After the Evil – A Jake Roberts Novel (Book 1) (10 page)

“As a matter of fact, I’m starving, and Hennigan’s
sounds good. And yes, I think it’s a tumor.”

She didn’t like my wisecrack. I'm scolded.

“That’s not funny––I’d miss you.”

“See you there.”

I’m just a few blocks away from Hennigan’s. I see no
need to race there. Mika isn’t even close herself. I hate waiting
like a lapdog, tongue hanging out and tail wagging. The extra time
gives me a chance to come up with an excuse, as to why I was given
three interviews to do, and only finished one. Maybe Harmon has
something so I dial his number.

I’d miss you?

As I wait for him to pick up, Mika pulls up
alongside my car looking cranky. I climb out of my car.

“Everything, okay?”

I sense incoming trauma. She shrugs, and heads for
the front door of the restaurant without saying a word. I hate when
women do that. I hate the guessing game. I open the door for her.
It was the restaurant management’s hope you would somehow confuse
the place for a popular restaurant with a similar name. The food
was good, and no one cared about the name anyway. Mika told the
hostess there were two, and possibly three of us. The young girl
marches us to a corner booth. After she takes our drink orders, she
goes about retrieving them. Mika is still looking off into some far
horizon, but finally speaks.

“I want this guy, I’ve been through each case a
thousand times and nothing, but nothing, plus more nothing. What I
do know for sure is, I have multiple deceased males. That’s the sum
total of what I have.”

Without anything to follow with, I ask if Harmon
stumbled onto anything.

“He would have called if he had.”

Her answer is abrupt, but I press on anyway.

“Was there any more out of the M.E.?”

“Moss didn’t have anything earthshaking, just basic
autopsy stuff.”

She says it while scrutinizing the other patrons
like a cop.

“The perp could be in here, right now, having lunch,
and I wouldn’t know it.”

“Easy, we’re not in the Waterfront Tavern.”

My reference is to the infamous bar where several
prolific serial killers had once tossed down a cold brew together.
The county morgue is not my kind of place. I detest it. I make my
living as a homicide investigator and am required to go there. I
always think it’s full of creepy people who enjoyed a little too
much what they did for a living. I often thought
they
should
be investigated. Fortunately, my ex-girlfriend turned FBI profiler
is in command, so I don’t have to go. I can just read the
report.

Lori Powers.

Her face keeps popping up in the upcoming events
marquee in my mind. Mika on the other hand has a different look
about her today. Until Lori Powers, Mika was where I had hoped my
luck in love would lead, again.

“Did you do something different with your hair?”

She looks at me as if trying to decide, whether or
not I deserve an answer.

“No Jake, same hair, why? What’s on your mind,
something you want to talk about?”

She asks as she pulls out a file three actual, and
not man inches, thick, press-a-ply's are stuck everywhere. She
looks over her notes.

“How did your interview with...Lori Powers go?”

Being a detail person, she notes the change in my
expression, and watches my head turn away when she says the name.
I’m not fast enough with an answer for her.

“Jake?”

“Let me give Harmon a call. He might want to meet up
with us.”

I need to buy some time, and quickly press speed
dial. It takes only a second for Harmon to answer.

“Hey big man, where you at?”

“Passing Fifth and Sycamore, why?”

“Hennigan’s. Thought you might like to join us. Got
anything?”

I nod in Mika’s direction to show I’m on the
case.

“On my way, be there in fifteen at the most.”

Harmon whispers into the phone as if Mika might hear
his next sentence.

“Is she wearing the short red skirt?”

“Watch for those pedestrians.”

I sign off and wink at Mika.

“He’s on his way. Hope the FBI is paying for lunch.
A man Harmon’s size can’t be fed on what I make.”

Mika is lost in thought. I’m afraid to ask what is
going through her head. I think I’m out of the line of fire, and
assume she’s thinking about the “Who’s Your Daddy” killer.

That was some shower.

She smiles.

“When you were a kid, what did you want to be when
you grew up?”

