“Why do you think Benton did it?”
“He’s obviously a bit off.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Come on, Lieutenant. You met the man. Jupiter took on all sorts of charity cases. Benton was one of them.”
“Where did Jupiter find Benton?”
“I don’t remember,” Pluto snapped. “I think Benton had been in rehab. In the early days, Father Jupiter often went to rehab centers to deliver messages of spiritual encouragement. Back then, he felt it was his duty to reach out to the weakest elements of our society. As the Order grew, more of his time was demanded at home. But often he’d assign me to pick up the slack. Which is how I found Moriah Farrander.”
“You’re a saint—”
“You asked me a question—”
“Which rehab centers did Jupiter enlighten?”
“Now you’re being facetious.”
“Do you have names?”
“No.” Pluto sighed. “I suppose if you cooperated with me, I could cooperate and get them for you.”
Decker was quiet.
Pluto said, “I’d like our dear brothers and sisters to feel a sense of security. While I realize I am not going to prevent you from invading, at least can you wait until morning?”
“Not a chance—”
“How is waking up our followers at an ungodly hour going to help you?”
“Brother, things have come up that necessitate the execution of the warrants now.”
“Things? What things!”
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Decker said. “We’re headed for the Order. You’re finally going to get that phone call, Brother Pluto. And if I were you, I’d use it to call your lawyer.”
24
Parked two blocks away from the Order were three cruisers, Detective Bert Martinez’s Honda and Detective Tom Webster’s Audi. Decker pulled behind one of the black-and-whites, shut the motor and got out of his car. He opened the passenger door.
“Out.”
Pluto was surprised by Decker’s authoritarian voice. Uniformed cops were approaching the car, their hands on their guns. The guru emerged from the backseat, his face registering apprehension. “What’s going on? I don’t like this.”
Decker identified himself with his badge and gave the uniforms a hold sign. To Pluto, he said, “I need to confer with my two Homicide detectives. You want to get back to the Order, just stay put and cool your heels.”
“Where are you going?” Pluto demanded to know.
The little man’s eyes were glued to the uniforms. Decker figured that Pluto had probably been bullied in his young years. So what did he do with his personal power? Bullied others. Decker pointed to a spot about twenty feet away. “I’ll be over there.” He nodded to the police officers. “These fine gentlemen will take good care of you.” To the uniforms, he said, “Watch him.”
Martinez and Webster had already exited their cars. Decker met with them under the inkblot shadows of a scrub oak, dried leaves and twigs snapping under his feet. In the starlight, he could see all the gray poking through Bert Martinez’s black hair. His mustache, however, was still dark—thick and the consistency of Brillo. His fleshy face drooped with wee-hour fatigue, but his brown eyes were alert and ready to do business.
Being younger and in better shape, Webster seemed to handle the late hours with aplomb. His hair was combed, his suit was pressed and even his socks matched. His face held few wrinkles and sags around his baby blues, making Decker feel like the wizened elder.
It was a role he didn’t relish.
He could only imagine how Martinez felt. Still, the duo got along well although they had been working together for less than two years.
Webster handed Decker the warrants. “Everything’s kosher.”
Martinez added, “Checked and rechecked. But you can look them over if you want.”
Decker did want to. As he read the legalese to make sure it was all there, he said, “Heard from Dunn or Oliver? I told them to call you two for updates being as I was stuck with Mr. Charm.”
“Marge’s last call was ’bout twenty minutes ago over the tach lines,” Webster drawled. “The techs haven’t found a kill spot in the house, so she and Scott are staying up north. They’re planning on doing a grid search of the entire property at dawn…figured it would be easier to bunk out in Central City rather than to go back and forth.”
“Makes sense.” Decker checked his watch. Two A.M. “They sure as hell didn’t pull an all-nighter with Benton. I take it they didn’t get an early confession.”
“If they did, they didn’t tell us,” Martinez said.
“Wonder why they quit so early?”
