by B Anders
He had hauled himself out of his nice, warm bed after getting a phone call in the early hours of the morning telling him to bust his butt over to the motel with a ride pronto. She cop and company were already standing out in the cold waiting like he was late for the Second Coming. Although, he had to admit the other woman cleaned up real nice. She was a sight for sore eyes in her oversized sweats with her hair washed and tied up neat in a ponytail. She cop was meaner and uglier than usual in a pair of ripped denim jeans, shades, and that tired old bomber jacket of hers. Heroin chic, as his mama used to say.
There was no ‘good morning,’ no ‘thank you very much’ and certainly no ‘sorry for getting you up so early on a Sunday.’ Typical. All she cop handed him was a hail of abuse, so much for respecting the poor, hardworking slob trying to help her out. That was the pigs for ya. Always running their mouths and cuddling their guns like they were cocks.
Keeping his temper under check, Pickman cleared his throat and replied in a firm voice, “Well, no, I’m not kidding. She’s all I got running. She ain’t much to look at but she’s got eight cylinders and new plugs and a starter and should be good for another three thousand miles before she’s due for an oil change.” Quietly adding more for himself after a moment’s reflection, “and a tire rotation and maybe a nice hot wax to bring out the shine.”
Gritting her teeth, Colby was just about to tear into the man when she felt Jessie squirm in her grasp. Despite her better judgment, she fitted Jessie in Smith & Wesson transport shackles complete with a belt chain to secure her wrists at waist level. Colby knew that severely restraining Jessie in this manner would probably invite a violent backlash from the smaller woman later. But she did not dare give the Captain even a hint of an idea she’d been lax with her prisoner. Especially today, with another Ripper murder investigation front and center.
Hoping to dissuade Jessie from causing trouble, Colby hobbled her further by limiting her stride to a fifteen inch allowance with the ankle chains. Still, Colby only felt remotely in control holding Jessie firmly by the arm to further discourage any escape attempt. She was very much aware of Jessie’s penchant for getting herself out of tight spots. Jessie stabbing the Captain in the neck while on Colby’s watch was definitely not something Colby wanted to risk.
Yet there was something very viscous about the feel of Jessie’s arm—warm and ropey with hidden muscles, under her sweats that paradoxically intoxicated and disturbed Colby. It was the intimacy of Jessie wearing a familiar piece of her clothing, the smell of ivory soap mixed in with the faint unforgettable scent of the other woman. Colby felt things beginning to stir inside her. Secret things she tried very hard to forget since Marty's murder. Getting Jessie secured inside a vehicle would give her back the use of her hands again. She'd be back in control regardless of what four wheeled hunk of crap Pickman provided. Right now that option appealed more to Colby than the gratification of kicking in his fat smiling face.
Turning to Pickman, Colby asked in a low growl. “When will my car be ready?”
“Three days, maybe four, but I got you cut rate prices for the replacement. This whole shebang, what with the rental and parts, will only cost you about three bills. It’s a steep discount considering it’s the weekend and door to door service and everything.”
Colby rolled her eyes. “Okay but if this hunk of rust breaks down, you better be there in a heartbeat.”
“I won’t need too, car’s solid as a rock.” Pickman replied with confidence.
He watched Colby drag Jessie over to the front passenger side of the wagon and dump her inside. After a little tussle with the seatbelt, Colby slammed the door shut sending the side view mirror crashing to the ground.
“For the love of God woman, go easy. Have a bit of respect. It’s a goddamned classic.”
Pickman made the remark with a wince as he waddled over to retrieve the broken mirror. Silently cursing the day he first laid eyes on these two GD women and their inexplicable need to break every decent car they got their hands on. It was like watching your brother fuck your best girl but pull out short of shooting off his wad.
“It’s a piece of crap! And it better get me where I’m goin’ or you’re gonna have all sorts of shit hitting you from every angle.”
“Nice way your mama taught you to say thank you,” Pickman spat back in a mumble watching Colby get into the car. “Pump the gas, the brakes too. I want her back in one piece. You break it, you pay for it.”
“Shithead,” Colby muttered and got behind the wheel. She shoved the key in the lock and the metal tinkled. "E," she muttered.
"What?" Jessie sounded alarmed.
"Nothing forget it."
Colby turned the key in the ignition. It fired up on the first try. Carefully navigating the long boat-like car out of the deserted parking lot, it took Colby a few minutes to get the feel of the wagon. There were no brakes to speak of. She would need to be pumping them for a country mile to get the beast to stop. The shift arm was held in place with a bent bobby pin and the steering was looser than a goose. Colby was glad for once she secured Jessie for the ride into Boston. She would need to keep both hands on the wheel for this trip and she didn’t relish getting stabbed in the face with another cheap plastic pen. But, even Colby had to admit that Pickman did a nice job with the shocks considering the mileage on the heap was reading 198,000.
Colby wondered how many times this particular 1978 station wagon saw 198,000 in its lengthy career. She decided this particular spin around was one too many. Someone ought to have done the right thing years ago and driven it into the old Quincy quarries.
