Chapter Seven

Glancing around her apartment at the few boxes still not unpacked made Dayle sigh. Her loose, cotton nightie billowed around her as she went to the refrigerator for a glass of water.

Elijah seemed almost too good to be true, she thought, as she prepared for bed. He was attractive, funny, and had great manners, something sadly missing in a lot of men. The affection and concern he’d shown his feisty partner had been nice to watch. At the party, he’d let everyone else do most of the talking, but had stayed engaged. His dark eyes drank in every detail of his surroundings. She liked his quiet confidence.

Most people thought cops made terrible lovers, especially homicide cops. They worked horrendous hours, and their private lives got interrupted by emergency calls all the time. She wondered, though, whether someone like Elijah might suit her well. Men often referred to her as ‘too independent,’ but that’s what would be required when your significant other might be frequently on the job at strange hours. And, God knows, her work hours had never been nine to five.

She never kissed on the first date and had been called hopelessly backward because of it. Elijah’s gentle kiss on the cheek had been just the right touch—a simple gesture to convey interest.

Her first marriage had been to a so-called alpha male. She had significant scars, both physical and emotional, to show for it. No, this tall, leggy detective with the intuitive gaze suited her well so far. It would be interesting to investigate the possibilities.

Tomorrow, she might even get around to unpacking those last few boxes.

****

On Monday morning, Elijah sat at his desk, paging through Alia Marks’ black, leather-bound diary. They had discovered it in the packed drawer of her nightstand along with a rather daunting selection of brightly colored sex toys. Everything from dildos to ticklers and handcuffs jammed the space. Inside the journal, he found detailed stories about family life and work along with a rather unusual set of charts. Although he’d heard of men rating women they dated, he’d never heard of a woman doing such a crass thing. And yet, here it was, not only a five-star system, but an actual graph showing each partner’s sexual performance. She used some rather clever analogies to describe men’s private parts. Sanchez would have howled with laughter, but he skipped over most of it. It actually embarrassed him, and he thought he’d seen it all by now.

Apparently, Alia had a rather robust sex drive. It appeared that she met most of the men on the same website their first victim had used. He made a note to have Sanchez check into that company further.

A lot of the men’s names listed were white collar professionals, their jobs listed on the chart. No plumbers or garbagemen for her. He couldn’t imagine her dates’ scores from her rather harsh judging system would please them. If this was the only diary, she had been doing this for almost two years now. The more recent liaisons interested him, though, and he paged through to a place six weeks in the past. It wasn’t long before a name he recognized jumped out at him.

Jarvis Bentley. That guy just kept popping up like a bad smell.

Well, he certainly got around, didn’t he? She’d had three dates with him he could easily find. His scores were mediocre, two to three stars, which didn’t surprise him. She had written a long diatribe in the final note underneath.

Loser!!! After the first two dates, he said it was time to split the dinner bill!

When I protested, he said, “You’re not that great in the sack, hon.”

I told him if he could last for more than three minutes, it might help.

He wasn’t smirking too much when I poured a very expensive glass of wine on his lap.

I guess he paid the dinner bill after all because I left.

The next day, he left a message on my cell, calling me a worthless whore.

Worthless? Never!!!

He shook his head. All that drama would make his head ache, but some people appeared to be addicted to such histrionics. His phone rang, the music startling in the quiet room. It was Sanchez. “Hey. I thought you’d sleep in until noon.”

“Nah. Ray got called into work to help for a few hours, so I was poking around on the computer.”

“I found something interesting in the diary of the latest victim.” He told her about the rating system and the information about Bentley. And he added what he’d learned about the man from Seth.

“I’m seeing a pretty clear pattern here,” she replied. “I asked one of the beat cops near his building if he’d ever run into him, and he told me something interesting. A few months ago, he and his partner broke up a tussle between Bentley and some chick. He had her arms pulled back and wouldn’t let her leave. The chick had bruises on her wrists, but refused to press charges, so they had to let him go.”

“He’s the only person of interest we’ve found so far, so let’s have a closer look. Did the other two still look clean?”

“As a whistle.”

“Okay, give me the name of the beat cop you spoke to. I’ll have a chat with him. Then I’ll have another talk to Bentley.” He paused. “I’m not tiring you out too much, am I?”

“Hell, no. You know me, I’d be goin’ nuts with nothing to do.”

“All right. That’s what I thought. I’ll call you later.”

“Ciao.”

It cracked him up to hear Sanchez say goodbye in Italian. Apparently, the proximity to Ray’s family was having an effect.

****

Killing Alia March had given him a new appreciation for the perfect plan. Hey, if she was stupid enough to sit in a dark, almost empty parking lot, fiddling around instead of driving away, she deserved what she got. He’d strolled right up to her open window and shot her before she had the chance to look down her nose at him.

Temptation had beckoned, making him pause long enough to consider the possibilities. He would have loved to have screwed her as she died, to ensure that the last thing she saw was his face. The other choice would have been to pull her dress up and expose her like the whore she resembled. Speed was essential to these crimes, though—in and out with no one the wiser.

It was the key to his success along with insider knowledge. Smile at everyone and just hang in the background. You’d be surprised at the information you could glean from rambling conversations nobody knew you were overhearing.

Two clean kills almost made his bumble with the newscaster forgivable. And now, he got to go home and contemplate his ever-growing list of possible targets.

Lately, it was his favorite pastime.