Maybe I don’t get the question, or why she asked it,
but I go along with it.

“In my neighborhood, you only had three choices––a
cop, a fireman, or a priest. I’m afraid of fire, so being a
firefighter was out. I like women, so the priesthood was out. That
left only one option.”

“Organized crime?” she says.

“Actually, the ad said only Sicilian’s need apply,
but I filled out the application anyway.”

I answer with a sneer. Mika starts to laugh. It’s
the first time I have seen her laugh since our pitiful reunion. It
wasn’t your normal belly laugh, more like an adult giggle.

Could we fall in love again?

It’s funny how distracted I have become from the
trauma of the shooting, because of Lori and Mika. I must be
healing. I can still smell the scent of Lori’s perfume on my hand.
Mika’s eyes are more alluring than ever. I drift until Mika brings
me back home again.

“What did they have to say?” she says.

“What did
who
have to say?”

“The Powers woman, and the others I asked you to
question?”

She keeps staring at me making me feel
uncomfortable.

“Jake, tell me you did what I asked you to do.”

“I only got to Ms. Powers. I didn’t get to the
others by the time you called to meet here.”

I shuffle the silverware and saltshaker. Because the
case means so much to her, she is disappointed, I didn’t finish my
assignment.

“What did
she
have to say?”

“Just that everything was normal, nothing out of the
ordinary, no interruptions, phone calls, or any distressing events
during her session.”

I sound too defensive.

“What was she wearing?” Mika says.

* * *

Flying at thirty-three thousand feet, and looking
down at the blue-green earth, you could see concrete cities,
majestic mountains, snaking rivers, and green fields. As the world
rotated beneath your feet, you had the sensation you weren’t
moving. You also had the impression the world was right, and full
of peace. What you couldn’t see were the people, or the crimes they
were committing. The terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center
pushed the airline industry into complete disarray. The Federal
Aviation Administration had mandated new security procedures that
ran the gamut from the simple-minded, to overkill.

While some concepts improved safety and security,
others had to be trashed. Anyone observing a newborn, or
handicapped, elderly person being “wanded” at a security
checkpoint, had a difficult time accepting the changes.

In flight, the rules had also changed, with an
increase in the use of Federal Air Marshals riding on board
flights. Flight attendants were receiving self-defense training.
Passengers were offering their assistance to crews if needed to
overpower terrorists.

Captain Nicholas Parker was old school. Even before
the attacks, he was fearless when it came to defending his ship.
“Pilot-in-Command” to Parker meant he was in total control. He only
trusted the man flying the plane, and
he
was that man. The
down side to his courage and authoritarian attitude was that he
used it to abuse crewmembers. The new reinforced cockpit doors were
pure nonsense to Parker. As far as he was concerned, the door was
only another barrier preventing him access to the female flight
attendants. A perverted profiler, Nick profiled the female members
of his crew to fulfill his sexual needs.

His requirements included young women, and the
younger the better. Those in their late twenties were okay, as long
as they had young girl features. Pretty was acceptable to him, but
drop dead gorgeous was prized. Fortunately, for Parker that’s what
the air carriers sought out as well, young and hot, for the
discriminating business traveler. Megan fit the Parker profile. She
had just turned twenty-one, and was new to the airline. Although
she wasn’t on the drop dead gorgeous side of the scale, she turned
heads. The road kill neighborhood she had grown up in taught her
early that life could be devastatingly harsh. She came from the
wrong side of the tracks, and her future looked bleak.
Nevertheless, she was determined to get out any way she could.

Megan’s parents couldn’t afford to help her out of
the misery. The schools failed her as well. She knew it was only a
matter of time before she would rise up and get out. She worked
hard and managed to be hired as a flight attendant. She believed
that all it would take to complete her story was that one pilot who
would sweep her off her feet. She considered sleeping her way into
a secure financial future, but believed she could get by with
teasing. Keeping her eyes and ears wide open she too profiled
targets. Upon being introduced to the captain, she recognized his
potential and waited for her moment. All she had to do was hook up
and play the game. In the end, she thought she would find the
happiness she longed for.

