Cusp of Crazy: Nick Stryker Series, Book One, Shallow End Gals Read online

  He climbed a ladder up to his scaffolding that ran the full length of the two street-side apartments. The walls of the cavity were brick, but wide. He had plenty of room as he walked to the far end. A four step ladder fixed to the apartment wall brought him eye level to the fake cold air return vent. He could see Casey standing near the kitchen island leaning against her refrigerator. A moment later Tanner came into view.

  “I’ve checked every room and your closets. I’m worried about you staying here.”

  Eric wondered what was going on.

  Casey patted Tanner’s hand and said, “I’ll be fine. I’m going to barricade the door after you leave and go to bed.”

  Eric watched Casey close the door behind Tanner and move a heavy chair under the doorknob. He then watched her dump a box of tacks on the floor in front of the chair. Something was definitely wrong. The people in his building should not be afraid. She started to unbutton her blouse and Eric turned his head. He didn’t want to violate her privacy. He silently inched his way back to his main door behind the furnace. Before he slipped back into the main basement, he checked that his Glock was still hidden.

  CHAPTER 3

  Eli and Mitch sat on stools at the coffee bar while Momma listened and chopped onions and celery. Eli reached for a celery stick and Momma slapped the top of his hand with the flat side of her huge knife.

  Eli jumped. “I’m starvin’ here! Got one bite of my chili dog before….you know.”

  Momma shook her head. “I ain’t heatin’ that stove ‘til tomorrow. You can eat at the bar when the cops are done with ya.”

  Mitch swallowed the last of the seltzer water Momma gave him to settle his stomach. He glared at Eli. “How can you even think about food?”

  Nick entered the sandwich shop and quickly walked over to give Momma a big hug. She smiled, leaned back and wiped a tear with the back of her hand. Nick heard her mumble, “Onions,” as he kissed her cheek.

  Nick shook his head, his arm still hugging Momma’s shoulders and laughed, “This can’t be Mitch.”

  Mitch looked at Eli, then his Momma, then back at Nick.

  Momma pursed her lips, “You best not forget your guardian angel, boy. This here’s Stryker.”

  Nick was five years older than Mitch and had protected him in their school years in the hood. Mitch’s face lit up, “Stryker? Man, you’re still all bad ass lookin’. A cop?”

  “Homicide. Tell me what happened.” Nick had removed a small notebook from his pocket and Mitch and Eli began talking at the same time. Nick put his hand up for them to stop talking and looked at Momma. “Any chance you got a chili dog back there?”

  Momma gave him a toothy smile and patted his cheek. “Of course darlin’.”

  Eli straightened up. “Hey.”

  Mitch and Eli told Nick their story while Momma was back in the kitchen. Eli offered, “Too bad we don’t know who that businessman is. He might’ve seen somethin’.”

  Nick asked, “What businessman?”

  “Dude standing outside the door there waitin’ on a cab. He might have seen who got out of that other one.”

  Mitch nodded his head. “Had to see something. We left right after he did.”

  Nick asked, “Did you see this guy’s face?”

  Mitch and Eli looked at each other and Mitch offered, “I did, but it was raining and the glass on the door blurred shit, ya know? He had a dark trench coat and stood under the awning ‘til a cab pulled up.”

  Eli interrupted, “Had a briefcase with a girl strap. Kind that goes on your shoulder.”

  Momma walked in with two chili dogs in foil and handed one each to Eli and Nick. Momma stood next to Nick and said, “You ought to go over to the liquor store there and talk to Jack. He just put some new cameras in his back lot ’cause somebody been stealin’ his stock. Might be he caught the dude for ya.” Momma handed Nick a flash drive. “This is from my camera tonight.”

  Nick grinned and shut his notebook. “You got an after-hours phone number for Jack?”

  Momma handed him a slip of paper. “Thought you’d ask that, darlin’.”

  Jen and Nick returned to the 107th. Jen began reviewing the camera footage from Momma’s Corner. She didn’t have much hope of it picking up much from its angle. The Liquor Store across the street stood a better chance of having caught the killer on camera. Wayne walked over and stood behind her. After about ten minutes of fast forward viewing, Wayne leaned in and whispered, “Carl just got here. If you want to keep this case, you’ll stop watching that right now.”

