Alien Blues (6 page)

“Yeah?”

“Dyer's got to be dead, don't you think?”

EIGHT

David and Mel stopped at the café on West Main, and were late to the staff meeting. Della Martinas, Pete Ridel, and Dawn Weiler, the FBI liaison, were already at the oval table in the captain's office. An Elaki stood between the table and the wall.

“That's
him
.” Mel grabbed David's sleeve. “The one that crashed our crime scene.”

“Shhh.” David peeled Mel's fingers off his wrist. “Take it easy, will you? This is a different one. Pinker in the middle—see?”

“What's he doing at a staff meeting?”

“Hell, I don't know.”

“I ain't working with that guy.”

“You won't have to. Halliday wouldn't just spring something like this.”

David opened the door and Mel followed him into the office.

Dawn Weiler was talking. David nodded at her, smiling gently. Mel stood behind his chair, looking from the Elaki to the captain. Halliday frowned at him. Mel sat.

The Elaki swayed ever so slightly back and forth. David wished it would be still.

He tried to concentrate on what Dawn was saying. She was a slender brunette, freckles across her nose, green-eyed. Her fingers were long and bony, and she tended to wear longish skirts and tailored blouses with Peter Pan collars. She absently twisted a strand of hair around a pencil.

“Maybe it's just me.
No
. Something's way off. This one is atypical weird.” She frowned and wrinkled her nose.

Halliday smiled. His teeth were very white. He had high, sharp cheekbones and a thin, angular face. His hair was lank and brown, and his clothes studiously nerdy.

“Dawn, can you get a little more specific?” Halliday glanced at the Elaki.

Dawn Weiler blushed. “Okay. What we know. The killer is white and male. Well, big deal, most of them are. What bothers me?” She chewed the pencil eraser. “The last attack was an old lady. Caucasian. Before that—male, Oriental, early twenties. Before that—young woman, Caucasian. The other two victims—black man, fifties. White woman—forties.
Absolutely
no pattern whatsoever. That's so frustrating. Even Henry Lee Lucas …”

“It's the same guy doing it,” Ridel interrupted. “DNA match on all sperm samples.”

“Oh, I agree,” Weiler said. “Same guy. But he absolutely won't type out. These killers fall in two groups.”

The Elaki edged forward, closer to David than he liked. Mel blew air through his teeth. Dawn frowned at him.

“First bunch,” Dawn said, “is stalkers, planners. These are the older ones, the smarter ones. Twenties, thirties. They like to control and torture—they're sexual sadists. Then there's the impulsive ones. Usually they kill quickly, because they feel threatened. Then they mess around with the corpse. Sometimes they cover it up, like they're ashamed. Usually they're younger, often live near the victim.

“This guy we got—he stalks, gets absolute control. Then kills quickly, first blow. The victims are dead before he takes off the fingers and hands, et cetera, et cetera. That surprises me.”

“I think for the best they are dead first.”

Everyone looked at the Elaki.

“Sure.” Dawn looked annoyed. “It just bugs me. I mean you add that to the incredible range of victims. And there's no pattern to when he hits. He does the first three in a two-week period. Bizarre. Then he stops for three months! Then another, six weeks later. Usually, these things build. Start slow and work their way up. That two-week blitz—that kind of stuff usually happens when a guy is spooked and on the run. Nothing to lose.”

“Maybe he was in jail during those three months,” David said.

Della shook her head. “I've run the known felons, misdemeanors … only a few Iikelies and we interviewed those.”

Dawn shrugged. “Normally I could say to you, hey, this guy is twenty-three to thirty-three years old. He probably works in a hospital, has a girlfriend, lives with his mother, et cetera. Your boy, I don't know. I'm afraid to type him. I don't want you looking one way, when you should be looking another.”

“Please explain the significance of typing him. You say that twice. Type people? This is to be desirable?”

“See,” Mel said. “There used to be this thing called a typewriter. Started out little, so they could fit on a desk, but some genius cop gets the idea to roll the perps on the platen, kind of like tattooing—you know what tattoo means?”

