Crazed

Walsh filled Morris in after he arrived at MBI. When she showed him Perlmutter’s body, he told her that wasn’t the same man who had broken into Stonehedge’s home.

“He was wearing a Frankenstein-monster mask,” Walsh said. “He chased Ms. Kotovsky out of your office with a hammer, and was trying to kill her when the police opened fire.”

“It’s still not the same guy,” Morris said. “Although I’d bet he’s the one who hit me with a car.” Morris frowned as he took a closer look at Perlmutter. “I know him. He came to my office a week ago about wanting my help in making a movie about Sheila Proops.”

Elena Kotovsky was being attended to in a parked ambulance. They had already heavily sedated her, but when she heard Morris’s voice she opened her eyes a crack.

“He’s still there,” she whispered, her voice craggy.

“The other one.”

They found Griffin unconscious but alive. While the stump that remained from his left leg hadn’t been cauterized, the tourniquet kept him from bleeding to death. Jane Wickford, after she was freed, helped them to better understand Perlmutter’s role in what happened.

“I guess you’re done,” Walsh told Morris.

“Not yet,” he said.

The killer had been taken to Los Angeles Memorial and Morris followed along after him. While he waited for the man to regain consciousness, he had an MRI done on his injured knee, and it revealed that he only had a strain and not a tear. Shortly after nine thirty he was told that the Malibu Butcher was awake. Morris was brought into the room.

“I only have one question,” Morris said. “Was Sheila Proops involved with your murders?”

The killer’s lips curled into something ugly and self-pitying. “I’m the victim. I didn’t hurt anyone.”

Morris could’ve pointed out just some of the overwhelming evidence they had against him, which included Elena Kotovsky identifying him as her abductor, his bullet wound, and that they would soon be doing a DNA test on the blood scraped off of Stonehedge’s drive, but he didn’t want to spend a second longer with this guy than he had to, so he kept it simple.

“If you answer my question, I’ll have the police start calling you the Frankenstein Killer, and I guarantee you the media will pick up the name after that.”

The killer’s tongue wetted his lips as he came to a quick decision. “Yeah, the bitch was involved.”

“Picking the victims from your client files. Planning the murders. Giving me money. It was her idea I take out their eyes and swap them around.”

Morris nodded thanks, something the killer wouldn’t be able to see. He used a hospital phone to call Walsh and tell her about Proops’s involvement.

“I’ll arrange for a warrant. You want to be there when we arrest her?” she asked.

“Nope. I’m done. I’m going home.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I’ve got things to do.”

It was two hours later when Walsh called Morris back to tell him that Sheila Proops was already gone when they went to arrest her.

“SVPD had been watching her house since you called me earlier.”

Morris didn’t bother saying the obvious. That Proops must’ve seen something on TV about the Malibu Butcher being caught, and arranged a hasty escape.

“She’s paralyzed,” Walsh said. “How far can she get?”

“I don’t know,” Morris said. He didn’t want to think about it. Besides, he had more important things to do.

Natalie and Rachel’s flight landed at LAX at two thirty, and Morris met them at the baggage carousel with Parker in tow. Natalie’s eyes welled up with tears when she saw how Morris tried to act as if his body wasn’t one big bruise.

“I’m okay, Nat,” he promised her. “It’s over.”

They melted into a group hug with Parker bulling his way into the middle. Natalie cried while Rachel fought hard to keep the tears at bay. After they separated, Morris glanced at his watch and handed his daughter Parker’s leash.

“Your mom and I have a flight to Italy to catch,” he said.

“We need to pack our bags,” Natalie said.

“Already done, with the bags checked in. If I missed packing anything, you’ll just have to buy yourself some new clothes in Italy.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Natalie said with a muted smile.

Morris carefully lowered himself to one knee so he could properly say good-bye to Parker, which mostly involved wrestling the dog to keep him from licking his face wet. He tried not to grimace as he stood, and took forty dollars from his wallet to pay for Rachel’s cab ride back to her apartment.

She tried to hand him back half of it. “An Uber ride will cost me twenty.”

“Take a cab. And take good care of the little guy,” he said.

“He’ll be ten pounds fatter when you get back. Have a wonderful belated honeymoon!”

Morris and Natalie waved good bye to their daughter as they walked away. Morris wasn’t sure, but he could’ve sworn he saw a tear snake down Rachel’s cheek. His beautiful but hard-as-nails daughter wasn’t as tough as she wanted everyone to believe she was. A lump formed in his throat.

He put his arm around Natalie’s shoulders, and she wrapped hers around his waist as they walked together to their terminal.