Deranged

by Jacob Stone

  He struggled for a moment to pull an iPhone out of his pocket, then after fiddling with it he held it up to Natalie so she could see a photo of her daughter Rachel lying in a car trunk with her wrists bound by duct tape and a gag in her mouth.

  “I’m a pretty strong guy,” Henry said. “Quick, too. I’d have no problem overpowering you, but the problem would be getting you to my car afterwards. There’s just no way I could do that without someone trying to stop me. So I need you to cooperate.”

  Natalie’s voice trembled as she said, “You expect me to leave here willingly with you?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m expecting. If you don’t, I’ll beat you unconscious, maybe kill you, and then I’ll drive away and do terrible things to your daughter. If you survive what I do to you here, you’ll have to live knowing that you did nothing to try to save her. And if you try screaming now, it won’t last very long. I promise you. So are you going to be a good girl?”

  Natalie’s face crumbled.

  “Good. Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to leave your office together, walk to the end of the hall, go down the fire stairs, all seven floors, and when we get to my car, you’re going to climb into the trunk without a fuss. If you say a word to anyone, your daughter’s dead. If you try fighting me or drawing any attention to us, ditto. Understand?”

  Natalie bit hard on her lip to keep from crying. Even though she knew the answer, she couldn’t help herself from asking in a sick whisper, “Why are you doing this?”

  Henry shrugged. “It’s one of those things you do for love. As I explained earlier, I got no choice. Now stand up.”

  Natalie did as she was directed, although she had to reach back for the chair for support to keep from falling. Henry joined her and clamped his hand tightly around her narrow wrist.

  “Remember what I told you,” he said. “I’m not joking about any of it.”

  He tugged her along after him as he headed for the door.

  Chapter Fifty-seven

  Morris’s cellphone rang. Bogle calling from New York.

  “Good news?” he asked.

  “Good news indeed,” Bogle said. “Lemmon, bless him, found the marriage certificate. Husband’s name is Henry Pollard, and he’s been filing tax returns like a good citizen. We’ve got an address for him in Portland, Oregon. But take a look at his New York driver’s license photo.”

  Morris brought up the photo that arrived right before Bogle called.

  “His license has him as only five foot six, so he’s not tall, but he’s certainly got a wide body,” Bogle said.

  “And a round head like a pumpkin,” Morris observed.

  “I bet he’s got a prominent bald spot too.”

  “I bet you’re right,” Morris agreed.

  “What if his wife tracked him to that house in Queens, and walked in on him while he was breaking open that guy’s head? It might explain why things went south with him chopping off the guy’s head to hide that it was SCK. It might also explain why that same night he ended up crippling his wife.”

  “That’s a pretty big assumption,” Morris said.

  “It is, but it feels right.”

  “Let’s find out first if he’s in Los Angeles.”

  Chapter Fifty-eight

  Morris agreed with what Madame Asteria had told him over the phone several days earlier. At first glance she did look much younger than she was, and could easily be mistaken for someone in her twenties. He was confused, though, about the presence of the thirty something year-old hipster dude who was with her inside of her psychic studio and had introduced himself as Devlin Pavlovich, a TV producer.

  “I have no interest in doing any interviews or being on a reality TV show,” he told Pavlovich.

  Pavlovich smiled in a nervous, twitchy sort of way, possibly because of how Parker was staring at him. “That’s not why I’m here,” he said. “You called Madame Asteria about looking at a photo to see if it’s the same guy that she had called you about. I saw him also. In fact, I can show you a video recording of him.”

  “Why’s that?”

  His smile grew more nervous and twitchier as Parker continued to stare at him without blinking once. “I’m producing a reality TV show about Los Angeles psychics.”

  “You recorded him via a hidden camera?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did he ever find out about it?”

  “He figured it out. It upset him when he did.”

  “Am I being recorded now?” Morris asked.

  “No, certainly not.”

