Thankfully, the visit with Clare was, for the most part, uneventful. After this morning, Susan didn’t think she could take any more excitement. To make matters worse, Clare had an attack of melancholy and recounted the story of meeting Steve. Susan didn’t know what provoked the story, but she let Clare talk, leaned back and thought about Dave.
“Are you even listening to me?” Clare’s change of tone brought Susan back to reality.
“Huh? Sorry, just a lot on my mind.”
“I was saying Dave reminds me of Steve,” Clare said. “They have that same silly grin.”
“Oh. Yeah, I guess they do.” Susan let Clare ramble, only half listening to her. She had other things to worry about. Mostly about Dave, the murders, and the roses. Who committed these terrible crimes? What would happen after Dave found him?
Would she and Dave carry on their relationship?
Did she even want to?
She couldn’t help but think yes. For the first time in her life, part of her wanted a relationship. A serious relationship. What would it be liked to be married to Dave? She wasn’t sure at this point if she wanted to go that far, but she knew she was ready to move on to the next level. Marriage? That might be going a bit too far.
“Do you remember our wedding, Susan?” Clare’s question interrupted her thoughts again, even though her sister didn’t wait for an answer.
Susan didn’t want a wedding like Clare’s. Much too big and costly. Nope, she wanted a small, intimate wedding. In her opinion, weddings should be intimate, shared with family and only very close friends.
Lord, why was she thinking of weddings? That was a long way off. A very long way.
And, she wasn’t about to give up her career, not after working so hard for it.
Nope, Dave would have to understand. Susan laughed to herself. She’d better get a hold of herself. Thinking about a relationship was bad enough, but marriage? What made her think Dave wanted anything more than what they had? Wasn’t like her to be so presumptuous.
Susan put the thoughts aside and focused her attention on her sister. “Johnny is a lot like you; even when he was little, he always had an inner strength in him. He was so patient even with his building blocks. He had stability about him, like you do.”
Clare jumped from one topic to another. When had her sister started talking about Johnny? She’d better pay attention. Susan never realized her sister felt that way about her. Right now, she wished she felt stable and strong. These murders had zapped whatever strength she had. If it wasn’t for Dave, she’d probably fall apart.
Or would she?
If it wasn’t for Dave, she’d probably handle things just fine. She always had before. That was one of the problems with relationships. You started depending on other people instead of handling things on your own.
Susan looked at her watch. It was getting late. “I enjoyed talking, Clare, but I have to leave.” She stood and picked up her purse. “Try to concentrate on your job, and your marriage will take care of itself.” If only she believed that, but she was so tired of hearing Clare’s problems. She just couldn’t listen to the whining anymore. Why didn’t Clare grow up?
* * *
Susan raced up the steps to her apartment and put the key in the lock, but before she turned it, the door opened. Was she getting forgetful? She swore she locked it this morning. With everything going on lately, it didn’t really surprise her. She pushed the door opened and turned on the light.
It looked like a tornado had blown through her living room. She pulled her phone out of her purse and called 911 while she backed out of her apartment.
“I have to report a break-in.” Susan slumped to the floor in the hall and waited for the police. She didn’t have long to wait, with one stationed just outside. She waited until they said she could go in. By then, Dave was there, holding her, comforting her. He led her inside.
Couch cushions were ripped apart, their contents strewn everywhere. Drawers stood opened and dumped, dishes thrown on the floor and broken. Susan couldn’t believe the destruction.
She headed to the bedroom. Dave stopped her.
“You’re not going in there.”
“I have to.” Susan stepped around him. “I’ll see it eventually; it may as well be now.” Not that she really wanted to, but what choice did she have?
“Okay, but you’re not sleeping here tonight.”
“And where do you suggest I sleep?”
Dave looked at her for a moment. “Your mother’s? Sister’s? Hell, Susan, I don’t know. Anywhere but here.”
Susan shook her head.
“You can’t stay here, anyway,” Dave said. “The Crime Scene Unit will be here most of the night. Stay at my place.”
“Your place?”
“Yeah, why not?”
She could think of a dozen reasons. Mostly because she didn’t trust herself.
“I’ll go to Clare’s. Steve’s not home, anyway.” Like she wanted to spend more time with her sister and listen to more stories of how she and Steve met. Or worse, about the affair. She didn’t even know that guy’s name. Not that she cared. She didn’t want to know. What was the alternative? Dave’s?
What she’d give to stay there. But dare she? No way could she stop him if he started to make love to her. Nor did she want to. But not yet. She didn’t take sex lightly. There had to be some kind of commitment. She wasn’t looking for an engagement ring, and she sure as heck wasn’t looking for marriage, but she wanted something, not just a one night stand. No, she couldn’t stay at Dave’s.
“I’ll take you.”
“You don’t have to. I can drive.”
“I know, but I want to. Listen, Susan, whoever did this is probably watching you. I want to know you’re safe.”
“Fine. Can I get some clothes?”
“Wait here.” Dave went and talked to one of the crime scene guys.
“Okay, but try not to touch anything.”
