Mad

by Miller, Renee

  “After tonight, no more of your ridiculous tests.” He pinned her with a glare. “We still meet, because Captain Cunt would expect us to, but you stop this nonsense with the tests. They’re not working. Once this blows over, you tell my boss I’m the sanest fucker you ever met and there’s no need to finish the thirty days. Clear?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, let’s clean this shit up and someone call 911.”

  CHAPTER 12

  “Still don’t see why I’m the one who has to leave,” Milo grumbled. “Standing out in the fucking rain for an hour. It’s bullshit. My shoes are ruined. And what took you guys so long? I called this in seven hours ago. The fucking coroner got here before you did.”

  “I just got the call this morning,” McTaggart said. “Switchboard always puts it through to the uniforms first. They said you wouldn’t let them in?”

  “I let them in after I realized you assholes weren’t going to haul your lazy asses out of bed. I told them not to touch anything.”

  “Well, when I got the call, I picked up Jones and we came right away.”

  “It took all night to contact you?”

  “I don’t control the calls, man. Captain said the ambulance was dispatched to the wrong address, and when they called in to sort it out, their call went to narcotics for some reason. Narcotics called dispatch back and told them to call it in again, and it went to the main desk, but this time it was flagged as a burglary. The guy there didn’t know what the fuck was going on, so he sent some more uniforms to the wrong address again to investigate. I think by that time it’d been flagged as a domestic disturbance. I guess it took a while for the switchboard to sort it out. Anyway, we’re here now. Thanks for preserving the scene.”

  “So why am I out here? Jones put the restraining order against me. Why can’t he wait outside?”

  McTaggart shrugged. “Maybe you should try to avoid pouring caustic chemicals over people. Then you’d get to stay inside with the grownups.”

  Milo frowned. “He’s an asshole and he still smells like rotten sausages.”

  “I know.” McTaggart opened his tiny black notebook. “Thanks to your stunt, he’s my problem now.”

  “Sorry.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “Not really.”

  McTaggart sighed. “This is just shitty all around.”

  “I wish I’d never met these idiots.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, Jones just got called a cock-sniffing douche-nozzle and the one with the weird glasses smelled him.”

  “That does make it a little better.”

  “Seriously, Milo,” McTaggart said. “I know you’re a little odd, and sometimes you even scare me, but you don’t belong here with them. Those people are crazy with a capital C.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “What’s up with the girl with no fingers?”

  “She bit them off.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I know.”

  “I… uh… So we should just get to your statement. I’m told you saw the whole thing go down. What the hell happened? The vic just lost it?”

  He nodded.

  “Without provocation or warning?”

  “They’re all ridiculous most of the time, so I doubt any of them need provocation to go full-on batshit. What happened tonight was totally out of left field, though. I thought they were pretty much harmless.”

  “Nobody’s harmless, in my opinion.”

  He agreed. “Andy was unusually agitated tonight. Most of the time, he’s pretty quiet and not prone to outbursts like a few of the others. I don’t know what happened between him and Ozzie, but one minute we were getting the food ready and the next, Andy’s running at the poor bastard with a knife.”

  “And they fell?”

  “There was a bit of a struggle.”

  “Ozzie says he can’t remember.”

  “He tends to black out.”

  “Oh.” McTaggart scribbled in his book. “Did you see Ozzie stab the guy?”

  “No. It wasn’t like he just stabbed him.” He pretended to search his memory. “Andy went at Oz, and then they fought for a few seconds. I think Oz was just trying to get away so Andy wouldn’t stab him. He didn’t actually grab for the knife. It just kind of ended up in Andy’s neck after they fell.”

  “And when did you realized the vic was stabbed?”

  “After they fell. When only Oz got up, I noticed the knife in Andy’s neck. I tried to help, but the blood was just gushing out of him.”

  “Hit the artery. Death was almost instantaneous, according to the paramedics.”

  McTaggart’s cell phone whistled. Milo listened as he talked.