  Morris wasn’t sure whether Pavlovich was lying to him, but if he was there wasn’t anything he could do about it at this point. “Why don’t you show me that recording,” he said.

  Pavlovich glanced quickly at Parker, and said, “The equipment is in a room behind this wall. It’s a small space. You should leave the dog out here.”

  “I’ll keep this handsome guy company,” Madame Asteria volunteered, and she got down on her knees so she could wrap her arms around the dog’s neck and give him a hug. Parker looked embarrassed by this, but also as if he was enjoying the attention.

  Pavlovich pushed next to a large mirror on the wall and a door opened, revealing a hidden room. Inside was a camera, a video monitor, and other equipment. Pavlovich played the video recording that showed Henry Pollard. He was older, of course, than his driver’s license photo, but it was the same man.

  “I’m going to need a copy of this,” Morris said.

  “Of course.”

  When Morris walked back into Madame Asteria’s studio, the psychic looked up at him as she hugged Parker and could tell from Morris’s expression that it was the same man. She studied him knowingly. “I felt it so strongly at the time,” she said. “All that violence swirling around him. It was so thick, I could almost taste it. If he didn’t realize that he was being recorded, he would’ve killed me.”

  Even though she didn’t ask it as a question, Morris nodded anyway. It didn’t take a psychic to know that was true.

  Chapter Fifty-nine

  “My favorite fish tacos. Morris, you’re a good man.”

  As Morris had guessed, the private hospital room was already overflowing with roses, daisies, carnations, and at least three dozen elaborate floral arrangements.

  “I figured you wouldn’t need any more flowers,” Morris said.

  “You guessed right. The flowers that have been coming in the last few hours are being donated to other rooms.” The thick bandage covering Stonehedge’s cheek and the swelling and redness of the skin around it gave the actor’s grin a sardonic quality. “The studio’s replacing me on The Carver. I’m hearing they’re already talking to Ronald Degragio.”

  “I never heard of him.”

  Stonehedge’s grin stretched wider and grew a touch more sardonic. “The guy’s a stiff.”

  “You seem awfully chipper given that news.”

  “It’s the drugs they got me on. Some really potent stuff. Anyway, I can’t blame them. The bullet not only nicked my femoral artery, but shattered my femur. With enough physical therapy, I might be walking in a couple of months, but I can’t expect them to shut down production for that long. It’s not all bad news, though. They’re going to rewrite the part of the Carver’s last victim, make it a heftier role, and let me play it in a wheelchair. The studio’s still going to squeeze every drop of publicity they can out of this.”

  Parker had been staring at the bag containing the fish tacos. He let out an impatient grunt.

  Morris said, “The dog’s a champion moocher. Ignore him.”

  Stonehedge shook his head. “I owe him also for yesterday.” He fished out one of the tacos from the bag, and tossed the bull terrier a piece of Ahi tuna.

  “Sorry you’re going to be missing out on playing the Carver,” Morris said.

  Stonehedge gingerly touched the bandage covering his cheek. “Thanks. I consulted this morning with a plastic surgeon. No matter what they do, this is going to
leave a prominent scar. I should be looking sinister enough to play another serial killer sometime down the road. So Morris, now that we finished with these niceties, let me guess your real reason for coming here. You want to tear me a new one for the dumb stunt I pulled yesterday.”

  “That was pretty dumb,” Morris agreed. “But no. I came here to tell you we know who SCK is.”

  “No kidding?”

  “No kidding. We’re keeping it quiet until we arrest him, but that should happen soon.”

  “Wow. Thanks for letting me know. Are you going to be there for the arrest?”

  Morris shook his head. “I’m done. The rest is for the police. As soon as I leave here, I’m heading home, taking a nice, long hot shower, and getting some sleep.” He paused, then added, “I wanted to let you know that even with that incredibly stupid stunt you pulled inside that jewelry store, you did okay on this investigation. It wasn’t so bad having you tag along. You had some good ideas.”

  “I’m telling you Morris, we make a good team.”