Susan burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right?” She looked around. What could she possibly mess up? Everything from her medicine cabinet lay either on the floor, in the toilet, or in the bathtub. Fortunately, her deodorant, comb, and toothbrush were in the bathtub. She didn’t even pay attention to what was in the toilet. She’d deal with it later. After picking up some clothes off the floor, she glanced in her closet. Empty. Someone had pulled all her dresser drawers out and dumped them on the floor. When she had everything she needed, she found Dave talking to one of the officers.
“Are you ready?”
“Lead the way.”
A few minutes later, they were on their way to Clare’s. She never even checked her answering machine.
Chapter Twelve
Sally in the water, Sally in the sea, Sally caught a black bird, but you can’t catch me.
He waited in the corner near the trash bins. He couldn’t believe how readily Sally agreed to meet him, especially at this hour. Stupid broad. Didn’t she read the newspapers? Watch television? Was she so desperate that she agreed to meet him at this time of night?
He laughed. Of course, he hadn’t used his own name. He wasn’t that stupid. Sally wouldn’t have remembered him, anyway. None of them had. And why would they? They had their own little cliques. Certainly, none of them had paid any attention to him. Well, they did now. And so would Sally.
It had been so easy getting her here. He had something of hers from a long time ago, he said. Something special and he wanted to see her. To return it in person.
She wanted him to come to her house. But he made an excuse. This wasn’t the kind of thing he wanted her kids to see. Besides, he wanted to see her alone. See if maybe they could pick up where they left off so long ago. Just like that, she had agreed.
He waited for her now, and thought about his plan of attack. She might fight a little more. She was a big girl — tall, with legs that wouldn’t quit. He licked his lips. How the guys used to talk about her legs, the way she wrapped them around their waists. Long, tall, Sa
lly. Even now, the thought of it excited him. But he wasn’t here for that.
Ah, there she was, looking for him. She couldn’t see him back in the shadows. He had to draw her to him. Couldn’t let her see it was him until it was too late.
“Sally, over here,” he whispered.
Sally hurried toward him.
He stepped out of the shadows when he was close enough to grab her from behind.
She screamed, and he put one hand over her mouth to muffle it. Not that it mattered. No one was around. He put his other arm around her neck and jerked her head back.
She struggled, but he was too strong for her. He lowered her to the ground and moved in front of her. He saw the dawning of recognition, the terror in her eyes. And he couldn’t help but laugh.
He put his knee on her chest to hold her down, and brought his hands to her neck. She turned her head back and forth, brought her hands up to his, struggling to loosen his grip, but he squeezed harder. It didn’t take long. It never did. He felt the breath go out of her. Heard her last gasp for air. Then she was gone.
He stood and took his time preparing her body. He dragged her to the big puddle left from the morning’s rain. How pathetic she looked in death. Her long slender legs twisted beneath her. Her long dark hair, dirty from the way he dragged her, splayed out on the ground.
“You sure don’t look sexy now, bitch.” He pulled the bird out of his knapsack and set it on her chest.
Then, he put the clock next to her and set the time at one o’clock. “You wouldn’t give me the time of day, would you, whore? No, you went with all the other guys, but I wasn’t good enough for you.”
He picked up her hand, looked at her slender fingers, and curled them around the rhyme. “I heard what you did with those hands. What pleasures they brought the guys. Well, you won’t be bringing anyone else pleasure.”
He almost spit on her face, but thought better of it. That would be stupid. After the care he took not to leave any trace evidence, it wouldn’t do to leave DNA at this point. Instead, he picked up his knapsack, kicked her leg, licked his lips, and hid in the shadows when he heard a noise behind him.
An old bum walked toward Sally’s body and leaned down. When he realized she was dead, he recoiled from the body as if it would attack him. He turned and ran.
Finally, the bum rounded the corner. That was close. Too close. He took too much time with this one. He’d have to be more careful in the future.
* * *
Susan dreaded going home, dreaded cleaning up the mess. Dave picked her up from Clare’s early. Too early, but it was going to be a long day.
As usual, Susan automatically pressed the message playback on her answering machine.
“Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder where you are.” The voice sounded more evil and oppressive than ever before. Susan shivered as it continued.
“A tisket, a tasket a green-and-yellow basket, I wrote a letter to my love and on the way I lost it,” he said with a malicious gurgle and a short pause.
Susan expected the click of the disconnection, but instead he went on.
“Hickory dickory dock, the mouse ran up the clock, the clock struck one, the deed is done, hickory dickory dock.” After another evil laugh, the click of the phone told her he had hung up.
“Damn it, who is he?” Slamming her fist on the counter, anger replaced her fear. Her stomach turned over. The whole thing disgusted her. She was beginning to regret getting this story
“What did those riddles mean? Did he lose something? What the heck was he talking about now? Is this his sick idea of a joke?” Susan paced the kitchen.
“Calm down, Susan.” Dave said.
“It’s pretty certain a murder is going to take place at one o’clock, but on which day? Is he so brave and brazen to attempt another murder with the park and lake staked out? Maybe they’ll catch him this time, hopefully before he murders his next victim.” Susan couldn’t help rambling.
