The Chilling Spree

by LS Sygnet

  “He didn’t know our victim.”

  “No, but his father’s affiliation with a group that might’ve targeted him strikes me as odd.”

  “What, now Crevan is being framed?”

  “Of course not. It just seems odd that all of this is happening right before the divorce hearing. And then there’s Belle, in her ever present pink power suit, lurking in the shadows, threatening with her poison pen. Now all of a sudden, there’s a link to his dad. I just find it unusual.”

  “And you don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Have I been yammering on about that again?”

  Johnny grinned. “No, I think I remembered something else about you.”

  I tugged his massive frame to a halt in the middle of Downey Division’s parking lot. “Promise me something.”

  “All right.”

  “If you remember something that makes you feel confused or unsure about how much I love you, you’ll talk to me before you react.”

  “Helen, if there’s something you think I won’t take well, it would probably be better if you tell me now.” His finger smoothed over my abused lower lip. “I already know you think it’s the worst thing ever. If you really trust me, why won’t you open up to me about whatever it was on your own this time?”

  “Later,” I whispered. “I promise I’ll try.”

  Aidan Conall was not what I expected. Yes, the familial resemblance between father and son was very strong, certainly unmistakable. What I hadn’t anticipated was the thorough dissection of me that ensued the moment that Johnny and I were shown into the foyer of the Conall estate. It wasn’t literal, more of the eyeballing variety.

  Aidan was very proficient at staring without seeming rude. What had Johnny said about those bred for the trenches and those who could afford to hire the diggers? Crevan’s father was certainly part of the latter. I marveled at how his son was such an honest, approachable man with all the integrity Aidan thought he possessed by birthright.

  “Johnny!” he pumped a hand with warmth I couldn’t imagine. Maybe the senior Conall looked at Johnny as the man he wished Crevan had become. “Kathleen’s not home right now, but I promise, she’ll be devastated that she missed you. How have you been?”

  “Fine, thank you, Aidan. I don’t believe you’ve met –”

  “Dr. Helen Eriksson,” he interrupted and stopped hiding his frank appraisal and extended his hand to me.

  Limp. Clammy. His clasp made me shudder internally. Every ounce of will power kept it from rippling over my skin. Oh, that air of superficial propriety was maintained – by Conall at least, yet I felt the coldness in his eyes, something so dark, almost hateful, that it defied reason. This man didn’t know me. He’d never met me before. Still, I had the distinct impression that he’d rather nosh on a pile of steaming shit than shake my hand or acknowledge my existence.

  What can I say? With that kind of first impression, or gut instinct, I couldn’t help but return the sentiment, even though it made absolutely no sense.

  “I have read a great deal about you, young lady. Darkwater Bay owes a debt of gratitude to you that I fear can never be repaid.”

  Now how in the hell was I supposed to respond to that without sounding immodest or insincere? Fling him over my shoulder? Call him the liar I intuitively knew he was?

  Johnny would kill me. I clamped the urge in a vice of self control.

  “It took a lot of people to make the progress we’ve seen, sir, including your son.”

  Call me crazy, but I think most parents – normal ones anyway – would respond favorably to that kind of compliment about their only child. Instead, Aidan Conall dropped my hand like he’d suddenly looked down to find he was holding a rotting fish.

  “Yes, well, we had high hopes for Crevan, but he’s getting a bit long in the tooth for me to believe he’ll wear the mantle of his forefathers.”

  Back to Johnny as if I didn’t actually exist. “So what brings you here, young man? Don’t tell me that Governor Collangelo has you out stumping for his campaign already.”

  “No sir, I’m afraid we’re here on official business.”

  “Goodness! What could that possibly have to do with me?”

  I quelled the impulse to shove Johnny behind me and take over the interview. Instead, I let the words commit the act for me. “Sir,” I began, “I understand that you’re one of the members of the city’s fine art’s council.”

