Delusional

by Terri Breneman

  “And God is telling him to kill people?” Johnnie said in disgust and lit another cigarette. “That is so wrong, on every imaginable level.”

  “So this is like someone hearing voices?” Vicky asked as she went to the bar refrigerator to get another Coke.

  “It’s a little different,” Toni explained. “Usually when you think of someone hearing voices it’s ‘demons’ telling people to hurt themselves or someone else.”

  “Unless you’re my sister,” Patty said, chuckling. “She’s always talking to dead people.”

  Toni laughed. “Yes, if you’re talking about a psychic or a medium, then there’s no mental illness, just a fabulous gift. However, other people who we sometimes think ‘hear voices’ might have multiple personality disorder, which is now called dissociative identity disorder. That’s a completely different thing. But with a person who is delusional, the voice is from a real person. I don’t mean someone is actually talking to them, but this person really exists. Or, for example, they believe that their neighbor is madly in love with them. In any case, they know who the person is, or they know it is God speaking to them. It’s not just some faceless demon urging them to do something.”

  “Are you talking about what I’ve read about delusions of grandeur?” Vicky asked. “People who think they’re the king of England or something?”

  A tiny gray flash of fur leapt over the coffee table barely missing Toni’s wineglass. Mr. Rupert appeared a moment later and sat his huge self in the center of the table. Toni rubbed his head. “Exactly. That’s one type of delusion. Of course it’s not a delusion if it’s true.”

  Vicky gave her a puzzled look.

  “For example, Mr. Rupert thinks he’s the king of the house. He’s not delusional because it’s true. That’s just one example. Something that could be true, but isn’t. Like you said, the king of England. There was a real king, or more than one, and there’s detailed information about them. A person who was delusional and thought he was the king would incorporate all of that information as though it were his own. A completely separate type of delusion would be a Martian or some type of alien.”

  “Unless, of course, there actually are aliens,” Vicky countered.

  “Good point,” Toni said with a grin.

  Little Tuffy jumped up next to Mr. Rupert and was greeted with a huge paw on top of his head. He quickly scampered into Boggs’s lap.

  “See? Even Little Tuffy knows Mr. Rupert is king, so that’s not a delusion.” Toni reached over and rubbed his huge head. He licked her hand then slowly walked over to Vicky and plopped down on her lap.

  “You are king,” Vicky said as she scratched his head. “Well, I don’t think we’ve gotten any closer to who this maniac is, but at least now I feel like I’ve got a better grip on things. A way to think about it at least. Thanks, you guys.”

  “I’ll check on the crazy people who have that Web site,” Johnnie said. “Just to make sure.”

  “And maybe you could check the FBI’s database to see if this M O has been used somewhere else in the country,” Toni suggested. “It’s possible he did this somewhere else.”

  “And I’ll see if there’ve been any assaults around here where the perp used a rock or left a Bible,” Patty said. “Maybe like you said, the guy started that way.”

  “I’m not very knowledgeable about crazy people,” Boggs said, “but I’m pretty good at searching the Internet and computer chat rooms. I’ll surf around and see if anyone is talking about stoning people.” She shrugged. “Unless you guys can think of something else for me to do.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Toni said, kissing her on the cheek. “My computer geek. And I’ll do some research on the mental health side. Maybe I can find something that’s useful.”

  “I guess that’s about all we can do until we get more info,” Vicky said. “How about some pink birthday cake? Is there any leftover?”

  “Absolutely,” Toni said. “And I’ll make us some coffee.”

  They ate and drank coffee for the next hour, chatting about a variety of topics, but there was a dark cloud hanging over them. If this guy is targeting gays, none of us is safe, Toni thought. She tried to put it out of her head, but the image of Maggie wouldn’t leave her. She could almost feel the absolute terror that girl went through in the last moments of her life. And it could happen to any of them at any time. Crazy people don’t follow the rules.

