House of Skin (17 page)

Moments after he’d left Spider, the police moved in.

They were driving back to the House of Mirrors.

Fenn had suggested a drink, but Lisa had other things in mind. She was obsessed with the idea of finding Eddy Zero, he was beginning to think. But he supposed that anyone that was any good at what they did were slightly obsessed. It only stood to reason. There’d been more than one instance in his many years as a cop that he’d displayed similar compulsive behavior. Sometimes that’s what it took to get the job done.

“I know you don’t want to do this,” Lisa said. “But just humor me, okay? One of these times, we’re going to get lucky.”

“Or unlucky. It depends on how you look at it,” he said.

“I don’t understand.”

And she didn’t, poor driven thing. “What I mean is, I really don’t relish the idea of running into Eddy and Spider in a deserted house at night. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve dealt with plenty of bad boys in my time. I know how to take care of myself. But we’re dealing with two psychopaths here. Your basic criminal—thief, purse snatcher, mugger—are cowardly by nature. They’ll run at the first sign of trouble to save themselves … but a psychopath, they’re unpredictable.”

“Maybe we should get help,” Lisa suggested.

Of course, that’s what they should have done. But Fenn was just crazy enough to want to go it alone. He hated the idea of sharing Lisa with anyone else, even if that meant the safety of a couple of cops for back-up.

“There’s something I should tell you, Mr. Fenn,” she said and he could sense a certain menace in her tone. “I came back here by myself the other day after we were here. I don’t know why, but I felt I had to.”

“And?”

“And I saw something very strange.”

“Tell me.”

She did. It didn’t take long. It was just something about a dead cat that had been stripped of its meat. He didn’t see the connection.

“Don’t ask me to explain any of it. All I know is that it scared the hell out of me and I don’t know why,” she said.

“Who could blame you? Alone in this damn place.” Fenn was sincere. “My imagination was doing a little number on me when we were here the last time.”

She nodded. “Except I don’t think it was my imagination.”

“We’ll see.”

He knew Lisa well enough by now to know that she wasn’t the imaginative type. If she saw something that didn’t properly fit into her scientist’s view of the world, then chances were, it was something strange. But what it could possibly have to do with the matter at hand, he couldn’t say. It was enough for him that they’d be alone together—he hoped, at any rate—and that was enough for now.

He loved her, he knew. There was no getting around that. It was unconditional love for he still knew very little about her. Gulliver seemed to think she had a hidden agenda and Fenn agreed. But it was reaching the point where he really didn’t care anymore. When the time came, she’d show her secret face to him.

And would that be a good thing or bad?

Finally, they arrived at the house.

They took flashlights and went in. It was like a crypt in there at night: dusty, silent, a smell in the air of plaster rot and subterranean drainage. But, as before, there was something more, a palpable miasma of decay in the air that was not so much physical as spiritual.

“Christ,” Fenn said. “What a place.”

“You feel something?”

“Yes.”

“Me too,” she admitted, knowing for sure it wasn’t just her imagination.

They didn’t waste any time trying to figure out what it was. They went directly up to the attic. The dead animal had no real smell, just a yellow ghosting odor of old death. They played their lights over the bones and Fenn studied it minutely for some minutes.

“What do you make of it?” Lisa asked after a moment.

He shook his head. “The same thing you did. It looks vacuumed clean. Like its matter exploded and was drawn towards this wall. Right at that fucking mirror. Crazy.”

“What could do something like that?”

“Maybe we’d better ask Eddy about that.”

Fenn examined the mirror itself. He ran his fingers over it. The glass felt warm. “I’d love to know about the mirrors. Zero filled the house with them. Nobody ever really knew why.”

“There was a reason, I’m sure, but the man who knew is long gone.”

Fenn lit a cigarette, wiping the mirror’s grime from his fingers. “That’s something else that’s bothering me,” he said between drags. “Old Doc Bloodand-Bones disappeared twenty years ago. And since, no sign of him. What gives? Is he still hiding out? Is that even possible?”

“Possible, but not probable. You have to keep in mind the kind of guilt one suffers in association with crimes of this nature. Many murderers aren’t caught simply because they kill themselves before the law gets to them. The guilt proves to be too much.”

Fenn was massaging his temples. “So you think he committed suicide?”