“You’ve got the airplane, I’m going to the back,”
Parker said.

The First Officer took command of the aircraft.
After being introduced to Megan before the flight, he had locked
his sights on her. Undoing his harness and seat belt, Parker got
out of the left seat and swung a leg over the center pedestal.
Standing in the tight cockpit, he looked in the mirror on the
bulkhead wall to check his best captain smile. The first officer
had flown with him many times before, and actually admired the old
man for his virility.

“Good hunting,” the pilot said.

He reached for his oxygen mask, which was required
by the regulations when one flight officer left the cockpit. Parker
grabbed the front of his pants, and pretended to squeeze signaling
his concurrence with the junior officer’s remark. His sneer said it
all. Turning one hundred and eighty degrees, Parker exited the
cockpit locking the door behind him. It was only a short distance,
and a brief moment, and there was Megan. The bustling commotion
inside the galley area seemed disjointed to unseasoned passengers,
but was actually part of a well-played third act. Alcohol was
served to frequent and first-time flyers with the intention of
settling their nerves by keeping them well sedated. After all,
though it wasn’t advertised, anything could go wrong at any time
while they were held captive inside a manmade machine that screamed
through the sky.

“Everything okay back here?” he said.

Parker turned up the concern and charm. Megan was
the only flight attendant in the galley. The others were serving
passengers from the cart. He glanced down the aisle appearing to
survey the situation, but was really looking to see if any of the
other flight attendants would interfere with his next move. They
had already noted his presence, and were very much aware of his
reputation.

“Yes sir, everything is under control. Is there
anything I can get for you, captain?”

She added a few playful looks, and a sweet,
elevated, innocent tone.

“Some orange juice please, if it’s no trouble.”

He loved her deference to his authority. His eyes
never left hers.

Is there anything I can get for you, Captain Parker?
Why yes!

“Megan, have you any plans for the layover?”

“No sir, I’m still on reserve, the pay isn’t much. I
plan to stay in my hotel room, and watch some television, or read a
book.”

She strategically turned away to fill another drink
order. Parker pressed on.

“Well, I was planning to go out to a nice
restaurant. No one else in the crew wants to go. You’re welcome to
go along. It would be my treat.”

Food, he knew all too well, worked for junior flight
attendants. They made so little money the first few years that they
had to sacrifice meals. She flashed her bright eyes at him. Her
excited, enthusiastic reply bounced off the galley walls.

“I’d love to go.”

As she finished preparing drinks, she stopped and
looked at him fluttering her long eyelashes and adding a tilt of
her head.

“That’s very kind of you for asking captain, thank
you.”

“Nick. There’s no need for the captain thing, unless
we’re flying.”

Of course, that only applied until he got into her
pants, after that he would be Captain Parker again, and she would
have to understand the difference.

“Okay Nick.”

She cooed back as she hunched her shoulders and
played the game.

“What should I wear?”

“Well how about something that will show off the
beautiful woman that you truly are,” he said.

She knew the just-in-case miniskirt she carried was
perfect, and well worth the money she paid for it. If she could
ensnare him, she was certain she could recoup the cost.

“I just might have something that will do.”

“Great, we’ll have a wonderful time, I promise.”

He couldn’t stand the pressure building inside his
pants, so he smiled, excused himself, and returned to the cockpit.
After he left, Megan glanced down the aisle to see if anyone had
noticed the captain’s hit on her. One of the male flight attendants
pantomimed a hysterical laugh back at her, but she wasn’t at all
affected by it.
She knew if her plan came to fruition, she’d be out next to
Parker’s pool enjoying the sunshine, while the catty flight
attendant in mid-cabin sucked in the thin air at altitude.

Back inside the confined cockpit, appropriately
named he thought, Parker watched the first officer remove his
oxygen mask. He placed himself back in command. Nick looked at the
first officer.