Cutter (10 page)

The
n
th
e
brunett
e
discover
s
sh
e
ha
s
caugh
t
he
r
jacke
t.
Sh
e
reopen
s
th
e
driver’
s
sid
e
an
d
see
s
m
e.
Th
e
woma
n
i
s
obviousl
y
startle
d
.

I’v
e
go
t
th
e
ethe
r-
soake
d
clot
h
i
n
m
y
lef
t
han
d,
an
d
I’
m
reachin
g
fo
r
th
e
knif
e
.

He
r
bulldo
g
roar
s
a
t
m
y
intrusio
n
an
d
lunge
s
towar
d
th
e
driver’
s
sid
e
bac
k
windo
w.
H
e
almos
t
propel
s
himsel
f
throug
h
i
t,
judgin
g
b
y
th
e
thum
p
h
e
create
s
a
s
h
e
hit
s
th
e
glas
s
.

The
n
th
e
brunett
e
squeal
s,I
se
e
th
e
do
g
tryin
g
t
o
ho
p
ove
r
th
e
fron
t
sea
t
ont
o
he
r
la
p,
an
d
I’
m
turnin
g
an
d
runnin
g.
Runnin
g
a
s
fas
t
a
s
I
ca
n
throug
h
th
e
monsoo
n
ragin
g
dow
n
o
n
m
e.I
sli
p
bu
t
I
don’
t
fal
l,
an
d
I’
m
thrashin
g
throug
h
th
e
puddle
s
o
f
rainwate
r,
prayin
g
tha
t
sh
e
hasn’
t
le
t
loos
e
tha
t
goddamne
d
do
g
.

I’
m
thirt
y
yard
s
fro
m
m
y
ow
n
vehicl
e,
o
n
th
e
othe
r
sid
e
o
f
th
e
mal
l,
whe
n
I
begi
n
t
o
laug
h
. A
sI
reac
h
m
y
rid
e,I
finall
y
tur
n
t
o
se
e
i
f
anyon
e
ha
s
followe
d.
Bu
t
n
o
on
e
ha
s,
o
f
cours
e.
Th
e
brunett
e
i
s
o
n
he
r
wa
y
a
t
to
p
spee
d
ou
t
o
f
thi
s
parkin
g
lo
t.
Sh
e
migh
t
cal
l
91
1
whe
n
sh
e
get
s
hom
e.
Perhap
s
she’l
l
us
e
he
r
cellula
r
fro
m
her
e.
I
n
eithe
r
cas
e
sh
e
won’
t
b
e
abl
e
t
o
describ
e
m
e.
I
t
wa
s
rainin
g,
pourin
g,
an
d
luck
y
fo
r
m
e
sh
e
neve
r
sa
w
m
y
fac
e
i
n
th
e
lightnin
g.
Onl
y
no
w,
a
s
I
si
t
i
n
m
y
vehicl
e,
doe
s
th
e
flashin
g
illuminat
e
everythin
g
bac
k
t
o
dayligh
t
.

‘Troubl
e?’
m
y
drive
r
ask
s
m
e
. 

Chapter Nine

We got a message that a woman had been accosted in a shopping-mall lot by some guy who followed her out to her car. This kind of thing happens frequently, but the item that caught our eyes was the bit about the gym bag. She said he was reaching into a bag for something. Then her doggy cut loose at this figure standing in the rain, and suddenly the guy was a ghost.

Her name was Stephanie Manske. She works as a secretary for some hotshot downtown — which was why the news about her traveled so rapidly. The hotshot wanted to know why security was so lax in this mall on the northwest side, and he made a stink, and someone in our department overheard another copper mentioning the particulars, and bells began to ring in this copper’s ears in regards to ‘The Farmer’, and here she was.

‘You didn’t see his face very well,’ Doc repeated.

‘It was raining real hard. And he startled me. He was just, like
,
ther
e.
’

‘You notice how tall?’ I asked.

