Cusp of Crazy: Nick Stryker Series, Book One, Shallow End Gals Page 2

  As demanding as her job was, she loved it. It didn’t bother her that she would miss dinner with John. He probably wouldn’t mind anyway. Each day they were growing farther apart. A divorce was just an inevitable conversation they politely put off having. Jen listened to everyone complaining about the rain as she slipped her coat on and dialed John. She left him a message that she would be a couple of hours late and what she was doing. As her phone dropped into her coat pocket, it struck her how wrong she had been when she promised John she could keep her job and their life separate. She had tried.

  He wasn’t sure why he had done it. It hadn’t really been planned. In hindsight it was a great idea to eliminate the only witness that he had been in Casey’s neighborhood. Perhaps his monsters were beginning to protect him. The cabbie lay slumped like a rag doll against the window. His head was nearly severed.

  The rain fought the wiper blades on the windshield and the lights from the corner store reflected clear to the end of the street. The cab engine hummed on and the wipers struggled to provide peeks of the world before him. He leaned his head back against the seat and breathed in the smell of fresh death. He could sense that his instincts were developing.

  His gloves had very little blood on them. He used his kerchief to wipe the knife and drop it in his briefcase. He flipped open his notebook and clicked his pen as he struggled with what words would best describe how he was feeling. After ten minutes of notes, he decided to leave. The rain had slowed to a steady drumming on the roof of the cab. The windows had fogged over. He ran to stand under the awning of the corner store. The people inside were engaged in conversation and not paying attention to him. He saw racks of newspapers and stopped himself from walking in and purchasing one. Of course it was a bad idea. He may be recognized. Car lights turned the corner and he stepped off the curb and raised his arm. Another cab. This one would take him to his car. He was going to be a few minutes late for work.

  When the downpour first started, Eli had burst through the door of Momma’s Corner shaking the rain from his arms and cursing. “Crappy Chicago weather!” Eli, an engineer with the city of Chicago, had gone to school and college with Mitch. Mitch had majored in business and was half-owner of his mom’s sandwich shop. Neither Eli nor Mitch had responsibilities beyond their jobs. At thirty years old their carefree bachelor status now included more dart games than anything of interest.

  Mitch stood behind the counter wiping the glass case that normally displayed a variety of sandwiches for their customers. He glanced at Eli and chuckled, “Shouldn’t be a surprise. They’ve been sayin’ all day we’re gettin’ rain.”

  Eli frowned at the empty case. “Momma already put all the food away? I was hoping for a chili dog.” Everyone called Mitch’s mom ‘Momma’, even strangers. She named her newsstand and sandwich shop ‘Momma’s Corner’ because of it.

  It was seven o’clock exactly and Momma ran her shop by the clock. Mitch raised an eyebrow at Eli and said, “How long you been runnin’ in here last minute and wantin’ food? You wear a watch.” Mitch yelled to the back of the store, “Momma, Eli’s wan-tin’ a chili dog.”

  A heavy green curtain moved to the side and Momma stood in the doorway. She smiled at Eli. “You want regular or foot long?” Her bright flowered dress was cinched tight at the waist by a crisp, white apron. Her grey hair was wrapped tightly in a bun and capped with a blue hairnet. Not a single wisp of hair dared to escape lest Momma would chop it off with the nearest scissors. The last thing a customer of hers would ever see was a hair in their food.

  Eli walked back and reached to give her a hug as he claimed he wanted a foot long. Momma put her hands out, “Stop right there! You ain’t givin’ me no hug when you’re soppin’ wet.” She disappeared behind the curtain and Eli walked over to sit on a stool and watch Mitch.

  Eli smiled, “She’s been pretty ornery. Maybe that bun’s a tad too tight. We still goin’ to the dart game?” Eli peeled the wrapper from a piece of jerky as he pointed to the window and the pounding rain. “I won’t melt, but you might.”

  Mitch looked to the glass door and frowned. A man was taking shelter under their awning and quickly hailed a cab. “Guess we better take a cab, too. Hope that wasn’t the last one for a while. You can eat your dinner on the way.”