  Chapter 7

  The gang was once again gathered in the basement on Tuesday night, this time munching on sandwiches from Subs R Us. Johnnie was sitting at the bar with her laptop in front of her, clicking away with a cigarette hanging from her lips. Patty was sitting beside her with another laptop.

  “So what’s the latest?” Toni asked.

  Vicky finished chewing. “We’ve got three leads so far. The first two are from the autopsy on Maggie. The M.E. said she had massive levels of insulin in her body and that was the cause of death, not the blow to the head, although I’m sure that wasn’t helpful. Also, there was myrrh oil on her forehead.”

  “What the hell is that?” Johnnie tapped her cigarette on the ashtray.

  “No clue, except that the three wise men had it with them,” Vicky said. “I’m looking into that. And we got a partial plate from a guy who works at the convenience store behind our second vic. The last two are six, six, and it’s on an older model Ford van, dark in color. No other info. The guy said he saw it drive away from the apartment around ten thirty on Saturday night when he went to take out the trash.”

  “I got a printout from the DMV,” Patty said, “and there’s a crapload of possible matches.”

  “And the witness wasn’t positive,”Vicky added,“so that makes it even harder. But at least it’s a start.”

  “What about the autopsy for that second victim, John something?” Toni asked. “Are the tox reports back yet?”

  “Nope.” Vicky said. “I asked them to put a rush on it. And I checked with Maggie’s mom and she wasn’t a diabetic.”

  “So, that can kill you?” Toni set her sandwich on the coffee table and picked up her can of diet Mountain Dew. “The insulin?”

  “I called Claire and she said yes,” Vicky said. “She said it would depend on a few things like the health of the victim, their size and the amount of insulin. It could happen in a couple minutes or take up to thirty, but it would kill them.”

  “Oh, my, God,” Patty said quietly. “So she was alive for a while before he bashed her head in?”

  “Claire said a person would go unconscious very quickly after an injection, like within a minute or so,” Vicky said. “And the M.E. found a needle mark on her arm, so we’re pretty sure that’s how it was administered.”

  “Well, I guess that’s one positive thing,” Toni said.

  “What?” Patty’s eyes were big as she looked at Toni in disbelief.

  “I mean that it seems like he didn’t want her to really suffer,” Toni said. “He gave her something that knocked her out and then it killed her. The rock bit was the message, but not the cause of death. Do you know what I mean?”

  “Oh, okay. That makes sense,” Patty said, relaxing a bit. “I see what you’re saying. He wants to kill them to make his point and he does it in a certain way, but he’s not into torture.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Now it makes more sense to me,” Vicky said. “I kept looking at the crime scene photos. I knew something was wrong when I was at the scene, but I just couldn’t put my finger on it.”

  “What are you talking about?” Toni reached for her turkey club again.

  “There was hardly any blood,” Vicky said. “I should have known something other than the head injury killed her. Head wounds bleed like a mother. But if she was already dead, not so much. Especially if she was sitting up because gravity would be working against it.”

  “So that means that the killer would have had very little blood on them,” Boggs said. “There’s a good chance that we’re not looking f
or blood soaked clothing, but rather bloodstained clothing of the killer.”

  “That’s true. I’m guessing he might have been able to get out of there without any noticeable blood on him.” Vicky grabbed another Coke from behind the bar and looked at Johnnie’s laptop. “What are you looking for?”

  “I’m checking to see if there’s anything in the national database about any perps who used insulin as a way to kill.” Johnnie lit another cigarette. “This might help us narrow the field.”

  “Unless there was another obvious sign of death,” Vicky said. “I don’t know if they always run tox screens at an autopsy.”

  Toni nodded. “Especially if it’s someone like a prostitute or a homeless person, or for that matter, someone poor. Sadly, they’d probably just mark it as a homicide due to blunt force trauma and call it a day.”

