Deceitful Moon

by Rick Murcer

  The .22 that had been used to kill Dana Gary’s fiancé and Kathy Ross was not the same gun that had been used in three of the mutilation murders. That one weapon was still missing. The other two victims and Gavin had been shot with Mike Crosby’s handgun, the one Stella had taken from the family safe. The victimology tying the five victims together had been hard to put together, until they’d dug deeper. The three degenerates’ histories were a matter of public record, but Morgan and Becker hadn’t had any such record . . . until the crime lab played the DVD that Alex had taken from Evelyn’s car. The disc revealed that both men had unsavory appetites for underage girls. Alex wasn’t sure how Evelyn got the footage, but it could have been staged to see if the men would take the bait. They had.

  Manny sat at his desk, hands cradling his chin, reading more reports, and then felt the impulse to look out the window. The sun was setting on the last Saturday in September, and it was beautiful. Not like the last six days had been. Not at all.

  Gavin was still embedded deeply in his coma. His son Mike had somewhat recovered from the truth about his mom and had grown a different set of priorities, namely not leaving his dad’s side. He’d begun the tough journey to recovering from Stella’s death, as much as could be expected, and now was going to be there for his dad. Nice to see.

  Josh, Chloe, and Max were getting ready to leave. Josh’s boss had decided that it was time for them to get back and on to something else. Josh had reluctantly agreed. Things had settled to a dull roar, and there was no telling where Argyle was. So until he surfaced—and they knew he would show again—it was time for the Feds to go. Manny felt his people could handle things from here on out. Besides, he had a couple of new contacts, including the head of the ERT department in Detroit. He’d use them if he had to.

  Sophie interrupted his thoughts. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “The sky.”

  “Smartass.”

  “Seriously, the sunset is beautiful.”

  “Yeah, okay. Anything about Argyle on the wire?”

  Manny shook his head. “No. No e-mail updates either. I did get an e-mail that offered me a new bra if I had trouble finding double D sizes. Does that count as an update?”

  “Great! Forward that to me. My boobs are going to get real big, real soon.”

  “You’re lost, you know that?”

  “Yes, yes I do. But that’s why I need you around.”

  She moved to the corner of the desk and sat down. “How are Louise and Jenny doing? This police protection thing has got to be getting old.”

  “They’re doing just fine. They know it’s for their own good. And I promised no more than a nine-hour work day.”

  “Damn. You’re going to need drugs to get used to that.”

  He smiled. “I know where to get them if I do.”

  Josh walked around the corner, followed by Chloe and Max, travel bags—all the same dark-blue FBI-issue—over their shoulders.

  “So did you all go shopping at the same travel store?”

  “Hey. I know it looks weird, but free is free. Besides, the department got a good deal on them,” smiled Josh.

  Manny reached his hand out to him.

  The agent’s grip was pure, strong. “I’ll be in touch. I know this week was mean, but I want you to consider my job offer.”

  “Thanks for all of your help, and I’m not sliding anything off the plate right now. We’ll talk,” said Manny.

  He shook Max’s hand and Chloe’s next. She had great hands too. He moved on a split-second later. “Good seeing you again Max, and good working with you, Chloe.”

  “Thanks Manny,” responded Max.

  Chloe grinned. “The pleasure was mine. Call me if you need help with some profiling, or anything else.”

  He hoped no one else saw the tiny wink.

  “To heck with the handshake.” Sophie grabbed Josh and hugged him. Then stepped back. “Been wanting to do that. And what Chloe said: if you need anything, and I mean anything, call me.”

  Josh grinned. “I’ll be sure to remember that, Asian Fox.”

  The Feds walked out, and Sophie elbowed Manny. “Did you hear that? He wants me.”

  “That might be news to his wife.”

  “I won’t tell.” Sophie leaned against the desk again, turning serious. “Are you thinking of taking that Fed gig? Because if you are, I’m not sure—”

  “Wait,” Manny interrupted. The emotion on her face was more than she usually allowed. “I’m more concerned with my family, my cop family included, to think about that now. Let’s just see how the next few weeks or so play out with Gavin, this investigation, and Argyle. But I won’t lie. If I think the best thing for Jen and Louise is to get out of Lansing, we’re gone.”

  “I get that, of course, just realize that I’m coming with you, got it?”

  He started to grin and then realized she wasn’t kidding. “I got it.”

  Alex came in, brow knitted in a hard V. “Got what?”

  “It’s a secret, and we ain’t talking,” said Sophie, folding her arms.

  “Rumor has it that you won’t be able to do that after Christmas.”

  “Do what?”

  “Cross your arms. Your boobs will be too big.”

  “Yeah. Maybe. But you won’t get to see ‘em.”

  “Thank God. Anyway, I came in here for a reason.”

  “What reason?” asked Manny.

  “You know that number we’ve been trying to reach on that fourth cell phone?”

  “Yes. In fact, I’ve got it memorized.”

  “Somebody answered it about five minutes ago.”

