what you do anymore. Just stay out of my way until IA suspends you. You get into trouble with Jessie's lawyers; you're on your own. Now, get the hell out of my office! You stink of shit, puke, and Budweaselpiss."
The ring tone on the Captain's cell phone started to life.
"D?" Colby questioned.
Looking every day of his age, the Captain slowly shook his head in disgust, "I don't know why Jane ever wasted her time teaching you the piano. You only ever managed to learn that one fuckin' song."
"You think I'm pathetic," Colby sneered in reply.
