On the left, just past Circus Circus, I saw the Transylvania, where the killer had dumped his first victim. Where he’d taken Fara Spencer. I was tempted to pull over and check the joint out. But why? Edgar was much too smart to go there again.
“Maybe it is time to call it quits,” I said.
“Want me to come back to your place?”
“Nah. I’m pooped.”
“I can sleep on the couch.”
“Not necessary. But thanks.” A nice guy. Which no doubt explained why I still felt ambiguous toward him. God forbid I should get hooked up with someone nice.
Except that David had been nice, hadn’t he? Once upon a time. Before the troubles started.
My God, David. Was that the real reason I was ditching Patrick tonight? Because I was still hung up on my dead husband? Or more accurately, because I still hadn’t forgiven my dead husband?
Funny how much clearer you can see things when you’re sober.
“Just drop me out front,” I told him. “They’ve got so many people watching my place now, Houdini couldn’t get in.” I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “Night, Patrick.”
“Night.”
And I headed back to my boozeless, snoozeless, antiseptic hotel room, a yearning in my chest, my body complaining because I wouldn’t give it what it wanted, my heart aching because even if I didn’t know her name, I knew there was a girl out there dying tonight. One more person I had failed to save.
I pressed up against the door, eyes clenched shut. So this is what life is like sober? Wonnnnnnnnderful.
27
You’d think nothing on earth could be more innocent and stress-free than a stroll through the forensic lab. You don’t expect screaming and shouting-that happens upstairs, where we high-IQ detectives hang out. And you certainly don’t expect to see your toxicology expert getting into it with the boss’s son.
“Please please please please please please please please please please please,” Darcy said, over and over. He wasn’t exactly shouting. His voice was always loud. Near as I could tell, his theory was that if he didn’t give his opponent a chance to argue with him, then he won the argument. An approach I have to admit I’ve used once or twice myself.
“Listen to me!” Jennifer Fuentes (yes, now I knew her last name) was trying her best not to lose it. “There’s no poison!”
“Please please please please please please please please please please please.”
Jennifer was totally losing that cool detached scientist thing.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“This guy is making me crazy!” Jennifer said. “The chief asked me to humor him. He didn’t say I had to take orders from him. Especially not stupid ones.”
Darcy looked at me, his face brightening. “Did you sleep well?”
“As a matter of fact, I did. Why do you ask?”
“Your breath.” And then he started right back up again. “Please please please please please please please please please please please.”
“Would you make him stop that?” Jennifer begged.
“Sorry. I work with him, but I don’t control him.”
“Try!”
I shrugged. “Darcy, lay off already. Before you get carpal tongue syndrome.”
He did. Instantly.
Wow. Feeling more powerful than a locomotive, I asked Jennifer, “What does he want?”
She rolled her eyes. “He’s got this crazy theory that Fara Spencer was poisoned.”
“Poisoned?” I winced. “Darcy, I think we all know how she died. You may have noticed that big hole in her chest?”
Darcy flapped his hands. “Did you know that one in five domestic murders are committed with poisons you can obtain without a prescription?”
No, and I was happier not knowing. “Any chance he’s right?” I asked Jennifer. “I mean about the poison.”
“None.”
“You did a tox screen?”
“Of course. Came up dry.”
“But as I recall, your previous tox screens didn’t detect the drug Edgar was using to paralyze his victims.”
“That was a totally different situation. We couldn’t miss the cause of death.”
You wouldn’t think. Still, Darcy had been right before…
“You know, Jen,” I said, slow and cautious, careful not to bruise any egos, “Fara Spencer was killed a good ten days before we found her. Any chance the poison might’ve broken down in the body? So it wouldn’t show through normal toxicology tests?”
“Yes, it’s possible, but we have no reason to believe that happened. Anyone can see how the woman died.”
“Would you mind testing a tissue sample?”
“For what reason?”
“To make me happy.” Seemed like a better answer than Because I said so.
“This is very irregular.”
“Story of my life.”
She fidgeted with her rubber gloves. “I suppose I could cut away a little something near the exposed chest…”
“Mouth,” Darcy said.
“Huh?” we replied in unison.
“Do you think that maybe you could take the tissue from her mouth? Because I think you should take tissue from her mouth.”
“Why?”
“Did you notice that there were no blowflies in her mouth? I bet blowflies don’t like poison. I don’t think I would like poison. Do you?”
The toxicologist and I exchanged a look.
“Jen, do the test. I want the report on my desk ASAP.”
He held the tip of the pendulum delicately between two fingers. He had honed the blade until it was razor-sharp, and he did not want to cut himself. He pulled it back to the height of its arc, then released it.
JJ screamed.
“I suppose you know how this works,” he said, reclining in a chair near her table. “Everyone does. Even those who have never read the story. Have you read the story, JJ?”
“N-N-No.”
“Seen the film, perhaps?”
Her voice was choked and broken. Her eyes were fixed on the steel blade swinging back and forth only a few inches above her chest.
“Maybe. I-I’m not sure.”
“No matter. I just didn’t want you to have any erroneous misconceptions. You see, in the original text, the narrator escapes. Oh sure, he’s sliced once or twice across the breast-”
JJ’s face turned ashen.
“But he survives. My dear JJ-” He took her hand and squeezed it. “You will not.”
“W-W-Where are my clothes?”
“Burned. Nasty provocative little things. I’m astonished any reputable high school would allow you and your raffish companions to wear them-much less make them an official uniform.”
“Did you… do stuff to me? While I was out?”
“Like what?”
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Like… sex stuff?”
“Would it bother you if I did?”
“I’m only seventeen, and I’m still a virgin and-”
“Liar.”
“I am!”
“My dear, I can assure you I conducted a most thorough examination while you were unconscious.” He looked at her sternly. “You are no virgin.”
Her eyes were trained on the pendulum. “How-how high up is that thing?”
“At present, it swings about four inches above your lovely chest, but it is descending at a rate of an inch every minute. So you see, you still have a little time to enjoy the lovely mesmeric swinging-before you feel its cold blade slicing your flesh.”
Her head whipped back and forth, her face contorted with fear. “Why are you doing this to me? I haven’t done anything to you.”
“Oh, my sweet thing. Please listen.” He scooted his chair closer to the table-though careful to stay out of the arc of the pendulum. “I know this will be difficult for you to comprehend. So much of what we are told in life is simply… wrong. The emphases are put in all the wrong places. Look at you. Devoting yourself to cheering for the accomplishments of others instead making accomplishments of your own. Dressing up in that blatantly objectified costume that can serve no possible purpose other than the titillation of the dominant male hierarchy. Painting your lovely face.”
He reached forward and stroked her cheek. “You have fine features, my precious. Why would you smear paint all over them? Because society has taught you that your God-given looks are insufficient. In order to be attractive to men-and of course that is your principal function in life-you must add artificial color. It’s a shame.”