  Jen looked up and hit ‘close’ on her monitor. She turned to face Wayne. “Is there a problem?”

  Wayne shrugged and walked over to his desk. Jen rolled her chair over to Nick’s desk, where he was reviewing the information from CSU. “Dunfee seems to think that Harrisen will want this case. I get the impression Dunfee thinks we should keep it and keep it covered.” Keeping it ‘covered’ meant not necessarily sharing everything you knew.

  Nick glanced over to Dunfee’s desk, where Dunfee was engrossed in his computer monitor. Jen rolled her chair back to her desk and started printing off data from the cab driver’s phone. Nick watched Carl Harrisen sit heavily at a desk across the room. Coming straight back from his partner’s memorial had to be tough. The entire Chicago Police Department expected Carl to catch the murderer. The last thing Carl needed right now was the murder of a cabbie.

  Nick waited until Carl seemed settled and walked over. “Nick Stryker, 115th homicide. You got a minute?”

  Carl shook Nick’s hand and gestured for Nick to take a seat. Carl was a few years older than Nick and his suit seams strained under the pressure of his bulk. Nick noticed he had what Lacey would call an untamed unibrow. His dark eyes were beady and set deep in his skull. The overall effect was a brooding menace. Nick imagined Carl had little trouble interrogating suspects.

  Carl took a sip of water from a bottle and asked, “One Fifteen? You’re a tad out of your element over here where we have real crime.” Carl smiled. “Thanks for volunteering.”

  “Sorry about your partner. Any leads?”

  “Not much. I’ll get ’em. Don was a good cop.”

  Nick was silent and waited to make sure Carl was finished. “We picked one up while you were out.” Nick pointed to the other side of the room at Jen. “That’s my partner. Got a cab driver over on Dunlap. Throat cut. Coroner’s got him.” Nick waited a minute in case Carl had a question, then he continued. “I’m fairly clean at my house. I plan to just keep this and work it. You’ve got enough on your plate with Don.”

  Wayne had walked over with a fist full of papers and stood listening. Carl glanced at Wayne and then Nick. “Sure, I’ve got no problem with you keeping this. Thanks.”

  Nick sensed that Carl wanted to be left alone, so he returned to his desk. He glanced back and saw Wayne smiling as he walked back across the room.

  Casey sat on the edge of her bed lost in thought. She had spent half an hour cleaning up the mess from her aquarium and wiping every surface in her apartment. The idea that someone had been there when she wasn’t home left her feeling violated. Add to that, they had maliciously destroyed her property and tried to hurt her with razor blades. The entire evening had been surreal.

  That book. It all came back to that stupid book. She vowed to tear her office apart tomorrow until she figured out how it got on her desk. That detective, Nick, was wrong about Tanner. Casey exhaled heavily as she rose from the edge of her bed to take her bath. There was no way she was going to shower. She couldn’t hear when she was in the shower. She had seen enough movies to know bad things happened to people in the shower.

  Casey ran her bathwater while she brushed her teeth. She had brought her PJ’s and a hammer into the bathroom with her. Once the tub was full, she locked the bathroom door and slipped up to her neck in the hot water.

  Eric had watched Casey sniffle and wipe her eyes as she sat on the edge of her bed. He felt anger boil up in him that someone was upsetting
her so badly. She was one of the few tenants that even bothered to smile at him. Eric began installing another camera to point directly at Casey’s door and record continuously. He was going to catch whoever this was and they would be sorry. In his haste he dropped his screwdriver and his foot slipped from its step. He froze as the loud noise echoed in the narrow wall cavity. After a moment he stepped down, retrieved his screwdriver and completed the installation. He made his way back through the passage to his secret room to hook up the monitor feed.

  Casey’s eyes flew open. What the hell was that? A loud clunk sounded as if it had come from inside her bathroom wall. She carefully got out of the tub. She moved as silently and as quickly as she could. Her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t hold her pajama legs still enough to put them on. Tears rushed down her cheeks as she grew angry with herself. How hard is it to just get dressed?

