by Rick Reed
“What’s going on, Jack?” she asked.
Now it was his turn to look away. Shouldn’t have come, he thought. “Oh, it’s nothing important. I just need to look up some stuff. Research, you know?”
“You’re doing research with a Mother Goose book?” she asked incredulously, and he shrugged in response. She left the room and came back with a stack of books of various sizes with colorful covers.
“And this has nothing at all to do with that ‘Mother Goose killer’ they were talking about on the news tonight?”
Jack didn’t answer.
“If you don’t want to tell me what you’re doing, it’s okay,” she said.
“There’s nothing to tell, Katie,” he said defensively. “Why do we always have to do this?”
“We’re not doing anything, Jack,” she said.
Why do women have to be so complicated? he wondered. Everything they say has two or three meanings.
“I didn’t come to argue,” Jack said, and picked up the books. “Thanks. I’ll get them back to you.”
“There’s no hurry.” The iciness was gone from her voice.
Jack stopped in the doorway and turned around. “Maybe you should go and visit your sister in Maine,” he said. “Just for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Dammit, Katie! Why can’t you just go and visit your sister for a while?”
She pushed him out of the door. “We’re not married anymore, Jack. I don’t do things just because you tell me to.” She looked worried again. “What’s really going on, Jack?”
The last thing he’d wanted was to worry her, but that was what he had done. He really had no evidence that this killer was sending these messages because of him. The only victim he even had a passing acquaintance with was Timmy Ryan, and he had barely spoken to the boy. Fished with him a couple of times.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not wanting to leave on an angry note. “You’re right—I shouldn’t tell you what to do. Just promise me you’ll keep your doors and windows locked for a while.”
She looked at him and then asked, “Does this have something to do with the murders I saw in the news?”
“Just promise me you’ll be extra careful for a while. Okay?”
“Okay, Detective,” she said, and smiled. “I’ll lock up. But I’m not leaving town. Not unless you can give me a good reason.”
That was something, at least.
Liddell was still at his desk poring over arrest records when Jack came in. There were no second-shift detectives still in the office.
“Where’d you get the Mother Goose books?” Liddell asked with a smirk on his face.
“You’re a detective,” Jack said. “Figure it out.”
Before Liddell could start ragging on him, Jack said, “How’s Jansen doing with the mayor’s mother?”
Liddell’s smirk widened into a full-blown shit-eating grin. “Get this,” he said. “Jansen starts going ape-shit on the station manager for not having security cameras outside the building, and the old lady, the mayor’s mother, comes to the manager’s defense.”
Jack was surprised that Jansen would be interested in the case enough to go to that trouble, but then he remembered that Jansen was probably trying to impress Maddy Brooks or some other young lady. He had a reputation for fancying himself a ladies’ man. “So what happened?”
“Jansen called her an old biddy,” Liddell said, barely able to contain himself.
“That’s it?”
“Guess where Jansen’s at right this minute,” Liddell said. “Go on. Guess.”
“I give up,” Jack said. “Where is Jansen this very minute?”
Liddell looked around out of habit. “In the mayor’s office with the mayor, the chief, Double Dick, and Captain Franklin.”
“You think that means we’re rid of him?” Jack asked.
“Probably not,” he conceded. “But I’d love to hear what’s going on.”
“That’s why I love you so much, partner. It doesn’t take much to entertain you.” Jack started rummaging through his desk drawer.
“What’re you looking for?” Liddell asked.
“I’ve got a ball of yarn here somewhere. Thought I’d throw it for you.”
“Asshole,” Liddell said.
“Let’s get something to eat. I can’t think anymore.”
“Two-Jakes?” Liddell asked.
“Where else?”
Two-Jakes was the adopted name for Two-Jakes Marina and Restaurant, a combination restaurant, bar, and water-craft storage facility. It was the largest of its kind along the stretch of Ohio River from St. Louis to Louisville. In the winter, the rich folks stored their large summer crafts there with confidence that the boats would be serviced and pampered until they were ready to play ship captain the next spring. In the summer, visitors would travel up the Mississippi River from as far away as Tomato, Mississippi, or come down the Missouri River to just north of St. Louis where it joined with the Ohio River.
Because Two-Jakes was set out over the Ohio River, travelers along the waterway could tie off at the restaurant’s floating dock and enjoy fine dining and an assortment of imported and local beers that would make an Irishman weep with joy.
One reason Jack wanted to go to Two-Jakes was because his father had been one of the original Jakes. Jack had inherited half ownership upon his father’s death a few years ago. The other reason was the food.
Jack and Liddell drove separately with the idea of eating a late supper and then calling it a night. Jack had called the charge nurse at St. Mary’s Hospital and was informed Elaine Lamar was still heavily sedated. Maybe they could talk to her in the morning. So far, police records had yielded zip information on a next of kin for Timothy Ryan. Juvenile Division thought they might have a lead on the mother’s last boyfriend who was supposed to be caring for Timmy, but so far that had gone nowhere. Tomorrow Jack would have the additional help the captain had promised. Sleep was what was needed now.
Correction. Food first, and then sleep.
On his way to the restaurant Jack called Susan Summers.
