Better the Devil You Don't Know

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Everything all right, Michele?”

  She followed me into my office and sat down across from me.

  “We saw Byron at the mall. He was demanding his job back.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” I said, my ire stirring.

  “It’s all right, Chief. Dorey handled it.” she replied.

  “She did? How?”

  Michele grinned. “She told him to talk with you about it. It was above her paygrade.”

  “Good answer,” I said, laughing.

  “So, what did you need help with, Chief?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you. I need to reserve a ticket from Little Rock to Denver, and then arrange to have someone pick up the passenger and drive her here.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll get the forms for you to fill out and submit to admin.”

  “No, it’s not on the company’s dime. This is a personal favor to me. I figured that you would know the quickest way to do all this. I’ll pay for the ticket with my credit card. And for her transport here as well.”

  “Is it going to be a roundtrip?”

  “Yes, but leave the return date open, okay?”

  “No problem. I’ll need her name and address.”

  I shook my head. “Oh. Well, I know her name is Sarah Douglas, but I don’t know her address. Can’t you just order the ticket in her name?”

  “Yes, she can show her ID at the ticket counter and fill out the pertinent information when she picks up the tickets. Do you want me to rent a limo or—”

  “Whoa, hold on,” I said quickly. “I’m not made of money. Book the cheapest, safest way to get her here.” I reached in and pulled out my wallet, and then took out my credit card, handing it to her.

  Michele took the card and looked at me. “Um, Chief. Will she be staying with you or shall I book a hotel room?”

  Oh, jeez. I don’t know if Scottie even has room for them. “She’s the grandmother of a pediatric patient here. We have a guesthouse for that, right?”

  “Sure, I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thanks, Michele. And please keep this just between you and me, all right?”

  She nodded. “Of course, Chief.”

  “And when Josh comes in for the second shift, I need to see him and Dorey in my office first thing.” She looked at me with a sparkle in her eye that wasn’t there a second ago. “What?”

  “You called them by their first names. That must be a good sign.”

  Chuckling, I nodded. “That needs to be kept between just you and me as well, okay? I still intend to wait until everyone’s probation is over with before I get chummy with them.”

  “I understand,” she said with a grin.

  ***

  Waiting on Josh to come in to work, I sat at my metal desk reading the report he had written about his shift last night. There wasn’t much about the actual shift; it was a very detailed report about the victim found in the parking lot. I read his and Dorey’s summaries, and then I looked at the photographs Dorey had taken. Her report detailed her photographs and as I looked at the pictures, something began to nag at me. The single bullet left at the crime scene. There was no way to tell if it was placed there, or if it had been there before the girl was murdered. I pulled out my cellphone and sent a text to Becky, asking if there had been any drive-by shootings in the area recently. That could explain the bullet, although there should have been more than one bullet in the area if that were the case. A knock at my door broke my concentration.

  “Enter,” I said distractedly.

  “In answer to your text, no, there had not been a drive-by shooting in the area,” Becky said, walking into my office holding her cellphone in her hand. “And, anticipating your next question, no, the killer had not left a shell casing at any other murder. I think the bullet is a fluke, and not part of the case.”

  “It does seem to be an anomaly, doesn’t it? Listen, I’m sorry about earlier.”

  “No, you’re not, but that’s okay,” Becky said with a smile as she sat down. “I was out of line. I just don’t understand why she won’t help us catch this guy.”

  “First time going up against a shrink?”

  She laughed and nodded. “Yeah, are they all that tough?”

  “I’m afraid so. I was a detective for eight years and never got even one of them to cooperate.”

  “I guess you could tell that this is my first time flying solo?”

  At that moment, she seemed more like a little girl than a police detective. “Yeah, I figured as much. It does get easier, I promise.”

  “Why did you stop being a detective, Casey?”

  That came out of the blue, and I wasn’t prepared to answer it. “Have you seen someone shot before, Becky?”

  “Yes, and I was the one who shot him,” she replied assertively.

