American Devil

by Oliver Stark

  ‘I’d love to join you.’

  ‘Let’s say a prayer to a boy who couldn’t run as fast as I could,’ said Denise in a terrible James Cagney impression.

  ‘It’s a good thing you’re not taking up acting.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s also a good thing you’re out of reach right now.’

  ‘Not like you to be violent,’ he said. ‘Maybe it’s working with the NYPD.’

  Denise paused. ‘Heh, it’s the same cops who put their lives on the line trying to keep the city safe so that liberal assholes can make like they own the place.’

  ‘Apologies,’ said Daniel. ‘I’m sure they’re doing all those liberal assholes a great service.’

  ‘Apology accepted, you liberal asshole.’

  Daniel laughed. ‘God, I love it when you talk dirty. If I was with you right now—’

  ‘You’re big with the mouth, Daniel, but you’re never at home to follow these promises through.’

  ‘Saving the planet’s an important job. Can’t just switch it off.’

  ‘It’s not the job I want switched off, it’s you. You need to lie back once in a while.’

  ‘Hey, are you watching the news?’ Daniel leaned forward and watched the ticker tape crossing the bottom of Fox News.

  ‘No, I’m in an office. What’s going on?’

  ‘They’re reporting a homicide in New York.’

  ‘What happened? When was this?’

  ‘It’s just breaking now. A woman was found dead out on Ward’s Island.’

  Denise focused. ‘Is it linked to Mary-Jane’s murder?’

  ‘They’re speculating. Fox News are right on the scene with live feeds. You should take a look.’

  ‘I can’t here. Tell me what happened.’

  ‘Like I said, a woman killed and dumped on the rocks. It looks as though you might have your work cut out, Denise.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I want to help.’

  She remained on the phone to Daniel for another minute, until she signed off with her usual ending: ‘Love you till tomorrow.’

  She opened the door and looked into the crowded reception room, full of bright and smiling faces, all there to wish her well. Denise’s eyes were not focused on any of them. She had to leave quickly. She wanted to see the homicide report.

  Chapter Seven

  East Harlem

  November 16, 6.00 p.m.

  Harper’s suitcase was sitting packed on a chair, but he hadn’t gone anywhere. Not yet, at least. In the background the radio crackled updates on the pattern killer they were calling all kinds of names. Harper had been listening and watching closely since he’d seen the victim’s face the day before.

  The murder had kept him awake all night. After four hours of restless turning, he just couldn’t shake the image of the girl on the rocks from floating around his head. She wouldn’t go away. Harper wanted to get out there. He wanted to know how a killer got cherry blossom in the fall. Unlike his endless thoughts about Lisa, he knew what to do with homicide cases. He knew the right questions to ask.

  His head buzzed with ideas and possible leads already, but he had resisted a call to Lafayette. He had lost his cool once already with Officer Cob. He’d let the anger get the better of him - he still didn’t trust himself to be returned to the unsentimental wisecrackers of North Manhattan Homicide. Every weakness was fair game on the homicide squad.

  But there was a violent sociopath out there and one thing Tom Harper knew for certain was that he was only just creeping out of the shadows. It was clear that the killer seemed to have spent an extended time with each corpse. The killer had found his voice: a demented voice that wanted to be heard.

  Tom kept thinking as he walked down to the subway, took the south train to 51st Street and walked towards Fifth Avenue.

  The main entrance to St Patrick’s Cathedral was special to Tom. Lisa was a Catholic and loved the place more than any other. When she walked out on him, it was the first place he looked for her. If Lisa was in trouble, this was where she’d come. And on the odd occasion when they’d argued, this was where he knew to find her. This was the place where she lit candles for her grandmother and grandfather, where she attended Mass and went to confession. The cathedral had been her place of refuge and Harper had often wandered in by her side and watched her walk down the centre aisle towards the altar. What she thought about, Tom didn’t know.

  Outside, the Gothic spires and pointed arches thrust upwards between the big blue glass windows of the office blocks. Harper looked up at the rose window that formed a perfect point of focus like some magical point of connection, then walked through the great doors. Inside, you could disappear from New York into a vast space for reflection and thought. Harper wasn’t sure if he was religious or not, but the place moved him.

