“One thing’s for certain, after all that shooting at the club the other night,” Brenda said.
“What’s that?” Leo asked.
“Dick seems to have overcome his aversion to blood.”
Chapter 17
The subliminal messages continued to show up at the station, leading Ted and Brenda to believe that the Ripper was not an employee of the station. To continue would be foolish. Lani and Leo didn’t buy that.
“The Ripper is an employee of KSIN,” Leo insisted. “I feel it in my guts.”
“But we’ve checked them all out,” Brenda said. “Ten times over. We’ve put tails on every employee there. They’re clean, Leo. Is there any word on Dick?”
“Nothing,” Lani said. “Maybe the bastard did burn up in that fire. But I don’t think so.” She looked at Leo, who was staring off into space. “What’s up, partner?”
“I’m going to be gone for two days, Lani. There is one thing we didn’t check back in New York State.” He stood up and slipped into his jacket. “See you.” He walked out of the office.
“What the hell ... ?” Brenda asked.
“We’ll know in two days,” Lani said, not a bit put out by her partner’s actions. If his hunch fizzled, he would shoulder all the blame, and she would be left out of it. Besides, she had work to do here.
She just didn’t have any idea how much work was about to be tossed her way.
* * *
Stacy Ryan arrived home from the station just about the time Leo’s plane was taking off. She kicked off her shoes and headed for the bathroom for a long soak. A movement near the darkened hall slowed her. She turned. Dick Hale was standing there, a shotgun in his hands. He was grinning at her, his face unshaven, his eyes shining with madness.
“Now, Dick,” Stacy said.
“Shut up, you dirty bitch cunt!” Dick said. “You made life miserable for me for too many years. Now it’s payback time.” He lifted the shotgun, and Stacy jumped for the bedroom door just as it boomed. Stacy locked the door and climbed out a window. She went running down the street, screaming just as loud as she could. Dick broke down the door and fired twice more at her, but by that time Stacy was out of range, running faster than she had ever run in her life.
A neighbor called the police, but by the time they arrived, Dick was long gone. Stacy Ryan, known to thousands as Tally-Ho, was unhurt, but badly frightened. She was placed under a twenty-four-hour police guard.
And the Ripper struck again. Just about the time a weary Leo Franks was checking into a motel in Albany, New York, two teenagers discovered the tortured and mutilated body of a young man lying on the shoulder of the road just inside the city limits of La Barca. The young man was alive, but just barely. He was rushed to a hospital and the cops gathered, hoping he would regain consciousness long enough to give them some information.
He did, gasping out a few sentences to a very shocked Lani Prejean seconds before dying. Since Leo had not checked in, she had no way of knowing where he was staying in Albany, or even if he had landed yet. But one thing for certain, she had some very important news to share with her partner.
* * *
Leo was waiting at the flower shop when Dan Jennings drove up. He did not seem at all surprised to see Leo. He smiled. “Where’s the pretty one, Leo?”
Leo laughed. “In California. Dan, I need some answers.”
“Come on in. I’ll make coffee and we can talk. No luck with the Longwood twins, hey?”
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Dan straightened up from unlocking the door and looked at him. “Sounds serious, Leo.”
“It is.”
Leo waited while Dan counted out the money for the cash register, turned on the air, and made coffee. He left the CLOSED sign on the door and waved Leo to the back. They sat at a small table with cups of freshly brewed coffee. “Now then, what’s on your mind, Leo?”
Leo’s question shook the priest right down to his shoes. He placed the cup on the table and thought about Leo’s question for a moment. “The boys were born at home. Doctor, midwife, priest, and nun in attendance. I know that for a fact. The doctor and the priest are dead. Shortly after the birth, the Sister took a vow of silence, and has been in a convent up in Canada since that time. She wouldn’t break it. The midwife, now . . . ” He bit at his lower lip and stood up. “Wait here. I just might be able to help.” He looked down at Leo. “You ask interesting questions, Leo. Very interesting.”
