Snowfall (18 page)

“Yes?”

“He had sent something else in the mail…something awful.”

Now Kenny was getting interested.

“What?” he asked.

“A rat…chopped into pieces, along with a picture of me and a note that said I was next.”

“Caitlin! I had no idea it was this bad. I’m sorry…so sorry.”

“And that’s not all. Hudson House has been receiving threats from him, too, including a bomb threat. I was scared, Kenny. Can you understand that?”

She heard him sigh and knew he had relented.

“Yes, oddly enough, that makes a strange sort of sense. So how can I help?”

“I want it leaked to the papers that I’m being stalked by a crazed fan. I want the media to know that I was hospitalized due to a bungled attempt at murder.”

Kenny’s voice rose an octave in shock. “Why?”

“Because then they will call for interviews and—”

“But you don’t like giving interviews. You’re always on me for scheduling too many. Surely you aren’t going to use this to sell more books? That doesn’t sound like the Caitlin I know.” Then he chuckled. “It sounds more like me.”

Caitlin smiled. “I’m not responding to that,” she said. “Anyway, the reason I want them to know, is that when they ask me for a statement, I’m going to humiliate that psycho.”

“What if it sets him off? What if he comes after you big time?”

“Then I’ll have succeeded, won’t I? I’m sick and tired of hiding. I want this over.”

“Good God, Caitlin, I will not be a part of this. What if he kills you? I couldn’t live with myself.”

“But, Kenny, he’s already tried. Frankly I don’t think I can live with myself unless I start to fight back.”

There was another, longer, moment of silence, and then a sigh. Caitlin chewed her lower lip, awaiting his decision.

“Kenny?”

“All right, all right. But we’ve got to be careful. Leave it to me. I’ll make a couple of calls. It will be all over the news before night, so get ready.”

“Thanks, Kenny. I owe you.”

“Just make sure you stay alive to pay up,” he muttered. “Are you going to tell the Hulk what you’re doing?”

“Hulk? Who’s the Hulk?”

“That gladiator clone who seems to have attached himself to your side like the wart that he is. Are you going to tell him?”

“No, but he’ll find out eventually. Now I’ve got to go. Just do your thing for me, please. I’ll be in touch.”

“Your wish is my command,” he drawled and disconnected with a click.

Caitlin sighed. It was going to take more than a thank-you before he got over being miffed, but she couldn’t let it bother her. She’d done what she set out to do.

Her steps were light as she headed for the kitchen. She was scared, but, in a way, she was also exhilarated at being back in control. She wasn’t Devlin Bennett’s daughter for nothing. She should be able to flush one sick bastard from the wormwood that he’d made of her life.

Mac turned as she came into the kitchen.

“You look pleased with yourself,” he said.

She flashed him a smile. “Thanks to you,” she said shyly, then gave him a kiss on the cheek before she noticed what he was cooking. “Yum, pancakes.”

Mac grinned, relieved that she wasn’t embarrassed by what she’d initiated last night.

“Yes, pancakes. As for last night, believe me, it was all my pleasure.”

“Not all,” she said, then arched an eyebrow and gave him a serious once-over.

A pleased grin replaced the frown. “Well, in that case, here, take all the pancakes you want.”

She laughed.

They ate in leisure, a little uncomfortable with the change in their relationship, but willing to look for common ground. Caitlin savored the momentary peace, knowing that by nightfall, everything would change. And in a way, that made her sad. Connor McKee wasn’t the settling down kind, but if he was…and if he were so inclined, she might let herself fall in love with him.

“Fourteen days until Christmas and we’ve got this on our plate,” Sal Amato said as he ducked under the crime scene tape and headed for the small store where the latest victim had been found.

“Yeah, and nothing much to go with it,” Paulie countered.

“Don’t remind me,” Sal said, looking beyond the uniformed officers to the woman coming out of the building. “Hey, Booker, wait up a second.”

The young forensic pathologist paused on her way to her car.

“You boys aren’t doing your part,” she said. “By my count, this is the third vic by the same perp.”

“Another voice heard,” Sal muttered. “And you just answered my question.”

“As to what?” Angela Booker asked.

“If this was the same perp. I take it she was cut the same way?”

