Criminally Insane: The Series (Bad Karma, Red Angel, Night Cage Omnibus) (The Criminally Insane Series)

by Douglas Clegg

  A framed picture of Elise and her kid. Trey had only worked with her sporadically, and was often surprised that she had a life outside her work at all. She had offices at three different facilities, including the Riverside County evaluation site in Riverside. He had never known her not to work. Even after her husband walked out on her, she had been on the job the following day.

  And she was a chain-smoker.

  Five cigarette butts in the ashtray. The staff had to go outside to the Yard, or up through the locked area at the roof. Elise never left her desk if she wanted a smoke.

  A notepad in the middle of her desk. A crazy doodle across it. As if she’d sat there less than an hour ago, drinking coffee, talking to someone on the phone, puffing on her cigarette...forcing a Bic pen down hard making circles on the pad.

  He found the file he needed fairly quickly.

  MICHAEL SCOLERI.

  From behind him, in the doorway, someone said, "Trey?"

  He turned around. It was Conroy's assistant, Eric Lombard. He was short, blond, and too much of a surfer dude for Darden State. He belonged in L.A. at the beach. He seemed sorely out of his element in Conroy's office.

  "Hey Eric. Where's the boss?"

  "Some bad shit's going on. Here's her cell," he said, and then passed him a number.

  "Any idea of what's up?"

  "She's not even telling me," he said. "She's doing some profiling with the San Pascal and Riverside sheriff's office, working on some new forensics case. She got called in over the weekend. That's all I know. She was here for about ten minutes and then took off like a bat out of hell. She won't tell me anything. But she wants to talk to you ASAP."

  Then, "You can use the office if you want." Eric left, shutting the door.

  Trey reached for the phone and dialed up the cell phone number.

  Elise picked up.

  "Hello? Elise?" he said.

  "Trey? Thank god."

  "What's going on? You working on some case?"

  "I'm in traffic. I...can't talk like this. I'll be there in about later on. I've got..." Silence on the line.

  "Elise?"

  "I'm driving over to San Pascal. I'll be back. Maybe an hour. Maybe more."

  Another silent few seconds.

  "Tell me what's going on," he said, expecting nothing more than a hectic schedule from her, as was her usual.

  "Do something for me. Did Eric get you a file?"

  "Yep."

  "Okay. Okay. Read it. Just as an intro. And go see Scoleri. See if you can get him talking. About anything. Anything at all. Watch him. See if he's talking to anybody else. Staff. Anybody."

  11

  Trey grabbed the file on top of the pile of papers on Conroy's desk.

  "Okay. Scoleri. Tell me who you are."

  He opened the file.

  Chapter Eighteen

  INTERVIEW SUBJECT: MICHAEL SCOLERI

  INTAKE O/D : E. CONROY

  PROPERTY OF THE DARDEN STATE HOSPITAL, DARDEN , CA

  CONFIDENTIAL

  NOTES: Found Guilty of the murders of six women, two men, rape, mutilation. Postmortem sexual activity. Fascinated with the dead. Necrophilia. Goes for souvenirs. Collection included eyes, noses, breasts, and genitalia. Activity: labile.

  ∗ ∗ ∗

  SCOLERI: Hi. You know my name but I don’t know yours.

  CONROY: I’m Dr. Conroy. I’m a psychiatrist for the state of California. Do you understand that, Mr. Scoleri?

  SCOLERI: Yes. It says E. Conroy on your tag...

  CONROY: Elise. Dr. Elise Conroy.

  SCOLERI: Okay, Doc. But call me by my real name.

  CONROY: Might I call you Michael?

  SCOLERI: No. I'm not Michael. I'm Abraxas. I am the true God.

  CONROY: Let’s talk about what you did.

  SCOLERI: The pretty girls. Okay. I didn't kill them. What I did was date them, and that was about it. We partied. We had some fun. It was all pretty innocent. Yeah, they came on to me, and yeah, I just should've not spent time with them. But I didn't kill them. It got a little rough. But I only did what they told me to. What they asked. They asked for all kinds of things. They begged for some of them.

  CONROY: And you killed them.

  SCOLERI: Only when they begged. I didn't do it. They used me as a tool. That's why they called me the Handyman.