He was on the phone in his small office for about fifteen minutes. Several times he raised his voice, almost shouting at whoever he was speaking with. He returned wiping his sweaty face. “I was her priest for a long time. I hated to intimidate her, but she finally broke down and told me. You were right, Leo. You were right.”
Leo caught the afternoon flight out and was back in La Barca that night. He drove straight to Lani’s house.
“Leo! Have I got news for you.” She hustled him inside and insisted on making him some bacon and eggs and toast. With a large glass of milk. She talked as she worked. “There are three of them, Leo. A man and two women. The kid told me that just before he died.” She looked into Leo’s tired eyes. “What’s wrong, Leo? What’d you find out?”
“Jack and Jim had a sister. The mother had triplets. Jack, Jim, and Janet.”
“Triplets! Well ... what happened to the girl?”
“No one knows. The midwife says the baby was given up for adoption days after being born. The doctor and priest are dead. The nun took a vow of silence shortly after the births. Dan Jennings finally got the midwife to confess about the girl. The Longwoods paid off everybody to keep silent about it.”
“Why?”
“The mother rejected the baby at once. Wouldn’t have anything to do with it.”
Lani dished up the food and set the plate before Leo. “Eat, eat. So what happened to the girl?”
“Like I said, no one knows. And adoption records are permanently sealed. We’d have hell getting those records opened.”
“There has to be a way.”
Leo shrugged.
“You’ve got a theory, haven’t you?”
He shrugged and ate his bacon and eggs.
“How could a mother just reject a newborn baby?”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. The midwife says the baby was beautiful. Angelic, even. But Mrs. Longwood would not hold it, nurse it, nothing.”
“That’s ... sick, Leo.”
“Grotesque is a better word.”
“So is killing five or six hundred people, Leo.” She poured them both more coffee and sat down across the table. “Our resident shrink says they want to be caught.” She said that with a smile, knowing what Leo’s reaction would be.
“I think all that is pure bullshit! And I think it takes an absolute, babbling nitwit idiot to not know right from wrong. I am so goddamn sick of these liberal shrinks laying out yards of excuses for street slime and punks and thugs and—” He looked up at Lani’s giggling and smiled. “Did it to me again, didn’t you, kid?”
She touched his hand. “Go home and get some sleep, Leo. You’ve got bags under your eyes.”
He finished his coffee and sat for a moment at the table. “The third kid ties in. I don’t know how, but she does. She is the key to all this mess. I feel it. But how to find her? Where the hell is she? Who is she? Goddamnit, Lani, it’s right in front of us. I know it is. I just can’t get a grip on it.
“I’m whipped, for a fact. I called my wife from Albany and told her to stay up north with the kids, until we get this thing wrapped up ... or until school starts. One or the other. If I can get the time off, I’ll drive up and see her next weekend.” He stood up and walked to the front door and opened it. “I’ll see you in the morning, Lani. Thanks for the food.”
Lani caught the glint of moonlight off of something metallic, and threw herself at Leo just as the shotgun roared. The slugs tore holes in the edge of the door. Lani scrambled for her pis
tol; Leo had left his in the car. Leo hit the light switch, plunging the room into darkness.
The shotgun roared two more times. One load shattered the front window, the second blast blowing holes in the center of the door, which had banged against the wall after the first charge and then slowly swung nearly closed.
Leo had crawled to the phone and called in. For all the good it would do. The shooter—and they both felt it was Dick—would be long gone by the time the units arrived.
“He’s running away,” Lani called. “Gone. It was a small man, Leo. Not Dick.”
Leo wearily crawled to his knees. “Or a small woman.”
“Yeah. Could be.”
There were sirens in the distance.
Leo looked at the door. It was ruined. The front windows were blown out.
“You can’t stay here tonight, Lani. Pack some things, and I’ll drive you to a motel.”
“I could stay with you, Leo.”
Leo smiled. “My wife is understanding, Lani. But she ain’t that understanding.”
