Retribution ("M" Mystery) (8 page)

He climbed to his feet and walked to the end of the boiler, opened the fire door, stepped in and surveyed the makeshift room. He staggered to the cot and fell into a restless sleep.

Story after story ran through his mind. The knoll overlooking the camp, endless hours stitching parachutes and the shadowy edge made by falling snow as they put Jimmy in the grave.

His arm slipped off the cot and he was jolted awake by a pain shooting through his shoulder. With grim resolve he retrieved a cigar box from the head of the bed and removed several acupuncture needles, placing them with his left hand at key points. He never felt the infusion of cortisone that passed through the syringe into the muscle surrounding the rotator cuff. With a mouth full of pills, he drank from a flask swallowing them as one, then with a groan leaned back onto the cot and fell into a dark sleep.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The VW squareback moved slowly
across the sand, the driverless front seat lit by the moon. Buck watched as the tow truck driver stopped and ran to the car to check the cable where it was attached. Ramos had gone back to the cruiser to answer the scanner. All Buck wanted was a moment alone. When he finally turned to head back, Ramos flashed the headlights and leaned out. “Got a 10-70 at the Dungeness Hotel. Victim says the intruder was dressed like a Ninja and had a long sword.”

Buck ran the rest of the way to the car, slid in and slammed the door, buckling up as Ramos hung a U-turn, fishtailing across the sand covered pavement. They cut the sirens and lights as they neared the hotel, pulled into the employee’s parking lot, jumped out as one and ran into the lobby forcing themselves into a walk once inside.

Jake was standing at the front desk.

“I thought I told you to go home,” Ramos said.

Jake began walking to the first floor room.

“Home scanner, sir. When I heard the description of the intruder I responded immediately.”

They paused in front of number 12.

“Good work, Jake,” Ramos said.

As they entered the room they could hear the night manager in what sounded like a heated argument in another language. Ramos stopped and looked over at Buck. “Japanese?”

He nodded, “I think so. I’ve heard M speak it.”

The night manager was Harry Kawamoto. He was seated in a chair across from an elderly Japanese couple sitting on the edge of the bed. Both wore robes and held steaming cups of tea. Kawamoto rose and quickly closed the distance to the door before either detective could approach.

“Gentlemen please,” he indicated the door they’d just passed through. “We need to speak.”

“What gives?” Ramos said.

“These are very old world Japanese. The man was knocked to the floor and threatened with death. The wife fully exposed herself to shame the attacker. They are asking how they will be compensated for their loss of dignity and the threat to his life.”

Kawamoto looked from one to the other until Ramos finally spoke.

“What do you expect us to do?”

“They both understand English but refuse to speak it.”

Ramos ran a hand through his hair and turned to Jake.

“I want you to get everybody on this, and I mean everybody, on or off duty. I want the hotel grounds covered, the beach, and across the street in the park. Look for anything that looks out of place. Now go!” He turned back to Kawamoto. “I’m going to tell them that I’m the head honcho and that Buck is going to check for evidence. Then I’ll tell them that Buck is going to find out how someone was able to break into such a secure place as this. How am I doing?”

Kawamoto smiled. “I think you understand”

An hour later Buck and Ramos left with a description of the intruder and a blow-by-blow replay of the entire event. When they stepped from the lobby into the cool ocean air they were once again approached by Jake.

“Found something, sir.” He led them with his light to the edge of the bluff behind the hotel. “Steps.”

Ramos took the light from the officer and got down on his knees for a closer look. “Great! Good work. The pickle weed looks all mashed. Someone’s used these steps tonight.” He straightened up and handed the light back. “Stake this out, couple of cones and tape, the works.”

Turning to Buck he said, “I want four officers assigned to the hotel. Our killer failed this time and I’m betting he’ll be back to finish the job.”

Ramos looked out to sea for a moment then down at the beach awash in high tide, finally turning his attention to the huge cave. “Jake, I want you personally to check out that cave tomorrow--at low tide of course. Buck, c’mon, lets take a walk.”