“’Cause he’s a stubborn shit,” Webster said. “He’s got his version and he’s stickin’ to it.”
“What’s his version?” Decker asked.
“He didn’t do it.”
Martinez said, “Dunn said he kept repeating the same mantra over and over and over. ‘I didn’t do nothin’, I didn’t do nothin’.’ She felt they could have questioned him for a month and couldn’t have broken him.”
“I’m not asking for a month,” Decker said. “But two hours is skimpy.”
“The sheriff is keeping Benton locked up pending the grid search,” Martinez said. “Dunn and Oliver were planning to question him again after they’ve combed the property. If they find any corroborating evidence, it’ll shore up a case against him.”
“Or, at the least, give them a line of questioning,” Webster said. “Right now, they don’t have dick because Forensics only found trace amounts of Nova’s blood in the ranch house. She said that corresponded to drip marks in transporting the body from the front door to the kitchen.”
“Who’s she?”
Martinez said, “Dr. Little. We spoke to her around an hour ago. The body was drained of its blood way before it was stuffed into the cabinet.”
“Benton slaughters chickens.” Decker said.
Martinez and Webster exchanged looks, waited for Decker to explain the non sequitur.
“Don’t you drain chickens by chopping off their heads and turning them upside down?” Decker asked.
Martinez shrugged.
“Beats me,” Webster said.
“Nova’s head was chopped off,” Decker said.
“Are you saying that Benton mistook Nova for a chicken?”
“Funny, Tom—”
“I’m not responsible for anything I say at two in the morning.”
“I’m just saying that Benton had experience in draining blood.”
“You think he did it, Loo?” Webster asked.
“Right now, I have some doubts, but with proper evidence, I could be convinced.”
Martinez said, “FYI, Loo, Benton had been with a woman for the past two nights—which, according to Little—was the time range for Nova’s death. The woman’s name was Ruth…” He started flipping through his notes. “Ruth…”
“Ruth Young,” Decker said. “Johannsen told me about her. She alibied Benton?”
“Yep. But Marge was also quick to point out that Benton still had lots of hours alone in the house.”
Decker ran his hands through dirty, sweaty hair. It was going to boil down to supporting evidence. To Tom, he said, “You just told me they found traces of human blood in the house.”
“Consistent with the drippings of the drained torso as it was taken into the kitchen.”
Decker recapped, “So after they’ve exhausted evidence collection at the ranch, Oliver and Dunn are going to requestion Benton?”
“That’s what they told us,” Martinez said. “They’ll call you when it’s light, and keep you posted.” He took out a slip of paper. “Or if you want, Loo, you can call them. But the place they’re staying has only public lines.”
Decker considered phoning them, but nixed the idea. “Let ’em grab a couple of hours of sleep.”
“A couple of hours sounds right fine to me,” Webster said. “One thing before I forget. Marge wanted me t
o ask you if you ever heard of a place…” He took out his notepad and rummaged through the pages. “It’s called Harrison. She thinks it’s a rehab center located in Saugus.”
“Harrison…” The name was familiar. Decker was trying to conjure up a mental picture. He had worked in Foothill division for over a decade—in Homicide, in Sex Crimes, in CAPS. Saugus was under Foothill’s jurisdiction. “A green, two-story, wood-sided place converted to a halfway house. I think it had eight rooms plus a janitor’s basement. It also had a wraparound porch. Drug and alcohol rehab, but it also took in some EMRs as well as nonviolent mental cases.”
“EMR?” Martinez asked.
“Educable mentally retarded,” Decker said. “A woman named Flora…no, not Flora…Florine…Florine Vesquelez. She was the coordinator. Not only of Harrison, but of several other halfway houses in Foothill. Far as I know, she’s a straight arrow. What’s with Harrison?”
“Benton worked there as a handyman for five years,” Webster said.
“Worked there or lived there?”
“Both. It was where he met Jupiter. He claims that one day, Jupiter just showed up and started talking to him. Eventually, Jupiter hired him away to work at the ranch.”
