Still, I couldn’t turn my mind off. The ugly things haunted me. The murders, the rape, the missals from a demon consumed and committed to my demise and perhaps that of a woman who might be his own sister. I can deal with the worst of the shit as long as I have a strategy. But that’s what I was lacking. A plan, an approach, something that suggested the remote possibility that I was prepared.
We got back to the dock and parked my blessed old chariot. Teeny and Elvis hugged me and went back to the Catalina.
I ordered a delivery from Domino’s, extra cheese and peperoni with mushrooms and onions. Calories, transfat, all the good stuff. Hell, I had to eat.
I poured a glass of Cab and plucked Orlando’s list from the pocket of the cable shirt. I had taken the photos from Ricky’s bag. I spread them on the table.
The images would have made a great snuff video. I felt the bile rise in my throat as I viewed the bodies of the girls. I wanted to burn them immediately, watch the vile atrocities go up in smoke and vanish from a world that was already ugly and violent enough. I couldn’t. They were evidence, but more to the point, they were locked in my consciousness. Images that would dance and haunt me until there was some form of justice, be it fair and honest, or as vicious and cruel as the demon that created them.
I pushed aside the photos and buried them in the envelope. Then I looked at the capital letters printed on the white sheet. C, L, E, D. Something was out of whack. C for Carlita, and L for Lana, both crossed out. The dates beside the letters were the dates they had been murdered. It made sense. The next letter E had to stand for Estrella. Her date was actually the night I had been raped by the bastard. The final D had to be for Diabla, but the date didn’t match. He had attacked me first. My appointed time was actually a few days away.
Coincidence, a change in plans, simple opportunity? Why the change in order? I knew from my years on the force that despite what the public may think, the crazies are often very well organized. They’re clever. They plan meticulously and execute. It makes them harder to track and even harder to catch. So what of the list? Was I supposed to be the last? And more importantly, who was next? I fully expected to meet Orlando again, but I had no idea when or how. And what about Estrella? Would he go back to the timeline he indicated on the paper?
The date next to the D was coming up this Thursday. I looked at the calendar. Nothing special, no holidays or congressional designations like National Kill an Innocent Girl Day. I didn’t understand, but in some way I had to be ready. My life or Estrella’s might depend on it. I pulled out the .38 and checked the chamber. I’d been doing that a lot lately.
I thought about Estrella in the running suit at Chico’s. Her shoes were black Nike’s, definitely made for runners. She had the body and the look. Maybe she was a jogger. An idea began to take shape in my mind. Now if I could just get some cooperation. I had to make some calls.
Chapter 15
Ricky didn’t like it. He propped his feet up on the desk and locked his arms across his chest.
“Too much risk, Dee. Too much ground to cover. Too much exposure. How the hell can the two of us make that sweep? My God, there’s a hundred places to hide, two hundred ways to escape, including the water.”
“So what else have we got? We’re not going to find the sonovabitch. He may be back in L.A. for all we know. But we do have a timeline. He wants to follow it. We know he’s a psycho. We know he’s deadly. We think we know who the target is. So what the hell do we do? Wait for him to slaughter another girl, one who may even be our client?”
“Why can’t we just tell her to lay low until we can get the cops more involved? Who knows? We may be able to turn up something else on our lunatic of the month. In the meantime, you’re safe, she’s safe, and everybody’s happy until we get the creep. And we will get him.”
“Yeah, we’ll get him, but I like the idea of sooner rather than later. Let’s say we set it up. If it works, it’s cool. If not, what have we lost? Maybe a little time, but I think it’s worth a shot.”
He wasn’t convinced, but I think I had worn him out. He shook his head, took a deep breath, then nodded.
“Okay, Boss. Ship it. I’m going out there now, scope things out. All the better to have your back, my dear.”
I fired off a smile in his direction as he left, still shaking his head. I made a rough diagram of the area. I’d need some more details before the sting. I decided to swing by the park to do a more thorough job of casing things. On the way I detoured by Walgreen’s, then Dick’s, and picked up some items for my new look. No need to upset our favorite killer with some deviations that might alert him to our presence.
By late afternoon, everything was in place. Estrella had been true to her word. We all knew our stations and our roles. I just wanted it to work. If not, someone might be joining the angels or the devils, whatever made sense.
