Tuesday morning, October 26, passed uneventfully for the detectives of the 108th homicide division. The game plan was in place, every last detail meticulously worked out. Ellis spent the late morning hours on the phone, his purpose a mystery to both Warren and Sydney. They discussed that fact in the break room.
“What’s Ellis been up to?” Sydney asked. “He’s been on that phone all morning.”
“Beats me. Just said he was playing a hunch.”
“Him and his damn hunches,” Sydney said, chuckling.
“The wheels are always turning in that head of his,” Warren said. “Then again, knowing him, he could just be ordering a pizza.”
Sydney cracked up, shaking his head. “What’s his weight at, anyway? For his height, we have to get him under two hundred.”
“Two twenty-two, last time I checked,” Warren said, cringing.
“Dammit—he’s not moving up unless he loses the weight. And the man is running out of time.”
“And he ain’t gettin’ no taller,” Warren added with a chuckle. “I honestly think he’s trying, Syd. It’s just not coming off easy.”
“There’s more to it than dieting,” Sydney said, frowning. “He hates to run, he won’t walk… but that’s what he needs to do to burn the calories.”
“Good luck trying to get him to exercise. He’d ride around here in a little cart if we’d let him.”
“That lazy sack of shit,” Sydney said with a smile.
Warren pointed at his large partner, the phone glued to his ear, his mouth working overtime. “Lazy body, but that brain is always going a hundred miles an hour.”
Sydney shook his head as he watched Ellis work the phone line. “More like a hundred and fifty.”
Ellis saw the detectives staring at him. Noting that they occasionally laughed at him, he flipped them the bird, causing them to double over with laughter. He listened closely to the party he had on the line. “Oh, okay,” he spoke into the phone. “Just call me as soon as you get that information. Thanks.” Hanging up the phone, he made his way back to the break room.
“You got a damn girlfriend or what?” Sydney asked.
“Unlike you two slouches, I’m on the clock for the city of New York. We don’t go into action until tonight, so I’m trying to use what time I have constructively.”
“You’re on a fishing expedition,” Warren said. “What you trying to catch?”
“I ain’t telling,” Ellis said, smiling. “That way, if nothing comes of it I don’t look stupid. But if I hook me something, I come off as a genius.”
“Nope, if you hook something, you come off as stupid looking genius,” Warren quipped.
Ellis walked back toward his desk, hot coffee in hand. “Well, that’s all the break I need. You boys move around every now and then, so the pigeons don’t shit all over you.”
Sydney and Warren shook their heads, smiling at his retreating back.
◆ ◆ ◆
At three o’clock that afternoon, Ellis burst into Sydney’s office.
“Damn, Ellis—is the station on fire?”
“Nope,” he answered, a cocky grin on his chubby face. “I just got a call from the Cambridge Police Department.” He looked at Sydney’s eyes for some recognition, but received only a confused stare.
“Cambridge Police Department?”
“Cambridge… Cambridge, Massachusetts,” Ellis said anxiously. “Come on, Syd.” Sydney shrugged, still not making a connection. Ellis sighed loudly, exasperated. “Harvard? Lots of smart, rich kids go there? Ring a bell?”
“Oh, okay,” Sydney said, “I’m with you now. What did they have to say?”
“Those calls this morning… that was them I was talking to. I had them check their files for unsolved homicides over the past few years.”
Sydney’s interest was definitely peaked. “They found something?”
“Two female students,” Ellis replied, very animated, “killed about a year apart. Knifing, some mutilation—I’m waiting for further details.”
“How long ago?” Sydney asked.
“First girl was killed June of ninety-five… the second June of ninety-six.”
“Did they have anything else for you?”
Ellis smiled, obviously pleased with himself. “Nope, but I did some research of my own…”
Sydney hated it when Ellis played this guessing game. “Please, oh wise one, tell me what you’ve uncovered.”
“Okay, but hold on to your hat. Both girls were killed a few hours after their respective graduations.”
Sydney’s eyes opened wide, registering his reaction. “That’s one hell of a coincidence.”
“It gets even better. Guess who the commencement speaker was, both years?”
For once, Sydney believed he had the answer to one of Ellis’ riddles. “Senator Dexter Reed?”