* * *
The next morning Carla Upton’s maid called into the sheriff’s office, in hysterics. Someone had shot Carla in the head at close range. With a shotgun.
* * *
Lani, Leo, Brenda, and Ted stepped over the CRIME SCENE, DO NOT CROSS tape, and walked into the bedroom. What was left of Carla was lying on her back on the bloody carpet at the foot of the bed.
The man from forensics said, “There is evidence of shell case fragments embedded in the flesh. I’d say she was shot from a distance of no more than two or three feet. As you can see, it took most of her head off.”
Blood, brains, hair, and bits of bone were splattered all over one wall.
Leo squatted down in front of the open door of a huge, walk-in closet.
“What is it, Leo?” Lani called.
“Dried mud. Whoever did this was waiting in the closet for her. Several pretty good impressions on the carpet. Small foot. Dick wears a size twelve wide. Get some shots of this, people. And some samples of the mud.”
Lani had knelt down beside the body, being careful to stay out of the blood. She knelt there for about a minute, then stood up and turned to a plainclothes. “Print her,” she said.
Leo cut his eyes. “Something wrong, Lani?”
“Yeah. This isn’t Carla Upton.”
* * *
One thing was for certain. The dead woman was not Carla Upton. The cops didn’t know who she was, only that she wasn’t Carla Upton.
“This is getting weirder and weirder,” Sheriff Brownwood said, meeting with the quartet in his office. “Where the hell is Carla?”
“Maybe Dick grabbed her?” Brenda offered.
“To do what?” Brownie asked. “Dick hated dykes. Where was Stacy Ryan last night about midnight?”
“Says she was home in bed.” Lani replied. “But she can’t prove it.”
“Lovers’ quarrel maybe?” Ted asked.
“Tests on her hands and arms show up negative,” Leo said. “She has not fired a gun.”
“How about the will?” Brownie asked.
“Everything goes to relatives and various charities,” Brenda said. “Stacy receives nothing.”
“How old is the will?” the sheriff asked.
“Dated two years ago.”
“We’ve now attracted the national press,” Brownie said, a disgusted look on his face. “The city is filling up with reporters. This is making the Atlanta murders, the Hillside strangler, and the St. Valentine’s massacre pale in comparison. And the press is eating it up. There was an emergency city council meeting just about an hour ago.” He grimaced and shook his head, which was graying very rapidly now. “Unfortunately, I was in the building and decided to attend. It was awful. The mayor jumped all over the chief of police, called him an incompetent son of a bitch; the chief called him an ass-kissing motherfucker and then slugged him. Knocked his upper plate slap out of his mouth. Then the city council got into it, everybody fighting all over the place. Paul Ford gave Rebecca Staples a black eye, and she gave Paul Ford a busted lip. Knocked him right on his butt. That woman’s got a right cross you wouldn’t believe. The chief of police is threatening to quit, and the mayor is threatening to sue him. And the city council is threatening to sue each other. This is the goddamnest mess I have ever been involved in.”
“Yeah? You just wait until the press learns about the mysterious third Longwood kid,” Leo said. “And they will. Sooner or later.”
“You’re probably right.” He stood up and walked to the door. “What can I say? Keep plugging. It’s got to break.”
The door hissed softly behind the sheriff. The four looked at each other.
“I wish I could be even that optimistic,” Brenda said.
“The babies of rich people just don’t disappear,” Leo said, standing up. “Janet Longwood was either put up for adoption, given to someone else to raise, or kept in that great mansion until ...”
“Until what, Leo?” Lani asked.
“Oh, shit, I don’t know!” Leo picked up a metal ashtray and hurled it against the wall in frustration. It bounced off the wall and rattled to silence on the tile floor.
“I share your feelings,” Ted said. “Believe me I do. We all do. Frustration is something good cops know well. Bad cops never get frustrated.”
Leo slowly raised his head and looked at Ted. Brenda cut her almond eyes to stare at him. Lani took a deep breath as the same thought came to her.
“What?” Ted asked, looking at the others all looking intently at him.