“How long ago did this happen?” Decker asked.
“Ten years ago.”
Decker said, “So it was during my time at Foothill. I still know lots of people there. I’ll check it out. Do you know if Jupiter was a resident at Harrison?”
“Not when Benton was there.” Webster’s eyes went to Pluto. “What’s our mission with Mr. Shorty?”
“This is the situation,” Decker said. “We’ve got two homicide investigations going at once—Nova and Jupiter. Most likely, they’re related, but we don’t know for certain. Jupiter’s death could have been a self-inflicted OD, but now it’s looking closer to a homicide because he had more than trace amounts of arsenic in his system. Are we all together?”
“Like Siamese twins,” Webster said.
“It appears that Nova’s kill spot wasn’t in the ranch house, though we don’t know about the property yet. From what we do know, it’s possible that the kill spot may be in the Order’s compound, and someone dragged the pieces up north. Asnikov told us there were only four people other than Jupiter with access to the ranch—Venus, Bob, Pluto, and Nova, but he’s dead. If Asnikov’s correct, the three remaining gurus them must be regarded as suspects. Are you both with me?”
“Like army buddies in the trenches,” Martinez said.
Decker went on. “I’ll also have to interview the principals about Jupiter’s death because this arsenic business sheds a whole new light on the investigation. The warrants give us permission to do a complete search and seizure. Anything we turn up, we can bag. Tom, you search the laundry area—the sinks and washers—for bloody clothes. Then check the toilets, the bathtubs and the pipes for hair and bone fragments. Martinez, start on Nova’s room. You’ll need to do an exhaustive search, see if you can’t find something hidden. Lastly, we look for anything with arsenic in it. I’ll start by checking out the toolshed in the back area. I remember seeing rat poison there.”
Skull and crossbones.
“This is going to take time,” Webster said.
“Probably until late this morning,” Decker said. “Since you’ll be tied up, and Dunn and Oliver are in Central City, I’ve got to assign someone to the MP cases of Lyra and Andromeda.”
“What a mess!”
Decker thought, wasn’t that the truth!
As soon as the cars started pulling up to the compound, the three patrolling Dobermans responded with threatening barks. Decker got out of his unmarked and slammed the door shut. The others followed.
To the six uniformed officers, Decker said, “Take guarded positions in front of your vehicles, behind the doors with your guns drawn until I give you an all-clear sign. Then I want two of you on the north side, two on the south, and two in the rear. Remember to wait until I give you the signal before you leave your positions. Any questions?”
There were none.
“Go.”
Martinez pointed to the guard dogs. “What do we do about the alligators in the moat, Loo?”
No one could get anywhere near the open-barred gate, which, at the moment, was studded with sharp, Doberman teeth.
Webster asked, “You bring back any chickens, Loo? Maybe we can distract the critters.”
Decker wasn’t in the mood for wise-ass comments. His head throbbed and his annoyance was rapidly turning to anger.
Smirking, the guru said, “Looks like you have a problem, Lieutenant.”
Decker held his temper. “Call off your monsters.”
On home territory, Pluto was sure-footed. He responded in a huff. “They consider you the enemy. They’re only doing what we’ve trained them to do.”
“At this hour of the morning, this kind of barking is a legal nuisance—”
“So cite me.”
“Look, buddy. It’s two A.M. and I’ve got hours of work ahead of me. I’ve got all the necessary papers and you’re hanging me up. I’m a hairsbreadth away from arresting you for obstruction of justice.”
“Your fatigue is showing.” The little man was enjoying his mini-voyage of a power trip. “And you didn’t say please.”
Decker gnashed his teeth and took out the handcuffs.
“All right, all right,” Pluto said quickly. “No sense of humor.”
He stood in front of the outside gate and quieted the dogs.
Unlocking the deadbolt.
As soon as Pluto entered the grounds, the biggest of the three animals jumped on top of him and licked the venal face. The beast almost knocked him down.
