She could not resist, and Ian wondered if it hadn't all been part of her act to get her price. She secured the money in her clutch purse and tucked that deep into her larger bag. “So, you got a place nearby, Sugar, or what?'
'I like nature,” he said, pointing to a thicket and some trees nearby. When they reached the woods, he spun her around and kissed her romantically, to which she responded with a sound like, “Yum.'
'Howdya like it, baby?” she asked, rubbing her body into his.
'Dead,” he said, “I like it dead.'
Her hand had reached his crotch and it startled her to find he was not hard. He grabbed. Then she saw the blade come up. “Jesus, no! No! God, God, no! Please, Mister, pleeeeeease!'
Then she felt something heavy and hairy lob from the tree above onto her shoulders with a horrid thud. It was perched on her shoulders, its legs over her breasts, kicking, bucking. It gave out a piercing little laugh. Ghastly-smelling, hairy hands held her hair back with a painful tug, her mouth clamped shut by the John. She believed her throat was about to be cut when she felt the blade slice into her forehead. Somewhere among the stomach-numbing fear, the sudden loss of blood, and the loss of consciousness—drifting so mercifully off—she recalled having seen something in the newspaper about some crazed nut going about the city scalping people.
Now that she was unconscious, they could continue without hurrying and have their various ways with the whore who had turned her last trick. What they couldn't take from the other black woman they would take from the whore-child.
'A fulfilling night after all.'
'And a fulfilling breakfast to look forward to.'
FOUR
Dean had said nothing to Sid the entire way over to Mercy Hospital, and Sid had returned the favor. Both men were tired and irritable, and filled with thoughts and questions. If Dean had had the strength, he might well have taken Sid to task over his method of having involved Dean in all this.
But Dean chose to hold his hostility in check, until a time when he could muster the energy it deserved. One thing Dean could not stand in a friend was lying, or telling half-truths.
At Mercy, Officer Peggy Carson had been in such agitation and trauma on arrival that she'd been given a strong sedative, and as it happened, she was unable to speak coherently to anyone. Dean managed a look at her, however, and both he and Sid recognized the familiar cut to the forehead. It certainly looked like the work of their madman, or men.
'How about taking me to my hotel, Sid?” Dean asked as they paced the length of the hall.
'Nonsense, you're staying over at my place.'
'Sid, I think we'd both be more comfortable if I stayed at the hotel.'
Sid frowned, but didn't argue the point. “All right, Dean, if you're sure.'
Park and Dyer, the two cops handling the case, were at the end of the hall. Park's eyes were piercing, and Dean was beginning to dislike the man intensely. Dyer, by comparison, had soft, warm blue eyes that welcomed you. Dean and Sid nodded and joined the two detectives at the coffee machine, Dean fetching himself a cup.
'Anything?” Sid asked the cops.
'Not much, no,” replied Park, hiding something.
'You're sure?” pressed Dean.
Dyer shrugged. “She was kinda’ hysterical when she was brought in, saying something about midgets.'
'Midgets?” asked Sid.
'She didn't say midget, midget-head,” Park said to Dyer. “She said she saw some small person,
Thank you for clearing that up, Dean thought. His attention, however, was on the secondary cuts on the body he'd autopsied. Dean now wondered if Sid was thinking along the same lines. The secondary cuts hadn't had as much force behind them, and the angle of attack was quite odd, sometimes upside down, with the serrated edge of the knife at the top. This might indicate an assailant straddling a victim about the midsection and stabbing at the lower body, upside down. He'd thought it a special kind of knife, perhaps a fishing knife, but now he wondered if the second killer could not be a small person, even a boy. A sick thought, to be sure, but a possibility they could not overlook, not anymore.
Sid scanned Dean's eyes, knowing his mind was working. All four men now sat around a table in the waiting room. “Plan to wait here all night, Park?” asked Sid.
'If need be.'
'What about you, doctors?” asked Dyer.
Dean shook his head. “No way ... I'm dead to the world.'
'Hodges only got on his high horse since the Scalper's activity has taken him up the social ladder, Dean,” said Sid, now sipping coffee himself. “Park and Dyer here have been in it from the beginning.'
'Yeah, and now it's a cop that's been attacked,” said Dyer.
'Lucky she got away with her life,” added Park, dragging on a cigarette. Dean noticed his lighter had a Special Services insignia on it and realized that Park, like a lot of cops, was a Vietnam vet. “Used her gun like a siren. Smart lady cop. Probably what saved her life.'
'Heat was turned up when the third victim turned out to be related to the Mayor,” Sid continued when the conversation flagged again. “That's why the burner's been turned up under my ass for an honest enough mistake. These guys understand the pressure we're under in forensics, don't you, Dyer?'
'Yeah, it's tough,” Dyer acknowledged when Park said nothing.
Park, casually and with a smirk on his face, said, “You'd never have known that last victim was in any way related to His Honor.'
Dyer laughed without mirth. “I don't even think
'Prob'ly not.'
Dyer tried to explain. “Her place was kind of a dump, in a very seedy neighborhood....'
'Then again, she was only a niece,” added Park.
'I'd like to see the crime scene sometime soon,” said Dean.
'Sure, no problem.'
'What about tonight?” asked Sid.
'No, too tired, really. I need to be fresh,” replied Dean.
'No, no, Dean, you misunderstood, I'm asking Park and Dyer here if they found anything at the crime scene tonight of any help.'
'Back-alley trash, Carson's blood,” replied Park.
'There was one thing,” added Dyer.
'What's that?'
'Maybe nothing, but Carson was clutching a fistful of little plastic bags.'
'Bags?'
'You know, the kind you wrap your sandwich in.'
'Trash,” replied Park, getting up and asking Dyer if he were coming.
'In a minute, Park.” There was now some irritation in Dyer's voice. When Park had left for their squad car, Dyer shook his head. “What a case that guy is. I've had all kinds of partners, but he's something else. Can't put two words together.'
'Seems frustrated,” chanced Dean.
'Yeah, he works hard. We both do. We've been trying with all we've got to put some common thread together on this one—you know, identify the killer's likes and dislikes as to the kinds of victims he chooses, his geographic preferences, and with the first two that seemed a possibility. Then in comes the Mayor's niece—kinda down on her luck, but still a yuppie type—and now Officer Carson. Every possible lead we had has been shot to hell, as far as I can see.'
'I'm surprised your Chief Hodges hasn't shown up,” said Dean, “or has he come and gone?'
