Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #3: Books 9-12 (A Dead Cold Box Set), Blake Banner [reading in the dark TXT] 📗

“You still think he might have done it?”

“It doesn’t make any sense. I don’t know what I think, Dehan. Let’s see what the inspector says and talk to the DA.” I fired up the engine and sat listening to it rumble for a moment. Finally I shrugged.

Before I could speak, Dehan said, “Let’s see who he fingers, Stone. If it makes sense it’ll make sense. If he’s playing us, it won’t stand up. All we can do is play it by ear and see where it leads.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I know. Trouble is, we’re playing his tune, and that is what I don’t like. I don’t like his tune.”

SEVEN

The inspector sat staring at me with no expression. Then he blinked and turned the same stare on Dehan. Eventually he said, “What I like about you two is that nothing is ever simple with you.” He paused a moment to think about what he had just said. “Still, I suppose the Westchester Angel case was never going to be simple, was it?” He sighed, scratched his left eyebrow and then straightened it. “Let me ask you this, I’m talking about your gut feeling…” He clenched his fist to express the idea of a gut feeling. “These other girls, Rosario and Sonia, are they…? Is it…?”

I nodded. “We’ll know more when Frank gets back to us, sir, but right now my gut tells me it’s the same case. The coincidence is too great. They all disappeared within a week of each other, and within a stone’s throw of Teddy’s Late Night Bar, and where Angela’s body was found.”

He placed one hand on his desk and drummed his fingers. “And of course you have to go back to that bar and talk to the owner.”

“Yes, sir.”

He spread his hands, still staring at his desktop, as though he was having a private discussion with an invisible advisor who was sitting there. “We have no choice.” He looked at me, then at Dehan. “We have no choice,” he said again. “If you are right and this is the work of a serial killer, he may well still be at large. He probably is! His method of disposing of the bodies means he may have been active for years, and is probably still active. We cannot afford to take the risk merely to keep a cocaine user behind bars.”

“That’s about the size of it, sir.”

He looked at Dehan. “Carmen?”

“I don’t see we have any other choice, sir.”

He stared at her for a moment. “Of course, as John said, he may well be the killer, himself, and then we would be releasing the killer instead of locking him up.”

“We have to take care that doesn’t happen, sir. I suggest we take it one step at a time. Let’s see what he gives us tomorrow and then take it from there.”

He nodded for a long moment and said, “That’s right… yes…” Then he turned to me. “Good, John, I’ll call Rikers and arrange it. You go and talk to this, um, Teddy. See what he can tell us.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

We went down the stairs in a somber mood and stepped through the doors into a late afternoon that had dusk on its mind. It was a short drive, a mile and a half down Soundview and Lafayette, with the sun glaring off the blacktop, and the warm breeze reaching in through the open windows and slapping us around the head. It should have been agreeable, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that, folded in somehow, behind all that sunshine and brightness, there was a darkness: a darkness that was watching us and smiling an unpleasant smile.

Dehan looked at me suddenly through the big, reflective lenses of her shades. “I don’t like this case,” she said. “You ever get that?” I glanced at her but didn’t say anything. “I mean, you never like a homicide, but most cases, you get a handle on them and you get a feel and…” She trailed off, shook her head and looked out of the windshield. “I’m talking crap.”

“No, you’re not. I can’t put my finger on it, but there is something… wrong. I don’t like it.”

She nodded, big slow nods. “Yup.”

We pulled into the lot at the side of the bar and stepped inside. The Australian bartender was still behind the bar doing something at the cash register. There was only one table occupied, by a couple deep in conversation. The bartender saw us, gave a thumbs-up and called into the back, “Yo! Teddy! Someone to see you, mate!”

Teddy emerged a moment later. He had gray hair that had once been blond, tied back in a ponytail, and a long, forked beard that looked like it once belonged to a Druid, and had seen a lot of use since then. He had friendly eyes and hands the size of boiled hams, which he offered us with a smile when we told him who we were.

He pointed at a table in a corner and said, “Let’s sit. What does the NYPD want with me? Can I offer you anything?”

We told him he couldn’t, we sat and he sat with us.

“How can I help you?”

Dehan pulled out her phone and found the picture of Rosario. “Do you remember this girl? She would have come in here back in May 2016. Ring any bells?”

He stared at her for a long time, but there was no recognition in his face. Finally he shook his head and said, “No. I mean, you know, she’s a pretty, young Latina. You’d notice her, right? But that said…” He shrugged and spread his hands. “I don’t mean to be inappropriate, but there are so many pretty, young Latinas in this neighborhood…”

She took the phone, swiped the screen and handed it