“Probably. Otherwise, we would have heard of him. An obsessed individual like Zero could only hold back so long before killing again. And he would do it in his trademark style of dissection. He couldn’t change his M.O. anymore than the color of his skin. If he was active, there’d be no hiding the fact.”

Fenn nodded. “You’re probably right. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

They went back out to Fenn’s car in silence. His headache was back in full force. It had drained the color from his face, set his lips to trembling.

“With any luck,” he said, chewing aspirins, “we should have Spider pretty soon. I have a couple of boys watching his place. They’ll get him if he shows his mug.”

“Then we’re almost there,” Lisa said, relieved. “We should wrap up this mess before long.” But she was wrong.

He wasn’t out long. But as soon as he got back to his apartment, Gulliver knew something was wrong. He’d gone out for a bottle of scotch and a newspaper, deciding it would be in his best interest to stay home tonight. The door, which he was certain he’d locked, was ajar.

Get a cop, he thought, then dismissed the idea.
A cop.
Yeah, that was the last thing he wanted after the shit they’d put him through. If he was being gang-raped by the KKK, they would have been the last ones he would have called.

He pushed through the door, moving carefully, trying to be silent, but seeming to make all manner of noise. He set his bag down and stood in the entry. Nothing seemed to be out of order. He hadn’t been robbed, unless he’d surprised the thief and said thief was now hiding somewhere on the premises.

A certain anxiety ate at him. Although he was sure he had locked the door, there was always the possibility he was wrong. He’d forgotten before. He toyed with the idea of turning around and leaving, marching straight down to the phone on the corner and calling Fenn. With what was going on, Fenn would probably come right over. But if he did and there was no one around, that would only reaffirm Fenn’s belief that Gulliver was nothing but a sissy, a girly pretending to be a man.

And Gulliver had already decided he’d have nothing more to do with that bigoted sonofabitch. He had no patience with rednecks.

Forget cops. You’re on your own.

He moved slowly into the living room, found it empty, and went into his bedroom. It was also unoccupied. Feeling relieved, he went into the kitchen. And felt hands come up behind him and shove him against the refrigerator.

I’m fucked,
he thought dismally and turned.

A man was standing before him dressed in a long black coat. He had a knife in his hand, a huge, nasty thing that looked like some wicked surgical instrument. Its razored edge reflected impure light into Gulliver’s eyes.

It was Eddy; there was no doubt of this.

“Jesus,” Gulliver gasped.

“Afraid not.” Eddy described arcs in the air with his blade, the swooshing sounds were unnerving. “I think we should talk,” he said calmly.

“Get away from me.”

“You ran off on us the other night, Gully. You never let me explain. I was afraid you misunderstood the entire situation.”

Gulliver nearly laughed. “There was nothing to misinterpret, Eddy. I saw what you were doing. I saw those women, those things you called up.”

“Maybe you imagined it all.”

“Maybe I did. I’m trying to forget.”

Gulliver tried to play it cool. Only a calm head would get him out of this mess. Rushing Eddy would bring an ugly death that much faster. He had to reason this out, sympathize with Eddy, let him know he was his friend.

“You don’t need that knife, Eddy,” he said, fighting against the urge to gasp for breath. “I’m your friend. If you want to talk, let’s sit and talk. I won’t run.”

“I’ll keep it, I think. I’m growing rather fond of it. You’d be surprised what this can do to a person.”

“What do you want?”

“A little information is all,” Eddy said. “If I get it, you’ll live. If I don’t …”

“Anything.” How could he have ever found this maniac attractive? He was a drooling, delusional psychotic. He needed to be locked up. He needed to spend his days in a cage with the rest of the animals.

“Have you talked? Maybe to the police?” Eddy inquired.

Gulliver’s head was shaking and he wasn’t sure whether he’d done it or fear had. He suddenly had to piss very badly. “No, of course not. I hate cops. Ask anyone. They’ve been nothing but a nuisance to me since … since I came to this goddamn town. I wouldn’t turn you in, Eddy. Christ, no,” he said, trying to sound believable. “Besides, if I did, you and Spider would kill me. Don’t you think I know that?”

“You’re lying. I can see it in your eyes.”

“No, Eddy. Really, it’s the truth.”