  “Have you ever had a child die in your arms before?”

  Her mouth opened but no words came out. After a moment, her eyes softened and she shook her head. “No, thank God. I have not. Is that what happened to you, Casey?”

  Fire stung behind my eyes as my mind went back to the scene. I dug out the bullet from my pocket and rubbed it as if I could rub away the pain the memories brought back. I couldn’t. “This is why I quit the force,” I stated. She was staring, an unasked question on her lips, so I put it back in my pocket and wiped the moisture from my eyes. Clearing my throat, I asked, “Why are you here, Becky? Anything new in the case?”

  Thankfully, she let it go and reached into her shoulder bag. “I wanted to return this,” she said as she pulled out my Glock 27, .40 caliber pistol. “You need to get a new permit for it.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that,” I said, taking the gun out of the holster and checking the chamber. Some habits should never be forgotten.

  “Also, I learned that Ethel Farmer was abused by her uncle who raised her. She was single, no children and worked at Walmart on Iris Avenue, which is close to her home. That is across town from here, so we are back to the theory that she was held captive near the hospital and escaped her captor.”

  “Did the door-to-door canvasing turn up anything?”

  She shook her head. “Not a damn thing. No one knew or heard anything.”

  I was overlooking something. I was so fixated on the shell casing left at the scene, that I couldn’t see other possibilities. Once I let that go, an idea popped into my head. “Becky, were the other bodies victimized like Farmer’s had been?”

  “Exactly the same. I know it’s a message or a clue he’s trying to send, but I haven’t connected the dots yet.”

  “Were the teeth or hair ever found?” I asked.

  “No, and I’ve asked the FBI to alert me if they get a hit on CODIS. If any of those teeth show up, the Feds’ DNA database will know it.”

  “So, the killer didn’t leave any of his DNA on the victims?”

  “Right, we figured he used a condom and probably burned the rubbers afterwards.”

  “Were all the women single with no children?”

  “No, one was married to an abusive husband and one woman had a couple of preteens.”

  “That’s curious. The pattern doesn’t fit the normal serial killer’s MO.”

  “Nothing about this bastard has been normal,” she retorted.

  “That’s true,” I agreed. “What about the psychiatrists of the victims killed, any similarities there?”

  She shook her head. “Nada. They weren’t aware of anyone who might be the killer, and I’m not sure they’d tell me if they were.”

  “I have a suggestion. Put the shrinks in a room together and let them discuss it. Even though they don’t know each other, they might talk to one another easier than they would a cop.”

  Her eyes grew large as she smiled. “Damn good suggestion, Casey.”

  “And not in an integration room where you can record it, either.”

  Her face fell, and she sneered at me. “You just had to go and ruin it, didn’t you?” she quipped even as she winked at me.

 
; Chapter Seventeen

  Michele Michaels

  As we walked in to the Bistrot Italiano restaurant, my arm in Lula’s, we were met by a tuxedo-wearing maître d' who snapped to attention and asked if we had a reservation. Lula slipped him a twenty and gave him her last name. I noticed she held her breath as he ran a finger down his reservation book.

  “Of course, Ms. Ferguson, right this way,” he said, quickly writing in her name and then waving his hand toward the dining area.

  I leaned close and whispered, “You’ve done this before.”

  She chuckled, “A time or two. The maître d' and I went to college together. He’s a good guy.”

  We walked into the dining area, and my mouth hit the floor. A huge crystal chandelier, as large as the one in Phantom of the Opera, hung down from the ceiling in the middle of the room. Plush red-velvet curtains that matched the carpet lined the windows, and panoramic photographs of Italian landscapes hung on every wall. Round tables seating eight filled the room, and small booths seating two lined the walls. Black and white tablecloths, crystal glasses, gold-rimmed China plates, and real silver-silverware adorned the tables, with a large candelabra sitting in the middle of the table, its soft, flickering light casting a romantic glow on the patrons. I was impressed when the maître d' led us to a cozy booth in the back, away from the kitchen doors.