“Oh, yes, and dead before he cut her. Only this one wasn’t raped.”

Sal’s eyes widened in surprise. “You’re sure?”

“Her clothes hadn’t been removed, and I don’t think she’d been raped and dressed again. At least, that’s not been the M.O. I’ll know more after I get her back to the lab.”

“Do you think it’s a copycat?”

Angela shrugged. “You’re the detectives, but how could it be? To my knowledge, the papers haven’t picked up on the fact that you’ve got yourself a serial killer, so who would know to do this except the man himself?”

“Yeah, right,” Sal said, stomping his feet to keep them warm. “Send me a copy of your report as soon as it’s finished, okay?”

“You got it,” she said, and headed toward her car.

Sal glanced at Paulie. “Let’s go get this over with,” he said.

They entered the building, eyeing the set-up of the store as well as the old man who was crying at the back of the room.

“Who’s he?” Sal asked the uniformed officer at the door.

“The owner. His name is Ari Dubai. He found the body this morning when he came to open up. She’s his daughter.”

“What’s her name?” Sal asked.

“Angela Dubai.”

Sal nodded. “Where’s the body?”

“Aisle three,” the officer said.

Bracing themselves for what they knew would be another grisly scene, the two detectives rounded the corner of the aisle just as two men from the coroner’s office were bagging the body.

“Hey, wait a minute, guys. Let me have a look.”

“It ain’t pretty,” one of them muttered.

“Death never is,” Sal said, and unzipped the top of the body bag just enough to see the woman’s face. Like the others, it had been slashed and quartered. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbled and unzipped the bag further, checking Angela Booker’s read on the rape aspect. The woman’s clothing was rumpled and blood-soaked, but it didn’t appear to have been removed.

“Paulie?”

Sal’s partner nodded. “Yeah, it looks the same to me.”

Sal zipped the bag and nodded to the men.

“She’s all yours,” he said. “Take good care of her.”

“Let’s go talk to her father,” Paulie said. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

The old man was sitting in a chair, his shoulders bent, his hands covering his face.

Sal touched the man on the back. “Mr. Dubai?”

The old man looked up.

“I’m Detective Amato, and this is my partner, Detective Hahn. We’d like to ask you some questions.”

Ari Dubai’s eyes welled, his chin quivering as he spoke. “I would like to ask some questions, too. I heard an officer say that other women have died like my Angela.”

Sal frowned. Damned mouthy street cops. Why couldn’t they have kept their comments to themselves?

“Well, not exactly. Until we know more from the lab, we can’t be sure if—”

“There were other women who were cut like my daughter?”

Sal sighed. He couldn’t lie—not to this man.

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Two, sir, but—”

The old man stood. “We saw nothing in the papers.”

“We didn’t want to alarm the citizens until we were—”

“Had we known this danger existed, I would never have allowed my daughter to close the store alone.” He straightened, his dark eyes flashing with anger and pain. “I am old, but I am still a man.” Then his voice broke. “A parent should not outlive a child. It isn’t right. It just isn’t right.”

“No, sir,” Sal said. “And I’m sorry, but I need to ask you some questions.”

The old man shuddered, then dropped back into the chair.

“When did you last talk to your daughter?”

“Last night, as she was closing the store. It would have been around midnight. We’ve been staying open later because of the holidays, you know.”

“Yes, sir. So you spoke to her then?”

“Yes. She said she was locking up. That she’d put the daily deposit in the safe and that she would see me in the morning.”

“She doesn’t live with you?”

“No. She has…had…her own place about five blocks from here.”

“Have you had time to check and see if anything is missing? Has the safe been tampered with?”

“The safe is fine. The meat case was open, but that was all.” His voice cracked again. “Except for my baby…my poor baby.”

Sal glanced at Paulie and then back at the old man.

“The meat case?”

The old man drew a shuddering breath.

“Yes, it has sliding doors…. One of them was open. I can’t believe that Angela forgot to shut it. All the meat has spoiled. She wouldn’t do a thing like that.” And then he started to cry. “Why do I care? Spoiled meat is nothing. My daughter is no more.”

Paulie looked at Sal and then pointed upward with his chin. Sal’s gaze followed, his eyes widening in sudden understanding.