  Momma came out with Eli’s chili dog wrapped in foil and kissed his cheek. She signaled Mitch to lean in for a kiss, too. They both rubbed her bright red lipstick from their faces.

  “Be careful tonight and be nice to them pretty girls.” She had a smile from ear-to-ear and would like nothing better than for each of them to find a good woman. “You boys ought to grow up and take on a family. Give Momma some babies to love on.” She made a motion of shooing them out onto the street. “I’ll lock up behind ya. My show’s coming on TV any minute.” Momma had a nice apartment upstairs and didn’t take kindly to anyone messing with what she called her commute time.

  Under the awning, Mitch pointed down the street. “There’s a cab stopped right there.”

  Eli ran toward it yelling, “Last one in pays!”

  Mitch slammed the door of the cab and frowned at Eli, who was already peeling the foil back on his chili dog. Eli spoke through a mouth full of food. “You get to pay.”

  Eli smiled, leaned forward and spoke to the cabbie. “We need Cubby’s bar on 117th.” The cabbie didn’t move. Eli’s chewing slowed and he shrugged his shoulders as he glanced at Mitch. Suddenly Eli’s eyes popped open wide, his chili dog dropped to the floor and he threw open his door as he screamed, “He’s dead!”

  Mitch slowly leaned sideways and looked at the cabbie’s reflection in the rearview mirror. A bloody line was drawn across his throat, his eyes bulged in terror.

  CHAPTER 2

  Tuesday 7:00 pm

  Wayne Dunfee, a detective at the 107th, pointed Nick to a desk and thanked him profusely for volunteering to sit in for a few hours. Nick told him to take his time. He could see that Wayne was anxious to join the rest of his precinct officers at the memorial. Nick also knew the memorials were always harder than you expected them to be. He had no sooner sat down when he saw Jen walking toward him. Nick and Jen were on the same homicide team at the 115th.

  “I thought you had a hot date with Lacey.” Jen was genuinely surprised to see Nick there.

  “We broke up.”

  Jen stopped next to his desk, her voice full of concern. “I’m sorry, Nick. That sucks.”

  Nick shrugged, “I guess it happened last month. I missed the memo.”

  Jen sat down at the desk across the aisle from Nick and frowned. Was he really that clueless?

  An intake officer walked over. “Can one of you take a break-in report?”

  Nick smiled at Jen. “I’ll take it.”

  He grabbed the clipboard with the complaint form and walked toward the waiting room. He had forgotten how loud and crowded they always were. “Thurston, Casey.” He looked around the room and his gaze stopped on Casey. Cute gal. Short, wispy blonde hair framed her face. At the sound of her name she looked up and Nick noticed her huge, blue eyes. Casey and Tanner both rose from their seats and Nick tilted his head for them to follow him.

  The large room had at least a dozen desks circled by people in chairs using animated hand signals, telling their stories to the deadpan expressions of the officers. Nick walked them to a desk at the far end of the room and gestured for them to take a seat. He studied both of their faces and held up a piece of paper. “You want to file a break-in report?”

  Casey looked at Tanner and then back at Nick. “I’m afraid this is more than a break-in. I don’t know what you’d call it.” She adjusted herself again on the hard seat and removed the small plastic bag from her purse. “There’s a story that goes with this, but my soap has razor blades in it.” She searched Nick’s eyes for signs of concern. Nick glanced across the aisle at Jen, who had raised an eyebrow. Casey told Nick about the book and what happened when she got home.

  Nick looked at Tanner. “Who are
you in this?”

  Tanner shrugged, “Ex-boyfriend. Now she’s my boss.” Casey elbowed him. Tanner added, “I guess you could call me a concerned friend.”

  Nick thought about only the book being taken and the fact that the book had actually warned Casey about the soap. Nick looked at Casey, “Obviously someone is messin’ with you. What’s the author’s name and the title of the book?”

  Casey had a blank stare on her face and started tearing up. “I can’t remember.”

  Nick passed her a box of tissues from the corner of the desk. “Who has keys to your apartment?”