  I can’t believe it. I’m sitting across from the sexiest woman I’ve ever met, in the swankiest restaurant I’ve ever been in. Crystal glasses that matched the chandelier above were being filled with a sparkling wine. Oregano, basil, and rosemary were generously sprinkled onto my bread plate and mixed with olive oil. A loaf of fresh-baked bread, piping hot from the wood-fired oven, was set on our table, ready to be torn apart and dipped in oil. The taste of the bread, the ambiance and aroma of the room, the smiling eyes gazing at me intently, and I was melting into a pool of hormonal lust.

  “My God, you look stunning,” Lula said.

  “You’ve said that before, but I don’t mind hearing it again,” I gushed, dipping another piece of bread into the oil. It kept me from gawking at Lula, who was mouth-wateringly gorgeous in her royal blue pantsuit, the sleeves scrunched up to her elbows. We didn’t know what the other was wearing, but couldn’t have planned the matching outfits any better if we had tried. It was a sign that the evening would be fantastic, and it was also quite alluring.

  The waiter came back to take our orders, and Lula asked me if I trusted her. I grinned, and nodded, and she ordered our food, pronouncing the Italian entrées perfectly. I was impressed, but in that atmosphere, with that woman sneaking glances at me, how could I not be?

  “So, what did you order?” I asked as the waiter scurried off to fill our orders.

  “It’s a surprise. You’ll just have to wait and taste it first.”

  “Barely know you and you’re already playing hard ball, eh?”

  She laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. It was so short that there was no need for that, so I wondered if she was nervous. I can’t imagine that being possible. She was so self-assured and fearless that I was sure it was wishful thinking on my part.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Lula.”

  “What would you like to know?” she asked, soaking her bread in the oil.

  “Oh… well… let’s see. Are you married? Or a nun? Or one of those three-way type people?”

  “Wow. Interesting questions,” she replied. “Would you like me to be any of those?”

  Answering a question with a question. Oh no, you don’t, missy. “Answer the question first and then I’ll tell you.”

  She had a sly grin on her face. “All right, then. No, I’m not married and never have been. I’m not Catholic or any other religion for that matter. And I’ve never tried a three-way, but with the right two people, I’d be willing to. Would you?”

  I could feel my face blush, and I tried to hide it with a bite of bread. She winked at me, and I knew she could feel the heat from my embarrassment radiating across the table. “No, sorry. I’ve satisfied that need to experiment in my twenties. That’s not something I’m looking for anymore.”

  “What are you looking for, Michele?”

  “Oh, um, well, I guess I’m looking for someone to grow old with. Or in my case, grow older with.”

  “So, how old are you, really? Eighty, ninety years old?”

  “What?” I gasped. Damn. Do I look that old? I primped my hair and pulled up the V-neck on my dress, feeling suddenly naked.

  “Don’t do that,” Lula said, looking at my dress. “I think your dress is perfectly tailored in all the right places. And I’m not saying you’re old. You are. You said it a couple of times at work today. I asked you out tonight because I could see the feisty young woman in you, and I wanted to get to know her. Will I have a chance to meet her?”

  My mouth hung open, and my face flushed even deeper. She had tapped into my soul and validated my spirit. My, God. Is she for real or was it just a lucky guess?

  “Don’t look so serious,” she suggested with a smile. “I want you to be yourself around me, Michele. Now, I know first dates can make a person a nervous wreck, but I’ve been on enough of them to know that pretending to be someone you aren’t doesn’t work. Damn. That’s not the way I meant to say that. I know you’re not pretending or playing games with me. Look, you’re not old. Not to me. Probably not to anyone who really knows you.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “This is not going very well.”

  “It’s okay. I know what you’re trying to say. Dorey told me the same thing. You have to understand. I don’t realize I’m acting that way. It’s just a built-in defense to soften the blow. Just like the joking.”

