Strange Robby (6 page)

"You know, Spider, you could tell me anything."

Spider laughed, even as tears came to her eyes. "No, I couldn't, Tommy. I love you, but face it. The minute I start talking about personal stuff you're uncomfortable."

Was he? He didn't think so, but maybe he was. She wasn't the first one to accuse him of that. "I'm trying now . . . "

"Let's just talk about something else. I can wallow in my self-pity on my own time. What about that Fry Guy?"

"Gonna tell me your theory?" He hated to admit it, but she was right about him. The minute they changed the subject he felt relieved. He guessed he really wasn't a very good friend. Growing up all he'd had was his family, no real friends, and his family hadn't been big on discussing personal matters. Now he didn't have his family, so he needed his friends, loved them, but didn't really know how to listen to them. At least not to their problems. Spider's problems.

"No," Spider said with a smile. "You do realize of course that our man is not a serial killer."

"You're the one who reads all the books. Probably why you're so depressed. Who wouldn't be with the crap you read? Serial killer profiles, books on the occult and cults and mass murderers. No small wonder you have nightmares, either."

She ignored him. "This guy kills his victims quickly. He doesn't even get close to them. Maybe—no probably—they don't even see him. Then he doesn't mutilate the bodies; he just kills them and then he goes on his way. That is not a serial killer's MO. The serial killer likes to torture his victims, to mutilate them, sometimes before death—sometimes after. To exact, if you will, ultimate control for as long as possible. This guy's not into that. He's into getting these guys off the street . . . "

Tommy thought he knew where she was going with this. "So, according to your theory, the killer is sane."

"Well, at least as sane as I am. After all, I killed a guy just to save myself a day in court."

"Shsh! Jesus, Spider!" Tommy said in disbelief.

"Well I did," she said matter-of-factly. "You have to ask yourself what sort of person wants to get this kind of scum off the street? Most of the victims are child molesters, drug dealers, murderers, pimps who prostitute minors, rapists, and wife beaters. Who wants to see these people dead?"

"Everyone," Tommy said with a shrug.

"A
family
man," Spider said, shaking her head adamantly. "Someone with kids, or who feels responsible for kids. A parent, a teacher, or a social worker. Someone like that."

"How would any of those people get their hands on this kind of weapon or that kind of information?" Tommy asked. "It's got to be someone who has at least had access to police files."

"Why?"

"Because how else would they know that these people are criminals?" Tommy asked.

"What is your
chi
?"

"Something inside me, a place I go . . . "

"Explain it to me."

"I . . . I can't. It has to be experienced."

"Yet you have no doubt that it exists?"

"I know it does." That was it. She wasn't going to tell him anything else. She was just going to sit there and drink her beer. "You are a maddening piece of shit, Spider Webb. Just tell me your damned theory. Doesn't matter how screwy it is. I already think you're nuts, so what do you have to lose?

She shrugged. "I think this guy exists in the
chi
or its equivalent. I think he sees people in a way that most people don't, and I think that because of this he has power. Power he pulls from his
chi
just like you do, except I think his power comes straight out of that place. I think this guy is pyrokinetic."

Tommy didn't laugh. His father had taught him not to laugh at crazy people. "You left out the part about the little green men."

"I thought it was best that way . . . OK. All right. I'll admit it's a little farfetched. But it's no worse than the 'stolen from the army' theory the Feds keep popping on us. By the way, I don't see them making any breaks in this case, either, and supposedly they're at least trying."

"So, what we're looking for is a teacher with a wife, two kids and a really big
chi
." Tommy did laugh then, but mostly at his own pun.

Spider frowned. "Gee! I can't imagine why I wouldn't feel comfortable coming to you with my problems."

This only made him laugh louder.

She sipped at her beer and wished she hadn't told him anything, ever. Just when she thought that things couldn't get worse, she looked up and saw Laura walk in with the way-too-sexy assistant DA in tow. She looked at Tommy and scowled.

"So, I guess the fact that your wife has brought me a date means that you have finally admitted that you know that I'm gay."

Tommy looked up. "If it was supposed to be a secret, it wasn't a very good one, but I never knew for sure until right now." Tommy wanted to crawl under the table.

Spider drew a deep breath. She always figured Tommy knew. After all, she never really tried to hide it. She just didn't broadcast the fact, something the military had taught her.

"If you'd asked me, I would have told you. You didn't have to do this. What if I wasn't? That would be even more awkward than this is."

"That's what I told Laura. It wasn't my idea; I told her not to do it. And between you and me, I don't see how it could
be
any more awkward," Tommy said.

"That woman is . . . well she's way out of my league. I only ever date really homely women; there's less heart ache and rejection that way," Spider mumbled.

"Rejection's good for the soul."

"Then I must have a huge fucking soul."

"Let's just try to make the best of it, all right? Laura said she wanted to meet you."

"Why?" Spider asked in disbelief.

"I don't know. Maybe she only dates ugly chicks because there is less fear of rejection."

Tommy waved. Laura and Carrie saw them, and they started over. He looked at his partner, who had turned a cool shade of green. He felt for her. He'd been set up before, and—at least in his experience—it was never a good thing.

"How do I look?" Spider asked.

"Green," Tommy said truthfully.

"It's a good color for me," Spider said nervously.

"She's just turned green," Laura said in answer to Carrie's question.

"Maybe this wasn't such a good idea, Laura," Carrie said nervously.