  Casey shook her head. “Nobody.” She gave Tanner a sideways glance. “Well, the building manager….” Casey closed her eyes for a moment, “…and my cleaning lady. My mom and my sister that live in Detroit, Shelly from my office, sometimes she shops for me. My dog groomer, but my dog died.” Tanner looked at Casey and rolled his eyes as she kept naming people. “Actually Mrs. Watson in 4B has a key. She fed my fish when I went on vacation last year.”

  Tanner leaned forward. “Isn’t she the one with that crazy man living with her?”

  Nick raised an eyebrow.

  Casey frowned. “That’s her son, Eric. I don’t think he’s crazy. He’s just different. Doesn’t talk much, he’s an artist and a war veteran. Something happened to him in Afghanistan.”

  Nick had served as a Navy Seal for six years and felt an immediate impulse to protect Eric. Nick looked at Tanner. “Why did she take your key away?”

  Tanner straightened in his chair and frowned at Casey. “I thought it was because we broke up. I didn’t realize half of Chicago had one!”

  Nick asked Tanner to go to the waiting room, so he could talk to Casey alone. Tanner stared in disbelief at Nick. Tanner stood; his face flushed and sputtered, “You think I had something to do with this? That’s crazy! I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her!”

  Casey reached out and touched Tanner’s hand. “Just wait out there for a minute. It’s okay.”

  Casey looked into Nick’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking about that book. Someone got that book into my office and on my personal reading pile. I know it’s not Tanner. What should I do?”

  Nick reached into his wallet and handed Casey one of his cards. “Try to retrace how that book ended up with you. Go through your records and trace the author. Check the money. You said authors pay for your services. Let me know what you find out. In the meantime, I can only advise you to stay alert. I don’t know what this person is up to, but you’ve got a problem.”

  Earlier that evening, Mrs. Wilson’s son Eric had watched Casey get in a cab and leave. He knew his tenants’ life patterns. It was strange for her to leave in the evening unless it was a weekend. He raced his skateboard down the block and around the corner. Those men were there again tonight. The sudden downpour wasn’t slowing them down. He stood and watched them unload boxes down a coal chute at the end of the alley. Eric watched as dirty arms reached from below the alley, grabbed the boxes and disappeared. One of the men shouted at him and he scooted away. He knew they were up to no good. Eric ran up the stairs to his apartment, left his skateboard by the door, and ran back down to the basement. He knew his secret hall would take him all the way to where the men were. These four buildings were connected with common tunnels for utility runs. Vacated by the city decades ago, the previous owners had sealed off the walls. Eric had discovered, reopened, and disguised them.

  The door to the furnace room in his building was squeaky and heavy. Eric had sprayed white grease on the hinges last week and noticed a big improvement now. The door barely made a noise. The area behind the furnace was dark and narrow. Eric had found a piece of wood that he had painted to blend perfectly with the cement block wall concealing the old doorway. He pushed the wood in and slipped into the black cavity.

  Noises from tenants filtered down the walls creating a strange background hum. Eric found it comforting: sounds of life and happiness. His penlight confirmed that his traps had caught more rats. He would dispose of them on his way back. There were sixteen apartments between the four connected buildings and some of the families had babies. Eric didn’t want any rats finding their way into the apartments.

  The cavity in the wall stopped and Eric pushed open another piece of his trompe l’oiel art to continue. He smiled at his art. He knew it was good. He had used European style hinges that were completely invisible. He pushed the four by eight art piece and exposed another wall cavity running perpendicular to the one he was in. This was a long corridor, but it would take him near the coal chute. This building was vacant, the new owner having forced the tenants to move out.

  Eric heard the low rumble of male voices becoming louder. He stopped in the wall and moved a small piece of cork exposing a peephole. He could see four men piling boxes high on carts and rolling them off around the corner. One of the men in the street jumped down the coal chute and started talking. He was shaking rain from his coat and pointing to his watch. Only the building’s owner should be using the basement. Eric removed his phone from his pocket and began recording. He counted the boxes being moved by the cart. They could contain anything. Later tonight he would come back and check them out.

