Satan’s Lambs

by Lynn Hightower

  Maynard miaowed. Lena picked up the carrier. They went together in a knot to the dark front porch. Rick looked at the scattered leaves and the corner full of dirt clods and spider webs.

  “Fire your gardener, sweetheart.”

  Lena turned her key in the lock and pushed the front door open. Rick and Judith walked in a step behind her. The hallway and living room were dark. The light over the sink in the kitchen was on, just as Lena had left it.

  Lena left the cat in the foyer and turned on the living room lamp.

  “Anybody home?” Rick breezed past her and ran up the stairs, turning on lights as he went. “Hayes? You here, you bastard? Come out, come out, wherever you are! On Dasher, on Dahmer, on Hayes and Bundy. Manson and Gacy and …”

  His voice trailed off. Lena opened the carrier and let Maynard out.

  “Lena!”

  Lena and Judith looked at each other.

  “Lena, come quick!”

  “The bedroom,” Lena said. She ran up the stairs and skidded to a stop at the doorway. “Rick? What’s the—”

  “That bastard ransacked your bedroom!” Rick circled the room, shaking his head. “Don’t come in here, honey, it’s awful.”

  Lena took two steps into the room, “Rick, cut it out. Nobody’s been in here.”

  “You mean you left it like this?”

  “Shut up, Rick.”

  He picked up a pair of red silk panties. “I don’t remember these.”

  Lena snatched the panties out of his hands. “Get out of here.”

  “Maybe he’s under the bed.” Rick got down on his hands and knees.

  “He’s not under there. What are you doing?”

  “Looking for used condoms.”

  Judith grabbed his arm. “Come on, sugar, let’s go find something to eat.”

  “Not here. Lena doesn’t shop. Anything in her refrigerator will be a hundred years old. Around here it’s safer to order out.”

  Lena tossed the panties on the bed and followed them down the stairs.

  “Either of you girls got any money?” Rick said. “Let’s order a pizza. Lena, you do have beer?”

  “Yeah, I think. Only Beth and Mendez know for sure.” She headed for the telephone in the living room. The answering machine was blinking. Twenty messages.

  Rick paused in the doorway. “Sweetheart?”

  Lena quit chewing her lip and looked at him over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  “What?” Judith said.

  Rick grinned. “Lena, where are your spare light bulbs?”

  “Under the sink in the kitchen.”

  “Jude, hon, make sure and get extra cheese on the pizza.” He turned away. “I’m getting both of you a beer, so holler if you don’t want one.”

  “Rick, the beer’s in the door of the refrigerator, so be sure and open it slow.”

  There was a crash in the kitchen. “Booby traps!” Rick shouted.

  “I said slowly!”

  Lena pushed the Play button on the answering machine. The strains of piano music sounded tinny.

  “Who cleaned out your pantry, Lena?” Rick cruised through the room, handing Lena and Judith each a bottle of Corona. A light bulb was tucked under his arm. “This is expensive beer. How do you afford it?” He cocked his head to one side, listening to Jeff’s voice coming from the machine. “This is criminal, Lena! That man can’t sing.” He headed toward the hallway, muttering something about amateurs. The front door opened and his voice faded.

  The music stopped and the machine signaled the onset of another message. The piano started up again.

  “God, that’s creepy.” Judith took off her boots and curled up on the side of the couch. “Why don’t you turn it off?”

  Lena took a sip of beer. “May be something else in there. From somebody else. Or he may say something about Charlie.”

  “He—”

  The doorbell rang three times. Lena jerked.

  “Just Rick,” Judith said.

  Lena took another swallow of beer. The front door slammed.

  “Lena.” Rick stood in the doorway. “You say you just changed that light bulb?”

  She nodded.

  “There’s no bulb there.”

  Lena frowned. “None at all?”

  “Nope. I unscrewed the fixture to change the bulb, and there wasn’t one in there at all. You think you just forgot to put the new one in?”

  “That’s a two-pack you’re holding. Is there one missing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I didn’t forget.”