  The cathedral was just about emptying out. The stone still resonated with the voices of the crowds. Harper found a pew near the back, slipped across and felt the reassuring smooth wood against his hand. He stared up into the great open height and the stained glass. He needed to think about his life and this was the only place he could think of to come for some kind of direction. He put his elbows on the pew in front of him and lowered his head.

  He tried to push negative thoughts away and let his mind drift. He let recent images flit through his mind: Lafayette, the photographs, the girl on the rocks, Lisa, the nuthatch, a family of four all hand in hand by the lake . . .

  Half an hour later, a tall figure appeared at the back of the cathedral. He looked around, his eyes widening in surprise, and then he spotted Harper in the back pew. He slid in behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

  Harper’s eyes opened as a familiar voice whispered in his ear. ‘I heard on the grapevine that the department asked you back in. What you waiting for? You can’t refuse that. It’s not right. Fuck that. It’s serious. Come with me, my friend. I’ll save you from this cult.’

  Harper turned and smiled. His partner of three years, Eddie Kasper, was sitting there, his bright street clothes incongruous in the vast stone space, his voice even more so. No one in the department dared to rattle Harper, but this young black man had no fear at all, and, what’s more, he even seemed to like the big guy.

  ‘God, it is quiet in here! Is it like first one to talk has to stay in at play break?’

  ‘People are praying.’

  Eddie nodded in approbation. ‘I get you, man. You’re going through some kind of religious conversion, ain’t that right?’

  ‘Eddie. You can’t talk so loud in here.’

  ‘And that’s just how it is with you these days, isn’t it, Mr Silent? No hard feelings on my part, buddy, but you cut me off, don’t speak to me and don’t answer my calls. I’m not thin-skinned. I can take it, but even I got limits. See the tracks of my tears?’

  ‘I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Screw busy, you ain’t been deep sea diving, you got a phone. I’m your best buddy.’ Other people from the pews in front of them were starting to look round.

  ‘What’s with the praying and shit?’

  ‘I’m looking for something.’

  ‘Well it ain’t in here, man, it’s out there, hiding behind every pretty face on the street.’

  ‘Lisa was a Catholic. Is a Catholic.’

  ‘My girlfriend wears false nails, but you don’t see me in the nail bar.’

  ‘I could imagine it.’

  ‘Come on. These Catholics, man, they believe in God and celibacy and all that. No sex before marriage. These are the ones I fear most of all. Do you think you can catch celibacy?’

  ‘I hope you do. I would love to see the look of disappointment on your face, Eddie.’

  ‘Hey, this is your thing, that’s cool. I ain’t judgemental. I like a man with quirks. I can do quirks. I myself like to pee with my eyes closed just to see if I can keep to the bowl. It’s a challenge thing. And come the power cut, I’m the ladies’ best friend. Precision is my thing. So you know, I get this whole quirk thing.’

  �
��It’s not a quirk.’

  ‘It is a quirk, Tom. You’re sitting in someone else’s living room with a bunch of other folk saying nothing and speaking to Mr Invisible. That’s a mighty big quirk. Might be the biggest of them all.’

  Tom smiled at his buddy. ‘It’s good to see you, Eddie.’

  ‘That’s better, man. Now give me some chest hair.’ Eddie wrapped his arms round Harper and pressed his body in tight. ‘God, I’ve missed you, man.’

  Harper pushed him away. ‘Enough.’

  ‘I’m an emotional man, Harps, I don’t have to hide it. I love you, brother. Look at you. Can I say something?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look like shit. Don’t you eat? Sleep? Wash? Fuck, man, you can’t short cut the basics.’

  ‘How did you know I was here?’

  ‘You been here a few times since, you know, since she walked out. I look out for you, watch your back. I was worried.’

  ‘Following me?’

  ‘Not so much following. I see it as guarding and protecting. You need a guardian angel, Harps.’

  ‘If you’re my angel, then I’m in real trouble, so how about you shut up and let me sort this out with the man upstairs.’