  Nick sat on the corner of Jen’s desk and told her Casey’s story.

  Jen made a face. “I don’t blame her for being creeped out.”

  Detective Dunfee walked up to Nick with a paper. “Not sure what to do about this: homicide call on the west side. Cabbie. I’m heading over to the funeral home, but I won’t be long. You want it?”

  Nick took the paper and signaled Jen to come with him. “We’ll take it. Who’s got the homicide desk for the 107th tonight?”

  Dunfee answered, “Carl Harrisen and me.”

  Nick nodded, “I know the name. Is he at the funeral home?”

  Dunfee shrugged, “I assume he is. It’s his partner that’s dead.”

  Nick and Jen turned the corner to find the entire street blocked by patrol cars, the coroner wagon, and nosey pedestrians crowding the crime scene tape. The rain had temporarily stopped and Nick surveyed the scene as Jen headed over to the coroner.

  A uniformed officer walked over to Nick. “You’re Nick Stryker, aren’t you?”

  Nick nodded, “Yep.”

  The officer continued, “You probably don’t remember, but I took your close combat training class last year.”

  Nick had volunteered to teach some classes for the department for the first few years he was in homicide. It helped him stay fit and the classes had been well received. On closer inspection Nick recognized the officer. “Williams, right? What have we got here?”

  Officer Williams pointed to a cab pulled up to the curb. “We preserved everything as we found it. The cab was running, but I think it ran out of gas. It isn’t running now. Right there, where your partner is standing, we found some puke.” Officer Williams turned around and pointed to the corner store. “Guy who puked and his buddy are waiting over at ‘Momma’s’ to talk to you. Seems they found the body.”

  Nick nodded, thanked him for the information and walked over to the cab. Jen’s flashlight was trained on the back seat and inched its way from the headliner to the floorboard. Nick turned his flashlight on and carefully leaned across the front passenger seat to get a close-up view of the neck wound.

  “Right handed killer. Reached from the back seat.”

  Jen grunted agreement and said, “I’ve got a chili dog back here on the floor. Couple of blood smears on this side of the driver’s headrest.”

  Nick leaned back and viewed the smears with his flashlight. “Doer caught some blood on a sleeve. Old cab, no dash cam.” Nick turned his attention to the dash computer and entered a code for the GPS history. A long list filled the small screen and Nick began scrolling with a tiny arrow button on the dash.

  “How do you know this stuff?” Jen shook her head as she watched Nick write down the information on the screen. She went back to looking for evidence.

  Nick’s voice
broke the silence in the stuffy cab. “Look at his last pickup address. Same address as that Casey gal that was just in the station.”

  Jen leaned over to see. “Curious.”

  “Too curious.” Nick calculated they were about ten blocks from Casey’s apartment building. “I’m going to check out the guys that found the body.”

  Nick walked over to the coroner’s car and leaned against the window to talk. “Are you releasing the body to CSU?”

  “Yeah, I’m leaving the wagon and a couple of guys to clean up as soon as CSU is done. Knife to the throat seems to be the only injury. Fresh kill, less than an hour dead.” Nick nodded, slapped the roof of the car goodbye and walked toward Momma’s. The coroner rolled up his window and drove off.

  Eric had fashioned a hidden room in the basement by building a false wall of concrete blocks and a door set on a ball bearing track. He sat on his chair and carefully removed the corner piece of the outside cinder block wall. He used this peep hole to watch the front stairs at the street. A small table held three monitors attached to a series of camera feed lines. He switched his monitor setting to view the sidewalk, street, and the first step of the landing. He could hear conversations from the microphones he had hidden in the communal mail box unit. The rain had stopped. Eric unwrapped a Twinkie and watched the street as he ate it.

  Tanner and Casey stood at the front door arguing. “Just let me come in and make sure nobody’s waiting in there to kill you. I’m not asking to spend the night!”

  Casey had mumbled something and Tanner had followed her into the building. Eric tossed the uneaten half of Twinkie in a garbage bag half-filled with the day’s catch of dead rats and made his way through the abandoned utility tunnel to Casey’s apartment.