“The one and only,” Ellis answered smugly. “I would bet my ass he had a secret admirer as far back as the summer of ninety-five.”
Sydney nodded, totally blown away by the new development. “I guess it could be just a coincidence.”
“Someone very wise once taught me to never believe in coincidences.”
“I think you might be misquoting the wise one,” Sydney interjected. “I probably told you to be skeptical of coincidences.”
“Well,” Ellis replied stubbornly, “then color my black ass skeptical.”
“Color us both skeptical,” Sydney said, glancing at his watch. “Great work, Ellis—as always. Maybe the next few hours will go a long way toward solving even more of this crazy puzzle.”
“If you guys are fixing to head out, I think I should stay here and follow this thing up.”
“Definitely,” Sydney said, nodding. “Warren and I can handle things tonight. We’ll only be tailing one car.”
“Good luck,” Ellis said, walking to his desk. “Call me with updates.”
“Will do. And you let me know what else you find out.”
“Roger,” Ellis said, heading back to his desk.
Sydney, catching Warren’s eye at the front desk, motioned for him. “Time to set the trap,” he said aloud, psyching himself up.
◆ ◆ ◆
On the drive to Reed’s estate, Sydney updated Warren concerning Ellis’ discovery.
“My man, Ellis,” Warren said, grinning.
“Trying to repeat as Detective of the Year,” Sydney said, smiling like a proud papa.
Warren nodded, then glanced at his watch. “We’re going over awful early.”
“I’m allowing for the unexpected—traffic accident, traffic jam, car trouble—better safe than sorry.”
The usually stoic detective struck his palm with his fist several times. “Tonight’s the night, Syd—I can feel it.”
“Careful, buddy… it might get around that you have a pulse after all,” Sydney joked.
◆ ◆ ◆
Ellis leaned back in his chair, contemplating what he did know and what he wished he knew. Expecting a slow response from the Cambridge Police, he tapped his foot nervously, his brain working overtime. What was he missing? Where could he pick up the trail? His thoughts were interrupted by the ringing phone.
“Moore,” he answered eagerly.
“Hello, Sergeant Moore—Joel Erickson here.”
Ellis’ mind went blank for several seconds. “Oh, yeah, Terry’s friend.”
“I just wanted to let you know how the interview went.”
“Did you get the job?” Ellis asked coolly.
“Yes, sir. I’ll be heading back to Washington with Reed tomorrow.”
“Hey, I’ve got some news for you, too,” Ellis said. “It’s starting to look like we were off base about Reed.”
“What do you mean?” Joel asked anxiously.
“We’re looking at a different angle right now.”
“The senator told me that he was going out on the town tonight. Don’t you want me to keep an eye on him?”
“Listen very carefully, Joel,” Ellis said sternly. “You stay the hell away from Reed tonight. Got it?”
“Yeah, I guess,” he answered uneasily. “Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Ellis paused, contemplating his response. “No, just hang loose tonight. Maybe we’ll be able to clue you in by tomorrow.”
“Alright,” Joel said glumly. “Let me know if I can help.”
“Thanks. Take it easy, Joel.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Sydney and Warren waited patiently for the senator to emerge from his estate. The wait ended at five-thirty sharp, Reed emerging with his driver. Sydney watched the limo pull out of the driveway, then followed as he had done less than a week before. He glanced over at Warren. “This is a whole lot easier when the followee knows about the follower.”
“Yeah, but remember to make it appear legit,” Warren said.
“Yes sir,” Sydney said, saluting. “I’ll do my best.”
A few minutes later, the limo pulled to a stop in front of O’Briens. Reed exited the car, making his way to his favorite hangout.
Sydney parked the Blazer in the almost identical spot he had days before. Killing the engine, he checked his watch. “Ten after six. Thirty minutes in there should do it.”
“Yep,” Warren said, leaning back, “then the merry-go-round begins.”
◆ ◆ ◆
The medical examiner’s report on the two Harvard coeds arrived via the fax machine at a quarter past six. Ellis quickly scanned the material, excitedly noting the many similarities with the Butcher homicides. One glance at the killer’s blood type sealed it. Ellis felt secure in his assumption that the killer was one and the same.
