Humpty Dumpty: The killer wants us to put him back together again (Book 1 of the Nursery Rhyme Murders Series)

by Carolyn McCray

  Back when Joshua had been working the Humpty case, there had been no real progression to speak of. The killer was safe, consistent, almost untouchable in his careful approach to each crime. These new crimes were escalating, mocking those that were seeking to bring the perpetrator to justice.

  And yet, that note to Joshua had spoken of intimate knowledge. If it weren’t for that one bit of information, he would be leaning toward copycat at this point.

  “Kurwa!” The driver swearing in Polish and breaking hard broke Joshua out of his reverie.

  “What is it?” Had asked, craning his neck to look out of the front windshield.

  “Szczeniak. Puppy. In the street.”

  * * *

  Had was stunned to see Joshua move as fast as he did. Before Micha had even finished his sentence, the former agent had thrown open the car door and was running out in front of the cab, dodging the Cadillac that almost ran into him coming from the other direction, its horn blaring.

  The puppy looked like a mix, the coloring a lot like a fawn Boxer, but the muzzle more extended, like a Labrador. It also appeared to want to play.

  As Joshua started to approach, the puppy scampered off to the side of the road, almost tripping over its own huge feet as it darted its gaze back to the man who was chasing it. It ran into the brush along the side of the road.

  Agent Cooper crawled out of the taxi, looking both ways before she trotted over to the side of the road, coming up alongside Joshua. Had got out, not wanting to miss whatever was happening here. This was shaping up to be a fun time.

  “Joshua, you need to get back in the car,” Coop said, laying a hand on the former agent’s shoulder.

  “That puppy stays out here, someone could come and pick it up,” Joshua shot back, shaking off her hand, his head swiveling from side to side as he searched for the errant canine.

  “But that’s a good thing, right?” she assured him. “The road’s not that out of the way, and someone coming by and picking it up would be great. Someone that doesn’t have a serial killer to catch.”

  “No, it’s not a good thing. Not at all. It could be someone that runs dogfights. Uses the puppy for bait for his killer dogs.” He had spotted the dog again and was circling around, trying to find a way to corner the fuzzy little creature.

  “That’s so the worst case scenario. There’s no way it would go down that way.”

  “My experience says otherwise. Worst case scenario is pretty much a descriptor for my entire life,” he replied, feinting to the left and then darting to the right. The puppy was not fooled.

  Coop couldn’t seem to come up with a good answer for Joshua’s crazy imaginary sequence of future events, so she and Had began helping Joshua. They came at it from different angles, trying to herd it into one of their teammates’ arms; they tried distracting it while another swooped in to scoop it up.

  Nothing.

  Had stifled a laugh, even as he tried to catch his breath. This was exhausting. The little puppy was outsmarting three top law enforcement officers, and it didn’t even seem to be working all that hard. Its tongue lolled out of its mouth, and it let out a bark as the three stopped to rest for a moment.

  Panting, Coop help up her hand. “Joshua. We’ve been chasing this dog around for fifteen minutes. We’ve got to get out to that crime scene.”

  “Go on without me,” he fired back, facing off with the puppy again.

  “Um. It’s getting away from three of us. What do you think you’re going to accomplish on your own?”

  “I think it’s a she. And you two are just freaking her out. I’ll do better by myself.”

  “We need you at the site,” Coop argued.

  “No, you don’t. You’re just looking at a depression in the dirt. You’ll be fine.”

  “Joshua—”

  He whipped around, his eyes blazing. “I am not leaving her out here to starve or get nabbed by psychopaths. Either stay with me or don’t, but I’m not going anywhere.”

  Had stepped in between the two. “Hey, Joshua, no need to get all snippy.”

  Then the strangest thing happened. Joshua’s eyes softened and went unfocused, like he wasn’t seeing Had at all, but something or someone from another place or time.

  “She needs me,” he pleaded, his voice almost a whisper. “I can’t leave her here.”

