Perfect Sinners

by Rick Murcer

  “We can make this in fifteen,” said Brice. “So what did Aaron say?”

  “Do you know who Amanda Blunt is?” she asked.

  “I do. She’s loaded and gives away lots of bucks to charity. What I’d call a philanthropist, I’d guess. Not bad on the eyes either, for being a little older.”

  “Older? She’s only about forty or so,” said Ellen.

  “Yeah, but looks a little older. From what I’ve seen. But she’s not out in the public a ton. One of the blues I used to work with was on a security detail for her and got wind that she would rather not be in the public eye. She likes her privacy. Anyway, why do you ask?”

  “It seems she’s the biological brother of Henry James Hardy, our killer.”

  She felt as much as saw Brice’s eyebrows rise. “Really? Someone with that kind of resources has a serial killer brother?”

  “Let’s talk about that in a second. I’m getting the full report from Aaron, but apparently she’s got a past of her own, including a record for prostitution and drug involvement.”

  “Amanda Blunt has that on her record?” asked Brice. “This gets weirder and weirder.”

  “Hey, we all have something. It’s just that this connection came out of nowhere and we still don’t know what’s going on with The Father, who was really close to Henry. I have some questions that I’d like him to answer, too. But for now, I’d settle on questions for Amanda Blunt and the mayor.”

  “I can think of a few, as well. You start,” said Brice, passing a slow-moving, black van.

  “First off, if you had a brother who was the sick bastard Henry was, and had Amanda’s money, wouldn’t you know what he was? You wouldn’t run the risk that he might taint your image, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t, but I’m not Amanda. Having said that, my guess is that she knew.”

  “So operating on that assumption, and I hate that word, wouldn’t you have kept close tabs on him and made sure he didn’t partake in his obsession?”

  “Again, yes. So enter The Father?”

  “Yep. What would be a better place to keep tabs on Henry than at a mission like that with a man that is apparently of good reputation. You know, keeping him on the straight and narrow.”

  “Make’s sense. But something went wrong and Henry gets loose, right?”

  Ellen frowned. “Did it? Does Henry just get loose here? Did his urges get the best of him or was there something else? And where was The Father when Henry was killing these seven people?”

  She tugged at her earring. If Ellen knew one thing it was never to let an alcoholic work as a bartender. Given the type of people that might frequent a mission in that neighborhood, putting Henry in an environment that many serial killers only prayed for, wasn’t wise on any level.

  “I don’t know. Leaving him there doesn’t make a ton of sense when we say it out loud. Maybe Amanda can tell us,” she answered. “We’ll ask her. Speaking of The Father, has he been located?”

  Brice shook his head. “I was to be notified. I haven’t heard from the research department, either.”

  “Regarding the Mission and The Father?”

  “Yes. They were to dig into everything they could find regarding the Mission, The Father, and that congregation. Financials, landlord, history of ownership, anything.”

  “The ID of The Father too?”

  “Certainly. But that may be harder than we think. Sometimes real names and places get jumbled when someone becomes known as some iconic handle. Like Kid Rock or Ice Tea. It’ll take some digging, but we have some techies who get their jollies cracking that kind of thing.”

  “So is this what a real detective-like investigation feels like? All of these bits and pieces coming together to create more questions, knowing that the truth is in there somewhere?”

  “It does. Hopefully it works. Sometimes you think you have everything you need and then boom, you can’t make anything stand up without more proof. We have a bunch of circumstantial facts all the way from the crosses on the victims to Henry’s sister being a pillar of the Chicago community, including the mayor’s stationery used for a handwritten note to hurt me or maybe Bella, if she were in my shoes and I in hers.”

  “It’s still a puzzle then,” said Ellen softly. “Not like the lab research.”

  “Yep. Speaking of Bella, have you heard from Big Harv or her?”

  “No. We’ve already got Henry, thanks to Beaux, so they must be headed up to Winnetka too. I wouldn’t think Bella would ignore the directive for her precinct.”

  “She wouldn’t. Still, it seems like they would have called one of us,” said Ellen. “And, how would they know we had Henry? I didn’t tell them. I didn’t even think about it.”

  “Me either. Maybe one of the other detectives alerted the department. That’s normal when a suspect is apprehended.”

  “Even if you said to keep radio silence?”

  He sighed. “I’d hope not, but maybe. It could have been Adam before he tried to shoot me.”

  “To what end? Would he have been trying to alert someone else?”

  “I don’t know Ellie. What are you saying? If we have one dirty cop, there could be more?”

  “Maybe. This case is convoluted with a hundred fingers it seems. I’m going to call them.”

  Ellen picked up her phone and hit Big Harv’s quick dial icon turning on her speaker so Brice could hear.

  She waited.

  “Ellie.”

  She exhaled, relief her new friend. “Dad. Where are you?”

  “We’re almost to the mansion in Winnetka.”

  “Why didn’t you call us with an update?”

  “Something came up. Besides, it was all over the news that Henry had been captured. One network even had pictures of Henry.”

  Ellen felt surprise, then tempered it. In this day and age of technology and the idea that nothing was sacred, why should she be surprised? There was nothing off limits. Still, that fact was disturbing.