Chapter 16
I heard the lock snap behind me. I stepped down the hall and waited for the elevator. The door slid open and I punched the button for the lobby. I glanced at the mirror on the wall. Hell, I looked pretty good. Maybe this was the new me. Living in a high rise on the ICW. Nodding to the doorman on the way out. And just maybe I was secretly born to be a brunette. The big round sunglasses framed my face nicely and the black nylon emphasized the curves in all of the right places. I pulled the baseball cap down over my eyes and smiled. Who knows? There might just be some rich eligible bachelors out there on the trail.
I left the building and crossed the street. I broke into a lazy jog following the sidewalk on the west side of the ICW. The sun was setting to my left. Dusk was upon us and the shadows were coming to life behind the buildings and the oaks. I ran three blocks and turned back toward the water. The orange glow painted the ripples. A few runabouts skirted down the waterway headed for sundowners at one of the endless waterfront bars. Who knows? . . . maybe even home for a night of TV with Kim Kardasian and Kanje West groping each other or “Two Broke Girls” observing their boyfriend’s balls. Pure intellectual challenge and stimulation for the masses.
I ambled by the landing where the Water Taxi picked up some tourists eager for exploration of Fort Lauderdale’s endless waterfront delights. The marina at Las Olas was quiet. I could see the masts and the shiny towers of the sport fishers rocking gently behind the wall. I went under the bridge, then turned left and back up to A1A. Even The Elbow Room was pretty sedate. A few locals enjoying a late afternoon cocktail, but the music hadn’t started yet. There weren’t many walkers. School began next week and most of the tourists had left for the long haul between now and the holidays. No familiar faces or cars. I went on down the boulevard past the restaurants and The Beach Place. There were still a few people on the beach. I wasn’t completely alone and that felt good. Still I shuddered a bit, but I patted my belly. At least I had one old friend with me, and I knew Ricky was around somewhere.
I turned left down Castillo. From the parking lot across from the Ritz-Carleton I heard a soft call. I stopped and peered back towards the trees. The shadows had created near darkness in far corner.
“Estrella, it is Rodrigo.” I started and tried to catch my breath. I scanned the area to my right and there he was. It took a minute for my eyes to adjust. In the fading light I could just make out the glossy black hair, the blue work shirt, the trench coat. His arm was at his side. He attempted a smile, but it came out a leer.
“It has been so long, Estrella. I have missed you. Come closer. I wish to hug my sister.”
I waved and crossed the street. I was still in the shadow of the building, but as I got closer, he looked puzzled. I heard a muffled clicking
“Pardon me,” he said, “I have mistaken you for someone else. I have the wrong person.”
“No, Orlando. You have the right person, but you are in the wrong place and this is the wrong time.”
“Ah, Diabla. My, but you have changed. I like the hair.” he growled.
He grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled them a
side. One huge locust was perched on the golden crucifix that dangled from his neck. Hundreds of others clung to the lining. They began dropping to the pavement, spreading like a muddy puddle.
He placed his hand on a thick leather hilt topped with a golden skull and withdrew the silvery blade. I had a sick flash of the Samurai I’d seen in an old Tom Cruise movie. The cold metal shimmered and sliced the air like a deadly bird. He stepped forward and slashed at me in a mad sweep.
The script I liked says Ricky comes in behind me, Glock drawn, and tells the monster to drop the weapon and raise his hands above his head. Orlando does so and we complete a seamless citizen’s arrest. But he hadn’t read that part. I waited, but no Ricky. The whole script had become a horror without warning.
The cold metal danced through the air again. I tried to dodge the swath, but the tip of the blade caught my neck. The blood ran instantly. I felt it slithering through the nylon. A couple of inches closer and I would’ve been the one joining the angels.
He grinned. “Your blood is red and rich with sin. Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” He set his feet and took a warrior’s stance, ready for one more deadly swipe. If it connected, my head would be rolling down the alley like a bowling ball, minus my body.
I dropped to one knee, feeling the crunch of insects beneath it, and reached into the folds of my jacket. I fumbled for the .38 and came up firing. The first shot missed, but the second nailed him in the right shoulder. He dropped the sabre and fell on his back clutching at the wound. His eyes were locked tight and he groaned like a demon. He writhed back and forth on the dirty concrete while the creatures crawled over him. I looked behind me. No one. My mind flashed. Maybe that was good. Then no one would know.