  “I am the president in fact,” he said. Fine lines fanned the edges of his eyes. “Is this about that unfortunate business at the amphitheater on New Year’s Eve? I must say, my good sense was vetoed when we allowed those hooligans to use our amphitheater for that so-called concert. Our endowment is to fine arts, Detective Eriksson. Popular music barely meets that criteria.”

  “How did –?”

  Johnny cut me off. “Still, Aidan, Scott Madden is one of our own. You could hardly say no, not to mention the amount of revenue those shows generated in service charges alone, it must’ve funded at least a dozen worthwhile programs.”

  “Yes, that was the same argument my fellow board members made, yet here we are with a poor young woman dead, her life tragically cut short.”

  “What I’m about to tell you is in the strictest confidence, Aidan,” Johnny said.

  I felt my hackles rise. How could he possibly trust this buffoon to keep sensitive information about our ongoing investigation quiet? I bit the inside of my cheek and forced deference to his knowledge of the dynamic between Crevan and his father – and the rest of Darkwater Bay.

  “Of course, Johnny. Nothing you say goes any further.”

  “The victim found the other night was not a young lady. In fact, it was one of the female impersonators that confronted protesters during the violent altercation during Pride Week last October.”

  His face morphed from faux pleasantry into something ugly. “I see.”

  “Do you?”

  “How dare you step foot into my home and insinuate that any of the law abiding citizens who merely exercised their right to free speech and peaceful assembly could have anything to do with the death of one of those freaks? They’re not even human! Abominations, every last one of them!”

  “Now, Aidan, I need you to calm down. Nobody is insinuating that the fine folks from your congregation had anything to do with the murder.”

  No one but me. I made a snap judgment moments ago. Now, it was etched in stone. Aidan Conall wasn’t someone I would ever like or respect. My empathy for Crevan grew exponentially. Unfortunately for all of us, I opened my very tactless mouth.

  “Yet at the same time, Mr. Conall, as the president of the board of the fine art’s council, you have access to the very venue where this poor abomination was slaughtered, and I’m wondering if any of your fine upstanding Christian pals might’ve seen fit to say… borrow a set of keys from you.”

  Sparks shot from Johnny’s eyes.

  Conall’s reaction, speaking of exponential growth, dwarfed Johnny’s. His face mottled red, veins in the neck bulged in proportion to his eyes and I could’ve sworn that the word hissed from his lips was an epithet that wouldn’t have been appropriate for his beloved church folk to hear. Then again, my experience with zealots has led me to conclude that their hypocrisy knows no bounds.

  A trembling finger pointed to the front door. “Get out of my home! If you want to interrogate me, you may contact my attorney!”

  Johnny gritted his teeth with a vice grip to match on my upper arm and steered me out of the house. I understood his anger and frustration, but couldn’t for the life of me identify what prompted me to goad Aidan Conall into responding in such a negative way.

  “I sure as hell hope you know what you’re doing, Doc, because we’re not going to make any progress with him or any of his Christian soldiers now,” he growled.

  Unfortunately, I couldn’t reassure him with a grand plan behind my impromptu attack. It made little sense in light of the problems we faced with the case already. A
ll I knew was there was simply something about Aidan Conall that I absolutely loathed.

  Chapter 19

  My woes over a big mouth that didn’t know when to shut up were just beginning. Think tip of the iceberg. By the time Johnny finished blistering my ears all the way from Bay View back to Downey Division, word had spread like wildfire, from Chief of Police Don Weber, to Lieutenant Shelly Finkelstein, the mayor of Darkwater Bay, and yes, in a very personal way to Crevan.

  I held up one forestalling palm at his livid expression when Johnny and I walked into the squad room. “I know. Johnny already gave it to me in spades, Crevan. No need to go there.”

  Only one person remained oddly supportive of what I had done, though by now I’d had plenty of time for the requisite replay in my brain. Nothing I had said was actually that offensive. Then again, there are those bothersome statistics on communication. Only seven percent of any message is the actual words one uses. Everything else that speaks for us is tone and body language. Mine clearly screamed contempt.