  CONROY: Who?

  SCOLERI: The newspapers. They called me the Handyman. Like the song. Do you know the song? I'm a handyman for a lot of things. It wasn't the hammers and nails that got me that name. It wasn't the pliers and the wrenches and the ropes. It was because I knew what to give their hearts. They spoke to me in prayers. They pleaded for me. And I gave them what they asked. There was one named Jenny and she prayed the most. She prayed so much that I had to answer her prayers. See, she'd been beaten when she was a little girl. She couldn't get away from it in life. That's how life is. You don't get away from your problems. You don't either, do you?

  CONROY: Who had beaten her?

  SCOLERI: Her parents. I think mainly her father. But her mother too. Her father was a sadist, but I think her mother was like you know one of those little yappy dogs. You know? The kind that just runs after and bites at you. So she sort of encouraged the father to be mean. She was probably the kind of mother who likes it when children suffer. And pretty Jenny suffered all the time she grew up. And her daddy did those things to her that daddies are only supposed to want to do with mommies. So when she was in my presence, and crying, a big girl of 24, bawling her eyes out, I showed her how to reach atonement. That means at-one-ment. That's where atonement comes from. She had to atone for her sins, and her father's sin. I told her what it would cost. What was demanded. And she begged. And then, she offered. It was just three of her fingers. She offered them because they were the part of her that still did bad things. That was her atonement. When it was done, she prayed that she would die. I was just the tool. The hand of Abraxas was upon her, and she thanked me when she left. She thanked me profusely. I stayed with her that night. All night long. I prayed with her. I knew how her life had gone to that point. Children really live in Hell. But I could offer her Heaven. And atonement.

  CONROY: And how did you know that? About her childhood?

  SCOLERI: I’m afraid if I told you, you wouldn’t understand.

  CONROY: And you believed her parents had beaten her and abused her as a child.

  SCOLERI: Her body radiated it. She was small and weak from it. She had a little darkness in her head from where they’d hit her. She talked to me silently from the darkness. Do you know that's what we all have? All of us who are here? We were born with this small broken piece of glass — a darkness. In our brains. And then, some of us were tortured. By nice people who thought they were doing good. I know what they did to her. They saw into her darkness and they hurt her so that her darkness would grow.

  CONROY: Darkness?

  SCOLERI: Yep. A small voice of darkness. Don't you ever hear them? You talk to enough of them. They grow up and do bad things later. Or they spend their lives being hurt. It's because of that voice in the dark. It grew in them. It didn't grow in someone like you. You're attractive, well-educated, smart. Not like the kind of people I'm talking about. They're lost, and they've been lost since that darkness grew inside them. I hear their voices as one voice. I do. All the time. They talk to me. The lost ones. The ones who get hurt. And the monsters talk to me, too. The ones who hurt. I know them. They send me their prayers.

  CONROY: Do you think that what you did to her was worse than what her parents had done to her?

  SCOLERI: Of course not. What I did to her was the best thing for her. I wasn’t going to let her go through the life they’d mapped out for her. How would she have turned out? She would’ve been just another messed up woman. She would’ve kept the species going, only her species. The messed up kind. The kind that raises children all wrong. The kind of woman who doesn’t achieve any kind of balance in her life. The kind with darkness growing. Look
around, Doctor. The streets are full of them. You may know some. They blot out the light. They're...well, they're not like you. And none of you are like me.

  CONROY: Do you believe that you are a different species?

  SCOLERI: It must be hard to understand any of this, Dr. Conroy. You don’t live in the world of direct experience. You’re watching a movie screen and you think that’s life. But you’re not out there, in contact. Very few are anymore.

  CONROY: Do you feel bad for what you did to her?

  SCOLERI: How? She begged for death. But I messed it up.

  CONROY: In what way?

  SCOLERI: I did it too fast. The knife slipped. She was supposed to suffer for six minutes. It was too quick. She was gone before I could tell her.

  CONROY: What did you need to tell her?

  SCOLERI: About the gift.

  CONROY: What is the gift?

  SCOLERI: Suffering. She was so lucky to have it. But she should’ve had six minutes.

  CONROY: Why is six minutes so important?

