Night Mask (12 page)

Bill nodded his head. “You better believe it, Lani. That kid was into it all.”

Lani and Leo exchanged glances. “Might be a way to go, kid,” Leo said.

“You read my mind.”

“What are you two talking about?” Brenda asked.

“We start checking out gay bars,” Leo told her.

“Sounds like fun to me,” the Chinese girl said with a smile.

Ted was decidedly less enthusiastic.

“You're not going to believe what he has in his jacket pocket,” Brenda said, then doubled over in a fit of giggling.

“It's not funny, damnit!” Ted said.

Lani and Leo cut their eyes to each other. Brenda jammed a hand into Ted's pocket and came out dangling a surgical mask. Ted was beet-red and flustered.

Lani said, “You weren't really going to wear that, were you, Ted?”

“We're going to a bar called the Golden Tushie, aren't we?”

“Well ... yes.”

“I will definitely wear it for any close-up interrogation.”

Brenda was giggling so hard she had to sit down on Lani's couch. She pointed to his other pocket. “He has rubber gloves in that one. I asked him if he was going to conduct body searches.”

She fell over on the couch and exploded in laughter.

“Now, damnit, Brenda!” Ted said. “I don't find this amusing. What if one of those ... people come on to me!”

Brenda's giggling was highly infectious, and soon Lani and Leo were laughing at the expression on Ted's face.

“I'll wait in the car,” Ted said stiffly, and left the apartment.

When Lani could again speak, she said, “Ted has this thing about gays, huh?”

Brenda wiped her eyes. “Ted is deeply religious. He's used more cuss words on this case than I've heard him use in all the time I've worked with him. And he's scared to death of catching AIDS.”

“Well,” Leo said, rising from the chair into which he had fallen while laughing. “We'll assure him that he doesn't have to date any of the people at the Golden Tushie. Just talk to them,” he added with a serious expression.

That set Lani and Brenda off again. Leo looked at the hysterically giggling females and went outside to sit with Ted.

* * *

The bar was tastefully done and other than men dancing with men and women dancing with women, it was just like any other expensive watering hole.

“If any of them start kissing other members of the same sex, I'm gone,” Ted said. “And I mean that.”

Brenda had to stick one small fist into her mouth to stifle another burst of laughter, and Lani covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

“Just relax, Ted,” Leo said. “And order us a Coke, or something.”

“I will not drink or eat anything in this place!”

“Sit with him, Brenda,” Leo said. “Just keep him quiet.” He moved toward the bar and asked for the manager. A man was pointed out to him. Lani was talking with several women.

Leo ID'd himself and the man nodded his head. “I know what it's about, Sergeant. I heard the news. Believe me when I say those of us in the gay community want this creep, or creeps, caught just as badly as straights. Maybe, for most of us, more so. Do I have to tell you why that is?”

“No. I know why. Can you help us catch them?”

“I don't know. We don't allow kinks and S & M types in here. Most of the people you see here are nine-to-five professionals. Hardworking, tax-paying, law-abiding people. We're just gay, and that's all the difference between you and me.”

Leo most definitely had a retort to that, but kept it to himself. He said, “These people we're looking for are twisted. Real twisted. Where would I go to find those types you don't allow in here?”

The manager of the place, whose name was Hardy Stern (Leo had wondered about that), put serious eyes on Leo. “Why should any member of the gay community help the cops, Sergeant? You people roust us whenever you think you can get away with it. You don't dislike us, you
hate
us. We're not rated as high as second-class citizens; we're at the bottom of the ladder in your eyes. The gay-bashing has already started in the streets, Sergeant. And many of the cops stand around and smirk about it, while some gay is getting the shit kicked out of him, or her, and wait until the gay is down and bloody before doing anything about it. Don't deny it. You know it's true.”

Leo said nothing. What Hardy was saying did hold some truth. Not even close to a hundred percent truth, but true to some degree. But if he thought gay-bashing was bad now, Hardy was in for a bad shock if the Rippers turned out to be gay.

“You know where the Cock ‘n' Balls is, Sergeant?”

“Yeah,” Leo said, unable to keep the disgust from his reply. “I know where it is.”