  “To soften the blow? What are you afraid would happen?” Lula asked.

  I gazed into the fire crackling in the oven, my mind wandering to a different time. “It’s already happened,” I replied meekly. “I have some… old baggage, Lula.”

  “And that’s all right, Michele. So do I. And sometimes I miss who I was before my first painful breakup.”

  “Would you tell me about it?”

  “I will if you will,” she said, answering a question with a question again.

  Our dinners arrived, and we fell silent as the waiter prepared a pepper and olive oil mix and then drizzled it onto our boneless roast lamb and roasted potatoes. The waiter said “Bon appétit” and left. Lula and I didn’t look at each other as we unfolded our napkin and place them in our laps.

  “Em, this looks delicious,” I said, picking up my fork and knife.

  “They have the best lamb anywhere I’ve ever eaten. You’re going to love this.”

  She took a bite of lamb and her eyes rolled back in her head. The satisfied smile on her lips made me smile. I took a bite and had to agree, it was delicious. I began to relax into the meal, glancing at Lula when she wasn’t looking. For one so young, she had an old soul. When she picked me up at my apartment, she greeted me with roses. She opened the car door for me, made sure my seatbelt was fastened, and then ordered dinner for us. Someone taught her how to treat a lady right.

  “So, what do you think?” Lula asked, gazing at me as she took another bite.

  “An excellent choice, Lula. Everything tonight has been perfect.”

  She nodded and swallowed her food. “Good. That makes me happy.”

  “What else makes you happy, Lula?”

  She seemed surprised, but didn’t miss a beat. “The company of a beautiful woman makes me happy.”

  “Oh, very smooth,” I quipped as I melted inside.

  “No, really. Do you know how hard it is to date someone these days who doesn’t want to skip the meal and immediately jump into bed?”

  “I’m sorry to say that I do. Until tonight, I thought romance was dead.”

  She smiled, her eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “Not to brag or anything, but that’s only because you weren’t with the right woman.”

  “You know, I believe that you are right.”<
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  She picked up the wine bottle and filled our glasses. Then she picked up her wine glass and held it out. “A toast to romance,” she said, and I picked up my glass. “May your heart always beat to the rhythm of passion, your life’s blood flow in the river of lust, and your hunger for life only be sated by love.”

  Oh, yes. Please, yes, yes! “Here, here,” I said, touching my glass to hers. Her eyes followed mine as she sipped the wine, and I could feel the stirrings of my lustful blood heating up. Oh, yes. I needed to slow things down or I knew that I wouldn’t make it through the evening.

  “So, Lula. What do you do on your off time?” Sports. Talk about sports. That’s a real turn off for me.

  “I love to travel and explore new things,” she replied as she sliced her knife into the meat.

  “Oh, my gosh, I absolutely love adventures like that. Exploring the glaciers in Alaska. Seeing the Eiffel Tower in Paris. Yodeling in Switzerland. I’m an explorer junkie.”

  She put her knife down and studied me for a moment. Then she grinned. “There’s that feisty young woman I was talking about.”

  Blushing, I looked down at my plate. Why am I blushing so much? It’s annoying. “I haven’t actually gone to any of those places, you know. But I will, someday. How about you? Where have you traveled, Lula?”

  “Well. I haven’t been to those places you mention, but like you, I want to go. When I was a kid, my mother traveled a lot and I went with her most of the time.”

  “That sounds like fun. What does your mother do?” I asked.

  “She was a photographer for the National Geographic Society. We’ve floated the Amazon River, explored the Tibetan Plateau in China to see the giant panda bears, and watched the lava flow in the Pacaya Volcano in Guatemala.”

  My mouth gaped open, and I clapped my hands together. “Oh, my goodness. That is so amazing. What a wonderful childhood you must have had.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty awesome,” she said.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but, um…”

  “Why did I get a degree in economics?”

  I nodded. “Yes. It doesn’t seem like something an adventurer like you would major in.”