“I was just heading home,” she said.
“Your home or mine?” Jack asked.
When he had first come home from the hospital, Susan had stayed at his cabin for several nights, only going back to her own home to do laundry and pay bills. But as he got back on his feet, she spent more nights at her own home than with him.
“Mine,” she answered. “I thought you would be tied up on this case.”
He was surprised to feel disappointed that she wouldn’t be at the cabin tonight, not that he would be any kind of company. He looked at his watch. It was almost nine o’clock.
“Kind of at a dead end until the morning,” he admitted. “How about dinner? On me.”
“That sounds lovely,” Susan said. “Two-Jakes?”
“Ah, you know me well,” Jack said. “We’re going to meet Liddell there, too, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it’s okay,” she said. “You know I like big, strong men.”
“You don’t have to kiss up to me. I already said I was buying,” he said, and she chuckled.
“You don’t have a jealous bone in your body, do you?” Susan asked in a feigned hurt tone.
“I think I broke that one, too,” Jack responded. “See you in a few minutes.”
“I can hardly wait,” she said and hung up.
The parking lot was almost full when he arrived, which was a good thing, and Jack spotted Liddell standing at the side door. As he walked up Liddell hooked a thumb toward the business and said, “You got to be making a fortune.”
“Yeah, that’s me. Daddy Warbucks,” Jack said. “Susan’s coming.”
“You old dog.” Liddell playfully punched Jack on the shoulder. It hurt.
“It’s the least I could do,” Jack said, rubbing his shoulder. “I mean, she is helping with these cases.”
“And she’s beautiful and sexy, too. Right?”
“I
hadn’t noticed,” Jack lied. “Have you called Marcie today?”
“Yeah. She said to tell you to be careful.”
“You’re the one Marcie should be worried about, Bigfoot. I have a pure heart, and therefore, am impervious to evil, whereas, you have very big feet and seem to step in it up to your fat head.”
“So, that begs the question, why is this asshole trying to get at you and not me?” Liddell said. It was a fair question.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
After the hullabaloo at the station late last night, Maddy had given up and gone home exhausted. It had been nearly impossible to drag out of bed at five o’clock in the morning, but the first thing she did was check her answering machine and her e-mail. Nothing.
She turned on the radio in the bathroom and stripped off her nightgown, stepping into the shower and turning it as hot as she could stand it. In her mind, she went over a list of things to do today.
She had managed to sneak in to the Lamar woman’s room last night, but the nurse had given the woman something so strong that all she could do was grunt. Then when she got back to the station, Detective Jansen was being led out by an angry Captain Franklin. She wasn’t present during all the excitement, but several employees told her that Jansen and Lois Hensley had gotten into a verbal knock-down, drag-out fight. In a way, she felt a little sorry for Detective Jansen. Although he could be very crude, he had been a good source of info for her at times. But calling Lois a nosy old biddy was just plain stupid.
She looked in her closet and laid out clothes appropriate for the morning’s tasks. She planned on going directly to the police department first, to see what progress they had made. She knew they were upset with her for last night’s story, but they surely didn’t expect her to keep it quiet that there was a serial killer loose in Evansville. Well, maybe she had stretched things a little calling the killer “Mother Goose,” but that was her job. She was doing a public service.
She selected a black skirt, short enough to complement her long legs, and a silk blouse. Now, all she had to do was slip on a jacket, and she was ready to go on air.
She looked for the high heels she’d worn yesterday and remembered she’d thrown them away. She made a mental note to have the station reimburse her.
She quickly dressed, touched up her makeup, and wondered, not for the first time, what life would have been like if she had stayed in Atlanta. The news station she worked for there was much larger, the pay had been better, and she had been closer to her family. Of course, in Atlanta, she had been just another pretty face among even more beautiful and aspiring news women. After two years of hard work and ass-kissing she had only gotten as far as writing for the talking heads. At that rate she would be sixty before she landed an anchor position.
Here in Evansville she was better looking than most, and had needed to kiss fewer butts to get ahead. In less than a year she had moved into a co-anchor position. She hoped this story would send her over the top. Then she could think about going back to Atlanta on her own terms.
She walked out of her back door, still immersed in thoughts of Atlanta, when she sensed his presence. Before she could turn, a hand covered her mouth, and a strong arm wrapped around her throat, choking off any possibility of screaming.
“Don’t scream, pretty lady,” the voice whispered in her ear. “I got a present for you.” As he said this she was slammed against the vehicle’s trunk and thrown to the ground, where she was pinned by her attacker’s weight.
Her mind raced, and she thought of the little can of pepper spray she kept on her key chain. But her keys had been knocked from her hand and she couldn’t see them. She tried to struggle, but he was too strong, and he was slowly squeezing the air out of her. She began to feel light-headed.
“Don’t scream and I’ll let you breathe,” he said.
She could feel the spittle from his lips and could sense his excitement, but she knew she had no options. She nodded her head slightly and felt the arm loosen from her throat.
She sucked in grateful gulps of air.
“There. All better now,” he said, and she did feel better. Angry now, she said, “Get off of me! What do you want?”