Pluto didn’t feel amorous. “Get down, Dancer, right now!” He took hold of the animal’s choke chain and, with a sharp yank, brought her back down to all fours. He turned to Decker. “It’s all attitude, you know.”
“You’ve got thirty seconds to get the dogs squared away before I take action,” Decker said.
“I quake—”
“Twenty-five—”
“Come on, guys,” Pluto said, milking his time. “The Gestapos need to get in.”
Still holding Dancer by the collar, he ambled up to the front entrance with the other two beasts in tow.
Standing at the steel door, Pluto made a small, chunky shadow against a huge fortress backdrop. From Decker’s perspective, the compound, backlit by gray starlight, looked like an impenetrable bunker. Pluto had left the outside gate open and Decker had thought about following him onto the premises. But two of the dogs were still untethered. Better to lag behind until the beasts were out of sight.
Pluto punched numbers into a panel. A moment later, a loud buzz rang out and he pushed the front door open. He took a step inside.
As the little man crossed the threshold, two booming blasts rang out, crashing through the stillness of the night. As former veterans, Decker and Martinez instantly hit the ground just as Pluto was blown backward as if caught in a gust of wind. Instinctively, the two men pulled a stunned Webster down with them.
Thick streams of liquid were squirting from the little man’s chest and head. The guru fell, his skull cracking against the hard ground. Within a moment, a volley of return fire was unleashed as uniformed officers smoked up the air. It was answered by flashes of blinding hot light bursting forth from the compound’s door.
They were armed with automatics!
“Fuck!” Decker shouted as he covered his head with his arms. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Belly pressed to the ground, he screamed, “Hold your fire! Hold your fucking fire!”
A couple of staccato beats from the uniforms, then dead silence.
Caught in the crossfire, one of the dogs lay dead.
A second beast stabbed the air with its piercing howls.
Decker raised his smarting eyes, trying to ascertain what was out there through a cloud of gunfire smoke. Dancer, the third and biggest Doberman, was whimpering pathetically, licking Plu
to’s head as it gushed blood.
From the hot fumes of fire emerged a loud voice. An evil Wizard of Oz orating through the stench of gunpowder. “I never did like that man.”
The voice in the night.
Bob’s voice. He shouted, “Tell them to knock it off! We have kids in here.”
Decker’s head was spinning. “Hold your fire!” he shouted again.
An elongated silence.
All Decker could hear was his frantic breath. He whispered, “Everybody in one piece?”
“I’m all right,” Martinez whispered back.
“Tom—”
Webster was trembling so hard, he couldn’t move. At last, he felt his crotch. “One piece.”
More silence.
Then the voice again.
“You’re very pushy, Lieutenant! You’re like a fudge factor that can’t be resolved. You’re pissing me off!”
Decker managed to find his vocal cords. “It’s unintentional, Bob.”
“The road to hell is paved with good intentions. And that’s what you’ve got here, Lieutenant. One long road paved to hottest Hades.”
Another long period of silence. It was broken by the distant sounds of wailing sirens.
Bob screamed out, “You’d better call off your monsters, Decker! They start getting pushy, I’m not going to like it. Like I said, we have kids in here! And I know how much you and your buddies like kids!”
His gut churning, Decker screamed, “You hold your fire, Bob, we’ll hold ours! We don’t want anyone hurt.” He looked at Pluto’s lifeless body. The spewing had diminished to slow leaks and trickles. Blood-drained. “We don’t want any more people hurt.”
The sirens grew louder.
Decker shouted, “I’m going to crawl over to my cruisers, Bob. I’ve got to give my men some instructions…to prevent misunderstandings—”
“You’re not an animal, Decker!” Bob shouted. “You want to move, walk upright like a man! I want to see you!”
Martinez whispered, “He’s fucking nuts!”
Bob shouted, “Did you hear—”
“I heard you!” Decker shouted back. “I don’t think that would be a good idea, Bob!”
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