Following the cab proved to be no problem for Sydney and Ellis. The trail ended in mid-town Queens, at an upper middle class, street front apartment. The young blonde paid the cabbie, then made her way to the front door. She was unaware of the beige sedan parking across the street, just short of her building.
The detectives watched her enter and close the door.
“What now?” Ellis asked.
Sydney glanced around the quiet neighborhood. “We wait to see if she has any visitors tonight.” He picked up his binoculars, studying the apartment complex. “This is a well-lit area, so we should be able to see anyone coming or going. I think I’m gonna pull back another hundred feet or so.” He put the car in reverse, backed the sedan to the desired distance, and then killed the engine.
“Yeah, I can still see clearly,” Ellis said, his binoculars poised. “And now we’re not directly under any light—shouldn’t be too noticeable.”
The police radio startled them both. “Twenty-two. What’s your twenty?”
Ellis looked at Sydney. “That’s Warren—what should I tell him?”
Sydney frowned, picking up the hand mike. “Twenty-two here. What’s your twenty?”
“Precinct,” Warren replied. “The chicken is in the coop. Over.”
“Morrell went to bed,” Sydney said to a nodding Ellis. He addressed Warren again. “Sixty-third street Quik Fare. Over.”
“I’m on the move. Over.”
“Ten-four,” Sydney said, ending the transmission.
Ellis tilted his head, confusion on his face. “That Quik Fare is over a mile from here.”
“I don’t want anyone listening to know exactly where we are. It’s just precautionary.”
“You ain’t leaving with the car, are you?”
“That would definitely be ill-advised,” Sydney said with a sinister smile. “No, the car stays here.”
“What the hell are you grinning about?” Ellis asked suspiciously.
“How long will it take Warren to get to the convenience store?”
“Eight or nine minutes, at least,” Ellis replied, still suspicious. “Why?”
“You can run a mile in nine minutes, I assume.”
“You gotta be freaking kidding me,” Ellis spouted. “No freaking way.”
“You’ll have to do it for your lieutenant’s test,” Sydney said chidingly.
“Not in freaking street shoes I won’t. Besides, it’s getting cold as shit out there.”
“I’ll go,” Sydney said, frowning, “even though you need to work off a few pounds. You just sit on your ass and stay warm.”
“Shit,” Ellis said, shoving the door open roughly, “keep your sorry ass in the car.” He trudged off. Sydney smiled at the mumbling detective, straining to hear his parting shots. “Ain’t had a decent meal in a month… probably keel over halfway there… walking alone in Queens… gonna get my black ass shot…”
Sydney chuckled at the fading words, once again training his sights on the apartment building. There were lights on in the building. The blinds were closed, allowing no insight as to the woman’s location. He glanced at his watch, noting the time to be twelve thirty-eight. He leaned back, preparing himself for a probable long, dull night.
◆ ◆ ◆
Warren pulled into the Quik Fare parking lot, very surprised to see a sweating Ellis Moore leaning against the front of the store. The burly detective was obviously exhausted… and obviously pissed.
Ellis slowly shuffled over to the Blazer. Even more slowly, he climbed into the passenger seat. “Damn, if this ain’t a heart attack, then I sure as hell don’t ever wanna experience one.”
“Where’s Sydney?” Warren asked, a puzzled expression on his face.
Ellis took off his shoes, rubbing his aching toes. He pointed straight ahead. “That way.”
Warren put his hand over his nose, rolling down his window. “Son of a bitch, Ellis! Why don’t you just take out your gun and shoot me? That’d be more humane!”
Ellis glared at the grimacing detective. “I ain’t in no mood for none of your shit, smartass.” He resumed rubbing his swollen feet. “Damn that Sydney Berry.”
“You’re sweating like a hog in the man’s Blazer,” Warren said, laughing. “And you could gag a damn maggot with those feet of yours. I’d say you’re paying the boss back pretty good.”
“Shut up and drive. Just drive the freaking car.”
◆ ◆ ◆
The young beauty prepared to retire in her usual fashion. After removing her makeup in the bathroom, she discarded her robe, then bent to adjust the water to her liking. Naked, tan, toned, supple perfection, she climbed into the shower. A smile came to her face as she mentally recapped the events of the evening. She couldn’t wait to tell her friends. The smile faded as a thought came to her. Would they believe her? He had said he would call her. She wondered if he really would.