‘About six feet. I think. He was hunched up a little, reaching into that gym bag or whatever.’

‘Wearing a hat?’ Doc asked.

‘No ... but I couldn’t make out the color of his hair because it was plastered down to his skull ... It might’ve been blond. Maybe brown. I’m sorry I can’t do any better for you.’

‘Hey. We’re happy you’re here to tell us anything,’ Gibron told her.

‘You think this guy was —’

‘We don’t know, Stephanie. We have to take everybody very seriously,’ I answered.

‘I thought it might be that guy in the paper, too. He could’ve been reaching for a —’

‘Maybe not, Stephanie,’ I interrupted. ‘This could’ve been something absolutely innocent. And then your dog could’ve scared hell out of him.’

‘That’s why I keep Longsworth in the car. I got molested when I was a teenager, and it’s never going to happen again.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that ... Is there anything else you remember about him?’ Doc continued.

‘All that was left was watching his backside as he beat feet around to the back of the mall. I was so scared I got the hell out. Then I called the police as soon as I got home. And I told my boss, Tony, about it two days ago.’

She was not pretty, but she was not unattractive, either. And she was twenty-eight. Just about the same age as the first two victims. But Stephanie survived her encounter with him. She saw his face, if only for an instant, and he might have been the way I said it before — just some innocent mook trying to ask for directions to Cicero or some goddamned place.

But I didn’t think so and neither did Doc. It was him. It wa
s
h
e
, Doc would correct me. It was our man. The Farmer. Whatever his name was. He was looking for some more stock. Some more of the stuff I was sure he was peddling. He’d got a body shop opened, and it wasn’t the kind where you need a blowtorch and a welder’s mask to do business. Stephanie was like the steaks and chops behind the glass in the butcher’s shop. This guy was about ready to do business with her, only she wasn’t the customer. She was the product.

*

We cased that same northwest side mall for four hours the next day. Went from shop to shop, asking if anyone had seen this man who Stephanie had described generally, and the shopkeepers were just as fuzzy in their memories as our potential victim was. Who could blame them? They saw thousands of faces a day. A number of whom were male, about six feet tall, and either brown-or blond-haired. With a blank for a face, as well.

‘I don’t see the attraction of these places,’ Doc lamented. ‘They’re like rows of warehouses of shit.’

We — Jack and Doc, four uniforms and I — came up empty. There seemed to be no pattern to the killer’s hunting grounds. There were only the women in common. White, near thirty, at least all of them were somewhat attractive. One was raped; one was not sexually assaulted. The third got lucky because of Longsworth the pooch or whatever.

‘Who’s he supplying?’ Doc wondered aloud, inside the Taurus. We were still parked at the mall.

‘Hospital. Black-market surgeon. Unwitting hospital?’

He didn’t like my answer.

‘It is too dangerous, Jimmy, going to a legit health-care place. They’d lose their asses. You gotta ask yourself if they’d think it was worth it, jumping over the waiting lists for some murderer’s goods.’

‘Then who’s he selling to? And how?’

*

‘You are now surfing the Internet.’ Doc Gibron smiled. ‘Holy Jesus.’

‘Yeah. I’ll bet he’s advertizing here, somewhere. Trouble is, these little shits, these cyber motherfuckers, play games with codes. I’m not nearly computer-smart enough to track him through all this. But we’ve got people who are.’

*

Matty McGinn was the resident whiz kid for the CPD computer services. He was the guy who caught the hackers who messed with the ATMs and the banks and with anybody else who jacked with machines and man.

‘You know anything about computers, Lieutenant?’ Matty grinned.

‘I know less than my kids. I know how to turn on and turn off the one my daughter and son use at home. That’s it. So we’re depending on you, Matthew.’

‘The FBI has a very fine system, and we work with them and with their people quite often, Lieutenant Parisi.’

‘You can call me Jimmy,’ I told him.

