Tanner’s cell rang. It startled him so much that he dropped it to the floor. Shelly and Joyce ran to his office to listen. Tanner’s caller ID said it was George, his insurance agent.
Tanner answered, “Hey, George.”
“You’re not going to believe this, but main office approved that policy anyway. I deposited your check this afternoon to make it official. What’s the word on your crazy stalker?”
Tanner exhaled, “Casey is missing. Sorry, but I don’t want the damn policy.” Tanner hung up.
Shelly and Joyce left his office. It was time to go home. No one wanted to leave. No one wanted to stay. Tanner put his head in his hands. Why hadn’t he told Casey how much he loved her? His heart felt as if someone had scooped everything alive from it. He dialed Nick Stryker to see if there had been any news. He knew there wasn’t any or Nick would have called. He couldn’t stop himself. Just talking about Casey seemed to make her feel more present.
Nick confirmed he had no news, but that he would call when he did. Tanner asked if he could stay in Casey’s apartment tonight. Nick told him he didn’t see any reason not to. Nick considered that Casey was in hiding and may sneak back home for personal things, her purse and money. Nick asked Tanner to call him if that happened.
Tanner promised to call even if Casey protested. Tanner put his phone in his pocket and told Shelly and Joyce to go home. He told them he was going to stay at Casey’s just in case.
Shelly and Joyce walked to their cars together.
Shelly said, “I bet Casey is the only person that doesn’t know how much Tanner loves her.”
Joyce answered, “I think Tanner just figured it out himself.”
Carl stood in the doorway of the squad room with his hand on the elbow of a cuffed man. The man fit everyone’s vision of a homeless bum. Long stringy hair, thin, drawn face etched with deep furrows and a fair amount of facial hair.
Carl’s voice boomed with pride, “Gentlemen, I introduce the Westside Slasher, Mr. Sirus Corn.” Carl tossed a large, clear evidence bag containing a huge knife onto his desk. “The murder weapon.”
“Mr. Corn and I will be recording his confession in the interrogation room.” Carl smiled and guided his prisoner down the hall.
Nick glanced at the others in the squad room. “Who saw this coming?”
Wayne nodded. “I almost started an office pool. Carl has a real gift for finding the crazies.”
Nick stood to go watch the interrogation, Jen and Wayne followed.
Carl had Sirus sit at the interrogation table. He tossed him a sandwich from the vending machine, and then set a can of soda in front of him. Carl hit the record button for the interview. Sirus stated he could neither read nor write very well when he saw the pad of paper in front of him. Carl told him that was okay and volunteered to write the statement out for his signature. After about ten minutes of cursory questions regarding Sirus’s identity and residence, Carl started asking more pointed questions.
Sirus appeared to be answering honestly, occasionally expressing remorse at his actions. He claimed he really didn’t know why he picked certain people. Maybe they looked at him wrong or didn’t look at him at all. He figured he had killed enough people to be famous for a while. He couldn’t believe someone had snitched him out.
Nick watched and listened carefully. He was already convinced Sirus was not the killer, but he was trying to decide why Carl was so easily satisfied. Jen could sense Nick’s unrest.
She touched his elbow, “Maybe it should just play out.”
Nick looked at her. “Casey doesn’t have the time for this to play out.” Nick left the observation room.
Wayne asked, “What is he doing?”
Jen shook her head, “Who knows.”
Suddenly Nick was in the interrogation room with Carl and Sirus. He had the evidence knife with him and rested it in the center of the table. He also had a pair of plastic gloves he laid next to the knife. Nick looked at Carl, “If he’s the Slasher, he owes me some answers, too. Mind?”
Carl appeared to mind a great deal, but leaned back and smiled. “Help yourself.”
Carl started to reach over to stop the recorder and Nick stopped him. “Let that go. I don’t mind this being recorded.” Nick looked at Sirus, “You don’t mind me asking you a couple of questions, do you, Sirus?”
Sirus looked back at Carl’s face and then back to Nick. “I guess it’s okay.”