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “I don’t know. The doctor told the uniforms that in light of the vic’s sudden violence, she was worried about the girlfriend so we should send a car to check on her… what?” McTaggart glanced at him. “Christ. Yeah… makes sense now. Okay. I’ll be there in a minute.” McTaggart pressed the screen. “You’re not going to believe what they found at the victim’s house.”

  He would believe anything at this point. “What?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you, because the Captain would shit—”

  “She doesn’t have to know.”

  “She’s still pretty pissed at you.”

  “Maybe one of the nutters told me about it.”

  McTaggart nodded. “She might believe that.”

  “Come on,” he urged. “Maybe I know something that’ll help.”

  “They send a couple of uniforms to the victim’s place, because your doctor friend said he’d been extremely secretive lately,” He didn’t bother to tell McTaggart that was a lie. McTaggart needed to believe Andy had flipped. “She was concerned about this woman he was dating. Said the vic was crazy about the girl, and they spent a couple of nights together, and then he just stopped talking about her.”

  Now that was false. He wondered what else Rochelle was lying about. He’d tuck these little nuggets away in his journal when he got home.

  “So the doctor says she tried to call the girlfriend. I guess they know each other?”

  Milo nodded. “It’s how Andy met her. Rochelle introduced them.”

  “Yeah, so the girlfriend hasn’t answered her phone. The doctor wasn’t worried at first, but when the victim went homicidal tonight, she started putting the pieces together. If I were her, the radio silence from the girlfriend would’ve raised a big red flag.”

  “Why?”

  “You know women and their phones.”

  “I don’t.”

  McTaggart shrugged. “Well, I’d know my wife was in trouble if she didn’t answer hers. It’s practically attached to her body. She even takes it to the shitter with her. Anyway, they go into the vic’s house, first thing they notice is a patch of blood on the back of the sofa.”

  “What?” His gut tightened.

  “Yeah,” McTaggart said. “So, since this guy just tried to kill someone, they decide to do a quick search of the house, for bodies and such.”

  He wished he could write this down. It’d have to wait, though. He might still have a notebook in the glovebox of his car.

  “Anyway,” McTaggart continued. “They didn’t find much until they looked in the freezer—”

  “Oh fuck no.”

  “Yeah,” McTaggart said. “They found a hand in a freezer bag. Looks like a kid’s. I’m willing to bet the rest of the meat in there isn’t from the local butcher.”

  He closed his eyes. Nope. It was probably Bernadette’s. He had nothing against the woman, but he prayed he was right. He’d rather deal with the knowledge that Andy murdered and possibly ate a grown woman than a child. Somehow, he’d feel less guilty about it all.

  “So anyway, looks like everything adds up. The guy lost his shit and he’s right where he should be.”

  The stupidity of his coworkers sometimes astounded him. Nothing ever added up. If it does, it means you’ve missed something. But he smi
led anyway. “I told you, this was an accident.”

  “Yeah. We’ll just wrap things up here. Get the body out of there, and then you all can go back to life as normal.”

  “Nothing normal about these people.”

  “Sorry man.” McTaggart looked sincere. “You crossed a line with the pencil thing, but a suspension would’ve been enough.”

  “And the bleach thing?”

  “After a month with Jones, I understand your actions. I don’t condone them, but I get it.”

  “He’s disgusting.”

  “She should’ve made you and Jones work your shit out. That would’ve been a real punishment.”

  “Glad she didn’t.” Milo smiled. “It’s only thirty days. I’ll survive.”

  “If no one stabs you.”

  Wonderful. “Thanks for the optimism.”

  Now fuck off.

  “Okay, I’ve gotta go. We may need to take the sweary guy down to the station.”

  Shit. Ozzie would cave in an interrogation. “Is it… do you think I could go with him?”

  “Why? Captain Maines won’t like that.”

  “Ozzie’s pretty fragile. I just want to make sure you guys get all the information you need. He tends to clam up.”