Once the car was up to speed, Colby turned to Jessie and tried engaging the other woman. As much as Colby hated having to sweet talk Jessie, she was going to have to bite the bullet. It wasn't worth the risk of having to deal with her going ape-shit at the scene of a murder investigation, especially with an audience of news cameras. It was damage control from here on in.
“Okay, back to business. I know you’re hungry, but I’m sure you heard my end of the phone call and the news report so you know there’s been a Ripper murder out here and I’ve been called in. We’ll be at the crime scene for a while and if you’re good we’ll go grab a burger afterwards. You give me any shit and I’ll hog tie you in the cargo space for the rest of the trip. Your choice.”
Despite the fact, she hadn’t eaten in over forty eight hours and this was her last chance for a bit of food before they arrived at Boston, Jessie seemed disinterested. She continued staring out the window refusing to volunteer an answer. Deep down inside she knew she was just unwilling to let Colby have the satisfaction of knowing she would chew her arm off for a bowl of cold oatmeal.
Colby waited a full minute before continuing evenly. “The news said the latest victim was left about a half mile from where we spent last night. You know what I think? I think the killer’s still around. No point gutting someone and leaving the body out in the open, if you can’t hang around and enjoy all the excitement …”
Before Colby could finish speaking, Jessie turned and snarled, “Right you got me. I confess. I got free last night while you were dead to the world. Went on the hunt and killed somebody for shits and giggles. After I finished slicing the sucker, I hurried back to the hotel room, hoping you didn’t wake up while I was gone. Lucky me, you were still snoring like a buzzsaw. Then I chained myself back in the tub so you could drag me to Boston this morning to sit in a cage until fat boy finds some new nut house to lock me away in.”
Jessie gave a snort, “Oh Officer Willis, you just crack me up. Your powers of deduction rival Columbo—the yogurt, not the TV show. But, if you’re buying I want eggs, lightly over, with bacon drowning in maple syrup and not at the usual craptaculous pancake house. Someplace nice like the Ritz on Arlington. I hear they do a wonderful brunch.”
Biting her tongue, Colby had to suppress an urgent need to scream. She knew Jessie was baiting her. She wasn’t going to let it get to her again. She needed to turn the
tables and get Jessie on the defensive. Giving Jessie a gentle smile, she calmly sighed before beginning.
“Granted, no sane person would go to those extremes, but I have it on good authority you are anything but sane. There are court documents saying you’re a certified nut case. And, for the record, I’ve seen you drown bacon in maple syrup. Only a psycho would ruin good pork like that.”
“And I’ve seen you dunk yours in coffee which makes you just as crazy, no? But, you’re right. I’m nuts. You’d do well to remember just how unstable I am, Officer Willis. Your life might depend on it.”
An opinion of her eating habits was clearly not the answer Colby wanted from Jessie Walsh. Colby knew that she had to take a different tack, forcing herself to continue with the present display of good humor she decided to go for broke.
“Okay crazy lady, let’s make a deal. I buy you the breakfast of your dreams and you … you tell me about Marty’s notebook.”
Jessie sucked in a deep breath and went deathly pale. Colby did a quick double take. Gone was the cocky foul mouth bitch from a moment before, sitting in her place was a vulnerable fragile woman with a look of terror on her face. The metamorphosis almost took Colby’s breath away. It was the times when Jessie was racked with doubt that her beauty most frightened Colby.
“You don’t … you couldn’t possibly …” Jessie was off balance and stuttering. “He never would have told you. It was a secret. He said nobody knew.”
“He didn’t tell me. I saw it. I worked with him every day. Him and his little blue book. About 2 inches thick, wrapped with a thick elastic band, he kept it on him all the time. He was always scribbling away on it. So, where in hell’s the notebook?”
“Just there, in hell … with him.”
Colby wanted to push Jessie for a better answer but stopped short when the crime scene loomed into view. There were about a dozen or more police cruisers and unmarked vehicles randomly parked on the site, most with their lights still flashing. From her position behind the wheel, she could see at least five goons with their marked down Burlington Coat Factory suits talking into their head sets. The Feds were already crawling all over the place. The Captain would not be in a good mood.
The proximity of the crime scene to the edge of the parking lot was chilling. Instead of leaving the victim out on the far side of the access road in a tree spotted field heavy with years of untended foliage, the killer chose to abandon the body in the parking area of a busy mall located right beside an interstate highway. It was a calculated risk, choosing to rely on the low hanging branches from surrounding Evergreens to create enough of a canopy to obscure the grisly deed from the weekend traffic, casual motorists stopping for gas, coffee, and frazzled parents hustling their screaming broods into giant SUVs. If Colby didn’t know any better, she might have thought he was letting his guard down, getting over confident and sloppy, but there was a method to the madness.
She pulled the wagon in tight behind the Captain’s car causing the local on parking duty to raise his eyebrows. He puffed his chest out and strutted over to the driver’s side to ask her to remove her vehicle. She thwarted him with a flash of her gold shield after cracking the door open and climbing out of the rock hard seat.