  He stayed looking at Had for another long moment, then turned back around. As Joshua returned to his pursuit of the puppy, Had and Coop looked at each other, unsure of what to do next. Finally, Coop waved for Had to join her in heading back to the taxicab.

  Looked like they were going out to the crime scene sans a certain former agent.

  Had couldn’t say that he felt all that bad about it.

  CHAPTER 10

  Maymont Park was enormous. As they drove alongside the park, the street on which they traveled was lined with elm, oak and pine trees, creating a picturesque environment that hearkened back to a time past. Sariah found the area beautiful, even though the late summer was taking its toll on the greenery. The smell coming through the open window was redolent with the smells of cut and browning grass.

  They had Micha drop them off at the entrance on the corner of Hampton Street and Pennsylvania Avenue, and he promised to wait for them there in the parking lot area. Sariah and Had then caught one of the trams that circled the park every 20 minutes to get closer to where they wanted to go.

  As they passed by the mansion that had belonged to the Dooley’s back in the last part of the 1800’s, Sariah had to physically restrain Had from leaping out to join the tour already in progress. They needed to get out to the crime scene. But it took quite a lot more twisting and turning around until they were closer to the area they needed. Even then, they had to hike in to the copse of trees.

  “You know, in a way, I’m kinda glad Joshua isn’t with us,” Had confided to her as they neared the yellow tape boundaries of the site.

  “Really?” Sariah answered. “I thought you liked him. Even after having to put up with more than your fair share of abuse at his hands.”

  He chuckled. “I told you, that’s brother stuff. And he ain’t got nothin’ on Mama. She’s the one I’m skeered of.” Had allowed a thick southern dialect to creep into his speech. Both the accent and the sentiment expressed made Sariah smile.

  “You’re not kidding, are you?” She’d had first-hand experience with Had’s mother, so she had an idea of what he was talking about.

  “Nope.” He pushed some tree branches out of the way, holding them for her. “Besides, that’s not what I meant.”

  “No? What, then?”

  “I just…” Had paused, seeming to search for the words he wanted. “Joshua’s had it rough. Watching him fall apart like that with that etching we found…”

  “Yeah,” she agreed. “Probably best that he sit this one out.” She looked around the site, then rethought. “Although…”

  “It’s nice to have someone around that can profile the hell out of us both?” Had finished for her.

  “Pretty much.”

  They arrived at the location where the leg had been buried. It was the lower half of the leg that had been discovered by a group of tourists who had brought in a seeing-eye dog. The dog had gone crazy and started digging. The group had thought it was funny until the canine unearthed a limb with the flesh still attached. The section of leg ran from the knee down to the ankle, where the foot had been severed.

  “According to the photos that were sent over, the leg was resting like this,” Had made a sweep of his arms in a line that cut through the grove in front and in back of them. “Do you think…?”

  “What? That there’s another message left for us? I think it’s a good assumption to start off with.”

  “Okay, you go that way…” He pointed in the general direction of the mansion. “And I’ll head in the opposite direction.”

  Sariah hadn’t gone far before Had called out to her. “Hey, Coop! C’mere. My line ran right into this big old
tree.”

  Jogging over to join him, she noticed that this particular tree was a gnarled oak, which had a hollow in it right at the base of the tree, obscured by leaves. Had started to stick his hand inside.

  “Hold it!” she yelled at him, then held up a finger to get him to slow down for a moment. “If this is where our killer wanted us to look, we might want to be careful. There could be anything in there.”

  Had backed away, his hands held high as if he were under arrest. Sariah poked around in the underbrush until she found a stick that would serve to better explore the opening they had found. She motioned for Had to move off to the side of the huge tree, and she did the same. Reaching around the trunk, she thrust the stick inside the hollow.

  Nothing.

  But as she dragged the stick back out, Sariah could see that it had snagged on something. A slip of paper that was covered in dirt and had started to curl up.