  Big. Fat. Lie.

  “Sure,” McTaggart said. “Let me see what Jones thinks.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Let Jones decide.”

  He knew Jones would want this case closed as fast as possible so he wouldn’t have to deal with Milo. For once, he hoped Jones got his way. He needed time to figure out how Rochelle was involved in Andy’s death—and he was almost certain tonight was orchestrated by her—and why she killed Shamus and the others.

  ***

  Rochelle sat in the living room, finally alone with her thoughts. The police seemed satisfied with the story Milo concocted, so she should be pleased. One problem erased, and no one would ever know what truly happened. Unless Ozzie remembered.

  She couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe Ozzie hadn’t gone far enough under when she made the suggestion. He’d still swore a couple of times, which he never did while hypnotized. Why hadn’t she gone with her gut? While he’d done as instructed, Ozzie didn’t wait until they were alone, and she sensed he knew something wasn’t right. She’d have to put him under again. Remove the memory completely.

  A commotion in the hallway startled Rochelle from her musings. She watched, her chest aching, as they wheeled Andy’s body, now lying on a gurney with a white sheet over it, through the hall and out the front door. The date had been a bad idea. She’d known it when Andy told her about it, but she’d let Milo silence her doubts. Now Bernadette was dead, and so was Andy.

  “Can’t believe the cunt-bag is gone,” Ozzie said.

  She turned. Ozzie sat next to Estella, hands in his lap, blood covering his shirt. “It’ll be okay, Oz,” she said.

  “They said I had to stay with you. Mmmm…cock…” He took a breath. “I can’t go home.”

  “For now,” she said. “I promised to make sure you didn’t run, just until they clear you. Once they’re satisfied this was an accident, you’ll be able to go home.”

  Ozzie nodded.

  “Should we all stay?” Estella asked. “I’m extremely uncomfortable with all the bare hands here tonight. This is the first I’ve opened my eyes in hours.”

  “You don’t have to stay, Estella. Once everyone is gone, I’ll take you home.”

  Rochelle was tired. This group was supposed to prove to the world that she was in control. It was disheartening the way none of them seemed to hang onto the progress they made. Maybe he’d been right all those years ago; she was nothing without his guidance.

  No. She wouldn’t sink into that old way of thinking again. He wasn’t here, and with any luck, he never would be. When she fixed the group, Rochelle would disappear and start over. If they couldn’t be fixed, then she’d have to get rid of them all. No matter what happened, he’d never get his claws into them. Whoever heard of using the insane as weapons anyway? They were too unpredictable. Hadn’t she proven that when he tried to make her into his minion?

  “Not sure if it matters,” Milo said from the doorway. “But Nina just went out back with some guy in uniform.”

  She covered her eyes. “Is everyone going to relapse tonight?”

  “Probably,” he sounded as tired as she felt. “Checked on Charlie. You drug him or what?”

  “Shhh,” she lowered her hand and scowled at him. “He’s not supposed to be here.”

  “The cops are all outside. Relax.”

  “Is it over?”

  “Not by a long shot. So, did you drug Charlie or do we have another corpse to deal with?”

  She scowled. “Of course he’s not dead. I had to sedate him or he’d have found a way downstairs.”

  “Are they really going to let me go?” Ozzie asked and then yawned. “Because, fuck me sideways, I can’t go to prison.”

  Milo nodded. “I’m going to see my captain tomorrow. I’ll put this thing to rest then.”

  Rochelle was grateful for his cooperation, but suspicious. He wasn’t the type to ignore justice. He probably suspected that Andy’s death wasn’t entirely accidental. He knew about Bernadette’s body too. They all did now, thanks to the big-mouth detective named Jones. Milo was highly intelligent and meticulous; he wouldn’t ignore all the dots just screaming to be connected. How long before he slapped cuffs on Rochelle’s wrists?

  “You look like shit, doc,” he said. “How about we call it a night?”