They strolled to the northern most corner of the hotel’s property. Ramos turned around and looked back at the aging hotel and the surrounding lot.

“Any idea what was here before the hotel?”

Buck shook his head, “No, why?”

“The steps down the bluff,” he kicked the toe of his shoe into the dirt, “and what looked like the remains of a flower bed...and this.”

He handed Buck a metal disc about the size of a silver dollar with a round hole in the middle embossed with Japanese characters. Buck turned it over in his hand.

“Looks like the wheel to a child’s toy,” he said.

He handed it back. “Didn’t you say M owned this property? She’d know what used to be here.”

Ramos turned the disc over in his hand several times then shoved it in his pocket.

“It’s almost like three different killers,” he muttered under his breath. “The Greens and Sato have identical MOs.--decapitation and the character in blood.”

Buck zipped up his jacket against the cold.

“M had the character and was in line for the decapitation, maybe the killer was interrupted. But why would he kill Amy then abuse her? No character, no decapitation. With the Greens and Sato it was like he was trying to send a message.”

At the thought of Amy, Buck became silent and walked back to the cruiser. He leaned against the car and drew a finger through the moisture that had gathered on the roof.

“Why did he hesitate with the elderly couple, was he really shamed into running away or did he just lose his focus? No, boss, I think this is definitely the work of one person,” Buck said.

They got in the car. Ramos started the engine, turned on the heater but didn’t put it in gear.

“What about geeree? The old guy told Kawamoto the intruder said he was on a mission of geeri. What the hell is geeree?”

He put the cruiser into gear and headed south on Main.

Buck adjusted the volume on the scanner so the static was at a low hum, and tightened his seat belt. “Where we headed?”

“The hospital. M has a lot of knowledge she needs to share.”

Buck closed his eyes, sank into the seat and leaned his head against the headrest.

“Did I mention she told me she recognized her attacker?” Buck said quietly.

Ramos pulled into an emergency only space.

“Between M’s ID of her attacker and the prints taken off the VW, we could have the killer by tomorrow,” Ramos said as he killed the engine, unbuckled his seat belt. He started leaning into the door when Buck reached over and touched him on the shoulder.

“Hey, boss.”

Ramos leaned back into the seat turning to face Buck. “Yeah?”

“It’s almost ten. They’re not going to let us talk to her, besides I pissed off the doctor last time I was here.”

He leaned back and put his hands on the steering wheel. “We could check on the guard you set up.”

“C’mon boss, it’s been a long day. I say we call it a night.

“Why not.” He started the car. ”Just one more stop, Amy Kittings’s. You know where she lives?”

Buck shifted uneasily. “Somewhere on Seashell. I think I can pick it out; she was always complaining about the ruts in her driveway. I think she had a carport.”

When they spotted the house they parked a block away. Guns drawn, they circled around to the back where Ramos forced the door. They entered through the kitchen.

“I’ll take the bedroom,” he said.

Buck put away his gun.

“What are we looking for?”

Ramos scanned the living room. “A diary maybe, anything that could track her day to day.”

He removed a penlight from his shirt pocket and walked to the hall. He could sense his Buck’s reluctance.

“I just wanted a quick look around before forensics got here.”

“I’ll start with her computer,” Buck said.

He tapped a few keys and the screen came to life. “Hmm, asleep, not turned off.”

The desktop contained dozens of file folders, labeled with everything from
DUNES
to
BREAKERS
to
TOURISTS.
When he came to the unfiled document labeled Greens, he reached over and turned on the printer. Whatever it was, he knew he wanted a copy. It opened to a proof sheet, six lines of photos, twelve shots per line. All were of the crime scene and the hotel, except the last five on the last line--a homeless man.

The printer was just spitting the last copy when Ramos approached.

“Not much in the bedroom, no diary at any rate.” He picked up the printouts. “Anything here?”

Buck put the computer back to sleep.

“Look at the homeless man, end of the last line. That looks like the same man sleeping in the ally behind M’s Gym.”

Ramos folded the prints and put them in a breast pocket.

“I’m tired, let’s go home.”