“Told you, Maddy. I got you a present,” he said, and reached down behind her, his hand slowly moving across her back and buttocks, until she thought she would scream. But then the hand stopped and came back up to her face. He held something in his hand.
“Open your mouth,” he ordered.
She could feel his breath in her ear, and the hardness in the front of his pants. “How do you know my name?” she asked, hoping to stall him, hoping he wouldn’t kill her. The other murders ran through her mind. The attacks, the notes.
As if he had read her mind, he said, “I’m not goin’ to hurt you, girl. If I was goin’ to kill ya I’d of already done it, know what I mean?” He shoved his crotch down against her buttocks, and his voice became threatening. “I got something for you, dammit. Now open your mouth.”
She did as told, and he stuffed something into her mouth. He whispered in her ear, and then he told her to nod if she understood. She did. And then he was gone.
She didn’t know how long she lay on the ground beside her car, but eventually she realized he was gone. I’m alive! She tried to get on her feet, but her muscles wouldn’t cooperate. The best she could do was to drag herself into a sitting position with the note still in her mouth. She suddenly gagged and spat it out, feeling bile rising in her throat. She rolled over just in time.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Nine-one-one,” the Dubois County Sheriff’s Department dispatcher said. “Do you have an emergency?”
There were sounds of crying, then, “I want to report a murder.”
“Did you say a murder?” the dispatcher asked.
“She’s dead. Someone killed her. In the cabin.”
Gladys had been a dispatcher for the Dubois County Sheriff’s Department for twenty-three years. She looked at her display screen, and then did a double take. She wrote the incoming telephone number on a piece of scrap paper, and then waved it at the young deputy who had been injured and was working in a “light duty” capacity in dispatch. He looked up from his Field & Stream magazine and lazily took the note. Gladys put the caller on speakerphone.
“Didn’t you hear me?” the panicked voice of a young-sounding woman cried. “She’s dead! She’s been murdered!”
The deputy looked at the note, where Gladys had written: Get the Sheriff. This call is from Evansville.
“Just calm down, hon. Tell me where you are,” Gladys said soothingly.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
When Liddell arrived on Chestnut Street, Maddy Brooks was sitting on the bumper of an ambulance arguing with the medical crew. An older gentleman in a gray suit with gray hair was trying to calm her down. Maddy saw Liddell approaching.
“The bastard!”
“Are you okay, Maddy?” Liddell asked. She turned on him like a wounded animal.
“Do I look like I’m O-KAY?”
He ignored her tone of voice. “Yeah,” he said, looking her over. “Your makeup’s a little messy, but you look nice.”
Jack pulled up in his personal car and got out next to the ambulance. “What happened? Who did this, Maddy?”
Maddy’s eyes looked frightened, but her voice remained angry. She was running on pure adrenaline right now. But Jack knew that when the adrenaline rush was over she was going to crash.
The man in the gray suit and gray hair stepped up to introduce himself. “I’m Bill Goldberg, the station manager at Channel Six,” he said.
“I was coming out to my car, and he grabbed me,” Maddy said, ignoring Goldberg. She pulled her thin suit jacket closer around her. “I thought someone was behind me. When I started to turn around, he grabbed me and threw me down.” She was too humiliated to tell the men that he had felt her up and humped her like a horny teenager.
Jack looked around, but there was just the usual throng of curious onlookers. No
one he recognized, anyway. “Tell me the rest,” he said.
“Don’t you think you should wait for our lawyers, Maddy?” Goldberg said. Maddy gave him an angry look, and then remembered something. “Excuse us, Bill,” she said, and motioned for Jack and Liddell to follow her.
The detectives followed her down the side of her rental house toward where her car was still parked.
“When he stuck the note in my mouth, I was so afraid that I just froze. I couldn’t move.”
“What note?” Liddell asked, but she started trembling and didn’t answer.
“Why didn’t he kill me, Jack?”
“You think it was our guy?” Jack asked, and then noticed that she was barely able to stand. He put an arm around her and led her to the back steps, where he helped her sit. She was shivering as if freezing. May be going into shock.
“I’ll get the ambulance guys,” Liddell said, and took off around the house.
Jack put his jacket around her shoulders and sat by her, rubbing her arms and gently holding her. He could feel her breathing deeply, as her muscles trembled and she cried so softly that it was barely audible, and he wondered why she thought she had to be so tough. She couldn’t just let go and bawl her eyes out like a normal woman.
When her shaking lessened, he gently asked, “You said there was a note, Maddy?”
She looked up at him and said, “I’m not normally this emotional.”
“Aw, Maddy. You did just fine.”
“Don’t say you would have done the same thing, Jack Murphy, or I’ll brain you,” she said, as she regained her icy self-control. Liddell came back with the paramedics, but she waved them away, saying, “I’m okay now.”
She stood up and walked to her car, opened the front door, and took something from the front seat. “Sorry. I’ve handled it,” she said, and handed Jack a crumpled piece of paper.
“It’s all right,” he said and slipped a pair of powder-free, nitrile gloves from his pocket before he took it. Smoothing it out with the gloves, he saw that it was written in red crayon.