  “And yes, I think that fact smells like three-day-old fish,” said Big Harv.

  “Damn it,” said Brice. “Another thing to unwind when we can.”

  “What else is new? What else came up?” asked Ellen.

  “Where are you?” asked Big Harv.

  “Almost to the mansion.”

  “We’re a couple of miles away and I’ll tell you when you get there,” said Big Harv, more grit in his voice than normal.

  “Dad. What’s up?” she asked.

  “What isn’t? We have to see someone, quickly. See you there.” Big Harv hung up.

  Brice’s hand touched her thigh as he pushed the cruiser even harder.

  “We better beat him there. He didn’t sound happy.”

  Ellen knew Brice was right. What she didn’t know was why.

  It had always been her father’s way to not tell her anything he thought would make her worry.

  Too late on that score. She put her hand on top of Brice’s.

  “Get us there.”

  CHAPTER-58

  “Just sit your asses down. We need to stay put until we get the word.”

  Raymond waved his hand to his crew to emphasize his point.

  “I hate this shit, Ray. You know we all do. Sitting in the back of a warehouse without enough room to fart without someone hearing it ain’t what we signed up for,” said his right-hand man, Mario Smith.

  Mario loved the gym almost as much as his dope and alcohol. His large frame proved that. But he lacked a certain essence. He wasn’t going to win any intellectual awards soon. He was good at following orders, though. Like MCing that little performance in the mansion. But he had to do what he was told now. This last time.

  “I don’t like it either, but we got away with a haul that will set us up better than that damn drug business we’ve been running on the south side. A lot safer too. So we have to wait for the word to move. Got it?”

  The big man released an impatient sigh. “Yeah. How long do we wait? It makes us all nervous to be in
one spot like this.”

  There were a few ‘damn rights’ and ‘preach it’ from the other eighteen people in the dank, musty room, but Raymond knew they were safe for now.

  “Until it’s time to go. I’ll get the word on the other end, then we’ll head back to the office and settle up. Or you can all leave, get busted, and never see one penny of this money. It’s up to you.”

  He stepped closer to two of the men who had spoken loudest and racked his weapon. “Of course, if you pick that option, I’ll blow a hole in each of your heads for risking getting the rest of us a long vacation in a Federal penitentiary. Any takers?”

  The room quieted under his words and that look Henry had always said scared him. Imagine that. A look that scared a sick-bitch murderer like Henry.

  No one came forward.

  “I didn’t think so. Just do what you’re told and we’ll be fine.”

  He walked back to the front of the room and sat down on a hard, wooden chair.

  Henry.

  He had given him some extra time and a chance to get out of town with the extra money Amanda had set up for him. But Raymond knew his friend, if that was the right term, and he suspected Henry would never make it out of Chicago. Especially given his unwillingness to let things go and move on.

  The cops, especially that woman, Harper, had made Henry uncomfortable. He could see the way he was moving his feet when she had asked her questions before the shooting had started. Henry wasn’t coping well with her.

  Henry hated uncomfortable and submissive. His controlling personality in those situations couldn’t stand that emotion. Henry would try to right that wrong and probably get himself killed. Or better yet, in Henry’s eyes, use that cyanide patch on his back. He would die the martyr that he thought his God was going to make him.

  Raymond shifted in the chair. If that had happened, and somehow, deep inside, he thought maybe it would or had, then the run that he and Henry and Amanda had enjoyed would be over. That would be okay with him. Her ambition was going to drive her until, someday, maybe twenty years down the road, it would bring her down or kill her. He had no such ambition. After this gig in Chicago, the one in Las Vegas, and even Detroit, he had more money than he needed to live out his life in style.

  That made him smile. He’d always liked the Caribbean. Warm breezes, the smell of the ocean, and a drink in his hand would be all he’d need, ever. He’d had enough of the killing, the drugs, and taking orders. Even though the three of them had been partners, in a true sense, Amanda ran things with an iron fist. He wouldn’t miss that.

  The sudden knock on the door startled him away from his thoughts.

  He stood and moved toward it.

  One more rodeo and he was done. He could taste the margarita already.

  Sliding back the small panel, he saw the cop, Frank Brown, standing there, hands on his hips.

  “Come on Raymond. It’s time to go. We’ve got our orders and the new meeting place,” he growled. “We don’t have all damned night, so let’s move.”

  Five minutes later, his crew was loaded into two oversized vans.

  Mario climbed into the driver’s seat in the one on the left. He got into the other.

  Brown moved to the window. “Use the GPS to get to the next location.”

  “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know. Just following orders. Just get going.”

  Raymond felt an urge to shoot Brown because he’d never liked him, not from day one. But Amanda said people serve a purpose until that was over, then they didn’t. The woman hated loose ends and he got that. He wished Frank Brown were a loose end he could take care of.

  Shifting the van into drive, he began to pull out onto the side street when he heard it. He wasn’t sure what he was hearing at first. Then there was no mistaking the source of the noise as it crescendoed.

  He stared into his rearview mirror and saw nothing but daylight as the flames of blazing guns from cops surrounding the other van fired their weapons. Frank Brown lay on the ground beside the van, covered in blood.