  “Eureka!” Had called out. “Pay dirt.”

  He searched around for another stick and came over to Sariah’s side. Together, they used the sticks to pull open the scrap of paper and read the printing they found there.

  Cold, guys. You’re getting very cold.

  * * *

  As Had followed Sariah away from the scene, he pushed down the insecurities that had crept up as soon as he’d laid eyes on that note. Whoever this killer was, he sure knew how to get under their skin.

  But once shoved away, those fears began pushing back with a vengeance. What were they going to do now? Where were they going to go next? Okay, sure, they had the leads that Had’s program had sifted out, but that wasn’t guaranteed to find them the person they were looking for.

  An even more immediate concern was how Joshua would react to the newest message. Would it send him off on another drinking binge? And was there anything Had and Coop could do about it if it did?

  The questions bumping around in Had’s mind came to an abrupt halt the second the sprinkler systems in the park went off. One second he and Agent Cooper were hiking back to where they could catch the nearest tram. The next they were soaked to the skin.

  “Dammit!” Had yelled as he sprinted after Coop.

  “It’s fine!” she called back over her shoulder. “In this heat it’ll take no time at all to dry out.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of!” he cried back. This was bad. This was very, very bad. He put on a burst of speed to get away from the attacking jets of moisture.

  And then they were out of the stream of fire. Had shook out his hair and wrung out his tie, doing what he could to wipe off some of the water. But he knew in his heart that it was too late.

  “What did you mean back there?” Agent Cooper asked. “Why don’t you want to dry out?”

  Had just shut his lips and shook his head, embarrassed. This day was so not turning out how he had expected.

  “Come on,” she prompted. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

  He held out for three more seconds before it burst out of him. “It’s… it’s my jeans,” he answered. “They’re raw denim.”

  “So… what? Do they need to be cooked? I don’t get it.”

  “It means… Well, it means that when they get wet and then get hot, they… start to shrink.” Had looped a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and tugged. “In fact, I think it’s already started. Ow. Ooow.”

  Agent Cooper just looked at him for a moment, and then burst out laughing. Had managed to hold out for a few moments, but then she looked down at the jeans and back up at his face and he couldn’t take it any longer. They both dissolved into hysterics.

  “You… you…” Coop couldn’t do anything more than point at his pants. They had shrunk now to the point that they were getting uncomfortable, but now Had couldn’t keep a straight face.

  “Stop. Laughing… can’t… breathe,” He managed. He pulled harder at his pants that were threatening to cut off the circulation to the lower half of his bodies. Visions of paramedics using the Jaws of Life to cut him out of his jeans flooded his consciousness.

  “Okay, okay…” Coop managed. “We’ve got to get back to Joshua, and then we’ll stop somewhere with a restroom to get you out of those clothes and into something… more comfortable…” The straight face she’d kept throughout that statement dissolved into laughter at the last.

  That started him off again. And laughing while having your diaphragm constrained by an ever-tightening band of denim was not tops on his bucket list. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem.

  What the hell was he going to wear now if they ever had to go out clubbing?

  * * *

  The cab ride back to where they’d left Joshua was entertaining. Sariah watched as Had contorted himself into one contorted figure after another until he settled on shoving his legs down into the well of the car, keeping his entire body ramrod straight. It appeared to be the only position that was comfortable for him, now that he was being eaten by his pair of pants.

  So far, since the moment they got back into the cab, Sariah had done a remarkable job keeping a straight face, but each time she glanced to the side, her equilibrium was threatened. Maybe she should consider staring out the window until they were reunited with Joshua.

  Micha the cabdriver, on the other hand, was straightforward in his disdain.

  “Why you wear pants that shrink when they getting wet? How you wash them?”

  “Oh,” Had replied, angling his neck around so that he could keep his legs straight and still see Micha in the mirror. “You’re not supposed to wash raw denim. At least not much. Like every year or so.”