  SCOLERI: Six minutes is enough time for me to take out what I need so that she could’ve seen it before she died. She could’ve watched it fly. All it ever takes is the power of six. She could’ve seen it.

  CONROY: Seen what?

  SCOLERI: The beauty of the world can only be experienced through terrible pain. Joy is in suffering. Even the saints knew that. All suffering is where God lives. I showed them God. And they found me there. I showed them my beauty. My true face. The doorway between life and death is always open. And it swings both ways, Dr. Conroy. They still talk to me. They tell me things. I can't keep the dead from speaking. What does it matter what I did to them? If I took their sight? They passed through suffering. They still exist. It's ridiculous to lock me up like this. I am Abraxas. I am all that there is. I hold life and death in my hands. Death is the true freedom in life. I hold their souls in my kingdom.

  1/00 Scoleri transferred to Atascadero following conviction.

  09/03 Scoleri transferred to Darden State/life threatened at Atascadero/sixth patient for experimental Program 28.

  Chapter Nineteen

  1

  “Hey bubba,” Jim Anderson said.

  Trey glanced up from the page. He dropped it back into the manila folder, shutting it. Anderson stood in the doorway, taking up most of it. “Jimmy.”

  "My Trivia Dude is back in play."

  "Absolutely."

  "What's the name of the woman who wrote the poem that goes on the Statue of Liberty?"

  "Easy. Emma Lazarus."

  "Who was the first man in space?"

  "Double easy. A Russian named Gagarin. 1961. We launched Alan Shepard up a few weeks after. You know I know the space race answers backward and forward."

  "I need to check on that one. You may be wrong. Okay, one more. What was the name of Jayne Mansfield's dog?"

  "You got me. No idea. She was in a 225 when she died, though. So was the dog. Does that get me trivia points?"

  "No way, Bubba. No way."

  Jim, a behemoth of a guy, larger than when Trey had last seen him several months before, growing wider the older he got. His blond buzz cut was still intact, giving him the giant teddy bear crossed with a Marine look. He had the telltale peanut butter and jelly smudges of a slipshod breakfast all over his white coat.

  Jim cracked a grin, his gold tooth shiny at the front of his mouth. “Back for the love of the job. Man, it's good to see you back."

  Pointing to Jim’s dirty jacket, Trey laughed. “Don’t you think you ought to come to work in clean clothes?”

  Jim glanced at the stains. He wiped at the peanut butter and then licked it off his fingers. “Ever since this new laundry service started up, I just throw it to them. Pretty soon, we’ll have shoe shines here, too. And massages. It's like paradise here, if it weren't for the patients.”

  Trey rose, offering his hand, but Jim slapped at it, playfully.

  "Hear you're going to work Program 28," Jim said. "Jesus, that's the shit end of the stick. I go in to help out, and I feel like I'm just waiting to get my head torn off. They're all labile in there. They move slowly, they get you all relaxed. Then when they see an opportunity, well, you know the routine."

  "It's what I missed about this place."

  Jim offered a smile. "Well, you worked with Hatcher pretty closely, didn't you?"

  "Too closely. Jesus, Jimmy, they act like 28's a promotion."

  "Sure, the docs think so. That's because they're all going to run off and write their books about the monstrosity of the human mind or some bullshit. Conroy herself was writing up some book and got a deal with some big New York publisher just to talk about her unusual way of dealing with the patients. You and me, we just have to watch out for the crazies. One thing I'll give Program 28: they're in restraints so much, there's not a lot to be afraid of. But hell yes, they creep the crap outta me."

  "Agnes Hatcher was in restraints," Trey said.

  "True. And she managed to get out of them. But 28 is Olsen's baby, and Conroy runs psych with it. So you know we're all safe," Jim said, winking. “It’s super-duper freak show there. You think you've seen the worst? 28 is the scum in the toilet. Hey, you got a copy of Sociopathic Times?” Jim pointed to the file in Trey’s hand.

  Trey held it up. “Conroy wants me to consult. Not just work with him, but work with her. Christ, I had six messages from her when I walked in. I can’t seem to reach her.”