  She leaned her ear against the wall and listened. The longer she stood there, the sillier she felt. Obviously she was imagining things. The noise was probably from another tenant. Her heart finally slowed to normal and she unlocked the bathroom door. She left wet footprints on her floor as she ran from the bathroom to jump on her bed. This was going to be a long night.

  Mitch and Eli had walked to Cubby’s bar and sat on stools watching other people play darts. They had arrived too late to get in on the tournament. The bartender, Jason, had just told them that Chad was leading the game.

  Eli looked at Mitch. “Only reason he’s lookin’ so good is ’cause nobody else showed up. Slacker. We’ll never hear the end of this.”

  Mitch had been watching the dart players and signaled the bartender for another 7-Up. “Half our team is a no show. Where are Tanner and Oink?”

  Just then Tanner took a seat at the bar next to them and ordered a beer. Mitch asked, “You okay? You never drink.”

  Tanner rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not okay. Somebody is messing with a friend of mine and the damn cops insinuated it might be me!”

  Eli leaned away from Tanner as he stated, “Cops got better things to do than just make stuff up. You must have put yourself in their sights somehow.”

  Tanner shook his head. “Whatever. I was hoping Oink would be here, so I could tap his brain a little.”

  Oink was the nickname for Detective Wayne Dunfee, who played on their dart team when he could. Mitch offered, “I bet he’s at that cop’s memorial tonight. Don somebody was from the same precinct as Oink. Somebody cut his throat a couple of days ago.” Mitch swallowed, “Way too much of that goin’ around.”

  Eli looked at Tanner, “We found a dead cabbie tonight. Somebody cut his throat. Just spent two hours with a cop ourselves. Bad night for darts.”

  Tanner leaned back, “Your story beats mine.”

  His monsters were quiet; lapping up the spoils from a fresh kill. Content to rest for the moment. He needed time to plan. Chapter two was ready for delivery. Maybe it was too soon. If Casey was to learn the true meaning of realism, she had to live it.

  Later tonight he would write more. His writing gave him ideas. He needed to find a patsy. He had to get rid of that knife. Don’t rush. What’s the rush? He smiled behind his stern outward demeanor. The people around him took on the faces of worker bees. They look so comical bustling around. They were clueless. Only he knew the truth.

  Nick looked at his watch as his car crawled through the congested traffic. It was eleven thirty and the rain had long ago stopped. He found himself driving towards Lacey’s apartment building. It struck him how pathetic it was for him to drive by. He just wanted…he didn’t know what he wanted. He turned the corner just as Lacey and a man reached the front stoop. He knew she saw him. She waved and shook her head. Nick moaned. He waved back. Now she thought he was a pathetic loser. Nick laughed at himself. There was no way to make this look better. At least he got a look at his replacement. Wimp.

  Nick pressed the accelerator and headed for home. Tomorrow was going to be a long day. He had to talk the Chief into letting him keep the cabbie killing. Maybe he could keep Jen on it, too.

  Eric made his way to the basement of the far building. He carried a crowbar, so he could check out those crates. He scanned the room through his peephole and once satisfied the coast was clear, he pushed against the corner block and pulled the fake wall inward. Eric stood motionless, listening. An occasional click from the furnace room was the only sound. He carefully hugged the wall as he made his way around the corner. His penlight illuminated four stacks of crates pushed together against the wall.

  Eric positioned the crowbar and gently loosened the grip of the nails all around the top of the nearest crate. One last squeak from the wood and the lid slid to the side. Eric listened for any signs that he was not alone. Satisfied, he lifted the crate lid and ran his light across the contents. AK47’s, ammo and high capacity magazines stuffed the crate. He estimated five guns per crate.

  The hair on the back of his neck rose. He spun around in time to grab the wrist of a knife wielding shadow. He twisted the knife back and jabbed. A throaty growl confirmed that he’d made contact. He reached for the neck of his screaming attacker, twisted and slammed the mass to the concrete floor. A slow motion roll and silence confirmed the shadow man was dead.