The cop’s jaw dropped with disappointment. “Thought you Boston detectives earned a little better than a piece of shit like this. My old man used to drive us around in one. One big piece of crap it was too. Never thought I would see another one of those again,” he commented with a chuckle as he inspected the car.
“Have some respect Officer, it’s a classic,” Colby replied with a sarcastic grin. ”Now, be a good boy and keep an eye on it and the pretty lady sitting in the front seat while I go find my Captain. Whatever you do, mind you, don’t feed or tease her. She doesn’t like people making fun of her. She likes young, smart mouth cops and she bites. Hard. The other day she took the hand off a highway patrolman for trying to pet her.”
The cop bit his lip and answered, “Oh, you gotta be Willis. The Captain told me to watch out for you. He said to send you over double time when you finally showed. He’s way on the other side of the drainage ditch. Just walk straight through and tell the duty officer you’re here. He’ll see you to the Captain.”
“How’d you know it was me?” Colby was curious.
“He said to be on the lookout for a complete ass hole and a nut job.”
Colby let him be. She had bigger issues to worry about than some smart ass, small time cop. Jessie would be safe with him watching her every move. He had a mouth, but he wasn’t stupid enough to let her out of the car. Pushing past the crowd, she identified herself to the duty officer who ushered Colby behind the yellow police tape and whisked her away from Jessie’s line of sight.
The cop walked over to the passenger side of the car and stood guard next to the door looking intently at Jessie. She ignored him and continued staring straight out into space. Her eyes dark after Colby disappeared from view.
***
“It is about fuckin’ time you got your ass down here!” The Captain barked.
Colby was surprised by his outburst. The Captain's usual hold on his temper was already shoved over the breaking point. His brow was covered in sweat and his lips were bloodless. Even Faust seemed worried as she kept glancing over at them.
“Where’s the girl?”
“In the car, I got a local watching her.”
The Captain blew his top. Colby thought he was going to go into cardiac arrest right there and then as he grabbed her by the front of her jacket and got into her face with a low menacing snarl. What he had to say would be off the record and for Colby’s ears only.
“You got Barney Fife keeping watch over Jessie Walsh. The same goddamned Jessie Walsh who you keep saying gutted her old man and left little bite sized pieces of him from here to eternity. The Jessie Walsh who by some joke of God is the closest lead you think we have to the Ripper’s Daughter. That’s great, Colby. Thinking with your dick has always been your strong point.” Pushing Colby away, the Captain turned towards Faust and shouted out an order. “Faust, go get Colby’s prisoner out of her car and make it snappy.”
"I'm on it," Faust replied letting out a sigh in relief as she hurried past.
“Colby," the Captain screamed at her, "Get over here! Now, Colby, take a good look around and give me what you came to give me. Then get the fuck out of my face.”
Colby knew better than argue. She walked over to the spot where the body had been dumped. There was a congealing puddle of deep red turning to black at the base of a nearby tree. The strips of yellow police tape wound round the trunk and left to flutter like crepe paper streamers in the wind made the scene almost festive. A glossy black and white was shoved under her nose.
“Vic is between thirty to forty years of age, Asian female, possibly of Indian descent, with only one obvious sign of trauma on visual inspection,” the Captain intoned nasally with an undertone of distaste clearly evident in his voice.
Colby looked at the picture of an older woman in running clothes leaning against the tree, legs stretched straight out neatly in front. She could have been resting after a strenuous run if not for the crimson line that ran from left to right across her abdomen. Stomach contents and intestines splayed out across her lap. Colby guessed the Ripper must have hit an artery because of the deep sea of red surrounding the woman. Death would have been quick from the massive loss of blood. It was a miracle she was still breathing when they found her. Blood soaked into the front of her white t-shirt and light grey windbreaker, dyeing them deep rich velvet. But, there was something odd about the position of the victim. He wanted them to see something Colby was sure of it only she couldn’t figure it out from the black and white.
“Lips sealed?”
“Of course,” the Captain choked back. “Aren’t they always? She likes to empty her pockets into other people’s mouths before she superglues them shut, the sick bitch.”
“What else? What aren’t I seeing?”
>
"How the fuck should I know? I called you to help out!" The Captain was just short of blowing a vein in his neck.
The Captain rubbed his forehead. ”It really shouldn’t bother me so much. I’ve seen mutilation. I was in Iraq for Christ sakes. Two tours of duty in the bloody heat and sand, the goddamned sand that gets into everything. Why this is getting me, I don’t know,” he whispered honestly. ”Vic’s eyes were glued down shut like the lips. She probably did it while the vic was still conscious.”
Colby nodded and decided retreat was a better option. "I'll follow the vic. Take an in person look. He wanted to tell us something that’s why the body was dumped here where someone would find it fast and not in the field across the access road. But I'm missing it in the pictures. Where did they take her? Framingham Union?"
“Body’s already heading out to the ME’s table in the South End. Call Dickie Woodford.”