****

First thing in the morning, Elijah had just sat down at his desk when his cellphone rang. He saw the call came from Pamela Clayton. Picking it up, he said, “Good morning. You’re up early this morning.”

“I don’t have much time,” she said, her lowered voice hard to hear with the clatter in the background. “I got an email last night from The Rhymester. I have to put it on the news because my boss insists, but I thought I’d give you fair warning. I’m sending it to you now.”

After thanking her, he pulled up the email.

Alia Marks

I just can’t believe how stupid women are

Sitting and waiting for death in their cars

For her vanity she paid a high price

Maybe she should have tried to be nice

The Rhymester

Elijah wondered, as he always did with serial killer cases, what had started this man on his journey of hate. Was it someone who’d never been successful with women as was so often the case? Statistically, people who showed this level of aggression toward women usually had either a sadistic mother figure or a lover who had humiliated them, sometimes both. While normal people would be hurt or depressed over such a thing and then get over it, troubled people often thought in terms of divine retribution. Thankfully, according to statistics, only a relative few then carried it out.

This killer longed for recognition, hence the poems. What else did he long for?

****

Sanchez heard the distinctive rattle of keys in the door and straightened, giving herself a tap on the face to wake herself up. Ray would only worry more if he knew she took a long nap in the afternoon to help regain her strength. “Hey, handsome,” she teased as he poked his head through the open doorway. “How was your day?”

He sauntered across the room to drop a kiss on her lips. “It was a good news/bad news kinda thing. We finally caught the thief who’s been stealing stuff. Unfortunately, it was everybody’s favorite maid.”

“Ah, jeez. You’re kiddin’.”

“Nope. She’s been working for the hotel for almost ten years. The manager is going to let her make restitution, but she’s out of a job.” He plopped down on the sofa and pulled off his shoes with a groan, pausing to rub his feet. She chuckled at the gaping hole in his sock.

“Time for some new socks.”

“Nah, Momma can sew it.”

She faked an annoyed glower. “What, you’re not going to ask me to do it?”

Grinning, he said, “I know better.” He ducked the pillow that sailed across the room, aimed at his head. “Don’t worry, babe. You have other amazing abilities. Speaking of which, what did you do for Elijah today?”

“Just hunting down some loose ends for him.” She shifted and tugged the quilt over her legs. “What did you think of Dayle the other night?”

“Elijah’s new squeeze? She seemed pretty nice. Smart, too. I guess she’d have to be to hang out with him.” He recognized the concern on her face. “What, you don’t like her?”

“It’s not that. I like her okay.”

“Then what’s causing that furrow between your brows?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s just had shitty luck with women, that’s all. Be nice if somethin’ could work out for him in the long run. She better treat him right or she can answer to me.”

“Just don’t scare her off.” He walked to the refrigerator and grabbed himself a beer, popping the cap. “Elijah’s a big boy, despite your worries.” He offered her a soda, but she nixed it. “I’m sure he can take care of his own love life.”

“Well, jeez, nothing like statin’ the obvious. It’s just I know him. If it doesn’t work out, he’ll just shut himself in his house and read the rest of his life away.”

“There are worse things than being a hermit. At least he’s not the type to drink himself to death or worse.”

“I don’t know. I was pretty worried about him after all the Cara Belton bullshit.”

He shook his head. “That was just a short-term thing. Hazards of the job. All he needed was a boot in the ass which you so generously provided.”

“He really needed it.”

“I know that, and so does he.”

“You ever go on one of those online dating deals?”

He looked surprised at her question. “Nah, I’m too old-fashioned for that stuff. How about you?”

“Hell, no. You can pretend to be anything or anyone on those kinds of sites. I was just looking into the one the victim joined. She made good use of it, but she was kissing a lot of toads along the way. And that site has a really good rating compared to most.”

“Good thing we don’t have to worry about that kind of stuff anymore, thank God.” Glancing around the room, he said, “So where do you want to live after we get married?”

She looked at him like he had two heads. “What do you mean? We’re gonna live here.”

“I think we should look for a bigger place.”

“How much room do two people need?”

“It’s not always going to be just the two of us.”

His words shocked her. They had talked about wanting kids, but always in general terms for the future. The idea suddenly stole their attention, front and center. Who was she kidding? She already had thirty-five long years behind her. Her sex drive would probably last until she reached a hundred, or at least she hoped it would, but the ability to carry children wouldn’t.

“Don’t freak out,” he said, softening his tone. He moved to sit by her feet, his eyes full of love. “I’m just trying to think long term.”

“I know, but are you sure we can afford a bigger place?”

“Sure. We both make decent money, and I’ve got some savings to spare. I don’t mind if we have to spruce the place up a bit. The family will pitch in.”

He made them sound like the mafia or something, but his father had been in construction and taught Ray his skills so that part didn’t concern her. “Let’s wait until after we get married, okay?”

“Sure, if you want.” He twirled his empty bottle between his fingers. “When were you thinking we should get hitched?”

What, all of a sudden, they had to have their whole life planned out? “You in a big rush for some reason?” She raised her eyebrows.

He met her gaze and smiled. “Yes. I can’t wait to be your husband.”

She thought about getting stabbed and how she’d worried all the way to the hospital that she’d never see his goombah face ever again. Unaccustomed tears came to her eyes and, horrified, she ordered them away. Instead, she squeezed his hand. “And I can’t wait to be your wife.”