Sitting at his desk, he debated his next move. Though he had a strong desire to join Sydney and Warren, he realized that the risk of discovery was far too great. With that in mind, he turned his attention back to the frustrating puzzle. Where was the missing link? Think Ellis. What are you missing?
He walked over to the break room, filling his cup with lukewarm coffee. The guy gets into the hotel suite, plants a bug, then monitors it when Reed shows up with a girl. Ellis frowned, starting to bring the cup to his mouth. Then it suddenly hit him. “Damn,” he said loudly, the cup stopping an inch from his mouth. Quickly losing the coffee, he briskly crossed to his desk. Grabbing the phone book, he searched for the number, finally locating it. He dialed. He waited.
“Regency Hotel,” a voice answered.
“Yeah—let me speak to Leonard Myers.”
There was a pronounced pause. “Uh, Myers is off tonight.”
“Lieutenant Berry said you were a weasel,” Ellis snarled. “This is Sergeant Moore. If I come down there and find out that you’re Leonard Myers, I’ll be one very large and very pissed off black man.”
Silence was the only response for several seconds. Finally, the other party caved. “Damn, man—when are you guys gonna get tired of hassling my ass?”
“Hassling guys like you is one of the great perks of this job.”
His voice became a nervous whisper. “Listen, my boss is here tonight. Cut me some slack.”
“Alright, here’s what I need,” Ellis replied, totally ignoring him. “I want you to check something out for me, then get back to me within twenty minutes.”
“Shit,” he snarled. “What is it?”
“You keep records of who was booked in room 3501—the honeymoon suite—right?”
“Dammit—I already told that lieutenant that I didn’t keep any record of Reed’s comings and goings.”
“No, I don’t wanna know about Reed,” Ellis said. “I want you to go back two months. Get me the name of every person who stayed in that room.”
“Damn,” he moaned, “I can’t do that without calling attention to myself. I got a wife and kid to support. You wanna get me fired?”
“You got a fax machine, Leonard?” Ellis pressed on.
“Yeah, right here in the office. Why?”
“You got twenty minutes to get me a complete list. Do it when your boss ain’t looking. Do it when he goes to take a dump—I don’t care. But if I don’t get the complete list in twenty minutes, I come ask your boss for it. Understand, Leonard?”
“You guys are really busting my balls.”
“Nineteen minutes.”
“Okay, okay—give me your fax number.”
Ellis smiled as he recited the number. “Thank you, Mr. Myers. We here at the 108th precinct rely on conscientious citizens like yourse—” The click stopped Ellis in mid-sentence. Feigning offence, he hung up the phone. “Now, that was rude.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Reed emerged from the bar with a very pretty brunette on his arm. She was in her mid-twenties, busty and dressed to kill.
Sydney waited until they were about fifty yards ahead, then started his Blazer. “Jump out and follow them, Warren, just like the other night.” Warren quickly exited the auto, falling well behind the twosome. Sydney eased the Blazer around and behind the group, barely creeping along.
Reed and the woman, appearing very chummy, entered the Regency Hotel. Myers, busy with the list he had promised Ellis, never noticed them until they were at the desk. Looking up, he was so startled that he dropped his pen. “Uh, Senator Reed—how are you, sir?”
“Fine, Leonard,” he replied coolly. “You don’t look too good, though.”
Myers was sweating profusely, though the room was far from hot. “I think I’m coming down with something, sir,” he replied very nervously. “Do you want your, um, regular room?”
Reed smiled, slipping three one hundred-dollar bills into the clerk’s shirt pocket. “That would be lovely, Leonard.”
Myers dropped the key, then picked it up with a shaky hand. “Here you go, Senator—room 3501.”
“Thank you, Leonard. Take care of yourself—you look like hell.”
“Yes, sir—I’m trying my best. Have a nice evening.”
“That we will, my boy. That we will.” He escorted the lovely lady to the elevator, their arms interlocked.
After they had entered, and the door had closed, Myers took the paper he had been writing on, then walked quickly back to the office. After taking one last glance at the twelve names, he inserted the sheet into the fax machine, then punched in the number the detective had given him. “Good riddance, you sorry sons of bitches. Now leave me the fuck alone.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Sydney made himself comfortable, expecting a one to two hour wait. Warren glanced around the area, trying to spot anyone or anything that looked out of place. “The slime could be watching us right now?” Warren said.