  “I’m not going to disagree. Get better soon, okay?”

  The two of them shook hands, and Morris led Parker out of the hospital room.

  Chapter Sixty

  Henry pulled into Morris Brick’s driveway, and hustled out of the driver’s seat so he could open the garage door that he had earlier left unlocked. While Brick’s quaint English cottage home sat on a quiet West Hollywood street, and the property was surrounded by tall hedges and a small banyan tree, giving it a good deal of privacy, Henry would still be exposed to anyone passing by. Perspiration coated his forehead and dampened his shirt as he drove into the garage and hurried out of his car so he could close the garage door after him. He had to hope no nosy onlooker had seen him do this, and he felt breathless for a moment. A bleak smile twisted his lips as the thought struck him about what an inopportune time this would be for him to have a heart attack. He had to admit it unnerved him being in the lion’s den, so to speak. But he also had to admit Sheila’s plan made a lot of sense. Morris Brick might be tough as nails, but a chisel and hammer would shatter his skull just like anyone else’s.

  Henry took several slow deep breaths. Once he felt steadier he opened the trunk and looked down at Natalie Brick, who stared back at him with a mix of fear and defiance. She didn’t try screaming for help, which showed she still had her wits about her. She had earlier complied with his orders, climbing into the car trunk and allowing him to bind her wrists and ankles together and to gag her. There was a moment when he had fumbled with the duct tape and she could’ve tried escaping, but she had believed his threat about what he would do to Rachel if she disobeyed him. At the time he couldn’t help marveling over the love this woman must have for her daughter. Anyway, that one moment had long since passed. If she screamed now with the gag in her mouth, nobody outside of the garage would hear the muffled noise she would make.

  Henry dumped her onto his shoulder as if she were a bag of sand. The woman was barely a wisp and couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds. Earlier when he had brought Rachel to the house, he had left the door connecting the garage to the den unlocked. He had also forced her to give him the security code for the alarm system, letting her know in precise detail how he would kill her if she gave him the wrong code, which would be in an even more horrifying manner than how he would actually be killing her later.

  He carried Natalie into the house and placed her on the carpeted floor next to Rachel, who was also gagged and bound. Both mother and daughter’s eyes filled with tears as they craned their necks so they could look at each other.

  Touching, Henry thought as he watched their reunion, and then shook himself out of his stupor. He wasn’t out of the woods by any stretch. He had to move his car, which meant he’d be exposed when he left the house and also later when he came back, but it had to be done. He couldn’t have Brick coming home and finding a strange car in the garage. He moved to the front of the house so he could unlock the front door and lift a slat on the closed window blind so he could peek out and see that the coast was clear. After that he hurried back to the den and into the garage.

  His gym bag had everything he’d be needing later, and he left it on the garage floor, then changed into the paint-stained dungarees and T-shirt that he wore whenever he did projects around the house. This way if anyone saw him later when he came back to the house, they’d think he was a painter or handyman doing work there. After putting on these work clothes, he reversed his earlier maneuvers: opening the garage door, pulling his car out, closing the door, and then driving three blocks away where he had earlier spotted plenty of on-street parking.

  Blood roared in his ears as he walked back to Brick’s house. This was the part of the plan that he dreaded most since there was a chance Brick could’ve returned home during the ten minutes it took Henry to dump his car. It would be one thing to clobber Brick on the back of the head while the man walked unaware into his house, it would be something else entirely to walk inside there and come face to face with him. Henry was so preoccupied by this possibility that he at first didn’t hear Brick’s neighbor chasing after him as she tried to get his attention. It was only after he had walked halfway to Brick’s front door that he heard her.

  “Excuse me, excuse me,” she repeated as she hurried to keep pace with him. “What do you think you’re doing here?”

  Henry turned and found himself blinking stupidly at a skinny woman in her sixties wearing tight Lululemon yoga clothes, her short hair dyed an unnatural yellow. Clearly a sun worshipper who didn’t believe in sunscreen given how leathery her skin had become, almost like a saddlebag.