I’d like to tell you that righteousness and respect for the law got the better part of me. I saw no way he could skate with the physical evidence, the photos and this attack. He would go down hard. The boys in the pen would take good care of him. But again, the script became useless, the pages fluttering in the wind.
“The ladies would appreciate this if they could see it. Maybe somehow they can.” His eyes grew wide as I aimed the Smith and Wesson directly at his balls.
“Please,” he begged.
My finger tightened on the trigger. There was no going back . . . for Eleisha . . . for Lana, and for me. The explosion echoed between the hard brick walls of the alley. I was careful not to kill him. He was alive, but he was crying. The blood pooled thickly, but I knew it wasn’t a fatal wound. Just one that he’d never quite get over.
“Dee, you okay? I spotted the Caliber, stopped to check it out. I lost you for a minute.”
“Yeah, Ricky. I’m fine, but our buddy here has met with some unfortunate circumstances.”
He stared at Orlando while our man squeezed his crotch and loudly begged God to deliver him. But God wasn’t taking his calls. Then my partner pulled out his cell and dialed 911. The cops were there within minutes. We went to the station to give our statements. It didn’t take long. They just told us to be available. “Yeah,” I thought, “Diabla is always available.”
Chapter 17
When we got back to the office, I put some peroxide on the cut on my neck. Fortunately, I’d ducked in the right direction. It wasn’t deep and the scar, if any, would be hidden by my hair. I pulled the bottle of Jameson out of the bottom drawer. Ricky and I shared a smile and a good, long drink.
Sullivan called early the next morning.
“Detective Rabow. I called to congratulate you on some fine work. I heard the whole story and we have his statement. I think the case is iron-clad and so does the D.A. You certainly acted above and beyond the call of duty. It is sad that the perpetrator incurred some wounds, but an officer also bears the responsibility to defend herself.”
“Thank you Captain, but what’s all this officer shit?”
“Sorry, Dee. I know you wondered why you haven’t heard from me directly. I was working on something and I wasn’t ready to talk. You’re eligible for reinstatement. You can come back to the force at your previous grade with a clean record and back pay for the time you were out. I’m still working on a commendation, but I won’t promise that. You can report on Monday.”
“Thanks, Captain, but what about Ricky?”
“That’s a different matter. He was formally arrested in the Longstreet case and only a few technicalities saved his ass. He’s still on a few people’s black lists. I know he’s your partner, but it’s you they want. You’re a woman and a damned good cop. It’s your chance, Dee. Take it.”
The temptation sat heavily on my breast. It was a chance for redemption, a formal admission by the force that I was a competent, even valuable member of an organization pledged to serve and protect. Dad would be proud. I inhaled deeply while my mind weighed the possibilities. But there was really no choice.
“Part of me would love to say yes, Captain, but Ricky’s my partner and I can’t leave him hanging. Maybe if it was different, but thanks again.”
“I thought you might say that. I’ll keep your desk empty for one week. That’s about the best I can do. Be safe.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone and wondered if it was a decision I’d come to regret. I guess I was ready to roll the damned dice again, but that’s nothing new. Hope it wasn’t snake eyes this time. For now, I’d try to drum up some business and wait for the next time.
Rodrigo Martella, aka Abaddon, aka Orlando’s trial didn’t last long. Ricky and I were both called to testify. Rod and Estrella’s names never came up. Our pal was sent to a state institution for the criminally insane. He won’t get out. I am okay with that. He did go in with a little less physical equipment than he was originally issued. I’m okay with that, too. Maybe I should’ve warned him not to drop the soap, but he’s no dummy. I’m guessing he learned that quickly.
Rod and Estrella got married. Pictures all over the bridal page. My invitation must have got lost in the mail. No huge surprise, but no problem. I kept my word and he kept his. Rod won the primary and seemed likely to be our next senator when the general election came up. The best news is he sent us another 10K in cash with one word typed on a small sheet of paper. “Thanks.”
Ricky and I are getting some very interesting calls from people we’d never heard of. Most of them are from places where money is no object, but discretion definitely is. It keeps us pretty busy. We’re making the rent regularly and some of the cases are actually quite compelling. Ricky’s become a regular at the Armani shop and the Caddy gets a weekly wax job. The ladies keep coming and he doesn’t complain about that.
I’m pretty happy at Cooley’s on GREAT GESTURE. I miss Uncle Teddy, but Teeny and Elvis are still in love and I’ve made a few friends. At least I feel safe now. If I could just get laid, things would be just dandy.
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