Scalpers

foolishness. For many, the easy way out was a word shouted in anger: divorce. It presented a quick-fix route to tying off the loosened and severed ropes of one's mental balance and emotional needs. Remove the object—in this case a person—of distress from sight, and pretend it never existed.

For Dean himself, it was an ugly word to be ranked alongside cancer: it was a cancer of relationships.

The very thought of divorce for him brought on an image of a barbed corkscrew that turned hideously round and round in his stomach. The awful instrument was turned on memories, and it made an ever-widening cut.

Dean decided he could not waste a moment more in telephoning Jackie to tell her he loved her, and that he planned to be on a plane for home tonight. Sid could now finish up this case without him, regardless of the fact that somewhere in the city, or maybe far from the city now, the Scalpers had left a trail to a man named Park in order to escape. It might very well mean that their scalping days were over, for now if Dean and Sid kept quiet to the press, the killers could do as they wished, so long as no one was ever again mutilated for a scalp. No, they didn't have the guilty parties behind bars. No, they had not yet identified the killers. No, justice was not served, and yes, an innocent man and his memory had been destroyed in the process. So what, Dean's exhausted mind told him, so what? He was no avenging angel. He was only one man, a man who had more pressing personal and professional problems awaiting him at home.

Sid's face drained of color when Dean told him of his plans, but he understood. In a controlled fashion, he thanked Dean for all he'd done. “You've been a considerable godsend, Dean. You saved my ass and put my mind right. I needed your support, and you gave it.'

A look at Dean's watch told him it was already late afternoon. Sid had allowed him to sleep much more than he should have. He had much to do if he was going to make his way back to Chicago and Jackie.

'Peggy Carson came by, Dean. She tried to get me to fill her in on what we've found, but given the situation, I stonewalled her. This isn't the time for leaks, and you know how word gets out, guys like that reporter Evans last night. Hell, they're everywhere—'

'You did the right thing, Sid. Keep the jar and the chloroform between you and me. Don't even bring Tom Warner in on it.'

'Warner's okay, Dean, just a little green.'

'Defend him if you like, Sid, but like many of us, he's also easily swayed by a pretty face, and if by a pretty face, no telling who else might control him. Frankly, given all that's happened around here, with your scissors turning up like they did ... don't know if I wouldn't clean house, if it were my house to clean.'

Sid looked down the corridor to where he'd last seen Warner. “You really think ... naw!'

'I didn't say he might be the killer. But if you can't be sure your people are with you one hundred percent, no matter how dire the situation, well, old friend, you've got people putting little pins in your balloon and the results can be ... explosive. How, for instance, did Hodges know enough to double back on your reports early on in the case? Who provided the odor for them to sniff at?'

'Tom?'

'Like Dyer told you, Sid, watch your backside.'

Sid had a lot to think about. Dean got his things together from the lab and started out. Sid stopped him at the door. “I sure wish you didn't have to go, Dean, but I understand. Really. Have a safe trip, and I'll keep in touch.'

'Before you take anything to Hodges, make sure it's everything. Overwhelm him with the evidence and he'll have to back whatever play you make.'

'Right, standard practice time. I guess I let a lot go by the wayside here. Too cushy a job. Tell you what, if Hodges throws me out, I may show up on your doorstep.'

'Brr! Don't forget Chicago winters!'

The two men laughed as Tom Warner looked on with what might be envy in his eyes. Dean noticed the assistant had begun to rummage near Sid's office, and now he stepped inside with some papers in hand to lay on Sid's desk.

'Sneaky fellow, that Warner,” Dean said.

Sid turned to see Warner in his office where both jar and chloroform result lay exposed. Sid rushed to the attack, shouting at Warner, whose face drained of color.

Dean chose the moment to escape without further discussion. Sid could give his regards to Chief Hodges, Frank Dyer, and Hamel, if necessary, but Dean wanted to say a personal good-bye to Peggy Carson. It only seemed right. He'd return to his hotel, shave and shower, get a change of clothes, and from there make his flight reservations and telephone Jackie. He'd then have a brief and final phone talk with Peggy Carson, unsure what he might tell her beyond the fact that both he and Sid Corman knew that she was telling the truth, that she had not killed Park, and that the case was now in Sid's hands.

As Dean was passing through the lobby of the municipal building, Frank Dyer came racing after him, shouting for his attention. Dyer seemed shaken.

'Corman tells me you're leaving.'

'That's right.'

'Because of Hodges, last night?'

'Among other things.'

'You can't do it.'

'Yes I can.'

'All right, all right, you can ... but you may like to do some reading while you're running away.” Frank tossed a police report at him, which indicated that the Scalper had struck again, this time killing a woman and almost the woman's child as well. “Last night, after Park?” Dean could hardly believe it. “Why the elaborate set up to make Park the fall guy if the killers then go out and announce to the world they're still on the loose?'

'Hey, we're not dealing with rational people here.'

'Oh, but the set up at Park's that was rational, calculated.'

'Double personality, then, a schizo, right?'

'Has to be. What about the kid, you talk with him?'

'Her. A little girl named Nola Jimenez. She was in shock when found wandering into traffic.'

'When do you intend to talk to her?'

Dyer shook his head. “She saw her mother murdered.'

'And she may be able to give us a clue.'

'Not for a while. The trauma center has her, and there's no way to get to her for the time being. What do you care, anyway? You're heading for home.'

'I care, Frank ... that's my problem.'

'Good, then maybe you'd like to talk to another witness to last night's homicide?'

'Another witness? Who, where?'

'Sid didn't tell you anything about it. He said he was about to when you got it in your head to run out on us, like Hodges wants. Hell, man, we need you here now more than ever!'

'You're sure, Frank, this isn't the work of a copycat killer? It still makes no sense that they should attack again after the setup at Park's. Did you question the woman's husband, boyfriend, relatives—anyone? You know as well as I do that more than eighty percent of crimes committed against people are by people they know—'

'We've got a witness says one man he saw was pintsized, a dwarf.'

'Damn, then it was them. Where's this witness?'

'Sobering up, downstairs, in holding.'

'A drunk?'

'He was in the alley where they did the woman, says he saw the whole thing. When we arrived he was there. He didn't call it in, he says, ‘cause he didn't have a quarter and believed he was hallucinating from the drink. Says he didn't dare move, though, the whole time. He was in behind some cans, in a doorway. Says the girl hid right alongside him for a little bit, before racing off. The dwarf was after her. Says the other guy was normal in size, well-dressed ... said the dwarf looked like a refugee from a circus, like a clown or monkey, covered with hair, except for a section of head—'

'The scalp?'

'You got it.'