  “I live next door to the Bricks,” she said, her expression more combative than suspicious. “I saw you driving away from here a few minutes ago.”

  “What? I’m doing some work here,” Henry stumbled out. “I had to drop off supplies.”

  “Natalie didn’t mention anything to me about you,” she said, a hint of doubt weakening her combativeness. “Isn’t it late in the day to be starting a job?”

  Henry shrugged and was able to manage a pleasant smile. “No choice. I had to finish another job first, and this is the earliest I could make it. Better late than never, right?”

  More doubt showed in her eyes as she began to believe there was a chance Henry was telling her the truth. “Do you have a business card?”

  “What? Of course.” He winked at her. “Maybe you might be able to make use of my services at a future date. Especially if the Bricks are happy with what I do for them.”

  He made a show of working his wallet out of his back pocket, all the while taking a step closer to her. Her guard had weakened enough that it actually seemed to surprise her when he grabbed her and swung her down to the ground. Or maybe her surprise was over how quick he had been. Whichever it was, he didn’t bother to ask her, and instead he covered her mouth with his hand to keep her from screaming. He had to give her credit the way she fought like a devil possessed. She had sunk her teeth into him and tried to tear out a chunk of his flesh, but he outweighed her by at least a hundred and fifty pounds, so she had no real chance. It didn’t take long for him to roll on top of her. Soon after that he had his hands around her throat, strangling her, and he watched as her eyes bugged out as if they were going to pop right out of her head. A minute or so after that he saw the exact moment when they became as lifeless as glass.

  Their tussle had mostly been hidden by the hedges. The only way anyone was going to see them was if they walked up Brick’s driveway, but still, Henry knew time was of the essence. That at any moment someone could appear. If not a delivery man, Brick himself. Henry’s legs felt rubbery and unsteady as he carried the dead woman to the front door. A muffled cry sounded behind him as he brought her into the house. From their vantage point in the den, they must’ve both seen him. Brick’s wife and daughter. It didn’t matter. He had more pressing concerns.

  Henry left the dead woman in the kitchen. A growing sense of panic filled h
is chest, his heart palpitating wildly. This was the first time he had looked into the eyes of any of his victims, and he didn’t much like it. It didn’t help either that he was still feeling woozy from the tire iron shot he took the other day. No doubt he was suffering concussion symptoms. Absently, he looked at the hand she had bit and slowly made sense of the fact that he was bleeding. He realized then that his DNA must’ve been in her mouth, and drops of his blood were probably left both outside and in the house. He decided it didn’t matter. The police didn’t have his DNA on record, and after today he wouldn’t be doing any more killing. The fact that they’d have his DNA wouldn’t help them catch him. Still, though, the way things had gone had left him feeling unnerved. He just wanted to be done with this.

  A thought stopped him. Why should he wait for Brick? Sheila had demanded that he kill them in the same order as those other victims. Brick, his wife, then the daughter. But how would she know? He could take care of those other two now; that way he’d be able to kill Brick right away and get out of this darn house all that much faster. It would also give him something to do besides waiting around and getting more and more nervous. He thought it over some more and made a decision. He didn’t look at either Natalie or Rachel as he walked past them so he could retrieve his gym bag from the garage.

  He dragged Natalie into the middle of the room and flipped her onto her stomach, then fiddled around with the iPhone stand so the recording would also capture Rachel in the background. This way, it would also help convince Sheila that he killed them in the order that she had insisted on. Once that was done, he took the chisel and hammer from the bag, held the spiky end of the chisel against the back of Natalie’s head, and swung the hammer back so he could generate enough force to break apart her skull with a single blow.

  The daughter let out a strangled scream, but that wasn’t why Henry stopped the hammer suddenly when it was an inch away from the chisel. He did this because he knew Sheila would somehow see through him and know that he cheated, that he didn’t kill them in the order she had demanded. And that she would then force him to kill three more people before this could be over.