They rode in silence to the police station where Buck picked up his Ford Bronco and drove home. After tossing and turning for what seemed like an eternity, he finally fell into a fitful dreamless sleep.

Chapter Twenty-five

Buck pulled into the emergency space
in front of the hospital. He fully expected to go head to head with M’s doctor, but was surprised to find her sitting in the waiting area. He looked around and gave her a smile when she noticed him.

“Is someone picking you up?”

She stood up, walked over to Buck and gave him a hug.

“I’m glad you’re here.”

He looped his arm through hers.

“Your ride awaits.”

He walked her around to the passenger side of the cruiser, opened the door and helped her in.

“Home in style.”

M frowned. “Please, I’m not ready to go home yet.”

When he climbed in the driver’s side she put a hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for bringing my clothes.”

He turned in his seat to face her.

“You leaving too soon?”

“No, the doctor came in at six this morning and said I was fine to leave as soon as I could get a ride.”

Buck left the parking lot heading south toward Fort Point.

“Are you up to Ramos playing twenty questions?”

“Ask me again when we get there.”

“A lot happened while you were in the hospital,” Buck said, turning a grim look at M. “Amy Kitting and Sato Tessu are dead.”

M seemed to deflate at the news. “Oh, god.”

He cursed as he slowed from sixty to twenty-five miles an hour to accommodate a motor home.

“Tessu suffered the same fate as Mrs. Green, including the bloody Japanese character. But Amy was strangled and sexually assaulted.”

Knowing that he and Amy were friends, M reached over and placed a hand on his arm.

“I’m so sorry about Amy.”

He looked over and gave her a weak smile.

“Thanks.”

The scanner began to squawk. He listened for a minute then turned it down. “Do you remember my visiting you at the hospital?”

She turned her back against the door so she could face him.

“It was kind of a blur, but yes.”

“Then do you remember telling me that you recognized your attacker?”

“No, and I don’t remember talking to you at all, though I remember that you visited. But I can tell you now; my attacker was that Asian guy we saw in the alley the other day.”

The motor home pulled to the shoulder of the road, Buck gave a honk and a wave as he passed.

“Are you sure?”

“Sure as I’m sitting here. I think I need some fresh air.”

She rolled down her window, and took a deep breath.

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled into the gated lot of the Fort Point police department. M got out of the car almost as soon as it stopped.

Buck got out and spoke over the stop of the car.

“Are you alright?”

She was leaning against the side of the cruiser at an angle stretching first one leg then the other. “Just a little nauseous.”

Ramos walked out into the lot. “How you doing, M?”

“Better now that we’re here.”

He looked over at Buck.

“She got a little carsick on the way.”

“I’ve got some paperwork, but when you’re ready we’ll meet in the conference room.” Then to M. “Glad you’re alright.”

“Me too.”

Buck walked around to stand next to M.

“Sure you don’t need an arm?”

“Actually, I’m feeling better by the minute.”

“I’m not sure what Ramos has in mind except that he has a lot of questions for you. If you start feeling sick again or need to go home just give me a sign.”

The police department was in an old Victorian two-story, built by a lumber barren in the 1930s. The low ceiling entry was walled off and used to accommodate visitors and the dispatcher who doubled as secretary. The conference room was formerly a dining hall with a twenty-three foot vaulted ceiling. The largest bedroom had been made into an office. The three smaller adjoining bedrooms had been turned into one long room with desks to accommodate up to four officers.

“Can I get you anything? I could have one of the officers go into Fort Point for food if you’re hungry,” Ramos said.

“No thanks, I’m fine for now.

“Great.”

Ramos wheeled a chalkboard from a corner to the front of the room.

“First I’d like to bring you up to date. I’m sure Buck told you what happened while you were in the hospital, about Tessu and Kitting.” She nodded.

He indicated three circles with the deceased names, under each name was listed an MO.

“Notice that you and Kitting deviate from the MO of Tessu and the Greens. We think that the killer was interrupted in your case. We’re not sure with Kitting, but we think that the killer simply lost focus.”