  “You know what I think, babe? I think Jeff came and took it. That’s what I think.”

  “That’s bizarre,” Judith said.

  Rick sat beside her on the couch. “That’s what I think.” He put an arm around Judith. “Either of you order pizza yet?”

  25

  “Rick,” Lena said. “Don’t let Maynard eat off the plate. You’re getting him in bad habits.”

  “Lena, girl, you need another beer.”

  Judith gouged soft white bread balls from the belly of her pizza crust. “I can’t get the little boy out of my head. Rick, let’s go to Knoxville and look for him.”

  “Look for him where, Jude? Lena’s right, Mendez has to handle that end.”

  Maynard stepped delicately from Rick’s lap onto the kitchen table. Lena scooped him up. The cat purred and wrapped his paws around her neck.

  “Hugs her when I give him pizza.” Rick shook his head. “Lena, did you listen to all those messages on the machine?”

  “All of them.”

  “You said you tried to set up a trade. Insurance money for the kid. Hayes say anything about it?”

  “Nope. I’m kind of surprised. I figured he’d of set something up by now. I don’t like waiting around for him.”

  Rick scratched his head. “Why don’t you leave him a message?”

  “With who? Satanists-R-Us?”

  “On the computer, sweet bee. Electronic bulletin board. Something Uncle Rick can help you with. The kiddie diddlers have them. The satanists will, too.”

  Lena looked thoughtful. “Can you do that, and them not know where to find you? Otherwise you could attract all kinds of nut cases.”

  He shrugged. “Shouldn’t be a problem. If it’s a dial-in link nobody will know where I’m calling from. I can set up a shadow for information dumps. There may be passwords.” He shrugged. “There could be complications getting things, but should be no sweat leaving a message.”

  “He may not be tied into that computer stuff,” Judith said.

  “You can bet he knows somebody who is,” Rick said. “Be blunt, use his name, he ought to love that. Somebody will get it to him.”

  Lena leaned back in her chair. “How about this. ‘Jeff Hayes. I have what you want. You have what I want. I can give you ninety thousand reasons to take care of the merchandise and make me a trade.’”

  “I s’pose it gets the job done. You could use a writer, hon.”

  The doorbell rang.

  “I’ll get that, Lena,” Rick said. “Write that message down, so I won’t forget.”

  Lena scrounged a pen from her purse and scratched the message out on a napkin. The front door opened and male voices sounded from the hallway. Lena frowned and looked up.

  “Judith, do I look okay?” Lena tucked her shift in and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “Your hair’s fine, leave it alone. Unbutton the first two buttons of your shirt.”

  “Judith. Listen.” Lena fiddled with her buttons. “I’m having trouble with … I think it’s body language, Judith. I want to be saying yes, but I think he’s getting no. What I have to figure out is whether he’s getting no, or telling me no.”

  “Stick to cleavage, Lena.”

  “It’s the fuzz.” Rick came back into the kitchen. “Lena, babe, you’re coming apart at the seams.”

  Mendez paused in the doorway. His tie was loose, his hair rumpled. Lena stood up.

  “Joel. Come i
n. You know Judith Barnes?”

  Judith leaned toward him and offered a hand. “Hello.”

  “Get you a beer?” Rick said. “There’s pizza if you’re hungry.”

  “Thanks.”

  Lena guided Mendez to the chair beside her. “You okay?”

  He nodded. His face was tight with exhaustion.

  “Give me a plate, Rick,” Lena said.

  “Sure, hon. Just like old times, you giving me orders.”

  “You weren’t such a big help back then.”

  “So, Sergeant Mendez.” Rick put a plate on the table. “Where do we go to report a stolen light bulb?”

  “A what?”

  “Somebody took the light bulb out of the socket on the front porch.”

  Mendez looked at Lena.

  She shrugged. “I know I had the light on when I left. Somebody took it out of the socket.”

  “And we know who that somebody is,” Rick said. “So what you going to do about it?”

  “Such as?”

  “Can’t you dust for prints or something?”

  “Shut up, Rick,” Lena said. “What’s the point?”