Hardy laughed softly in the dim light of the saloon. “Disgusting and revolting, isn't it, Sergeant?”

“Yeah. It damn sure is.”

“Might surprise you, but I agree with you. All right, Sergeant, here's what I know ...”

Ted sat stiffly at the table, Brenda by his side. She was really concerned as to what Ted might do if approached by any of the men in the watering hole. Ted did not hate homosexuals, but he disliked their lifestyle intensely. What they practiced went against every religious and moral belief he had been taught since birth ... and they were set in concrete.

Lani and Leo approached the table, and Ted stood up quickly. He's wound tight, Leo thought. Too tight. “Let's get out of here,” Leo told the group.

On the sidewalk in front of the Golden Tushie, Leo faced Ted Murray. “You're out of this, Ted. You're wound up tight as a mainspring. You're liable to go off half-cocked”—Brenda giggled at Leo's choice of words, and Lani bit at her lip and suddenly had a desire to inspect the stars overhead.

“ ... and do something stupid,” Leo finished with a patient sigh.

“I am in control, Leo,” Ted said defensively.

“Barely,” the county deputy said. “You ever seen two men jacking each other off, Ted?”

“Hell, no!”

“Well, you're
gonna
see it if you stay with us tonight. And a hell of a lot more. That is, providing we can even get in this private club without a search warrant... and I have my doubts about that. I can't give you orders, Ted, but I'll suggest that you go on back to the motel and take a shower and go to bed. We'll see you in the morning.”

Some of the tension went out of Ted. He nodded his head. “Perhaps you're right, Leo.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I know you're right. You'll ride with them, Brenda?” She nodded. “Then I'll see you all in the morning.”

In the car, Lani said, “The women I spoke with said we'll probably get nothing out of the patrons who frequent the Cock ‘n' Balls, but if there is anyone who knows anything about the killings, that's where we'll find them.”

Leo signaled for a left turn. “Yeah. That's what Hardy Stern said, too.”

“Hardy Stern?”
Brenda shouted from the backseat.

The women giggled all the way to the private club.

Leo sighed. A lot.

* * *

Dick Hale had gone into a wild, shouting rage at the news of his son's mutilation. He had very nearly lost it when he insisted upon seeing his son's body. June Hale had completely flipped out, and had to be sedated and hospitalized. Dick had begun drinking early that afternoon, and by evening, he was out of control. Dick arrived at the Cock ‘n' Balls just as Leo, Lani, and Brenda were pulling out of the parking lot of the Golden Tushie. He was armed with two pistols, a Colt Commander, .38 caliber, and a Colt .45 autoloader. He had two spare clips for each pistol. He also had a 12-gauge shotgun, chambered for three-inch magnum loads. He had pulled the plug and loaded it full with double ought buckshot. Dick had stuffed his jacket pocket full of shells. He pulled around to the rear of the private club and parked.

A minor fender bender, no injuries or fatalities, held Leo up for several minutes, until the uniforms could get traffic moving again. Just after the rain begins is the most dangerous time to drive, because of the mixture of road oil and water, and a light mist had slicked the streets.

Dick got out of his car and shucked a round into the slot of the 12-gauge. He shoved in a shell to replace the one he'd chambered. Thunder rumbled just as the back door opened and a man walked out to dump a sack of beer cans. Just as lightning flickered across the sky and thunder crashed, Dick leveled the shotgun and very nearly blew the man in two. Leo pulled around the minor traffic jam-up and turned down the lane leading to the Cock ‘n' Balls, several miles away.

Dick stepped into the storeroom of the private club. The rock and roll music was so loud, he could have been firing a cannon and it would not have been heard over the wild crash and thump of music. Dick shoved in a round to fill up the tube.

“Goddamn queers,” Dick muttered. His eyes were wild and his face hard. Dick Hale had stepped over the line, and it was a passageway he would never cross again. Not in this life.

A man dressed all in black leather and chains, his crotch exposed, stepped into the storeroom and stared at Dick for a moment, not believing what he was seeing.

“Perverted son of a bitch!” Dick shouted, his words not audible over the music. Neither was the booming of the shotgun.