  The room went silent. This guy knew exactly what he was doing, Toni thought. He was deliberate and precise, and probably very intelligent.And if he really was targeting gays,which seemed likely because of the rocks and the Bibles, then no one was safe. She looked around the room and shuddered at the thought that one of her dear friends could be next, or even Boggs. She scooted closer and linked her arm through Boggs’s arm.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Boggs whispered.

  Vicky’s phone rang. After several one-word responses, she snapped it shut. “That was the lab. Nothing from the shower drains in either place, but there was the same massive dose of insulin in our second guy. And myrrh oil.”

  “So where did our guy get the insulin?” Patty asked. “Do you think he’s a diabetic?”

  “Maybe,” Vicky said. “I guess we could use that as a cross reference with the plates and van.”

  “I don’t know,” Toni said. “If this guy is a diabetic himself, then how does he have the extra? But I have no idea of how much insulin a person uses per day.”

  “Me, either.” Vicky picked up her phone again. “I’ll call Claire.” She went over by the pool table to make her call while the others talked.

  “Have you found anything?” Toni asked Johnnie.

  “Nothing useful, but keep in mind we’ve only got info from larger cities. If this guy hit in small towns, we’re out of luck. A lot of places don’t share information with the feds. But most of the homicides I’ve found so far with insulin were done by family members. You know, wife pissed off at husband and does him in.” Johnnie leaned back in her barstool and sighed. “And nothing is coming up for the whole rock to the head thing.”

  Vicky returned to the couch. “Claire says to tell you all hello. Anyway, she said that the amount of insulin in the bodies would be about the amount a normal diabetic would use in a month. Two weeks for someone who is severe.”

  “So maybe this person is in the medical field,” Toni said. “Or at least has the ability to get the medicine?”

  “Like maybe a pharmacist?” Patty had turned in her barstool and had her notepad on her lap.

  “That would make sense,” Vicky said. “Or maybe a recent burglary of a pharmacy? Patty, see if you can track that down.”

  “I came up dry on the chat rooms last night,” Boggs said, opening a fresh beer. “Ninety percent of my search results were about getting stoned, as in drugs.” She chuckled. “And there were a few places that were religious based, but mostly it was just quoting old scriptures. Nothing that seemed relevant.”

  “And there’s nothing about any of this on that asinine church Web site,” Johnnie added. “It talked mostly about protesting funerals and some hideous things about that young boy who was killed by his classmate. I think Toni was right. If this place was involved, you’d think they’d at least be glorifying the whole damn thing.”

  “Can’t you guys shut that thing down?” Patty asked.

  “Free speech and all,” Toni said. “As disgusting as it is, we all have First Amendment rights.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Vicky said. “Lord knows we must protect everyone’s rights. So, what kind of person are we looking for?”

  “Well,” Toni said, “this is a tough one. It doesn’t seem like your normal serial killer, but I’d say we’re definitely looking for a man over the age of thirty-five. And that’s just based on statistics. And based on what you’ve told me so far, I’d say he was pretty intelligent.”

  Patty was writing on her legal pad. “And do you think he’s kind of a social outcast? Like a really smart nerd kind of guy?”

  “Again, hard to say. Many serial killers are very personable, like Ted Bundy for example,” Toni explained. “But the whole stoning and Bible thing takes this to a different level. I’d guess if a neighbor were to describe our killer, they’d say he was quiet, nice and very religious. He’d probably offer to help shovel an old lady’s driveway. And I’m thinking he’s rather zealous about his beliefs, which he may or may not share with others, so that might not help us. For example, he’s probably old school, which means he would look down upon couples living together who aren’t married, prostitutes, gambling, and of course gays. But he might not be openly adamant about it.”

  “That could be anyone,” Patty said.

  “Sounds like my Uncle Herman,” Vicky added.