  Briscoe had an atta girl smirk on his face. I didn’t have to ask why. He thought Crevan’s dad was a raving religious zealot, a lunatic of the first order, only pardoned by society because all of his delusions fell into the acceptable category of religious dogma. Then again, Briscoe wasn’t quite rational and objective about religion either. His flavor merely imbued magical powers to statues and beads.

  “Helen –”

  “Please, Crevan. I know I screwed up.”

  “You have no idea how much. He called the mayor and Chief Weber for God’s sake. Did we not tell you that he had to be approached in a very subtle way?”

  “Yes, I was warned, and I’m sorry. I have no idea what came over me. Seriously. He just… pissed me off I guess.”

  “He has that effect on people,” Crevan muttered. “But thanks a lot. He’s now started ranting at me about how I sicced you on him in retaliation for his bad reaction to the news of my divorce.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.” My eyes rolled hard. “Because he’s clearly our top priority right now.”

  “The way he’s telling the story, you made it about him, about besmirching the holy name of the only righteous church in Darkwater Bay.”

  Briscoe snorted. “‘Bout time somebody knocked that smug so-and-so down a peg or two. If he’s smart, he won’t be so vocal about his opinion of other religions in the city. He’s in a vast minority as it is.”

  “Let’s not turn this into some kind of crusade between canons,” I said. Yeah, me defending religious freedom. Somewhere in the universe, planets were colliding. “Johnny heard what I said, and I think we agreed that he was already feeling defensive after Johnny explained why we wanted to talk to him.”

  “Well, to hear him tell it, you flat out accused the church of homicide, hate crimes and targeting homosexuals,” Shelly Finkelstein joined the conversation. “I surely hope Johnny did witness what you said, because he’s demanding to anybody who will listen that you be fired. Immediately.”

  “Christ,” Johnny hissed. “She was a tad on the sarcastic side, Shelly, but all she asked was whether or not anyone might’ve borrowed his keys that would’ve allowed access to the amphitheater. Granted, I would’ve preferred a gentler approach with him, but she basically cut through the crap and got to the crux of our visit.”

  “With no favorable answer given,” Shelly scowled at me.

  I felt the accolades from the honors ceremony at the police holiday party a couple of weeks ago disintegrate into ash. “I apologize,” which sounded quite insincere since it was huffed out of my throat with sarcasm that dwarfed what the senior Conall received.

  Johnny’s hand surreptitiously crept over and gripped mine. “It’s all right, Helen. We’ll find another approach with Aidan, maybe give him a few hours to cool down. I think as long as you’re not in his face again, we can broach the subject and get the answers we need from him.”

  “After you’ve crawled through broken glass with a better apology than the one I just heard,” Shelly said. “And do we seriously believe that a Baptist from this congregation really might’ve had something to do with the murder of Kyle Goddard?”

  Johnny frowned. “Speaking of Goddard, why aren’t you and Tony watching the marina like I asked?”

  Shelly piped up. “Because I overrode that order and sent a couple of uniformed officers over there instead.”

  Tension bled out of Johnny, into me, all around the squad room. In fact, I felt the roof of the building rise from the anger he projected. He dropped my hand. “A word with you in private, Lieutenant Finkelstein.”

  “Shit,” Briscoe said. “I wouldn’t wanna be in Lou’s shoes right about now. I told you we should’ve just gone over there like he wanted, Crevan.”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my idea to stick around here.”

  “I thought Johnny said he would clear the surveillance with her. What happened between that conversation and when you were supposed to leave for the marina?” I asked.

  “She asked where you were headed,” Briscoe shrugged. “When we told her, she got all pissy and said she’d send a squad car out to watch Goddard’s slip in the marina. I figured you’d probably have a better idea about why she’d challenge Johnny for control of this case.”

  “Me? Why would I know what she’s thinking? I haven’t spoken to her since she called about Devlin’s accident.”

  “Ain’t that what you do?” Briscoe grinned. “You know everybody’s motives whether they say ‘em out loud or not.”