  ‘Don’t be asking for a replacement, Harps. I’ll sit nice and tight here, quiet as you like.’

  They paused. Eddie looked all around him. The silence lasted four seconds. ‘Harps, there ain’t no hot chicks in here. You should go gospel. I’m telling you, I nearly went evangelical myself when I saw what they got stashed in them Harlem churches. Harlem Gold. I’m telling you!’

  Harper laughed. ‘Enough, Eddie. They can hear you.’

  ‘Come and talk to me outside or else I will not shut my mouth and I make that pledge in the eyes of Mr Invisible.’

  Harper was getting several looks from other people in the cathedral. He stood up and took Eddie outside. Out on the sidewalk, Eddie breathed a huge sigh. ‘Good God, Tom, that was hard for me, being so quiet.’

  ‘You weren’t.’

  ‘Yeah, but even the notion that I might be expected to be silent freaked me out. That’s why I could never get school either. I’ve got to talk to know what’s what.’

  The two men looked at each other a moment, taking in the separation of the past few months. Eddie’s tone lowered. ‘You know my feelings, Tom. I’m sorry about Lisa.’

  ‘Thanks. I mean it.’

  ‘No problem. I tried to talk to her. She wouldn’t see me.’

  ‘It helped to know you tried.’

  ‘Her loss.’

  ‘I’m moving on, you know. Lafayette tell you?’

  ‘Yeah, but he also tells me you looked over the scene at Ward’s Island. And I know Tom Harper . . . that’s not going to leave you alone. I bet it’s sitting in your fat head just driving you mad.’

  ‘That’s just about right. These are bad kills. Did Lafayette put you on Blue Team?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Is it as loose as it looks?’

  ‘Yeah, it is, and you were right about the Ward’s Island girl. Another rich girl who won’t get a chance to spend her inheritance. Her name’s Grace Frazer. She was knocked to the floor next to her car in the city, then somehow dragged off the street and taken to Ward’s. You were right about the camera too. They found tripod marks in the grass above the rocks.’

  Harper suddenly clocked a look in Kasper’s eye. ‘Aw shit, Eddie. Lafayette sent you, didn’t he?’

  ‘No, Tom, it’s worse than that.’ Eddie’s face was stone cold.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just got called in. They found another body down in a parking lot right in the heart of the city.’

  ‘Another body already?’

  ‘I wanted to see if you’d ride with me. We need you, Harps. We really need you.’

  ‘Two corpses in two days,’ said Harper. He glanced back to the cathedral. Life, death and the afterlife all in a moment. ‘Lafayette wants me to see a shrink.’

  ‘Sounds like you need to, speaking to invisible people and forgetting to wash. You’re just like those Ward’s Island psychos I’ve been interviewing all day.’ He paused and looked at Harper. ‘Come on, Tom, let’s do what you do best.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘End horror stories.’

  Chapter Eight

  Upper East Side Crime Scene

  November 16, 6.45 p.m.

  Tom Harper and Eddie Kasper drove in silence from the cathedral into the wealth and privilege of the Upper East Side. Harper looked up at the darkening sky between the towering buildings. His greatest memory was lying beside Lisa on the side of a razor-edged ridge with a view of the stars, watching the flocks of migrating raptors in the dark. Some things were still magical in the world; it was just getting harder and harder to find them.

  The rain clouds had gathered by the time they turned on to East 82nd Street. The two detectives felt the strain of the news as the car lurched through the pull and push of rush hour traffic. Finding a third dead girl so soon was highly unusual, even with the worst of killers. Harper wasn’t sure what they were dealing with. He felt his own ignorance and chastised himself for not taking up Lafayette’s offer the day before. Up ahead, they saw the familiar parade of police cars beating out a frenzy of red and blue lights.

  As Eddie pulled up to the kerb, Harper took a quick look at his cell phone. No messages - there never were any more. He closed his eyes momentarily. Life must go on.

  They jumped out on to the street. It was a buzz of activity at the scene and the first officers had managed to close off both ends of East 82nd. The Crime Scene Unit had secured the area with blue screens and put up six strong floodlights that filled the air with an unreal glow and caused steam to rise from the damp sidewalk.