  Chapter-68

  Penny reached into her purse and plucked the phone from the inside pocket as she wheeled up to the STOP sign. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello.”

  The static was intense, then abruptly cleared. “Hi. Who is this?”

  She froze. The voice on the other end was familiar.

  But why was she calling me?

  Penny pulled the phone from her ear and swore. In her haste, she’d answered the wrong phone.

  Damn it.

  She quickly hung up, resting her forehead on the leather steering wheel. That was close. She’d almost given away everything. And she’d worked too hard for that. Maybe loved too hard was the better statement. She’d protected the man she loved and would do it all over again.

  If she were caught, no one would ever understand how things were for her because of him. How could anyone comprehend?

  The horn honked impatiently behind her. She exhaled and drove through the intersection. No worries. She had a good teacher.

  Chapter-69

  “Someone answered? Who? Where?” Manny rifled questions at Alex.

  “Let’s see. Don’t know. And we’ll find out, but it may not be until Monday.”

  Alex shifted his feet, a mannerism Manny knew well. It indicated Alex was going to talk . . . maybe a lot.

  “Buzzy came in for a few hours and had the number sitting on her workstation. She decided to call it and a woman answered. The woman said something you don’t hear in church, then hung up. Buzzy had no idea who she was, but it was definitely a woman.”

  “That makes sense, but why would she answer the phone?” asked Manny.

  “Buzzy thinks she caught her by surprise.”

  “Say you’re right. Why would she still have that phone?” asked Sophie.

  “It might represent some kind of important event for her, similar to a milestone or an accomplishment. It could even possess some kind of talisman or good-luck charm,” answered Manny.

  “She thinks she’s invincible as long as she has it?” scowled Alex.

  Manny shrugged. “Who knows for sure? It might even symbolize the defeat of an enemy. Kind of like scalps to Native American tribes or headhunters taking the head of their conquered enemies.”

  “So she kills three members of this idiot club and hangs onto the phone as a keepsake?” asked Sophie. “Man. I thought I was screwed up.�
��

  “You are,” said Alex. “There is another possibility.”

  “That there might be another member of the group?” asked Manny. “I don’t see it. It really pushed the psychological dynamics of the group to have more than three. Five is out of the realm of any killing group I’ve ever studied. Too many character differences and chances are high that there will be more than one alpha type in a group that size. Besides, it doesn’t feel like that.”

  “So your feelings seal the deal?” asked Alex.

  He knew how Alex felt about intuition, especially given that science was his life. But there was no escaping history. “When was the last time one of my ‘feelings’ was wrong?”

  “I know. But I don’t think it’s a feeling at all. I think you subconsciously gather information, piece it together, draw the most logical conclusion, and call it a feeling.”

  “You know that nonbelievers will end up in hell, right?” said Sophie.

  “Yeah, Yeah. So I’ve been told.”

  “You said we’d have to wait on the tower info. Why?” said Manny.

  “We can’t get the records until then. They will still be able to triangulate the location by the strength of signal from tower to tower, but we won’t be able to get the subpoena until Monday.”

  “That kind of sucks, what if—”

  His phone rang, it was Louise. He snatched the handset from the cradle. “Hey. Is everything alright?”

  “Yeah, we’re fine. Well, sort of.”

  “What’s up?”

  There was a quiet, almost pleading silence that was beginning to make him a little nervous.

  “I don’t know how to say this any other way, so I’ll let it go with both barrels. I’m staring at the tickets we have for the Tiger game tomorrow, and I think I want to go. So does Jen.”

  “Louise. I don’t think that’s a great idea. I mean—”

  “I know. I know. The son of a bitch is still out there, but he won’t know where we are, right?”

  “It’s not a good idea. There are too many things that could go wrong.”

  “I’m not stupid. I know that. But you’ll be with us and—”

  Manny heard (maybe felt was a better word) her emotion well up and knew that she was trying to hold back the tears.

  “I really need this. He took my normal life away and replaced it with fear. I can’t beat that fear on my own. I need to get back to normal. I need this . . . please.”

  How could he say no to that? Besides, maybe he needed i, too. Maybe this is where beating Argyle started. “Okay. You’re right. Let’s do it.”

  “Thank you. I’ll see you for dinner and . . . I love you.”

  She hung up.

  Manny sat down and tapped the computer mouse. No new messages. No update on Argyle. No new homicides. No more leads to chase, for now. Hell, no more spam telling him how much he needed to grow his manhood and how big it could get. He clicked the calendar and Sunday began to pulse. The Tiger game notification came to life.

  Must be an omen.

  “You know. I’ve got Tiger tickets for Jen, Louise, and me for tomorrow, and we’re going.”

  Sophie punched him on the shoulder. “Is that wise?”

  “Probably not, but Louise really needs to take a stab at getting back to normal. I think all three of us do.”

  “Do you want any security?”

  “No!” He turned to both of his friends. “We’re going as a normal family. Understand? I can take care of them.”