“Mel, I want you to stay after the meeting,” Halliday said. He looked at the Elaki. “What Detective Burnett means …”

David tuned Halliday out. He rubbed his eyes. This was going to be a bad one, very bad. Careers would make or break on this one. Most sociopathic killers were caught by accident, a lucky break. David wasn't feeling lucky. And meanwhile, Machete Man was going through a lot of people.

The phone rang and Halliday picked it up.

“Halliday. Yeah, Mark. No, I've never been to one of them places. I don't suppose you got any idea which? How about the blood? All right. You know about Dyer. You know what we're dealing with.” Halliday hung up.

“That brush you found, David. Came from an Elaki restaurant. They give 'em out—Elaki get crumbs embedded in their skin—”

“Scales,” the Elaki said.

“What?”

“Scales. Not skin.”

“Whyn't you just wear a bib?” Mel said.

“What is the bib?”

“Oh, see …” Mel said.

Halliday looked at him.

“We'll talk about it later,” Mel promised.

“Sounds like Dyer was off on something else entirely,” Della said glumly. She gnawed a blueberry muffin. David glanced through the glass walls of Halliday's office to his own desk. The bag from the café was gone.

“What you got on the break-ins?” Mel asked.

Della wiped crumbs off her mouth. “Guy is a pro.”

“Ex-cop maybe?” Ridel said.

Dawn shrugged. “That, or worked security. Lots of these boys are police groupies. Take a look at the ones who tried to hire on with the police, but got turned down. Or maybe ones who got fired after a few months on the job. Particularly if they've got a rent-a-cop background. And look for past enrollment at EKC—anywhere there are law enforcement classes. Or law school. Mainly the ones who didn't make the grade, or didn't stick with it.”

“Pete,” Halliday said. “Cover that, okay? Della, you stay on method of B and E, account for things missing. He may take souvenirs—a lot of them do. Keep trying on some kind of connection between the victims. Maybe they all order from one pizza place, I don't know. Might be a good idea for you and Pete to go back through arrest records, right when that three-month calm started.

“David, you and Mel stay with this Dyer business. It may be a whole other case, but check it out.”

“And how may I assist?”

“Pardon?” Halliday said.

“I would be pleased to help.”

“Mr. String, your offer is appreciated. But your function is strictly advisory. You'll leave the investigation to experienced professionals.”

The Elaki swayed backward and sagged. “If as you say.”

Mel grinned and licked his finger, chalking “one” in the air.

“Captain,” David said. “We could use some uniforms on the legwork. Help cover the Elaki restaurants.”

“Sorry, David. Wish I could.”

“Could have a cop killing here.”

“Confirm it and I can swing the people. Until then, no. Dyer was working maverick and his people are pissed.”

The Elaki inched closer to David. “You said
Elaki
restaurants. I would be valuable there. To help in this work of legs.”

Halliday spread his hands. “I don't think—”

“You ain't got legs,” Mel said.

Halliday glared at Mel and took a deep slow breath. “You know, Mr. String, I appreciate your being willing to help out. I think you might be a big asset in this area of Elaki restaurants, and I think Detective Burnett in particular would be glad of your help.” He stood up and stacked papers. “Okay, people. You got work to do.”

Chairs scraped across the floor and loud conversations broke out. Mel followed Della out of the office, admiring the bracelet on her wrist.

Pete Ridel was talking to Dawn Weiler and David waited for them to finish. He had a question for Dawn.

“David?” Halliday motioned him over. “Hey, Pete, shut the door on your way out, okay?”

Pete and Dawn walked out into the squad room. David saw Dawn laugh, then head out. Damn. He'd call her later.

Mel stuck his head back in the door. “I forget, Captain. You said stay around?”

Halliday leaned back in his chair. “Sit down, Burnett.”

Mel shut the door, but did not sit. He held up a hand.

“Look, Captain, you don't got to apologize about the Elaki. I already know what you're going to say—you know what I'm going to say. Let's just cut to the chase and consider it said.”

Halliday scratched his chin. He looked tired.