Doc snorted, so I whacked him on the elbow.

‘Thank you ... They’ll be using a code on the Internet. The way pornographers and kiddie molesters do. They’ll be aiming at a specialized market, of course, and I think you’re right in assuming that no legitimate area hospital’s involved. But you never know. We’ll try to see if we can find anything strange that’s advertizing some kind of special service or product. This guy might be doing all of his trade outside the city, the state, or even the country.’

‘Yeah. The thought had occurred to us,’ Doc snorted.

‘He is a geezer. Anti-machines,’ I explained to McGinn.

‘I know. My parents are just like that. My dad still corresponds on an IBM Selectric. He has had it for twenty years and won’t give it up even though I bought him a nice Apple PC for his sixtieth birthday.’

Doc snorted again.

‘This was your idea, old man,’ I reminded him.

‘I have outlived my usefulness,’ Doc whined.

‘No, you haven’t, Detective Gibron. You’re the one who put me onto him, if he’s in here, and you and the Lieutenant will be the ones to arrest him. I just make the machine do our bidding. It really is as simple as that.’ 

‘I’m starting to like this kid,’ Doc said as he slapped McGinn’s left shoulder.

Matty blushed. It accentuated his orange red hair and freckles. He was a dead ringer for Ron Howard as Opie Taylor o
n
Th
e
And
y
Griffit
h
Sho
w
.

*

Nothing came out of computer services for five days. I called Matty McGinn on the fifth day and he told me it took weeks and months, sometimes, to dig these cockroaches out of the woodwork. They could be very clever about their codes, he reminded me.

So I reminded myself that it had been detective work that had solved my previous cases, not some damned machine ‘that did our bidding’.

We had only interviewed one possibility, so far. That cute bastard, Karrios. There were two left to interview. Doc and I were going to round up that pair today.

*

Dawson Repzac was our first conversation of the day. He was a two-time loser on molestation charges, but the previous arrests were ancient beefs.

He was about the right size for the guy Stephanie had seen in the parking lot at the mall. We had his jacket sitting in front of us when we talked to him in the box.

‘Do I need a lawyer?’ the sandy-haired ex-molester asked.

‘Probably. You got probation coming up?’ Doc teased.

Repzac was not smiling.

‘I am clean. I mean, I am immaculate.’

‘You were a war hero. Served in Vietnam twice and in the Gulf War. You were infantry in Vietnam and then you worked as a medic in the Gulf. That right?’ I inquired.

‘I carried the litters in the Gulf. That’s all.’

‘How come you didn’t carry a gun in the Middle East?’ Doc asked.

‘I killed enough people the first time.’ 

‘You were a lifer until after the Persian Gulf thing,’ I said.

‘I quit after that pissant adventure. Yeah.’

‘You’re well educated,’ Doc added. ‘Went to Illinois Chicago. Studied biology ... What? You want to teach? Go to medical school?’

‘I wanted to avoid Vietnam. Then I changed my mind and volunteered after I graduated — Have you guys had enough fun yet?’

‘We’re investigating a double homicide,’ I told Repzac.

‘You mean the two women who were cut open? What would I have to do with something like that? I got hauled up for statutory rape. Twice. It was consensual. I tried to break it off because I found out she lied about her age. She told me she was eighteen. Hell, she looked twenty-five. But she was fifteen and she wasn’t getting carded at the bar where I picked her up. What I’m saying i
s
wh
y
m
e?
’

‘You’re not the only guy we’ve talked to. We talk to a lot of people. You know that. You’ve been through the system, so why ask a dumbass question like that?’ Doc groused.

‘Okay, okay ... Is there anything else you need to ask me?’

‘No. Thanks for coming in,’ I answered.

Then I opened the door for him.

When he was down the hall from the box, Doc looked over at me.

‘You get the feeling you’ve just been lied to?’

I watched Doc’s eyes, but neither of us blinked.