Wayne whispered to Jen. “Carl is going to scream to the Chief about this later.”
Nick turned his chair to fully face Sirus, his back almost completely turned to Carl. “Sirus, I heard you say you’ve been living in the tunnels the last couple of years. Specifically the one over on the Westside. That’s kind of a community, isn’t it? I mean you guys have rules and such.”
Sirus was surprised that a cop even knew that much about them. “Yeah, we have a lot of rules.”
Nick chuckled, “Why did you decide to break the rules? Were they treating you badly? I hear there are some real scum types hanging out there.”
Sirus sat up, “Who told you that? Most of them are nice people. Help each other out.”
Carl interrupted, “Stryker, if you’ve got questions ask them. I still have to go through booking.”
Nick looked at Carl, “Why don’t you go ahead and start your report then? I’ll let you know when I’m done.” It was a challenge from Nick to Carl. Shut up or leave. Carl was furious. This was his arrest; he didn’t want Nick messing up the confession.
Carl leaned back, “I’ll stay a bit longer.”
Nick turned back to Sirus. “Do you spend nights with the ‘community’ or up top?” Nick knew the expression for the street people not allowed in the communities was ‘up top’ people. They were the dangerous ones not willing to live by rules.
Sirus’s eyes opened wide, “I spend nights in the community. Me and Daryl have an apartment there where we keep our stuff.”
Nick handed Sirus the plastic gloves. “Would you put those on for me, please?”
Nick saw Carl glare at him through his peripheral vision. Sirus slowly put the gloves on over his calloused hands. “You’re a working man, aren’t you, Sirus? You work days somewhere?”
“Yeah, I got me a cash job washin’ windows for stores. Got me a special uniform and everything. Do okay, too.”
Nick smiled as he took the knife out of the evidence bag and held it up. He slammed it hard on the table and barked to Sirus, “Pick it up!”
Sirus nearly jumped out of his seat. He glanced at Carl and back to Nick. Nick yelled again, this time standing, “Pick it up!”
Sirus shakily reached across the table and lifted the knife with his left hand.
Nick walked up next to him. “Stand up!”
Sirus started shaking his head. Nick yelled again, “Stand up!”
Carl started to move and Nick pointed at him. “Sit, please.”
Sirus stood and Nick yelled louder, his arms spread wide to his sides. “Do it! Stab me! Show me how you did it!”
Sirus was practically crying. He started backing up, his grip on the knife was so loose it fell to the floor. He looked at Nick terrified. Nick reached to pat Sirus’s shoulder and Sirus flinched and put his hands up.
Nick’s voice was calm and soothing. “It’s okay, Sirus. It’s okay. Here, take a seat. Maybe someone will get you another sandwich.” Nick picked up the knife and held it close to his face. Sirus couldn’t take his eyes off from it.
“This knife is the murder weapon, I’m sure.” Nick put the knife back in the evidence bag. Sirus had sat back down, but was still shaking.
Nick tilted his head, leaned forward and whispered, “Where did you find it?”
Sirus whispered back, “It kind of found me. Just appeared in my cart tonight.”
Wayne looked at Jen, “Whoa! Do you believe that?”
Jen beamed with pride, “Yep.”
Friday 7:00 pm
It was finally closing time. Mitch flipped the l
ight off for the neon open sign and counted out the cash register. Once the money was secure in the safe, he waited impatiently for Eli to arrive, so he could lock the door. Momma walked out from the back dressed in a pair of bib overalls neatly tucked into her duck waders. Mitch started laughing.
Momma pointed at him and said, “You best change your clothes in a hurry or we’ll just leave your butt here. You don’t know what kind of rat infested hell we might be crawlin’ in. You best suit up!”
Mitch thought about that. “You got another pair of waders?”
Momma laughed and nodded, “Put ’em by the door up there. Go ahead now and hurry. I see Eli already at the door.”
Eli walked in wearing about the same thing as Momma. He looked at Mitch. “Hurry up and change clothes. I can’t wait to see what’s on the other side of that door.”