“Anything else?”

“No, Burnett.”

Mel slammed the door shut behind him.

David leaned back in his chair. “You're lucky he decided to be big about this, Roger.”

Halliday smiled.

“It may be a mistake, you know.” David stared at the wall.

“What?”

“Letting that Elaki in on the staff meeting. Sending him out with me and Mel.”

Halliday shrugged. “He's not hurting anything. He's only on the edges of the investigation, something I have no choice about, so neither do you. We have to make sure nobody can accuse us of not cooperating. We got sensitive information to discuss, the Elaki won't be at the meeting.”

“Why send him out with us?”

“He might be able to help on Elaki turf. The restaurants.”

“I don't understand his interest, Roger. That worries me.”

Halliday nodded. “Okay, David, that's a point. I don't understand his interest either, and the official justification is crap. Take him along and watch him. See if he helps, or gets in the way. Give you a chance to check him out.”

“Something comes up I don't like, I'm ditching him.”

“Your call, David.”

“I won't jeopardize Dyer.”

“Point taken.”

David stood up, but Halliday waved him back to his chair. David sat. He didn't like Halliday's look of concern.

“I just want you to know, I appreciate the work you been putting in on this Machete Man. You didn't take your week when your mother died. How are you doing, by the way?”

“I'm fine.”

Halliday leaned back in his chair. “See, here's how it works. You're supposed to get a week, compassionate leave. When you don't take it, the computer red flags the department shrink, not to mention the union guys.”

“Captain …”

Halliday held up a hand. “It's just procedure. Machete Man isn't exactly a thing you leave behind to clear up after vacation. I know that. I have no problem that you didn't take the time. In fact, I appreciate it. You want to catch this boy and so do I. I'm just letting you know, I fielded all the bureaucratic horsecrap for you. That way, if anybody approaches you, you'll know what's going on. You tell me, and I'll take care of it.”

Halliday rocked back and forth in his chair. “You know how they watch cops. Seems like the whole system is set up to hassle the ones who do a good job. And listen, after this is over, you can have a week of compensatory. Whenever you want.”

“Not necessary. Look, I can see it's a sin not to be totally broken up here, but frankly, my mother and I were just not that close.”

“Fine. Whatever. But think twice about that time off. You might take those girls of yours fishing.”

NINE

They were heading for the third Elaki restaurant and David's feet were hurting. Mr. String did not seem tired. And he was still talking. His voice was muffled because he was folded into the back seat.

“So the whole family and many friends were to go there.”

Mel yawned. “To this river?”

“Yes.”

“With the beautiful waters,” Mel said. “Like red eye gravy.”

“Yes.”

“What you do there, get drunk?”

“Perhaps.”

“Eat?”

“Very much.”

“Take a dip in the lake?”

“A dip?”

“Swim,” Mel said.

“Certainly
not
.”

“Don't swim? I mean, it's hot, the water looks good. Thought that was the big thing at Elaki gatherings.”

“
Fringe
wetting only. Elaki do not swim. I suppose, if there was much drink, it could happen in private corners with lower types, but
my
family—”

“Sorry, hey.”

“May I finish the story?”

“There's more?”

“I am getting to the amusing section. When my pouch-sib is swearing by the blue maker.”

“Who is the blue maker?”

“Must you be interruptious?”

Mel shrugged. “Trying to make sense out of this.”

“The blue maker is an idiomatic term for the one God who does not exist. It is used as term of great and vicious vulgarity. Illegal reference, in strict communities. And here is my pouch-sib, sitting on back of the lika—”

“The what?”

“
Lika
. It is similar to a … a … car-wagon. And it is blue maker this, and blue maker that.” String stopped talking and his belly rippled. “And the Mother extrudes and knocks him off the lika, into the red dirt.”

“You're right, that's funny.”

“
Not
yet. So, my pouch-sib gets up slowly, hurting, and gets back up in the lika, and we start up again, and he says—‘What, honored Mother, by the blue maker did I say?'”

David and Mel exchanged looks.

“Quit encouraging him,” David said.