  Harper and Kasper found the entrance to the car park and hurried down to the underground lot. Their footsteps echoed against the bare concrete walls and they could hear the low murmurings of the cops from two levels below.

  Just beyond the entrance, Harper’s eyes scanned left and right, up and down. He noticed that the parking lot had limited exit points, maximum exposure, valet parking and cameras at every corner, making it a very visible and difficult spot to escape from. This killer wasn’t afraid to choose a high-risk location. Except with crimes of passion and anger, which could happen wherever those emotions exploded, such openness was highly unusual.

  ‘If this is the same killer he’s changing quickly,’ he said to Kasper as they moved down through the dark underground lot. ‘This is a far cry from the lonely waters of Ward’s Island.’

  ‘Well, we’re about to find out.’ Eddie pointed towards the rest of Blue Team gathered around a metal railing at the far end of Level 2.

  Nate Williamson and Detective Mark Garcia were standing apart from the others, talking closely. Williamson was big and strong, but his hair had mostly left him; Mark Garcia was handsome and well dressed, and smelt of cologne. Together they looked like a veteran cop with a pimp informer. Harper walked across. He and Williamson had some history. Harper was given the lead on the Romario case after Williamson had got nowhere with it.

  ‘How’s it going?’ Harper asked. ‘What’s the situation down here?’

  ‘Fuck me, what’s brought you back from the dead?’ said Williamson. ‘Jarvis dropped his charge or what?’

  Harper shrugged. ‘Don’t know about that. I’ve just been asked to take a look. See if I can help out.’

  ‘Well, we need all the help we can get,’ said Williamson, and put out his hand.

  Harper took it and shook. ‘You’re not pissed with me?’

  ‘I’m three weeks off retirement. Let sleeping dogs lie is what I say. How about it?’

  ‘That’s good to hear, Nate, but you know they won’t let you retire in the middle of a case.’

  ‘That’s the only reason I’m happy to see your ugly face, Harper. I’m hoping you can get me a quick arrest and a ticket for the Bahamas.’

  Kasper had a look of surpri
se on his face. ‘Hey, this isn’t a love-in. What’s the story here, Garcia?’

  Mark Garcia leaned over a steel railing and pointed. ‘There’s a body in the arch at the far end. White girl, early twenties. Similar to the girl on Ward’s Island, but this one’s worse. A whole lot worse.’

  ‘What kind of injuries?’ Harper asked.

  Williamson jumped in. ‘It’s like this. Victim’s unidentified at present. She’s been stripped, probably raped and cut like the others. It’s our very own Jack the Ripper.’

  Their faces lit by the overhead fluorescent tubes, Tom Harper and Eddie Kasper stepped across to the large brick arch. The body was at the base of three steep steps that led to an old metal service door. Harper ran his hand over the worn curved tread on the top step and then looked down at the body.

  It didn’t matter how often you’d stared at the aftermath of violence, it always took your breath away. The victim’s pale corpse was lying flat on the wet concrete, half under the arch, the skin of her abdomen and chest peeled back on either side of her torso as if she was on display in some sidewalk anatomy class that had been suddenly abandoned.

  Harper took his time looking at the corpse. It was hard to see a human being turned into this mess, but he tried to see through it, to notice what was logical about the death scene and what stood out. At this scene, a lot stood out.

  Eddie moved across to Tom, who crouched by the body and stared at the woman’s bloodied face. Her eyes were intact this time but it was the same killer. Harper saw that right away.

  ‘What’s your take, boss?’ said Eddie.

  ‘No idea yet. Poor girl. She went through a helluva lot of fear and pain. That’s all I got. Give me a moment, Eddie.’

  They looked down at the naked body again. It remained horribly still. The harsh fluorescent lights of the underground garage lent the corpse a greenish glow. The only movement was a couple of insects buzzing around her chest. Harper thought it looked like the killer had opened up her torso for a reason. Another trophy. Not only that, but he wanted everyone to see what he’d taken. Harper looked up at his partner. ‘The girl’s heart is missing,’ he said.