  Eric was furious. He would have interrogated the man to find out what was going on. Eric was a big man, and too strong. He didn’t mean to kill him. Eric got a tarp from his tunnel, wrapped the man’s body and carried him into the wall cavity. He then went back into the room and swept the footprints clean. Back behind the wall, Eric grabbed the man’s wrists and dragged him through the tunnels to his secret room. He lowered the chains of the mechanical lift and strapped the harness around the man’s midsection.

  Eric pressed the power button and the chains tightened and began lifting the man above Eric’s head. Eric pushed the arm of the lift to swing over the top of the six foot by six foot aquarium. He pushed the release button and the body fell onto the pile of bones already in the tank. Thousands of flesh eating beetles began their work. He pushed the power button on his air-makeup exchange system and filled a bucket with hot water and pine scented cleaner.

  Eric wiped the blood from his arms and face and began wiping the blood from the floor. Cleanliness is a requirement. The sound of the beetle jaws clacking and the bone debris crunching under the shifting weight of the new body took his mind back to the desert. The sounds of invisible evil hiding in every crevice, the scent of death imbedded deep in his sinus.

  He was angry the man had died. Enemies were moving into his compound and bringing weapons. Eric wanted to know why. He cautioned himself to remain patient. If there was one, there would be more.

  Casey bolted up in bed. She grabbed her remote and hit mute. She listened in terror. A man’s scream. That’s what she heard, she knew it. She looked at the television. It was some kind of mystery show. The apartment was silent. She shut off the power to the TV and pulled the covers up to her chin. Her hammer lay next to her on her extra pillow.

  CHAPTER 4

  Wednesday 7:00 am

  Nick woke early and had a hot coffee waiting for Chief Dawson when he entered the squad room. The Chief took his seat, sipped his coffee and asked, “What do you want already?”

  Nick smiled, “Picked up a dead cabbie at the 107th last night. I’d like to keep it. I’ve already cleared it with Carl Harrisen. It would have been his.”

  Chief Dawson swiveled his chair and flipped through the morning reports. “Harrisen’s partner is getting buried today. I’ve known Carl for years. I imagine he appreciates the help.”

  “I want Jen, too. She took most of the notes from CSU. We both have a few hours in this already.”

  “So, you really want me to agree to be two people down?”

  “Yep.”

  “If I get buried over here, you’re going to have to do both.”

  “Got it.” Nick smiled and left the office before the Chief changed his mind. He nearly made it to the elevator, when he heard the Chie
f yell, “Stryker!”

  Nick turned and walked back. He poked his head in the office. “Yeah?”

  “The 107th is a different world. Lot of gangs. They don’t necessarily do things the way we do. Try to refrain from going all Rambo while you’re visiting.”

  Nick chuckled, “I grew up there. Nice to hear you worry about me, Chief.”

  “I’m not worried about you.”

  Nick dialed Jen from the elevator. She was still at home. “I got us transferred to the 107th for this cab case.”

  Jen was glad; it was closer to home. “I’ll be there shortly.”

  Jen shut off the phone and glanced at John. His eyes peeked open and he smiled. He wrapped his pillow around his head and rolled over. “Why is Nick calling this early?” Before she could answer, John began to snore. His alarm would wake him in an hour. Jen grabbed her clothes to dress in the bathroom. She didn’t want to disturb him. He had left her a note on the mirror last night that said, “We need to talk.”

  Nick stopped at the HR desk before leaving for the 107th. He waited for Karen to get off of the phone. She looked up and smiled at him. “Now what scheme do you have for getting me fired?”

  “I’m feeling a little nosey. Pull up Wayne Dunfee and Carl Harrisen and tell me if anything looks funny. Don’t leave any footprints.”

  Karen shook her head, looked around the room and said, “Sit down and act like you’re talking to me.”

  Five minutes later, she handed Nick a couple of pages of printouts. “Eat these after you read them.”

  Nick sat in his car in the police garage and read the printouts. Both men looked clean. Long service records with the department. Harrisen had a remarkable closed case record. Probably the best stats Nick had ever seen. Dunfee wasn’t quite as good, but he had better comments from supervisors. Both of them had partnered with Don O’Brian in recent years. Nick saw where Karen had circled an item on the bottom of Dunfee’s printout. An inquiry from IA one week ago. Wait. Dunfee had contacted them. Curious.