  “Something bad's going on with her today. No idea what. She came in after seven, but left real fast,” Jim snorted. “I wish Conroy had never come down to D Ward. She’s good, but it’s ‘cause she’s pretty. Sexist as that sounds. It stirs some of these guys up. Christ, Rob Fallon was all jumping up and down this morning talking about her. Jillian thought he was gonna kill her. You gotta watch Fallon.”

  “He cool down?”

  Jim nodded. “Yep. He clams up and is all smiles like the damn cat with the canary. We thought we were gonna have to tie him down, but you know Fallon. He’s basically a good boy.”

  Trey half-grinned at the intended irony of this comment. “Fallon greeted me in the lounge.”

  “Yeah, he’s tasting his freedom. He’s got some girl on the outside with big bucks who’s trying to get early release for him.” Jim Anderson paused, not having to add that everyone in Darden knew what Rob would do if released: just kill the girlfriend at some point. “She may just do it. She’s some heiress to some fortune. Lives in Beverly Hills or something and drives in here for long visits with him.”

  “A lot has happened since I left,” Trey laughed. “At least for Rob. Man, someone should counsel that girlfriend of his. Does she understand the definition of 'sociopath'?”

  “We tried, bubba, we tried,” Jim said. “So, now that you’re back, what’s the first order of business, boss?”

  “Tell me about Scoleri. The stuff I can't find out from a psych file."

  Jim shrugged. For a big guy who had taken down some seriously dangerous killers in his time, having to wrestle them to the floor when they got hold of broken fluorescent light tubes to use as weapons, or when someone did a body slam at his kneecaps, he always seemed to have an air of innocence about him. "Okay, what I know. He talks about how he used to work in carnivals. You know, the kind that go town to town. I've seen him do some stuff. Real carny tricks like he does this contortionist thing were its like he can suck his own dick. Pardon my French. No, really. I mean, he can get in these weird positions, like his legs all the way over his head. He also told me and Bobby that he used to stick needles all the way through is body. Long needles. A real sideshow freak as a kid, apparently. He had his first girl when he was sixteen. When he talked about it, I thought he meant sex, but what he meant was something different. I mean, he had her. He cut off her big toe as his first souvenir. When he was a little kid, he grew up in group homes all over the place — mainly between here and Chino. He said they were all Jesus Freaks and he claims he was battered into his whole God
thing. He is Abraxas the Great or something. He reads comic books whenever he can. The basics: Superman, Spider-Man, Batman. That and children's books. He's basically hooked on reading anything a ten year old might read. But he's sharp. He had one year at a work farm in Arizona, because he'd committed some crime as a little kid that might've involved hurting another boy. I'm not sure. You gotta ask Conroy about that if you want. All I know's what he told me with his big fat mouth."

  "He kill more than once?"

  "I think so," Jim nodded. "Every time he talks about one of the people he killed, he acts like they're still alive. Still talking to him." Jim paused. Reached into his pocket and drew out a pack of Wrigley’s. Offered a stick to Trey, and then unwrapped one for himself, popped it into his mouth and began chewing. "You know something? On the Outside, he was like Hatcher. He collected souvenirs. You know, the usual, jewelry, fingers, eyes. He liked having mementos. He looks like a kid sometimes. He's late twenties, but looks like he's eighteen. But this one started early. He's labile, so you have to watch yourself around him. But he hasn't caused much in the way of problems. 'Til this morning."

  "The thing with Fallon?"

  "Yep. In the showers. Scoleri was there. Whatever happened, Scoleri ended up jumping on Dave Fenstler and Bobby Bronson. Nearly got Bobby's eyes."

  "Why was he on Fallon?"

  "Robbie says that Scoleri wants to do him, but Robbie thinks everyone wants that. Scoleri claims he had a message for Conroy, and that's as far as I know. He's definitely agitated. Maybe it's the weather. You know how it goes, sometimes. It the barometric pressure goes all screwy and they start getting sinus headaches and then one of them gets all screwed up. Last night, Scoleri started carving on himself."

  "With what?"

  Jim held up his fingers, displaying fingernails. "We cut his nails down this morning. He wrote on his tummy 'Suffer the children to come unto me'. He spouts scriptural stuff a lot. He is the great god Abraxas." Jim laughed. "You'll like him. He reads minds and talks to dead people, too."