  I wished. “I can’t imagine why all of a sudden anybody would have a problem with OSI assuming jurisdiction over this case. It could be rightfully argued that the state’s interest supersedes the city’s.”

  “Weird,” Crevan’s eyes drifted to the closed door, mostly because Johnny’s indistinct words could be heard, tone loud, through the solid door.

  My lips pinched together tightly. In light of what Chris and I discussed, I was pretty sure that even if Finkelstein had a valid reason for fighting over jurisdictional control, Johnny would see it as an indictment on his competence since I caused his memory loss. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple? Why had I gone and made everything a hundred times more difficult by needling Aidan Conall?

  That one really stumped me.

  “Helen?”

  My focus jerked back to the detectives staring at me. Briscoe was laughing softly.

  “Gotta keep an eye on this one when she gets that spaced out look. She probably just figured out whodunit.”

  “I haven’t got the first clue, Briscoe,” less hostile, still a little vacant from the here and now. “I’m worried about Johnny.”

  “‘Bout damn time.”

  “I’ve always been worried about him,” my patience wore thin. “If you hadn’t been such a jackass after he got hurt, you might’ve realized that I was reacting out of pain and concern that my actions directly led to him being hurt by someone you told me was already dead, Tony.”

  “I thought you looked like you could’ve honestly murdered the guy.”

  I stared at him hard. “If someone like that hurt the only person in the world that you love, wouldn’t you feel like killing them, if for no other reason than to be sure they didn’t get another chance?”

  Briscoe swallowed hard. “I suppose I might.”

  “And say for instance, this person was someone who knew you and understood you like no one else ever had, and you never loved anybody more in your entire life–”

  “All right,” Briscoe interrupted. “I guess I just wasn’t so sure you really had such strong feelings about Johnny, Helen. It sure didn’t seem like it when you up and disappeared and wouldn’t give him the time of day.”

  “Tony,” Crevan said softly, “he didn’t remember who she was. Can you imagine how much that had to hurt?”

  “I guess.”

  “Can the two of you agree that you’ve both behaved pretty irrationally since Johnny got hurt?” Crevan asked.

  I
sort of felt like I was five years old and being dressed down by the kindergarten teacher for fighting over something as inconsequential as the last carton of chocolate milk. “As long as he’s clear on one thing,” I said.

  “What?” Briscoe’s eyes stared hard at the floor.

  “That you don’t know the half of what Johnny and I feel about each other, and therefore, you’ll stop interfering and trying to convince him that you’re some kind of authority on the subject.”

  “Fair enough,” Briscoe said, “but only if you stop avoiding him.”

  “Does it look like I’m avoiding him? Jesus Christ, Briscoe. He spent the night with me last night.”

  Eyebrows waggled suggestively.

  “It wasn’t like that. You’re such a Neanderthal.”

  His meaty paw extended. “Truce?”

  “Maybe.” I gave a reluctant shake. “Maybe a truce, but don’t think I’ll ever forgive and forget. You wanted him to wake up and throw me out.”

  “Hey, if you can say dumb shit because you’re scared and worried, so can I.”

  It was the closest I’d ever get to a real apology. The irony was that Briscoe and I shared a lot in common in that regard. The demand – no, order – that I apologize to Aidan Conall was poorly received on my part.

  Johnny jerked Finkelstein’s door open and beckoned with one slicing motion.

  “Uh-oh,” Briscoe murmured.

  “The gallows await,” I said.

  I wasn’t even completely inside the room when Johnny spoke. “You will apologize to Aidan Conall as soon as I can facilitate the meeting.”

  My mouth opened with the thought of objecting until I saw the glint of something else in Johnny’s eyes, deeper than anger. I bit back the defensive retort and nodded. “All right, I’ll do as you ask, Johnny.”

  Shelly’s eyes widened.

  “OSI is officially taking this case, Helen. Shelly has graciously agreed to let me use you and Briscoe and Conall as I see fit, however, if there is any further indication that you’re not capable of following orders, that arrangement will cease immediately.”