“Sir? You have a security camera on the premises?”

“Yes, but just the one in front is working. I’ve been meaning to call and get this one fixed, but what with the holidays and all, I haven’t had time.”

“But you do have one in operation?”

The old man nodded. “The one near the front door.”

“May we have the tape? Maybe there’s something on it that will help us catch your daughter’s killer.”

“Yes, yes,” he said. “Anything that would catch this terrible fiend.” He headed for the back room, returning moments later carrying a video cassette. “This is the one. The time and date show up at the bottom of the picture when you view it.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dubai. You’ve been most helpful.”

The old man grabbed Sal by the wrist as they started to leave.

“You catch this man. You catch him fast…before he does this to another woman.”

“Yes, sir. We’re trying.”

Sal Amato left the old man in the back of the store and wished he could leave his guilt there with him.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” he muttered.

“None of it should have,” Paulie said. “But it’s not our fault they died.”

“No, but it becomes our fault when he keeps killing and we don’t stop him.”

“Maybe the tape will give us our first break.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Sal said. “God knows we need one.”

“Here come Neil and Kowalski,” Paulie said, pointing toward the street.

“Good. Lieutenant said to utilize all our help in stopping this psycho. They can check out the neighborhood.”

“Heard you got another one?” J.R. said as he and Trudy met up with Amato and Hahn.

“Yeah, we think so,” Sal said.

“Think? Is this one different?” Trudy Kowalski asked.

“She was cut up like the other two victims, but Booker doesn’t think she was raped.”

Trudy shrugged. “So the bastard wasn’t in the mood. Half the time, neither is my old man.”

They grinned. It was common knowledge that Trudy’s husband, Mick, was too fond of his liquor.

“So, you two here to gawk or help?” Sal asked.

“Name it,” J.R. said.

“Check the adjacent buildings. See if anyone saw or heard anything suspicious around midnight.”

“That’s the time of death?”

“Maybe,” Sal said. “Just see what you can come up with.”

“Will do,” Neil said, and then pointed to the video Sal was holding. “What do you have there?”

Sal grinned. “They had one functioning security camera,” he said. “Maybe we got lucky.”

J.R. stared at the video and then back up at Sal.

“That would be a nice change, wouldn’t it? The woman ran out of luck last night, but maybe this is your lucky day.”

Sal grimaced. “One can only hope. See you back at headquarters.”

Neil and Kowalksi nodded as they walked off, spoke a few moments to each other and then split up to canvass the neighborhood.

“He’s not so bad,” Paulie said as they started toward their car.

“Who?” Sal asked.

“Neil.”

“Oh hell, I never said he was bad. I just don’t like his hair.”

Paulie grinned. “And the fact that you have none? Good thing I’m only five foot four or I’d be on your shit list, too.”

Sal grinned back. “Naw. You’re too ugly to be jealous of.”

Paulie laughed as he got in the car.

Moments later they were on their way back to headquarters, anxious to view the tape. Traffic was heavy, delaying their return. They arrived to find headquarters in an uproar. The power had failed just long enough for all the computers to go down. Booking had come to a standstill, and two panel trucks from the power company were parked out in front of the building.

“I wonder what the hell’s going on here?” Sal said as he parked and got out.

“Who knows,” Paulie said, then waved down another detective who was just getting into his car. “Hey, Murphy, what’s going on?”

“Power went out,” he said. “It’s back on now, but it’s a mess in there. The computers got screwed, and about half a dozen perps in booking tried to escape when the lights went out.”

“I thought we had a backup generator to prevent this kind of thing from happening?”

The detective grinned. “Yeah, well, you and the lieutenant thought the same thing. He’s pissed all to hell, and someone’s ass is gonna be grass for this. If you’re going in to see him, you’d better be wearing a smile. He is not a happy man.”

Sal looked at Paulie and patted the video in his pocket.

“Maybe we got something to put the smile back on his face.”

“And maybe we don’t,” Paulie said. “Wait’ll we see what we got before we start crowing.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

They hurried inside, anxious to get out of the cold. True to Murphy’s word, headquarters was in chaos. Between the repairmen and the regular day-to-day traffic between criminals, cops and victims, it was a mess.