get you a subpoena later if I have to. But it is vital that I find out about Arnold Cather.”
“I told you I’m worried about the legal consequences.”
“Perhaps you should worry about the physical consequences.” Mazzetti bowed up and stepped closer to the smaller young man with dark glasses and trimmed black hair.
The doctor stammered for a minute. “You-you can’t be serious.”
“We have women who’ve been strangled. One right here at the hospital. We also have a link to a suspect named Arnold Cather and I’ve already been told by the hospital he’s being treated by you. Now I need to know about him. Right now.”
The young doctor swallowed and nodded his head. “Okay, but if I’m forced to later, I will say that you threatened me.”
“I can give you a black eye to back up your assertion if you’d like.”
“No thank you. I think I’ll be able to convince people myself.”
“Then tell me about Arnold Cather.”
“I wouldn’t think that he’d be capable of crimes like that. He is a little on the odd side but seems perfectly harmless. His hobbies are glassblowing and crosswords.”
Mazzetti took in the information, digesting its significance. He kept cool and said, “What are you treating him for?”
The doctor hesitated, knowing that this was a sensitive subject. Finally he said, “Mr. Cather is in the advanced stages of lung cancer.”
“Is it debilitating yet?”
“It’s terminal.”
Mazzetti froze for a moment, looked at the doctor, and said, “How long does he have?”
“I’m surprised he’s still alive and functioning so well. A couple of months ago I told him he only had six weeks to live.”
Mazzetti instantly realized this was their man and why the pace of the killings had picked up so drastically.
The killer was trying to beat his own deadline.
FIFTY-FIVE
John Stallings hustled down the stairs to the rear parking lot, frantically dialing and redialing Liz Dubeck’s cell phone. He’d left one quick message for her to call back but desperately wanted to reach her and tell her to just walk away from the hotel if the glass guy was there.
He was about to call Patty and the dispatcher to get someone to head over there when Mazzetti’s name appeared on his phone. Stallings immediately answered it, saying, “What do you got, Tony?”
Mazzetti all but shouted into the line, “This is our man. He’s a terminal cancer patient. That’s why he’s killing so often.”
Stallings bounded through the rear door and out into the parking lot with the phone glued to his ear.
Mazzetti said, “You know where this guy is?”
Stallings said, “I think he’s over at an old hotel that caters to the homeless and runaways. His glass shop is not too far from the PMB.”
“Don’t do anything stupid. I’m on my way now.”
Stallings wasn’t about to wait and didn’t intend to do anything stupid.
Buddy had the jar and cord in his left hand as he casually strolled through the lobby, nodding to a stoned dude laying carpet. He paused at the empty counter to capture the full excitement of what he was about to do. He also needed to catch his breath and clear his throat with one long, hard cough. He wondered, once the artwork was completed, if he would even bother going back to see Dr. Raja, who’d done all he could but hadn’t really helped in any way. Buddy’s passion for blowing glass had also been his doom. His desire to capture the final breaths of beautiful women probably had led directly to his own imminent death.
When he had savored the feeling, Buddy glanced over his shoulder to make sure the carpet guy wasn’t paying any attention. He scooted behind the counter and into the office. It was empty. He thought it was weird that a hotel, even a shitty one like this, didn’t have anyone at the desk.
Then he noticed the rear door that opened into the alley behind the hotel was ajar. She was outside, where there was no one around.
Perfect.
Patty Levine was on her way into the office at the Police Memorial Building when John Stallings called. She rarely heard any hints of panic in his voice, but she instantly picked up on the urgency of his call.
“Patty, go to the hotel Liz Dubeck runs. Stick close to her until I get there.”
“What’s the problem, John?”
“There may be a guy there fixing her front window. His company is Classic Glass Concepts. He’s our killer.”
Although Patty would’ve loved to hear the reasoning, she knew she’d find out later. Right now her only job was to race over to the hotel.
Stallings said, “I’m calling dispatch, too. Don’t do anything crazy, just make sure Liz is safe. Patrol will be on its way soon.”
Patty said, “I’ll be there in less than ten minutes.” She stepped on the gas of her Ford Freestyle and shot through a red light. The idea that she could be in a position to catch this asshole gave her hope of redemption.
Buddy stuck his head out of the open office door into the long, empty alleyway. There was a Toyota Camry parked right next to the door that he assumed was the manager’s. Beyond the car, about forty feet from the door, he saw the pretty manager named Liz shaking out a throw rug. He watched her for a moment with fascination as she inspected rug after rug and either shook out the dirt or tossed it in the Dumpster.
He immediately saw a chance to buy a few hours by tossing her body into the Dumpster when he was done. Sometimes things just worked out. He felt like this was another sign he’d made a wise choice of subjects.
Buddy peered through the crack in the door and savored the feeling once again as he checked the rubber seal on his homemade glass jar, then pulled on the heavy cord.
This was going to be sweet.
Stallings roared out of the lot of the PMB, almost knocking the metal gate out of his way. It wasn’t a long ride over to the hotel, but it felt like an eternity as the acid ate away at his stomach. His mind raced through a thousand possibilities of what could happen. Unlike Tony Mazzetti, Stallings rarely thought about ensuring he had enough evidence to make a case. All he really wanted was to stop the killer. Any way he could. At the moment his absolute first priority was making sure Liz Dubeck was safe. He hadn’t realized how much she meant to him until that very moment.
He didn’t care if he stopped Arnold Cather, or if Patty Levine or a patrolman did. He just wanted it over. He knew Mazzetti was racing from the hospital so he could be the one to make the arrest. Stallings was fine with allowing him to grab all the credit.
He cut across a side street, swerving at the last second to miss a motorcyclist, then a homeless woman pushing a shopping cart full of tin cans. He still had several blocks to cover before he’d be at the hotel.
FIFTY-SIX
Buddy eased out of the office into the alleyway. He liked the fact that the hotel manager had no idea he was