Dave put his arms around her and held her close. Being in his arms helped calm her fears.
“I’m spending the night. If the murder is going to be committed tonight, I’ll be close to the scene.”
Susan was about to object.
“I’ll sleep on the couch, don’t worry.” He raised his eyebrows. “Besides, you’re going to need help cleaning up.”
“Are you hungry?” Susan went into the kitchen to fix them something to eat, and raised her hands in the air. “How am I supposed to find anything in here?” She tiptoed through the mess.
Could she handle Dave spending the night? She sort of liked the idea, felt safer knowing he’d be nearby. Her mood lightened. He had that effect on her. The comfortable, easy companionship they had grown to share made her feel safe and secure. Conversation wasn’t necessary. Maybe depending on him wasn’t so bad. If she had to depend on anyone, she couldn’t think of anyone better than Dave. Besides, she definitely needed help cleaning up the mess.
She fixed a couple bowls of cereal and toast. Best she could do under the circumstances. After they ate, Dave looked at her. “Ready to dig in?”
“Not really, but what choice do I have? You work on the kitchen. I’ll start in the bedroom.”
After dinner, with the apartment amazingly back together, they watched television curled up on what was left of the couch, the lights turned down low. Bella laid half on her lap, half on Dave’s. Dave’s cell phone lay on the table next to them, waiting for news of the next victim.
They didn’t have long to wait. Shortly after one o’clock, Dave’s phone rang, and Susan’s scanner squawked. The body of a white female victim, approximate age 31, was found near an old abandoned factory. Susan jumped up the same time as Dave and followed him out to his car.
She knew it, knew after that last phone call the murder would take place around one o’clock.
The officer on the scene met Dave.
“What do we have here, Gordon?”
“White female looks to be in her early thirties. Looks like our boy struck again.”
“Who reported it?” Dave asked.
“A homeless man found the body when he was looking for a place to sleep. He’s over there.”
Susan looked in the direction Officer Gordon pointed. A shaggy-bearded man in dirty, old, ragged clothes leaned against the building.
Dave started to move away, and Susan followed him.
“Oh God.” Susan covered her mouth. She’d seen the victim, Sally Arnold, around the neighborhood. Mostly in Meliti’s Market. Did someone have a vendetta against Mr. Meliti? So far, all the victims frequented the store. Or was it the neighborhood in general. Maybe it was someone who worked there? Who? Mr. Meliti? Anthony? Maybe a delivery man. There had to be some connection.
“What’s wrong?” Dave came back and asked her.
“I know her.”
Dave put his arm around her. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t know her well. I mean, I talked to her at Meliti’s Market. We didn’t socialize or anything.”
Susan looked at the body. Sally, a tall, lanky, dark-haired female, lay in a large puddle of water. A stuffed black bird sat on her chest. Her eyes glazed over with the horror of death on her face, and her mouth opened in a silent scream. A dead mouse lay by her side, attached to an old clock.
“Oh, my God, that looks like my clock. My grandmother gave it to me years ago.” It didn’t work, but she wouldn’t part with it for anything. How did it get here? “Or is it one that looks the same?” She’d have to look when she got home.
The hands pointed at one o’clock, apparently in reference to Hickory Dickory Dock. The rhyme clasped in the victim’s hand read Sally in the water, Sally in the sea, Sally caught a blackbird but You can’t catch me.
He had written his own headline. This story was too late to make the midnight deadline, so Susan decided to go home to write it. Knowing Dave would be tied up for a long time, she decided to walk the six blocks to her apartment. A staff writer from the paper stood a
t the edge of the scene, Bill something — she couldn’t remember his last name — but vaguely recalled seeing him at one of the other murder scenes. The first one, she thought.
He smiled and waved in recognition as she fought through the crowds that had gathered even at this late hour.
Greg touched her shoulder, startling her when he suddenly appeared at her side.
“Need a lift?” he asked as if it was the middle of the afternoon and not almost two o’clock in the morning.
“Greg!” Susan couldn’t contain her surprise. “What are you doing here?”
“Offering you a ride home if you want it.” He cocked his head and laughed.
Susan threw him a curious look.
“Actually, I was leaving the bar around the corner when I saw the commotion. Curiosity got the best of me. Another murder, huh?”
She smelled alcohol. Was he drunk? He didn’t appear to be, not that she’d know the difference. They had only talked a few times. She pulled away from the grasp he had on her arm. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to get in a car with him, still not satisfied with his reason for being there.
“Come on,” he said. “I only had a couple of beers. I’m not over the legal limit.”
She gave in. After all, he lived in her building, it was only a few blocks, and he didn’t appear drunk. Even one beer made a person smell like they’d been drinking all night.
Conversation was stilted on the short ride home. He seemed curious, but she wasn’t about to divulge any more information than what she’d write for the paper. Of course, the television news media would run the story long before hers.
Greg walked her to her apartment and waited until she was inside. His footfalls disappeared as Susan turned the locks on her door.
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