“Could be,” Sydney mused. “That would mean that the receiver was in his car.” He scanned the area, the idea that the killer could be so close giving him a chill.
“Syd, you really think they’ll be able to pull it off?”
“I’m not worried about Donna,” he answered. “She’s a hell of a cop. Reed, I’m not so sure about.”
“But having to play out having hot sex,” Warren said, shivering at the thought, “without slipping up once?”
“Donna worked with me a little over a year ago on those prostitute murders. She had to play a whore to the hilt.”
“She was good?”
“Very convincing,” Sydney said, nodding. “Trust me, Reed’s our only worry.”
“Ellis said that the senator was very eager to put this behind him.”
“Then here’s his chance,” Sydney replied. “I told Donna to stay inside at least an hour or so. Everything has to appear normal. We can’t do anything to tip the guy off. She gives him her address, waits a few minutes, then heads home.”
“And if our goon is listening, we catch his sick ass in the act,” Warren finished.
“That’s the plan.”
After sitting in silence for several seconds, Sydney finally spoke. “Why don’t you grab some shuteye in your—” Glancing at Warren, he stopped himself, chuckling. “Nevermind.”
Warren’s steady, peaceful snoring was the only sound in the car.
◆ ◆ ◆
Shirley Richards laid the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter, then headed for Sydney’s bedroom. After a very long day, she longed to feel the soothing jet spray of a hot shower.
After shedding shoes and hose, she pulled her dress over her head. Standing in only bra and panties, she turned to make her way to the bathroom.
He stepped from behind the door, startling her. Her hand went to her mouth instinctively, a frightened half scream escaping her lips. His eyes bore into hers. His sinister smile froze her. “Hello, Shirley,” he said softly. “If you scream again, I’ll kill you.”
She trembled with fear as he slowly approached her. “Who are you?” she asked weakly, even though it terrified her that she already knew. The long blade handle protruding slightly from his overcoat pocket kept her from moving.
Taking a roll of tape from his pocket, he quickly tore off a long piece, applying it to her mouth. Next, he bound her wrists together. “I, Ms. Richards,” he said coldly, making certain to make eye contact with her, “am every bad nightmare you ever had.”
With much ceremony, he brought the long knife from his overcoat pocket. Shirley’s eyes grew large and round with renewed terror. Laughing, he laid the blade against her chest, the point piercing the tender skin beneath her rib cage. A small trickle of blood appeared, causing his eyes to glaze over slightly.
Shaking his head, he smiled. “Not yet. Not quite yet.” With a swift rise of the knife, the bra was parted, her breasts freed. After removing the remnants, he bent to lower her panties. Clamping her legs together, she made it impossible for him to attain his goal.
With much force, he brought the broad side of the knife against her leg, causing a loud slapping sound. Tears of pain rolled down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Shirley,” he said soothingly, his hand raking through her hair. “But you really need to cooperate with me.”
Shirley cried, tears running freely down her face. Terrified and without other options, she allowed him to lower her panties.
He rose to admire her nakedness. “Sydney is a very lucky man. The pleasure you must give him.” He pointed to the bed. “Lie down.” She continued to whimper, begging with her eyes as she shook her head. Grabbing her by the shoulders, he flung her on the mattress, causing her to hit the headboard sharply. “There, that’s much better.”
He pulled four small strands of rope from his coat pocket, laying them beside her head on the pillow. After taking the tape from her wrists, he used two strands to affix them to each side of the headboard. Next, he used the other two strands to do the same with her ankles, splaying her wide open.
Rising from the bed, he picked up the cordless phone on the night table. Dialing the number he had memorized, he waited, smiling at a whimpering Shirley. “Hello,” he said, “Gert?”
He laughed at the reply. “Who is this? This is that nasty fellow your boss is trying to catch. You know—the guy everybody refers to as the Butcher.” He again listened, amused at her reply. “I assure you that I am deadly serious. Now, I need you to get a message to Syd—I mean—Lieutenant Berry.” He glanced over at Shirley, smiling sinisterly. “And, Gert, you may wanna put a rush on it.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Nate Swilling pulled into a parking spot, directly in front of the precinct. After closing his store, he had decided to pay Sydney a visit, anxious for an update on the case. Patricia’s death had left a void in the large man’s heart, bringing his life to a standstill. Talking with Sydney always seemed to help him. The visits were good therapy.