  “Wait a minute. What?” Sariah stepped back into the conversation. “You only wash them once a year?”

  “Well, yeah,” he answered, as if it were a self-evident truth upon which the entire universe was based.

  “Don’t they start to stink?”

  “Well, raw denim doesn’t really smell, but when they do, you just throw them in the freezer.”

  “Holding on for minute,” the driver called back over his shoulder. “You are putting the pants in freezer?”

  “Um, yeah.” Had seemed to realize that he was dealing with a less-than-receptive audience here. “It’s what all true denimheads do.”

  “These denimheads are being the crazy, I am thinking.” Micha made a raspberry sound with his lips, accompanied by a sharp hand gesture. He then refocused on the road. “Your friend. I see him there, up by trees.”

  Sariah, looking up ahead, picked out a figure just before a bend in the road. It was Joshua, huddled down next to the curb. It looked like he was asleep, but that couldn’t be right. He never slept.

  Sure enough, when they came up close to the former agent, he lifted his head up, revealing the puppy that he had been cradling in his arms. Joshua may not have been sleeping, but the little bundle in his arms was.

  It created quite the precious picture, the broken-down man with the sweet, innocent life nestled down for comfort. But Sariah couldn’t help but think this one forward a little ways.

  What the hell were they going to do with a puppy?

  As the former agent clambered into the car, the first words out of his mouth were, “What’s up with Mr. Talkative here?” He pointed at Had, looking at his strange positioning in the backseat. “Did he get cursed by some Gypsy witch he wouldn’t stop yammering at?”

  “Long story,” Sariah answered.

  From up in the driver’s seat, Micha grumbled at Joshua’s reflection, “You be watching that doggie. Making sure he will not be making the piss in my cab.”

  “Yeah, yeah, no making the piss. Got it.” Joshua stroked the pup, who’d gotten a little jostled from the movement of her new owner getting into the car.

  “So, any tags or anything?” Had asked, pointing at the dog.

  “No. Nothing. Looks like she was abandoned at the side of the road. Found some tire tracks that went off the road a ways and then just stopped. They were close to where we found her.”

  �
�Okay, that’s all well and good, but we can’t keep her,” Sariah stepped in.

  “Why not?” Joshua responded, his tone sharp. “I’ll take care of her. She can ride with me on the plane.”

  “They won’t let her ride with you.”

  “They will if I say she’s a service dog.”

  “But she’s not a service dog,” Sariah shot back.

  “Why the hell not? She’s providing a service to me. She’ll keep me walking in a straight line when I’m drunk.”

  “That’s all the time.”

  He looked at her like she was stupid. “Which is why I need a service dog.”

  The circular logic of this argument had not escaped Sariah, but this tack wasn’t working. And she had to find something that would. They couldn’t end up with an animal that they had to watch out for at every turn. It just wasn’t feasible.

  “What about a no-kill shelter?” she urged.

  “Not a chance.”

  “What’s wrong with a no-kill shelter? They’ll take good care of her.”

  Joshua shook his head, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m the one that has to watch out for her. The Chinese believe that if you save a life, you’re responsible for it.”

  Sariah blew a sharp breath out in frustration. “Oh, come on. That’s like a cultural marriage of convenience. My guess is that you hate the Chinese.”

  He shrugged. “Sure, but I hate everyone. I’m an equal opportunity hater.”

  Their driver looked into the rear-view mirror and shook his head. The guy barely spoke English, and even he thought this argument was ridiculous.

  “She’s awfully cute,” Had interjected, reaching over to scratch the puppy’s head. He then caught sight of Sariah’s face and backed away. “Well, she is.”

  Sariah looked for one last-ditch argument. “Why do you even care? You’re not religious. You hate philosophy. What’s the deal here?”

  Joshua looked straight at her. “I’m keeping the puppy.”

  And once more, Had reached over to play with her ears. He caught her eye, pointed at the puppy and shrugged, his expression communicating something like, How can you say no to a face like this?