After five minutes under the hot spray, she turned off the water, then reached for her towel, quickly drying off. After wrapping her long, blond locks in another towel, she turned off the lights, then made her way to the bedroom. After removing a pair of panties from her dresser, she dropped her robe to the bed. Her eyes wandered to the mirror, scanning her well-proportioned body. She noticed pinkish marks on her breasts and inner thighs, reminders of her encounter with the senator.
Bending to step into the panties, she thought she saw a flash of movement in the mirror. She quickly started to look behind her. But it was far too late. His hands circled her turning neck, his fingers closing over her windpipe. She tried to scream, as her fingernails scratched ineffectively at his gloved hands. Her eyes portrayed the very essence of terror. Disbelief quickly turned to horrified realization, as her kicking and flailing made absolutely no impact on her attacker.
Searching the mirror for the identity of the intruder, she was deprived of even this one small consolation, her own body obscuring him from her vision. The strength of her resistance began to ebb, her legs and arms pumping in fits and starts. Her eyes rolled back in her head. She lost consciousness, her arms slowly sinking to her side.
He relaxed his grip, then gently bent to lift her light body. He carried her to the bed, placing her even more gently atop the covers, her lovely head laid softly on her pillow.
Planting a chaste kiss on her blue lips, he then rose and crossed to the window. He parted the blinds very slightly, scanning the quiet street. Satisfied that the world was oblivious to him, he took a deep breath, then turned to the nude beauty on the bed. He was excited by the very weak rising and falling of her ample chest.
Stripping out of his clothing, he eagerly went to work. It was work he loved dearly.
◆ ◆ ◆
Warren and Ellis joined Sydney in the sedan, Ellis’ disposition still ugly from his exertion. Sydney couldn’t contain a small smile. “Damn, Ellis… did you fall in a swimming pool?”
“You wouldn’t be grinning like that if I’d keeled over with a heart attack,” Ellis groused. “And you better hope I don’t get blisters on my dogs either—I’ll take freaking sick leave on you.”
“You get down under two hundred pounds, then maybe you’ll be able to run a mile without all this damn bellyaching.”
“Just wait ‘til you get a whiff of your Blazer, old buddy,” Ellis said, grunting a laugh.
Sydney glanced at Warren in the back seat. “Please tell me he didn’t take his shoes off.”
“Sorry, Syd—he took them both off. You think they smell pretty bad normally—try surviving them after the son of a gun runs a little.”
Ellis quickly bent, once again removing the shoes. He worked his sore feet with his hands. “I hope you both freaking gag.”
“Damn, Ellis,” Sydney scowled, rolling down his window, “why don’t you go to the doctor? Anything that smells that bad needs immediate medical attention.”
Warren grimaced, cracking his own window. “Anything that smells like that needs a coroner—not a doctor.” Noting the apartment ahead, he asked, “Is that the one she’s in?”
“Yeah,” Sydney said. “Her lights are still on, but her blinds are closed.” He raised the binoculars, straining to catch any movement inside or around the apartment. The light behind the closed blinds suddenly went out, the building becoming totally dark. “I guess she turned in,” Sydney said, lowering the glasses.
Warren looked at his watch. “Syd, it’s after two right now. Why don’t you go home and grab some shuteye.”
“Yeah,” Ellis added, nodding, “me and Warren will stay here. You go on.”
Sydney started to shake his head, but reconsidered. “Okay, I guess I’ll go grab a few hours. Come sunrise, I’ll be here to replace one of you guys.”
“How long you wanna watch her?” Ellis asked.
Sydney paused for a few seconds, contemplating the question. “I think we should stick around until traffic really picks up. On a Saturday morning, that could be somewhere in the nine-thirty, ten o’clock range. That should insure that she’s out of the woods.”
“See you in the morning, Syd,” Warren said, flipping him his keys.
“Goodnight, fellas,” Sydney said, pointing at Ellis. “And you keep your damn shoes on.”
