hand who stills the rabble and swarm.
“Who would do this?” I pressed. “Tell me, Weiscz.” He knew I knew he knew. Someone he had shared a cell with.
Someone he had traded histories with in a prison yard.
'Help me, Weiscz. Someone you know is killing these people. You've got nothing to gain anymore.
His eyes lit up with a sudden fury. “You think I give a shit about your dead niggers? Your dead cops? Soon the state will be gathering them up anyway. Putting them in pens. A twelve-year-old nigger whore, some monkeys dressed up as cops. I only wish it was my finger on the trigger. We both know, whatever I say to you, I'll never get as much as a second meal out of these bastards. The minute you leave, Labont's gonna stun me anyway. There's a better chance you'll suck my dick.”
I shook my head, stood up, and motioned for the door.
“Maybe one of your own assholes has come to his senses,” he yelled with a smirk. “Maybe that's what it was, an inside job.”
A tremor of rage burned through me. Weiscz was an animal. There wasn't an ounce of humanity in him. All I wanted to do was slam the door in his face. “I did give something to you, even if it was for a moment,” I said.
“And don't be so sure you didn't get something in return. You'll never catch him. He's Chimera... ” Weiscz jerked his head down to his chest, pointing at a tattoo high on his shoulder. All I could make out was the tail of a snake. “We can endure as much as you can dish, copper lady. Look at me... They stuff me in this hellhole, they make me eat my own shit, but I can still win.” Suddenly, he was loud and angry again, twisting at his restraints. “Victory comes in the end. God's grace is the white race. Long live Chimera.”
I moved away from him, and Weiscz twisted defiantly.
“So what about that Happy Meal, bitch?”
As I got to the door, I heard a zap followed by a garbled grunt, and turned as the guard pumped a thousand watts into Weiscz's twitching chest.
Womans Murder Club 2 - Second Chance
Chapter 61
WE CAME BACK TO TOWN with a few names, courtesy of Estes. Recent parolees thought to be members of Chimera.
Back at the Hall, Jacobi parceled out the list to Cappy and Chin.
“I'm gonna start calling a few PQ's,” he said to me. 'You want to join?
I shook my head. 'I have to leave early, Warren.
“Whatsamatter, don't tell me you got a date?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. No doubt my face sort of lit into an incredulous smile. “I've got a date.”
The downstairs buzzer rang about seven.
When I opened the door, my father was peeking out from behind a catcher's mask, his hands outstretched in a defensive pose. “Friends...?” he asked, an apologetic smile sneaking through.
“Dinner... ” I smiled begrudgingly “That's the best I can do.” “That's a start,” he said, stepping in. He had cleaned himself up. He was wearing a brown sport jacket, pressed pants, an open-collared white shirt. He handed me a bottle of red wine wrapped in paper.
“You didn't have to,” I said, unfurling the wine, then gasping in surprise as I read the label. It was a first- growth Bordeaux, Chateau Latour, the year 1965. I looked at him; 1965 was the year I was born.
“I bought it a year after you were born. It was about the only thing I took with me when I left. I always figured we'd drink it on your graduation or something, maybe your wedding.”
“You kept it all these years.” I shook my head.
He shrugged. “Like I said, I bought it for you. Anyway, Lindsay, there's nothing I'd rather do than drink it here tonight.”
Something warm rose inside me. 'You're making it hard to continue to completely hate you.
“Don't hate me, Lindsay.” He tossed me the catcher's mask.
“This doesn't fit. I don't ever want to have to use it again.”
I took him into the living room, poured him a beer, and sat down. I had on a wine-colored Eileen Fisher sweater, my hair pulled up in a ponytail. His eyes seemed to twinkle at me.
“You look gorgeous, Buttercup,” my father said.
When I scowled, he smiled. “I can't help it, you just do.”
For a while we talked, Martha lying beside him as if he were an old friend. We talked about trivial things, things we knew. Who was left from his old cronies on the force. Cat, and her new daughter he hadn't seen. Whether Jerry Rice would call it quits. We skirted the subject of Mercer and the case.
And as if I were meeting someone for the first time, I found him different from what I imagined. Not garrulous and boastful and full of stories as I remembered, but humble and reserved. Almost contrite. And he still had his sense of humor.