  “And what about all those messages he left on your answering machine? Surely that proves something.”

  “Yeah,” Lena said, “Intent to sing.”

  “With a voice like his, honey—”

  “Nice to meet you.” Judith leaned across the table and shook hands again with Mendez. “Come on, Ricky, it’s time to go home.”

  “What’s the hurry? I want another piece of pizza. You want another—”

  “Come on, Ricky.”

  “Take the cat,” said Mendez.

  “Be glad to,” said Judith. She snatched Maynard off Lena’s lap and tucked him gently into the carrier. “’Bye, Lena. Be sure and call if you need anything.”

  “’Bye, Judith.”

  Lena and Mendez were silent until the front door opened and closed.

  “Come home with me tonight,” Mendez said.

  26

  Mendez lived on the north end of town in a neighborhood that had hit bottom, but was bouncing back. His apartment was on the third floor of an old house that had been subdivided. Lena followed him up a black metal staircase that ran alongside the house.

  Mendez went in first, turning on lights.

  The wooden floor of the great room was dark with age and glistening with polish. On the right was a stone hearth and fireplace; straight ahead, windows shuttered against the night. A worn love seat and a rocking chair faced the fireplace. Behind the couch, against the outside wall, was a massive, scarred oak desk, flanked by old wooden file cabinets. A horseshoe of counters set off the kitchen, and a short length of hall led from the left.

  “Coffee?” Mendez asked.

  “Sure.” Lena peered through the wooden slats of the miniblinds. The sky was black, speckled with the lights of downtown. “How’d it go in Knoxville?”

  Mendez put coffee beans in a grinder. “They found the hubcap.”

  “Yeah? Nothing else?”

  “No.”

  “But you were looking.”

  “Yes.”

  “Enlarge on that, Joel. What did you find?”

  “Found a family of four, living in the dump. Mother, two kids, and a baby.”

  Mendez ran water, and the coffeemaker bubbled. Lena took a deep breath. “That smells good.”

  “Be ready in a minute.”

  Lena sat in the rocking chair. It was old, mahogany, and it made a comforting creak when she rocked. Something moved on the arm of the chair.

  “What is this?” Lena narrowed her eyes. A lizard wandered onto her wrist and stared at her, its left eye rolling in a complete circle. “Mendez.”

  He came over with a cup of coffee. “Garcia? What are you doing out?”

  “He’s a resident, I take it. Get him off me, okay?”

  Mendez picked the lizard up. “He won’t hurt you.”

  “This is your pet?”

  “Garcia. A Senegal chameleon. Stroke his back.”

  Lena touched the lizard. It was soft and dry, like suede. The lizard’s eyes closed, but his sides heaved with the quickness of his breath.

  “He’s scared,” Mendez said. “I’ll put him up.”

  Lena followed Mendez to the bookshelves that lined the wall behind the desk. On the bottom shelf was a glass terrarium, with a water bowl and a few dry branches. Mendez opened the lid and put Garcia inside.

  “There are bugs in there,” Lena said.

  “Crickets. That’s what he eats.”

  “How come they’re hanging out on that rock? Why don’t they hide?”

  “It’s a hot rock,” Mendez said, pointing to a cord that ran from the bottom. “It’s the big social spot. They hang out there all night.”

  “You have to go and catch them?”

  Mendez grinned. “I buy them at the pet store. Eight cents apiece.”

  “That’s cute, Mendez. That my coffee over there?”

  “Yes.”

  Lena went back to the rocking chair, and held her mug with both hands. The coffee was very good. Mendez raised the blinds and turned off the lights.

  “It’s kind of like being in a planetarium,” Lena said. She looked at the array of city lights in darkness. She could hear Mendez moving around, settling on the couch. She pictured him sitting here at night, thinking through his cases.

  “You were supposed to sit on the couch,” Mendez said.

  “Why, this your favorite chair?”

  “For reasons of seduction.”

  “I can move.”

  “I’ll manage.”

  She could track him moving in the darkness. He squatted in front of her chair and took her hands.