“If he doesn’t, I’m asking for hazard pay,” Warren said, chuckling.
Sydney laughed, then exited the car, making his way to the Blazer. He decided to swing by Morrell’s apartment, just for his own peace of mind.
◆ ◆ ◆
He turned on the water, rinsing her blood from the long blade. His eyes were mesmerized by the swirling crimson flow, making its way down the drain. Soon, the liquid once again became clear, bringing him back from the place he had gone.
He placed the knife in his coat pocket, staring at his reflection. He straightened his hair and clothing meticulously. Then he wiped the area thoroughly, making certain to remove any fingerprints. After putting his gloves back on, he turned off the bathroom light.
Slowly making his way to the back of the apartment, he located exactly what he was looking for. Glancing at the isolated alley, and satisfied that the coast was clear, he pulled himself up, then out the laundry room window. After landing lightly on the ground, he reached up, once again securing the window. He glanced at his watch, grinning an evil grin. He was right on schedule.
◆ ◆ ◆
Sydney slowed as he approached Terry Morrell’s apartment, noting that the street was deserted except for a blue station wagon parked across the street. The room appeared dark, giving Sydney no reason to assume anything had changed. After stopping very briefly, he decided to head home for a few fitful hours of sleep.
◆ ◆ ◆
Stump had barely lowered his head in time as he caught sight of Sydney Berry’s Blazer. Satisfied that the slumbering Stringbrean was safely out of sight, snoring like a buzz saw, he waited for his lieutenant to pass. After seeing Sydney finally drive away, he elbowed his sleeping counterpart. “Wake up, Earl—I’m going to take a piss. When I get back, it’s your shift.” Stringbean barely stirred, prompting Stump to strike him even harder. “Wake up, dammit.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, half awake.
“Did you hear what I said?” Stump asked irritably.
“Taking a piss, my shift,” he said groggily, his eyes still closed.
Stump climbed out of the car, grousing about his slow-witted partner. He walked over to a dark alley, tucked between two deserted buildings, some fifty feet from the car. Making his way to the back corner, he quickly unzipped, closed his exhausted eyes, then sprayed the building wall with a steady stream. In mid-piss, he shivered, unleashing a long yawn.
The knife entered his back, puncturing his lung in mid-yawn. At the same instant, a hand clamped over his mouth, stifling the startled scream forming in his throat. He was paralyzed by the searing pain in his back, unable to wrench the hand from his mouth.
The knife traveled another inch upward, ripping him apart. It was at that moment he realized, with sudden clarity, that he was screwed. Rodney “Stump” Rushing, ace detective, detected at that instant that he was about to die. The knife once again sliced upward. He was right. He slumped to the ground, his blood drenching the dirt, his lifeless eyes seeing nothing.
◆ ◆ ◆
He opened the rear door, climbing behind the driver’s seat.
Stringbean stirred slightly. “Hey… Rod… what the hell you doing back there?” he asked wearily, slowing sitting upright in the driver’s seat.
The predator leaned toward the groggy detective, his breath hot on Stringbean’s neck. Suddenly, the hand gripped Fenney’s forehead, jerking it back roughly. “I’m back here so I can cut your fucking throat, asshole,” he answered gutturally, bringing the blade savagely across the terrified man’s windpipe. The cut was done with such force that the head was nearly severed. Realizing that anything further would be overkill, he released the dying man, watching him slump over in the seat, his hands weakly cradling his ravaged throat. He was amused to see a single tear roll down the detective’s cheek.
Earl “Stringbean” Fenney’s vision faded, as he stared at the sky through the windshield. As he focused on the brilliant stars, his last fleeting thought was regret that he would never be able to say good-bye to his children. All sight and thought slowly vanished as he drowned in his own blood.
The time was three-thirty a.m., the killing machine noted. Everything was moving along smoothly. There was no need to hurry.
◆ ◆ ◆
Warren watched his partner sleeping. Ellis’ head was back, his large mouth wide open, a steady, deep snore breaking the silence. Warren smiled, shaking his head. He glanced through the binoculars, confirming once again that all was quiet. He found himself feeling positive about the investigation for the very first time. The killer might not show that night, but it felt pretty damn good to finally be doing something.