Mitch left the room yelling, “I’m goin’, I’m goin’.”
Momma and Eli practically ran to the basement. Eli had his thick city issued gloves on and grabbed the large iron wheel in the center of the door. He tugged with all of his strength as Momma squirted WD-40 into the wheel’s joints. Suddenly it broke free and Eli pulled it toward him. Momma and Eli moaned at the sight of mortared bricks on the other side.
Eli stood with his hands on his hips. “Let’s not panic here. I bet we only have one layer on that side. The city would have been more concerned with protecting the side with the wheel.”
Eli looked around, picked up the larger pickaxe and pounded the head of it squarely in the center. The bricks easily fell away revealing a cavernous opening.
Momma grabbed Eli’s shirt collar and pulled him back. “Let me look!”
Mitch had joined them and stared at the opening as Eli pounded the bricks away like a mad man. They had done it! There really was a tunnel. When the opening was large enough Eli leaned through with his flashlight. He turned around. “We got about a two foot drop here to the floor. Looks pretty clean and huge. I’ll go in first and help Momma to the other side.”
Momma grabbed Mitch’s Boy Scout backpack and tossed it through the opening. Eli guided her arm and helped her to the ground. Mitch grabbed his lantern and swung his leg through the opening. Eli complained that Mitch had crawled through the hole the most awkward way possible. They practically fell to the ground when Mitch tried to balance his lantern and hang onto Eli’s shoulders.
Eli brushed the dirt from his jacket, “You were a Boy Scout?”
Momma gasped, “Would you look at this!”
Mitch held up his lantern. They were standing in an area the size of a football field. Concrete walls, floor, and ceiling. In the far distance they saw black openings leading away from the main room. They turned to their right and saw odd flickers of light beyond what looked like low hanging clouds.
Momma asked Eli, “What is all that?”
Eli pointed up, “See these huge main pipes? They used to carry fresh water from Lake Michigan into the city. This big room here was probably where the control center was for major repairs. You can see where the concrete has been patched from equipment removal. See the tunnels running out from the sides? The new system runs under this one and creates steam vapors that need to escape. There is probably a row of grates down there for the vapors.”
Mitch asked, “What are those twinkle lights beyond the vapors?”
Eli shrugged, “Got me. Let’s go check it out.”
Momma, Mitch and Eli walked toward the wall of vapor clouds. As they got closer, they could see a stack of crates next to the wall of the tunnel.
Eli held up his hand, “Listen.”
Past the vapor clouds were mumbled sounds of people talking. Dishes clinking and even babies crying.
Momma leaned forward, “I think there are people back in there.”
A large figure of a man was walking toward them. He was enveloped in the vapor cloud and still walking their way.
Mitch grabbed Momma’s overalls. “Who’s that?”
Momma whipped around, “How the heck would I know?”
The man was now directly in front of them. He was huge. His voice boomed and echoed through the tunnel. “Stop right there, please. My name is Joseph; we need to talk a minute.”
Joseph sat on an overturned crate and pointed for Momma, Mitch and Eli to take a seat and join him. Moving shadows were now periodically visible through the vapor mist of the steam vents. Joseph introduced himself as the mayor of this little sub city. Momma, Mitch and Eli sat on the remaining crates and waited, like children, for Joseph to explain this odd community they had stumbled into.
Joseph was articulate and had an educated manner of speaking. His voice was full and rich, like a great singer or broadcaster. His eyes were clear and sparked with intelligence. He was clean, yet dressed as a laborer.
“Not everyone is programed to survive. Fear and helplessness become visible. Enemies multiply like locusts around the vulnerable ones. Old character strengths are often replaced with numbing voids when time has also become the enemy. This village is populated with people of like minds. They still have hope. They still obey rules.”
Joseph pointed above, “Not like the ones up top.” Joseph moved toward the edge of his seat and leaned forward, “The city recently erected steel gates that the merchants lock at night. Mostly over on lower Wacker. The homeless people used to go there to keep warm over the steam grates. Winter’s coming and there is nowhere for them to go now. For the city and the merchants if the homeless can’t be seen, they don’t exist. A group of us are trying to help. We are trying to keep them from the falling cycle.”