  His two friends scoured the floor like scolded children. He threw up his hands. “But I guess I can’t do anything about you two going to the game, now can I?”

  Alex grinned. “You know, Barb’s never been to Comerica Park.”

  “Neither has Randy,” said Sophie. “He loves cotton candy and beer.”

  “Just keep yourselves out of sight. Just in case. And I mean it.”

  “Yes sir. Damn,” said Sophie. “Grouchy old bastard.”

  “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” he grinned. “Now. I’m going to stop by and see Gavin and Mike and then go home to tell the women in my life about tomorrow’s plans.”

  Manny turned off his computer and walked out the door. His pulse raced with the prospect of just the three of them, together at Comerica Park in Detroit, eating hotdogs, buying souvenirs, and laughing like families do.

  At that moment in time, things seemed right . . . perfect, in fact.

  But in less than thirty world-shattering hours, his life would change forever.

  Chapter-70

  “Did you get the tickets?” asked Louise.

  “Yes ma’am. I took them off the refrigerator magnet clip thing and put them in my billfold.”

  Louise was dressed in a Magglio Ordonez jersey and white shorts, Jen in a Brandon Inge tee-shirt and jeans. She liked Inge because he was hot, not caring what position he played.

  He tugged at the blue and orange cap lettered with the Old English “D.” It traveled with him every time he’d gone to a game in the last few years. He had even taken it on the cruise in June. Nothing like familiarity to breed comfort.

  “Let’s get this show on the road. We might even get to see some batting practice,” said Louise.

  “And just how tight the players’ pants are,” grinned Jen.

  “Well, that too,” agreed Louise.

  “You two have been hanging out with Sophie too much.” He grabbed the keys off the microwave and headed for the front door. “Okay, you perverts, in the car. We’re out of here.”

  Louise turned to Sampson. “Watch the house, big dog.”

  Sampson did the patented three turns and stretched out on the floor.

  Manny shook his head, “I guess he’s got it covered.”

  They hustled out the door, waved at the unmarked car across the street, and zoomed off to the land of Major League Baseball.

  An hour and a half later, they were seated behind the third-base dugout, four rows up, and cheering with the rest of the other 30,000 fans.

  Looking around, he noticed every type, every color, and every size person one could imagine. Families, excitement radiating from each face; men laughing and drinking with their friends; women giggling with their daughters; grandparents pointing things out to wide-eyed grandchildren. Amazing.

  The cares of their private world had become just some hazy recollection that reality wouldn’t reveal until they all returned home. For now, the pure ambiance of a baseball game, America’s pastime, was sufficient to send folks halfway up the steps of Heaven. He wasn’t sure why a game like baseball had that kind of mystic effect on the masses, but he was glad it did. Maybe it was the smell of freshly mown grass or the intoxicating aroma of a well-grilled Italian sausage. Whatever it was, the game experience was akin to a family reunion on a nuclear scale.

  The umpires came out, the Tigers ran onto the field, and Jen slipped her hand into his and squeezed. The perfect day had begun.

  The game was a slaughter. Detroit hit three home runs in the first inning, and the rout was on. By the time the seventh inning ended, the Tigers were up 16-0, a perfect score as far as Manny was concerned.

  Louise stood. “I’m going to the powder room.”

  “Me too,” said Jen.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No. Just stay here. We’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Hey. You can’t go in with us anyway.”

  He pondered the edge in Louise’s voice. She was telling him to leave the cop thing out of this. No reminders of Argyle or any other case allowed.

  Damn workaholic demon.

  No-brainer here. “Okay. Hurry back. We still have two more innings to go.”

  The girls left. He watched until they were out of sight, fighting an irresistible urge to follow. He waited three minutes, then stood up, craning his neck to see if they were on their way back. He knew it wasn’t nearly enough time, especially to get through the line in the women’s restroom,
but his anxiety was winning the battle.

  He glanced back to the field as the crowd cheered a great play and then was suddenly hurtling in midair over the empty seats in front of him. The sharp blow to his back registered as he landed on the seat’s armrest full on his left ribs, while his arm and thigh tangled with the underbelly of the seat. The pain caused him to see red, but adrenaline pulsed through his body as he struggled to free himself.

  A burly man two seats over helped him to his feet. “You okay?” he rumbled.

  The pain in his side was brilliant, but Manny was already searching for the source of the blow that had sent him reeling.

  Ten rows from the top, he saw him. The tall man in the Panama hat and white suit was taking the steps two at a time.

  He’d recognize the man’s build anywhere.

  Argyle.

  Chapter-71

  Manny rushed up the steps holding his ribs and trying to catch his breath. The pain was intense, but he didn’t care. Argyle was all that he saw. He reached the top of the concrete stairs, clutching the handrail, and scanned the direction he thought Argyle had gone. Nothing. He turned the other way and saw the hat, as Argyle disappeared around the curve of the concourse. Manny raced another twenty steps and bent over, pain and labored breathing causing bright motes of flashing lights to dance in front of his eyes.