"If you really want to go out with her, this is about the only way it's going to happen," Laura said. "She's just nervous. I don't think she gets out much; mostly she just works."

"Maybe if
I
got out a little more I wouldn't be trying to pick up girls I meet at work. She's going to think I'm desperate or just plain weird. I think this was a big mistake."

"We'll pretend like it was all my idea. What have you got to lose?"

"My dignity," Carrie mumbled.

A few seconds later they reached the table. "I hope you don't mind," Laura said. "I brought Carrie along. You kind of know each other from work, but Carrie Long this is my husband, Tommy Chan."

They shook hands.

"And this is his partner, Spider Webb."

Spider took the outstretched hand. Long, delicate, well-manicured fingers clasped Spider's huge, scared, chapped, sweaty palm in a firm, friendly grip. Spider looked up at the woman. Carrie smiled at her, and Spider's head spun. The assistant DA was breathtaking. It wasn't the first time she'd noticed that. It was, however, the first time she had allowed herself to take a really good look. She looked again at the woman's hand, her arms, her . . .

"Spider, let go," Tommy whispered in her ear.

"Ah, yeah. Sorry!" Spider felt like an idiot. She let go of the woman's hand. Carrie sat beside her.

Spider stiffened.
I'm a fucking idiot. Pull your head out of your ass, your foot out of your mouth, and say something coherent that doesn't have anything to do with her tits or her ass.

The bartender came over, bringing Laura's drink, their beers, and apparently to save Spider's life.

"Would you like something to drink?" Spider asked.

Carrie looked at Spider and smiled, seeming to immediately relax. "So, you buying me a drink, sailor?"

Spider started breathing and smiled easily back. "Actually, I was never a sailor, ma'am."

Carrie looked at the waiter. "Bourbon and branch."

The waiter nodded and left to get the drink.

Carrie checked Spider out as inconspicuously as possible. She sure did like the package. She'd dated a cop before. She'd been a decent lay, but fucking brain-dead otherwise, and about as interesting as a turnip. She knew that wasn't the case with Spider Webb. This woman was vital and alive. She was also wired and impulsive, and those were never bad things in a lover.

"So, did you pay the girl to scream?" she asked Spider matter-of-factly. Across the table Tommy spit beer, and Laura quickly cleaned it up, avoiding their eyes.

Spider looked right into her eyes and without flinching asked, "What if I did?"

"I'd tell you to get some acting lessons before you do it again," Carrie said, taking her drink from the waiter.

"I'll take that under consideration." Spider took a sip of her beer.

Carrie smiled her very best
I already have you
smile and moved closer to Spider.

Tommy wanted to curl up and die. He didn't want to be here when they were doing whatever it was that they were doing, and he wasn't really sure what that was. Either they were flirting or Carrie was fixing to indict Spider. Either way he hated it, and he hated Laura for making him be there while they were doing it.

"This sucks," he whispered in Laura's ear.

"No, no! They're hitting it off," Laura whispered back.

"And you can tell, how?" Tommy asked.

Laura worked it masterfully so that Spider and Carrie were in a car alone. Well, not actually a car, Spider's Isuzu pickup truck.

At least it's clean
, Spider thought.

"So, you lived here long?" Spider asked.
Oh, God! What a lame ass question. What's next, asking her sign? Someone, please save me from myself! At this rate it will be another five years before I get laid again.

"I've lived here most of my life, but I just started working in the DA's office about two years ago, and I only took over as assistant DA six months ago. I was working and living in LA for a while before that. You know how it is, I was born here, grew up here, went to school here, so I just wanted to be
anywhere
that wasn't
here
. After five years in LA I was ready to come back home."

"I . . . I was born here in Shea City. I've lived here all my life except when I was in the service."
Do I sound like a total fucking idiot or what?

"Nervous?" Carrie asked.

"A little . . . No, that's a lie. A lot."

"If you'd rather not do this . . . "

"No, no that's not it. I admit that at first I was a little weirded out, but . . . There's a reason I don't date. You see, any time I'm really attracted to a woman, my IQ drops about a hundred points. I'm afraid I'm going to say or do the wrong thing, and so of course I do. I'm so afraid that she's going to think I'm a dork that I act like, well . . . a total fucking dork."

Carrie laughed. "And so you just don't date?"

"Not on purpose," Spider said with a smile.

Carrie laughed again. "Will it help if I tell you that I don't think you're a dork?"

"Ah! But you haven't really given me a chance yet."

Dinner went surprisingly well. To Tommy it seemed that Carrie and Spider were talking easily. The veins in Spider's temples even stopped throbbing. Seeing that Spider had calmed down allowed him to relax a little, but he didn't feel any less embarrassed. He felt he'd dealt better with his partner's sexuality when they just didn't talk about it. Tommy glared at Laura every time their eyes met, and she just smiled back at him, completely undaunted. Which made him want to scream.

They had finished their dinner and were now all just sitting around, talking over coffee.

"So, how did you get a name like Spider Webb?" Carrie asked.

"My mother was apparently a wild child. My father picked my brother Scott's name, and so he had this really normal Scott Webb thing going on. My mother named me Spider. I didn't really know her because she died in a car wreck when I was real young, two or three. I always thought that my name was the way my mother made sure she'd always be with me. Everything I know about my mother I know because of my name. My father never talked about her, and wouldn't allow us to, either. To this day I don't know why." Her voice changed took on a bitter edge. "Maybe just because he was a mean, bitter old son of a bitch." She looked around then, seeming to realize that she had been speaking aloud.