The face of the S & M lover disappeared in a splash of red and gray. Blood and brains splattered the walls of the storeroom. Headless now, the man slid down to the floor. Dick noticed the dead man had an erection.

Leo, Lani, and Brenda were about a mile away from the private club, driving slowly, for the mist had turned into a downpour.

Dick walked to the doorway and looked out at the scene. “Disgusting,” he muttered. Naked men were dancing on the stage. Some were fondling each other. Two were engaged in some sort of bizarre sexual act. Dick couldn't figure out exactly what they were doing. He'd never seen anything like it. It looked like some grotesque naked beast hunching on the floor. Dick lifted the shotgun and emptied it at the men on the stage.

It was carnage. The patrons, many of them in various stages of undress, went into a panic as blood and brains splattered onto their nakedness. Those on the stage who were wounded and still able to walk or crawl, jumped and fell from the stage, landing on those below them, slicking the men and women and the floor and tables with blood.

Quickly reloading, Dick leveled the shotgun at a leather-clad man who jumped at him. The heavy charge knocked the man backward and under the bar, where his falling body tore loose the hoses from kegs of beer. Beer under pressure spewed out and into the air, adding to the screaming confusion.

Leo turned the car onto the parking lot of the club.

Dick emptied the shotgun into the panicked crowd, then pulled out his pistols, and started firing. One of the wild slugs killed the DJ and he fell across his control board, abruptly stilling the throbbing music.

Leo, Lani, and Brenda were just stepping out of the car when the music died, the front door burst open, disgorging dozens of panicked people in various styles of dress and undress, and the sounds of gunfire could be heard.

Inside the club, Dick had slammed home fresh clips and was shooting at anything that moved, male or female, and in many cases, it was impossible to tell. Half a dozen people rushed him, and Dick emptied the. 45 into the knot of men. Two of the badly wounded men staggered on and fell against Dick, almost knocking him to the floor. Dick cursed them and threw them aside. He was bloody now, and spattered with the still spewing beer.

Leo, Lani, and Brenda could not get into the club because of the rush of people trying to get out. Leo grabbed a woman, who turned out to be a man, showed him his badge, and shouted, “What the hell's going on in there?”

“Dick Hale,” the transvestite replied in a deep voice. “He's gone mad. Killing everybody in sight. So go do something, you pig motherfucker.”

Leo shoved her/him away and ran toward the club, pistol drawn, Lani and Brenda right behind, pistols in hand. “I'll take the back!” Lani shouted.

“Go with her, Brenda!”

“Ten-four!” Brenda called and rounded the corner of the club, right behind Lani.

The club had just about emptied when Leo bulled his way to the front door. He had never seen so many strange-looking people in his life. And one of them was a senior sergeant on the La Barca PD. He was really quite stunning in a yellow dress and a large flowery hat. Sort of resembled that lady who used to do the banana commercial on TV.

“Sergeant Dixson,” Leo greeted the ... whatever it was.

“Screw you, Leo. I'm off.”

“Certainly looks like it,” Leo retorted, and ran through the doorway, staying low.

Dick spotted him and cracked off a round, the slug going wide of Leo.

“Drop the gun, Dick. Drop the goddamn gun!” Leo yelled.

“Hell with you, copper!” Dick said, doing a pretty good imitation of James Cagney.

Leo's finger tightened on the trigger, and Dick suddenly dropped to the body-littered floor, scooping up his shotgun.

“Oh, shit!” Leo muttered, diving behind a door that led to the coat and hat closet.

“Well, excuse me!” a voice said, just as Dick's shotgun boomed and the slugs knocked a very large hole in the plaster.

Leo looked. It was a woman, crouched on the floor, her evening dress hiked up to her waist. He lowered his eyes. Wrong again.

“See anything you like,” the man asked.

“You got to be kidding!”

Dick's shotgun boomed, and a scream came from the rear of the club.

“Brenda's down!” Lani yelled.

“Back up should be here any second,” Leo called.

Dick started shooting out the lights.

“I have this huge erection,” the man in the evening dress said. “Violence turns me on. Look, look!”

Leo would rather face the shotgun. He left the cloakroom in a rush and bellied down on the floor, worming his way toward several overturned tables. “Goddamn loony bin!” he muttered.