  “I have to find Nina.”

  “She’s out back crying,” Buggy said as he appeared in the doorway next to Milo. “I was going to help her, but there’s a cop with her. She’ll be fine.”

  Rochelle wanted to cry too. “No, she won’t.”

  “He was comforting her. She’s okay.”

  “He’s fucking her, Bug-man,” Milo said.

  “I’ll go see to her.” Rochelle stood. Her legs felt like jelly, and her stomach ached. Great. Panic attack. “Maybe you guys could... I don’t know.”

  “Hey, you guys hungry?” Milo asked.

  “As a fox in a whorehouse,” Oz said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You mean hen house?”

  “What I said, wasn’t it? Cocksucker.”

  “Sure,” he said. “Why don’t we all go grab something to eat while Rochelle deals with Nina?”

  “Where?” Estella was already standing.

  Rochelle sensed something between her and Milo. She didn’t like it.

  “I know a place downtown,” Milo said. “It’s clean, quiet, and usually pretty empty. Perfect for us.”

  “Is there alcohol?” Buggy asked. “I could use some of that.”

  “Sure is.”

  “No one is drinking,” she said. Jesus, the trouble they could get in with a bit of alcohol.

  “I’ll look after the whackadoodles,” he said.

  She didn’t like his self-righteous smirk at all.

  “You take care of Nina and Charlie and get some rest.”

  “They need rest too.”

  “I can take them home. If they don’t want to be alone, I guess they can stay at my place. I’ve got a spare room and a sofa.”

  This was not the Milo she thought she knew. She had him pegged as a loner. He’d never invite three practical strangers to his home. In fact, she imagined his home was like a museum. Pristine, organized and untouched. His group members violating that space would cause him untold anxiety.

  “I can’t imagine you being comfortable with houseguests,” Rochelle said.

  “Stop doctoring,” he said. “You’re terrible at it. Let’s go weirdos.”

  She watched as Buggy, Oz, and Estella filed out of the living room. Milo stood back, waiting for all three to walk out the front door. Then he turned to look at her.

  “Your problem is you’re trying to control them,” he said. “The reason they’re all batshit is because they feel like they have no po
wer. Life has fucked them time and again, so they take charge of weird shit that makes them feel like they’re calling the shots.”

  “You’re a doctor now?”

  “No, but I’ve chased after enough psychos to know their primary motivation usually comes down to feeling powerful. They need to be the one in charge. It’s time you let them be.”

  “They can’t handle life, Milo. Someone has to guide them.”

  “Sure, but you should use a lighter touch. Subtlety is an art you haven’t mastered. Let them make a few decisions and mistakes for fucksakes.”

  “I think I know what they need.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. Do whatever you want, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Warn me?”

  “You keep mothering them and you’ll have to kill them all.”

  Her breath caught. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t I?” He winked and then walked out of the room.

  It was too soon to take care of him, but she would. Once the dust settled on this Andy matter, Milo Smalls would suffer an unfortunate accident as well.

  CHAPTER 13

  The pub was small. The owner, a retired accountant with zero business sense but a shit ton of money, manned the bar almost every night, and his wife worked the dining room. Milo discovered the place because of Lou, who knew the cook well. After he turned down countless invites to dinner and drinks, Lou figured out his issues with other people cooking his food.

  One night Lou ordered him to accompany him to what looked like a one-star establishment. He was horrified, but when the captain gave him an order, he listened. The cook had treated Milo to a tour of the kitchen. It was almost as clean as an operating room. And the owner invited him to bring his own dishes when he visited, if it made him feel more comfortable. It did.

  He slung his bag over his shoulder and led the group into the bar. He waved at Jerry, the bartender, and pointed to a table near the back of the room. “You guys sit down. I’ll get us drinks.”

  “I want a double,” Ozzie said. “Fuck that. Triple the bastard.”

  Milo smiled. He walked to the bar and set his bag on a stool. “Hey, Jerry.”