Momma was spellbound and asked, “What does that mean? The falling cycle?”
Joseph rolled his shoulders forward and lowered his voice as if telling a secret.
“If you go days, weeks, months, where people won’t look you in the eyes; won’t look at you at all, you start to wonder, do I even exist?
It starts as a string of bad luck. Not unlike the lyrics of a country song; lost my job, my home, my family. Then the Catch-22 begins. Can’t get a job without an address. Can’t get an address without a job. Can’t cash a check without a bank account. Can’t get a bank account without an address. See?
They live in hope that something breaks the cycle. Hoping something useful will be found in a trash bin or inside the gutter. Weeks grow into months and for some, years. The most basic human needs become challenges to overcome. Each day is harder than the last, because their health begins to fail.
When the hope leaves, which it will, what’s left is despair without boundaries. That is the falling cycle. A level of crazy, not tempered by conscience, sets in. They begin to believe there are no consequences for them. After all, they don’t exist.”
CHAPTER 19
Carl had waited a few minutes and then followed Nick into the men’s room. Carl stood at a urinal while Nick washed his hands.
Carl looked over, “Thank you. I would rather look like an ass now, than arrest Sirus and explain to the Chief and the press that I had made a mistake.”
Nick shook the water from his hands and grabbed a paper towel. He had caught the scent of aftershave as Carl walked in the room. “We all make mistakes.”
Carl walked over to the sink. “As soon as Sirus picked up that knife, I knew he hadn’t done it. He’s left handed and scared to death of knives.”
Nick added, “He’s also 64 years old and in bad health.”
Carl stared at him. “How do you know he’s in bad health?”
Nick tossed his paper towel in the basket, “His stance shows he has two bad knees. It is probably painful for him to walk. He isn’t capable of raising a knife high enough above his shoulders to stab someone with force. His spine has twisted to the left. That is his favored side and what causes his shoulders to be so uneven. His skin is jaundiced, so he is also experiencing some kidney failure. He’s looking for three hots and a cot, with medical attention. Jail would be summer camp for him now.”
Carl was impressed. “In
any event, at least I have the murder weapon.”
“What led you to Sirus?”
“I have a confidential informant. He’s usually reliable when he’s sober.” Carl opened the door to leave and Nick followed. Carl asked, “What else has happened today?”
Nick answered, “Casey is missing. Could be her ‘author’ kidnapped her. Eric gave me a flash drive from the author’s computer. Claimed he found it. I’m going back there now to get the truth from him. I think he knows who the author is.”
Carl stopped and turned to face Nick. “Can I ask a favor? Could you make arrangements for Sirus to be taken home and log in that knife for me? I’m afraid my CI is getting drunker by the minute. I have to find out where that knife came from.”
Nick said, “Sure.” He walked toward the squad room and stopped. “You should get your right knee checked. You’re developing a slight gait to your walk.”
Momma asked Joseph, “What can people do to help them? Long term, not just a sandwich now and then.”
Joseph smiled, “We have a program that is working quite well. Landlords agree to a one year rent free lease as long as the renter has a job and is taking career classes at our center. We help them get a job, start a bank savings account and improve their employment opportunities. They have to pay their own utilities and food and stay clean. No substances allowed. Many of these people had successful lives in their past. We need more landlords. We need to get the word out.”
Mitch offered, “I would need a lot more information than I have now, but I have a marketing degree and graphic arts minor. We own a busy store that has a lot of customers. Maybe some brochures, a web site?”
Joseph smiled, “One of our men was arrested today for something he didn’t do. He wanted to go. He has lost hope for a future.” Joseph reached for Mitch’s hand and gave him a warm clasp. “Anything I can do to help, I will. Follow me, I’d like to introduce you to our fine community.”
Cusp of Crazy: Nick Stryker Series, Book One, Shallow End Gals Page 16