  The first salvo hit the front of the van as the people in his van screamed.

  He tried to gun the accelerator but the engine had stopped, a victim of untold bullets. It was too late to try any escape as the sound of metal and flesh being torn to pieces was all that filled his head.

  He felt the first two bullets, then almost nothing after that.

  As he slumped over the wheel of the vehicle, it occurred to him that Amanda had remained true to herself.

  No loose ends, ever.

  Raymond then drifted into the awaiting unknown.

  CHAPTER-59

  Ellen looked at the semi-circle of cops and friends, including her dad, that formed around her and Brice. She was used to the other FTs in the lab looking to her for direction, the next step, but this was an entirely different ballgame. Good thing that Brice and Big Harv and Bella had been here before. It was always good to have people like that to lean on. Then again, she felt a certain calmness about this situation.

  “Everyone clear on what the facts are here?” asked Brice.

  “Let me give this a shot,” said Aaron. “We’ve got a serial killer whose sister is a top Chicago philanthropist, a cop who wanted to shoot the lead detective in that serial killer investigation because he and his family were threatened by some well-oiled crime group and they made him do it for a reason we don’t get. Then we have a twenty-year detective giving said serial killer a bundle of money from a fake CPD cruiser for another unknown reason. Throw in cops being shot at and one killed to help that serial killer get away from other cops. Then we have a religious leader who specializes in helping drug addicts clean up their lives and is a friend of that serial killer, but ran when the serial killer ran and has yet to be found so we can ask him why he ran. Does that cover it?”

  Ellen shook her head. It did and didn’t, but her partner had captured the essence of why they were all together. “You forgot the murders in this mansion that brought all of those facts, and consequently, all of us, here. But yeah, you got it,” she added. “Now we have to find out where all that is leading. These mansion murders might be the key.”

  “I think that’s true. Six deaths related to the political society of Chicago is no coincidence. Again, to what end was all of this death?” asked Brice.

  “That’s why we need to talk to as many people that were inside that house as we can. They may shed some light on what happened. But the mayor and Miss Blunt seem like the source we need to interview,” said Ellen.

  “They don’t have to talk to us, though,” said Big Harv. “I’ve been down that road a time or two.”

  “So we have people who could help this investigation but don’t have to?” said Bella.

  “Not without warrants and subpoenas,” said Brice.

  “I don’t know about this crap. Just send me back to the lab. This all makes my head hurt,” answered Aaron.

  “I get that. Soon enough,” said Ellen. “But now we have to find out what’s going on without giving away what we know.”

  “You can’t make this shit up,” said Big Harv, shaking his head.

  “I agree with the old man on that, so what’s next?” asked Bella.

  “We can’t just rush in and accost the mayor, Amanda Blunt, or, for that matter, Frank Brown,” said Ellen. “We’re still cops and due process is still the way the law says we do what we do.”

  “So we can’t afford to screw anything up procedurally,” said Brice.

  “That part’s true,” said Ellen. “And we want cooperation and not hostile interview situations.”

  Ellen took in the expanse of the mansion, including the hustle and bustle at the front stoop between the four pillars.

  There had to be seventy-five cops mulling around in the area. No telling how many more were inside. She almost felt like her and her people were outsiders because of what they knew, or at least what they thought they knew. That alone made it difficult to know who to trust.
>
  The last hour included a lot more detail than Aaron had mentioned. Even if they did everything right, they were going to have their hands full, and what they could do still might not be enough.

  Brice touched her hand. “I think you’re on the right path here. Tell us what you think we should do.”

  “That’s not my role here. You detective types should be telling the rest of us how to go forward,” answered Ellen, that little flutter of excitement stirring.

  “I think Brice’s is right. You’re seeing this picture well. Give it a shot,” said Big Harv.

  “I agree,” said Bella. “You’re thinking like an FT and a detective.”

  Ellen searched the faces of people around her, exhaled, and began. “Alright. The way I see it is that we have four areas to address, probably five, now that I say that. This is what I think should happen here. Aaron, I want you to go inside and see what you can pick up from the FT crews working the scene. Take your bag and simply say you were delayed.”

  “What am I looking for?” he asked.

  “Physical evidence, as always. But we know that FTs gossip as much as anyone, so listen up. You never know what might help. Turn on that charm and read between the lines. Then meet back here in an hour or so.”

  He saluted in a way that reminded her of Agent Sophie Lee. “Can do. I’m on my way. And God in heaven, I hope they have some food.”

  Aaron hurried away, leather case in hand.

  She turned to Big Harv, hesitating before she spoke. He looked as good as she’d seen him look in months. There was more color in his face. She suspected that just being in the middle of something like this bizarre set of circumstances brought him back to life. It would her.

  “Dad. You can’t be too obvious and let the wrong people, you know, the officers that are stickler for regulations, see you poking around. But you have friends here. Friends that don’t like Brown either. They might know something more than what you’ve seen tonight. You’ve always told me you can’t have too much evidence in any case. If Frank Brown is that dirty and hooked up in this whole thing, then we’re going to need as much information as we can muster.”