'Are you okay?'
'I'm perfect,' I said, taking a big gulp of cold city air. 'Perfect.'
'Can I talk to him?' Harry reached for my headset. I let him have it, walking away from the commotion, away from the flashing blue and red lights, into the urban night.
The sky was a huge, black blanket, spreading out in all directions. I looked up, trying to see the stars through the smog. I couldn't make them out.
But I knew they were there.
Chapter 45
I KNOCKED THE EIGHT BALL INTO the corner pocket and Phin grunted.
'That's two more bucks.' I let a smile creep onto my face. 'What is that, five games?'
'How am I supposed to eat this week?'
'Don't play if you can't pay.'
He frowned and rooted around in his front pocket, extracting a bill.
'Can you break a fifty?'
To his chagrin, I could. Then I sent him off to buy me another beer.
It had been three days since the death of the Gingerbread Man, Charles Kork. The papers were still running headlines. Most of them centered on Harry McGlade. He'd become a media darling, though I don't think 'darling' is the right word.
How Harry found out about Charles was simple enough. He had a copy of the show at his apartment. After he left the station, he watched the tape and drew the obvious conclusion. Then he called up his buddy Max Trainter, and soon had Kork's name and address.
McGlade had attempted to beat us to the scene and take all the glory for himself. Which, essentially, is what he did.
'That guy was the top layer on the shit cake,' McGlade told five networks, plus CNN.
Diane Kork had lost a lot of blood and needed a few dozen stitches, but she was expected to make a full recovery. Physically at least. Mentally she was a mess.
I'd gotten to see her twice since that day, trying to fill in the remaining pieces of the puzzle.
She'd filed for divorce from Charles in May, right after The Max Trainter Show. He'd been neglectful and verbally abusive, but never physically. This may have sounded odd, but Dr. Francis Mulrooney told me later that many married serial killers aren't aggressive within the family unit. They saved it up for their excursions.
Diane had never known about his two stretches in prison, never met his family, and certainly had no idea that every time he sneaked out at night, he was stalking and killing people.
Charles's mother, Lisa Kork, died of cancer shortly after Charles was born. Attempts were made to locate his father, Buddy Kork, but to no avail.
A delve into Buddy Kork's past revealed he'd been arrested twice for child abuse, and acquitted both times. Apparently, his position as a reverend at a local church was enough to justify the beatings he gave his children.
He was fired from the church ten years ago, but a phone call confirmed that Dr. Reginald Booster was a regular parishioner -- the same Booster whom Charles had killed for the Seconal prescription. Booster had known Charles was Buddy's son. Hence the note he left on the pad at the murder scene.
Just to tie up loose ends, Dr. Mulrooney matched the Gingerbread Man's letters to samples found in Charles's home, and to the release form Charles had filled out to appear on The Max Trainter Show.
The search of Kork's rented house unveiled a cache of six hundred pictures and twelve home videotapes. They showed, in detail, Charles torturing and killing animals, children, and women. A task force was assigned to begin matching the victims with missing persons. I was offered the job to head the task force, but after watching one of the videos, I knew I wouldn't be able to sit through the rest of them. I declined.
Charles Kork's body, sans head, was fished out of the sewer four blocks from where Harry had shot him. In the ME's report, Phil Blasky commented that it was the best lobotomy he'd ever seen.
Diane Kork was able to shed light on the significance of the gingerbread man cookies. She and Charles had baked them during their first Christmas together. They'd lacquered them and hung them on the tree every year after that. She hadn't seen them since they split up.
Herb was invited over to the mayor's house for dinner, since he'd been the chief investigator on the case after the captain had kicked me off. I hadn't been asked to attend, but Herb related that he'd eaten enough for both of us. Though I missed out on hobnobbing with the powerful, I was allowed to return to work, the Internal Affairs investigation was dropped since I recovered my lost gun, and I even got a call from a very important news journalist with her own prime-time show. But she only wanted to ask me questions about Harry, and I hung up on her.
I pumped more quarters into the table, and Phin came back with two bottles of beer.
'Loser racks,' I reminded him.
He racked the balls. I sipped my beer and chalked my stick. Then I engaged in a truly magnificent break, pocketing two stripes. Phin swore.
By eleven o'clock I was up about thirty bucks. Phin called me several choice names when I was leaving and made me promise I'd meet him tomorrow for a rematch. I agreed, telling him I could use the money.
It began to snow as I walked back to my apartment. The first snow of the season. It looked pretty, glowing in the street lights, contrasted against huge skyscrapers. Covering up all the dirt. I felt myself smile, and then the smile disappeared at the thought of digging out my car in the morning.
There were messages on my machine when I got back to the apartment. The first was from Latham, my ill- fated Lunch Mates date. He was doing well, and begged me to bring him a pizza when I visited him tomorrow.