  Toni nodded in agreement. “True, he could be just about anyone, and that’s what makes this whole thing so scary. You read about people who knew a killer and they say that they never would have believed it. He was such a nice man, or he was the Boy Scout leader or something. But let’s say for argument’s sake that this guy is delusional and not the normal serial killer,” Toni continued. “If he’s been that way for a long time, he’s probably been under the care of a psychologist or psychiatrist. And that would mean he’s been on meds. So maybe now he’s gone off his meds.”

  “What about someone who’s never seen a therapist?” Johnnie said.

  “Well, this is just a guess,” Toni said, “but I’m thinking if this guy has been delusional for years, people know about him. It would be hard not to. Maybe I can call my old therapist friends and see what they know.”

  “So if this guy’s been crazy for years, someone knows about it,” Vicky said. “At least maybe his neighbors?”

  “I’d think so,” Toni said. “Probably some of the beat cops too.”

  “That makes sense to me,” Patty said. “When I was on patrol there were a few guys that I knew who were nuts. They hung around the train tracks on the west side. They were always talking to themselves, or to some invisible person, waving their arms around. All the cops knew them.”

  “But here’s another possibility,” Toni said. “Maybe this guy has been fairly normal for his entire life, but then something happened. And when I say normal, I mean he’s not psychotic or actively nuts. Not the kind of guy Patty was talking about.”

  Vicky laughed. “Thanks for the technical psycho jargon. I suppose actively nuts is a real diagnosis.”

  “Absolutely. And I’m glad to help educate you all on the intricacies of mental illness.” Toni snickered and took another drink of her soda. “Anyway, there could have been some type of traumatic event that triggered this condition.”

  “You mean like a car accident and his wife and kids were killed?” Boggs said.

  “Exactly,” Toni said. “If we go on the premise that our guy was very religious from the get-go, then something awful happens that caused him to question his faith. If he’d had some mental health issues in the past, that could be enough to trigger a delusional state. In this case, maybe he now thinks that God is speaking directly to him and he’s somehow rationalized the death of his family. The delusion now gives him purpose in his life again.”

  “Wow.” Patty was scribbling down notes on her pad. “The human brain is amazing.”

  “I know!” Toni was animated, as was usual for her when she talked about mental illness or the brain.“It’s such a powerful thing when a person is healthy, let alone how it copes with tragedy, just so that a person can survive. Like multiples for example.”

  “Are
those real?” Johnnie asked. “It always seemed so farfetched to me, but I’m a skeptic.”

  “I was too,” Toni replied. “Until I actually worked with one. Me and a co-therapist.”

  “You worked with a split personality person?” Patty seemed intrigued.

  “Watch out, Patty,” Boggs said, laughing. “Toni hates when people use that term.”

  Patty looked apologetic. “Sorry, Toni. Did I say something wrong?”

  “No,” Toni said, smiling. “It’s just a common misperception. Most people use it when they talk about schizophrenics. The word schizophrenic actually means split thoughts or thinking, which means that a schizophrenic has difficulty distinguishing between what’s real and what’s in their head. It has nothing to do with two personalities.”

  “Tell us about the multiple,” Vicky said. “I’ve been curious since you mentioned it on Sunday.”

  “Now they call it dissociative identity disorder,” Toni said. “The majority of these folks were severely sexually abused as children and almost all of them are women. And when I say severe, I mean horrific abuse beginning when they’re toddlers or even younger. And abuse like being forced into a child sex ring where they are passed around to several different adults.” She shuddered. Some of the accounts of abuse given by her clients still made her angry. How people could do these things to children was still hard to fathom, although she understood it in a clinical sense.

  “Anyway, in very basic terms,” she continued, “what happens to these kids is that the trauma is so intense that the brain literally creates another personality to cope with the event. It’s just too much to handle, and in essence, the brain does this to survive. Then more abuse and more abuse…and other personalities appear. Each one takes on certain responsibilities and is very different from the one before. I worked with a person who had forty-six distinct personalities.”

  “Holy crap,” Patty said.

  “The birth personality usually isn’t aware of the others,” Toni continued. “They usually seek therapy because they are missing time.”