He climbed the steps, then opened the door. His eyes caught the agitated face of Gert, the desk sergeant, obviously involved in a serious phone call. He frowned, sensing not only concern, but something much worse. It was raw, cold fear he saw in her eyes. As he walked slowly toward her, she suddenly hung up, grabbing the police radio microphone. Her next words froze him in his large tracks. “Lieutenant—a man just called here—claiming he was the Butcher.” She paused, obviously listening. “I know, sir—but I swear to God I think it was really him.” Another pause. “He told me to give you this message…”
Nate Swilling stepped behind the wall leading to the bathrooms, straining to hear the message.
◆ ◆ ◆
Ellis anxiously picked up the fax, quickly scanning the names. Not really expecting to hit pay dirt, his brain almost completely shut down when he saw the familiar name. Stunned beyond belief, he shook his head, trying to clear the fog.
“Sonofabitch!” he shouted, startling everyone within fifty feet. Totally oblivious, he glanced back down at the list, thinking he had to have been imagining things. Realizing that it was, indeed, true, he contemplated what his next move should be.
His pondering was interrupted by Gert, running up to him, more frantic that he had ever seen her. “What is it?” Ellis asked, full of concern.
“It’s Sydney,” she said, tears of fear and frustration beginning to roll down her usually stoic face. “Something’s terribly wrong, Ellis.”
Ellis, totally shaken, asked, “What about Sydney?”
“He wants you to get over to his apartment,” she said, the words flying out in rapid fire fashion. “He said to hurry, Ellis.”
“My God, Gert, what—”
She shook her head, handing him a note, her hand trembling. “I don’t know what this means—some man called this message in— he said he was the Butcher, Ellis. The lieutenant went crazy.”
Ellis, his own hands unsteady, read the note aloud. “Tell Sydney that female cops don’t interest me, but beautiful television reporters really turn me on.” Ellis looked up at Gert, confused. “And Syd said to get over to his place?”
She shook her clenched fists from anxiety. “Ellis, you need to go. Please go now!”
Ellis ran for the door, shouting over his shoulder, “Tell him I’m on my way! And tell him I know who it is!”
Nate, careful to remain undetected, watched Ellis fly by him like a bat out of hell. After giving him a few seconds head start, he quickly followed, never losing sight of the burly detective. Ellis, who had to retrieve his car from the precinct parking lot, soon emerged. Nate pulled up a few car lengths behind.
Placing a red light on the roof, Ellis tore out into traffic, totally unaware that he had company. They both weaved in and out of traffic, pedal to the metal, operating on pure adrenalin.
◆ ◆ ◆
Sydney had never known terror like he felt at that moment. He tore off in the direction of his apartment, a bewildered Warren hanging on for dear life.
“What did that message mean?” Warren asked anxiously, mortified at seeing Sydney so uncharacteristically out of control.
“He’s got Shirley!” Sydney shouted. “The bastard has Shirley!”
“Shirley? Shirley who?” he asked, exasperated.
Sydney ignored him, frantically scanning his watch. “Come on, Ellis. He knew I’d be twenty minutes away, but you can make it in five.” He slammed the steering wheel with his right palm. “Please, Ellis,” he wailed. “Please get there.”
Warren rode in silence, realizing that Sydney was incapable of giving him any answers in his present mental state. The only thing he knew with certainty was that there was major trouble at Sydney’s apartment. The man would never have left that hotel unless he was absolutely convinced about his conclusions.
“Damn you—you sonofabitch!” Sydney screamed. His voice grew husky with emotion. “Not her. Please not her.”
Warren considered consoling him, but thought better of it. Whatever was going on was beyond consoling, of that he was certain.
◆ ◆ ◆
After laying the last of his clothes on the nightstand, he stood naked before her. “I may have to move faster than usual, Shirley,” he said, smiling sadistically. “Your boyfriend is on the way.” Taking the knife from the table, he swung his left leg over her, straddling her pelvis. “Wait’ll he sees what I did to his Shirley.” His laughter shook her to the core.
Closing her eyes tightly, she began to silently pray. Shirley Richards was preparing to die.