“Who else would know where every unit is? Who would know the shifts? And who would know who is sick and who is kinky and who is having an affair with whom and who is dirty?” Leo tossed the questions out.
“I don’t get it,” Ted bitched. “What are you driving at, Leo?”
“One of the three Longwoods is a cop, or married to one, or a very good friend of a cop. I opt for them being a cop,” Leo said.
“Yeah. In either the La Barca city PD, or in this department,” Lani said.
“And yet another Longwood has to be free to move around and select the victims and grab them,” Ted opined. “A woman with tremendous strength?” he questioned.
“I’ll go along with that. But where does that put the third Longwood?” Brenda asked.
“I’ll bet any of you or all of you that she’s the new general manager of KSIN,” Leo said with a smile. “Stacy Ryan.”
“But goddamnit, we ran her with the others!” Brenda objected.
“Sure we did. And she came out clean. Why shouldn’t she? She is exactly who she says she is. Stacy Ryan was raised just outside of L.A. By a Harold and Betty Ryan, if I remember the printout right. Let’s check out Harold and Betty Ryan. I mean, check them out with every agency we can.”
“It doesn’t wash, Leo,” Lani objected. “Stacy Ryan checked out squeaky clean. She ... ” She frowned at Leo. “Why are you smiling at me like that.”
“There is an outside chance she doesn’t know she’s a part of it,” Leo said.
“Doesn’t know?” Ted blurted. “How could that be?”
“Could be she’s being manipulated by her brothers. Hypnosis maybe. The FCC sent inspectors in to every radio station in every community where murders such as we’re experiencing occurred. They went in under false pretenses, but got the job done anyway. They checked old commercials. Not a trace of subliminal suggestions on any of them. And there have been no killings like these in any other market where Stacy worked. I think that Jim and Jack Longwood have been running wild all over the nation, killing at random. Somehow they found—using their enormous wealth—that their sister was in broadcasting, and here is where they planned to make their ... well, final stand, so to speak. Go out in a burst of glory. They’re playing a game. And it’s called fool the cops.”
“But one of those three is not a cop,” Lani said.
“How so?” Leo looked at her.
“One of the
ir followers is a cop. That would leave Jack and Jim free to roam and kill.”
Leo thought about that for a moment and then slowly nodded his head. “Yeah. Yeah. I like that better. And it’s a female cop, too.”
“How do you figure that?” Brenda asked.
“In the latest assault, there was one man and two women, right?”
Brenda nodded her head and Leo smiled.
“Actually, this is Lani’s brainchild. You both were there when she voiced it.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like this, not one little bit,” Ted said. “I remember it.”
“The sex-change bit,” Brenda said.
Leo nodded his head, and Ted looked like he had a sudden attack of gas. “Sick, sick, sick,” Ted muttered, then burped his opinion of people who have sex-change operations.
“Brenda, you check out Mr. and Mrs. Ryan down in L.A.,” Leo said. “Lani, run a separate and comprehensive check on Stacy, from grade school through college. I’ll start quietly pulling personnel records. I do not want internal affairs in on this.” A lot of cops don’t like the Internal Affairs Division. “Ted, what do you want to do?”
“I’d like to be excused.”
Chapter 18
While the cops were trying to determine the identity of the dead woman in Carla Upton’s bedroom, chase down Leo’s new theory, find Dick Hale, and avoid the crush of press that had descended on the town, the Ripper went back to work. And the person or persons known as the Ripper was becoming more bizarre and hideously inventive in his or her methods of torture and mutilation. The next kidnapping and death was so brutal and savage, not even the sleaziest of publications would report all the details. After viewing the body of the latest victim, a young woman, and immediately losing his lunch, Sheriff Brownwood appealed personally to the FBI for help. But the Bureau was overwhelmed with work: terrorists were blowing up buildings all over the nation; a plot to assassinate the President had been uncovered; a plan by Muslim fanatics to kill members of Congress had been revealed. The Bureau just did not have the personnel to offer very much aid in the field.
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