Eddy came forward like an automaton, teeth barred, saliva running from his mouth. The blade was in motion again. It came at his throat in a swift, gleaming arc and stopped inches from its target. “The truth,” Eddy said flatly. “Or I’ll cut it out of you, Gully.”

“I didn’t want to tell,” Gulliver whimpered.
“She
made me.”

“She?”

“I heard she was asking around about you. In every club I went to, I heard about her and her questions about you.”

“Who the fuck are you talking about?”

Gulliver’s face was drained of color. If Eddy wanted blood, he’d have to cut somewhere else. “The psychiatrist. Dr. Lochmere. Lisa Lochmere.”

Eddy took a step back, his eyes darting in confusion. His lips trembled, his head was shaking. Then a dark and rapacious grin twisted at his lips. “Lochmere? The bitch from the asylum?”

“She said you’d been her patient.”

“So I was. You contacted her and she brought you to the police? Made you tell?”

“Yes. But they already suspected it was you. She’d been hunting you, waiting for you to show up here. She even had a P.I. on your trail for a time.”

“Clever thing, isn’t she?”

Gulliver was glad for the distraction. His breathing slowed, but only slightly. “You’d better get out of town, Eddy. You shouldn’t even be here. They might be watching.” It was a bad lie, but worth a shot.

“They’re not.”

“You can’t be sure. This cop that’s working with Lochmere—Fenn’s his name, Jim Fenn—he’s a smart one. A real prick in every way. You better watch your tail. He’s coming for you.”

“I’d better deal with you first.”

Gulliver looked shocked. “Why?”

“Why? Why should I kill you or why did I kill the others?”

Anything to slow him down. “The others.”

Eddy shrugged. He lowered the knife and slid a cigarette out of the pocket of his coat. He lit it with a stick match. “It’s all very complicated, Gully. We didn’t kill them just to
kill.
It wasn’t that simple. Spider and I talked about that a lot. Debated whether we really enjoy it or are just doing our duty. I think it’s both for me.”

“Duty?”

“Yes. Have you ever heard of the Territories? No, I don’t expect so. It’s something only the very desperate speak of. Men like Spider, like my father. It’s an escape of sorts. A place where there are no limits to a man’s creativity, shall we say.”

“Where is it?”

“The Territories? Not on any map. You can only get there by impressing certain individuals with your talents, your art. You saw the woman and her sister. She’s the one. She took my father. She wants to take me. But first I have to impress her.”

“You’re insane,” Gulliver said and instantly regretted it.

“Well, yes, just ask Dr. Lochmere. That silly cunt wants me in a cage so she can pick at my mind. I’ll make a nice study for her. And when she’s done, she’ll drop my brain into a jar of alcohol.”

The cigarette was dropped to the floor, crushed out under a boot. The knife came up again.

“She wants to help you, Eddy.”

“My ass.”

Gulliver just stared. His mind was drawing a blank, but he had to say something, had to stall for time.

“Spider and I are going out again tonight,” Eddy said. He checked his watch. “But I think I have enough time to play with you.”

Gulliver saw something out of the corner of his staring eyes. It was a cast iron frying pan he’d fried eggs in that morning. He was thankful for the first time in his life that he hated putting away the dishes. His hand was on it at the same time Eddy made his move. He rolled to the floor with the pan in his grip. Eddy’s knife sank into the table.

“Why don’t you just accept it?” Eddy asked. “It’ll be so much easier that way. You may hit me with that, but I’ll surely gut you.”

“Then they’ll find my body and you unconscious next to it.”

Eddy shrugged and came forward slashing. Gulliver deflected the first few blows, but eventually Eddy out-guessed him and sank the blade just above his knee. The pain was instant and overwhelming, but it gave him the time to bring the pan around with full strength. It landed with a hollow thud and Eddy went down with all the grace of a bowling pin, the knife spinning from his fingers, blood trickling from his mouth. Gulliver made his move, limping from the apartment and moving uneasily down the stairs.

“This isn’t done, you little queen,” Eddy called after him. “Not by a long shot.”

Gulliver made it out to the sidewalk and dialed 911 on his cell before he collapsed in a heap. By the time Eddy came, there was already a knot of gathering street people. He vanished into the shadows.