  She pulled them away. “It’s not good to be too happy, Joel. People can take it away from you.”

  He pressed his hands on her thighs and the rocking chair tipped forward. “There are no ghosts here, Lena.” He leaned close and kissed her.

  Lena sighed and laid her head on his shoulder. He loosened his tie and eased it out of the collar. Lena slid her hands under his shirt and across the warm flesh of his back, scratching lightly with her fingernails.

  He whispered her name. He unbuttoned her shirt, then reached up underneath to unhook the catch of her bra.

  Lena tilted her head sideways and looked at him. “Can we really do it in a rocking chair?”

  He stood up and took off his shirt, undid his pants, stripped. He was solid, compactly built, and she ran her fingernails across his belly to his hip, then down the side of his leg to his thighs.

  He bent down and unbuttoned the cuffs of her blouse, and pulled it away from her arms. Her bra sagged loose and she took it off, letting it drop to the floor.

  “You aren’t going to run away this time?” he said.

  “No.”

  He pulled her close and kissed her, unfastening her jeans, pushing them down her legs. She moved away.

  “Shoes,” she said, stumbling, off-balance. He knelt down and unlaced her tennis shoes, fingers precise and competent, the laces whipping from the closures. She took off her shoes and socks and jeans, letting them heap at the front of the chair. He shoved them aside, and held her again, his hands running along the top of her panties. He hooked a thumb under the elastic and eased the panties over her hips.

  “Sit down,” he said, pressing her into the chair. He pulled her forward to the edge, and knelt in front of her. “This is how it’s done.”

  “You’re not sleeping.”

  “Strange house, strange bed,” Lena said.

  Mendez rolled to his side and scratched her back. “Strange man.”

  “I like your house,” Lena said. “I like your bed.”

  “Anything else you like?”

  “I’ve been mad at you a whole long time, Mendez.”

  He kissed the back of her neck, pressing his body into hers. “Are you still mad at me?”

  “You know that time I told you all that stuf
f about my house? How it was my family’s place, and I got my strength there?” She rolled onto her back. “It’s not true. Hayes took all the good things, the good years of growing up. It’s all overlaid. One bad night, Joel. One bad night can kill years of good memories. And they can come and get you anytime.”

  “Who are ‘they,’ Lena?”

  She was sleepy. “I like your house better than mine.”

  “You’re welcome anytime.”

  “Joel, what if we never find Charlie? What if we never know what happened to him?”

  “Lena.”

  “Hmmm? Don’t stop, that feels good.”

  “We’ve had developments.”

  She opened her eyes. “You said you didn’t find a body.”

  “I think we have the shooter. Valetta’s killer.”

  “Mendez, that’s good. Isn’t it?”

  “He’s a high school kid, from Louisville.”

  “A high school kid? How’d you find him?”

  Mendez rolled onto his back. Lena turned her head so she could see him.

  “He talked about it when he got back to school. Told all his friends, and word got around. One of the parents called the police. Since it had that old cult flavor, it hit the desk of a Detective Casey. She’s the Louisville ghostbuster. She called Knoxville last night.”

  “Are they sure this kid did it?”

  “They have the gun, the car, and a confession. Hackburton is going up tomorrow to get a match on the hubcap.”

  “Why’d he do it? Why’d he talk about it?”

  “It’s stupid, but not out of line. The kids that get into this stuff, working cult crime for an adult group, they’re easy to catch. For exactly that reason. They brag about it at school. Don’t destroy the evidence. They have the ultimate protection, the devil on their side. And when they get arrested, and it all falls apart, they’re children again and they go to pieces.”

  Lena took Mendez’s face between her hands, and made him look at her, not the ceiling. “Why did he do it?”

  “That he won’t say. They have to go easy, he’s a juvenile. Seventeen. They may try him as an adult, or go after bigger fish.”

  “Somebody put him up to it.”

  “Casey thinks so. I agree. So does Hackburton.”

  “But the kid won’t say who?”

  “No.”

  “Does he know anything about Charlie?”