Gray Matter (12 page)

Tink.

“Yeah, what’ll it be, you old coot? And where’d you get this looker? She don’t seem like your style. Too classy.” In a theatrical aside to PJ, she said, “Say, Dearie, you sure you want to sit next to this guy? I always got to wipe the stool with disinfectant after he leaves. The floor, sometimes, too.”

By now PJ had caught on that this was familiar territory for both of them. No response was really expected of her. She settled down to enjoy the exchange.

Tink.

“This place could use some class, and I’m not just talking about the food. This is Doctor Penelope Jennifer Gray,” he said, rolling out the syllables of her name so that they impressed even her. He looked directly at PJ. “This, in case it isn’t obvious, is Millie, the owner of this so-called eating establishment.”

“Pleased to meet you,” PJ said.

Tink.

“I’ll have a double burger,” Schultz said, “and don’t give me one of those paper-thin slices of tomato this time. Christ, you must get a hundred slices out of one tomato. And a decent-sized serving of fries, which means more than I can count on one hand.” As Schultz spoke, Millie poured him a cup of coffee.

“Yessir, Your Majesty Sir, this time I’ll only get fifty slices out of the tomato. Got a rotten one I been saving for you anyway.” Millie looked expectantly at PJ.

“May I see the menu, please?” PJ asked.

Millie shot a triumphant look at Schultz. “There, you see, that’s class. You should take notes.”

Schultz wasn’t the least bit fazed. “Double burger. When you can spare the time.”

After PJ looked over the menu, she ordered a double burger, an order of fries, and a chocolate milkshake. Schultz nodded approvingly. They talked about the weather until the food arrived. It came on heavy white china plates and was adorned with Millie’s trademark, a toothpick holding a tiny flag aloft over the bun. In spite of Schultz’s degrading remarks, her burger was delicious, if a little greasy. There was a veritable mountain of fries, and the slice of tomato was about three-quarters of an inch thick.

“So, Detective,” PJ said as she twirled a fry in ketchup, “what do you think of CHIP now?”

“Same thing that I thought yesterday and the day before. Video games are no substitute for honest police work.”

PJ decided to ignore the jab about video games. “You mean that what you just saw in my office didn’t give you any ideas? Didn’t help the investigation?”

“We saw one scenario. There are others.”

“You are a stubborn ass.”

“And proud of it. Just ask Millie.”

“You seemed more enthusiastic back in the office. In fact, I seem to recall that you were genuinely affected.”

“I get affected by porno movies too, but that doesn’t help solve murder cases.”

Exasperated, PJ paused for a moment. She ran her tongue over the roof of her mouth, feeling the coating of grease.

“How would you like to play the part of the killer?” she said. “Be right in the action?”

“I don’t get any thrills offing people, Doc.”

“That’s not what I meant. I mean that the next step for the simulation would be to put you in the world and let you move around like the killer did, seeing what he saw.”

“I have only two words to say about that: video game.”

“If you’re so dead set against using computers on this case, why did you get involved?” PJ said. “Why did Howard put you on CHIP?”

“You want a truthful answer to that?”

“Of course. I think I have a right to know.”

Schultz paused. “Well, I guess you’d find out anyway. I took this assignment because it looked like the only way I could get back into field work. I’m not cut out to be a desk jockey, and that’s what I’ve been for the past ten years.”

“Oh? What happened then? Step on the boss’s toes?”

Schultz grunted. “Don’t be fooled by Lieutenant Wall’s sweet face. He’s got balls of steel, and toes, too.” Schultz slurped his coffee noisily. PJ could hear the quiet hum of other conversations around the diner but no distinct words. A gust of wind blew rain against the window. Millie walked by to deliver a gigantic slice of apple pie to a customer. Schultz waved at her, pointed at the pie and held up two fingers. When he continued, his voice was steady and low. “I got a black mark against me when my partner got killed back then. No formal charges, nothing like that, but the Department’s a weird place. Not like out in society where you’re supposed to be innocent until proven guilty. The guys just closed ranks, and all of a sudden I was on the outside of the circle looking in.”

“How did your partner get killed?”

“Christ, Doc, you want it all at once, don’t you.”

“I’m a psychologist. I’m accustomed to hearing everything in a one hour session. Doesn’t foster patience.”

“Vince and I had this creep nailed for burglary, had an informant who saw him peddling the hot stuff from the back of his pickup and bragging how he was going to rob himself enough to open a warehouse. Anyway, we went to his apartment. We had this guy figured for a lamb, thought he would get spooked and try to run out the back when the cops knocked on his door. So I sent Vince to the front door and I went around back myself. Vince was just a kid. He was twenty-eight. Hell, my son’s almost that old now. I went up the fire escape. That’s when I made my second mistake for the day.”

“What was the first one?”

“I didn’t check this creep out enough. Turns out pushing hot VCR’s was just a sideline for him. He was a dealer, had a stash in his place worth maybe five hundred thousand.”

“He wasn’t a lamb, then?”

“No. My second mistake was when I poked my head up to the window to see what was going on. There was a frosted window that was open three, four inches, and I figured it was the bathroom. I don’t know what I was thinking, maybe that I could get in quietly from the back. I took a quick look and ducked back down. I saw the creep in the bathroom, his back to me. I saw his face in the mirror. He was shaving. I didn’t think he saw me because he acted real cool. Didn’t jerk his head around, didn’t even look sideways. Cool. How was I supposed to know he was in the bathroom? I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried a second look. That’s when I knew he had seen me.”

The two slices of pie arrived, and Schultz stopped talking while Millie refilled his coffee cup. PJ inhaled the apple pie scent, closed her eyes, and let the memories flow: floured hands, spiral peels of apples, open jars of spices, crimping the edges of the crust together with her fingers as her mother guided her eager hands. She brought a forkful to her mouth.

“Good pie,” she mumbled to Millie around the mouthful.

“Thanks, Dearie,” Millie responded. She directed her cutting gaze at Schultz, who sat with eyes downcast. “Class.”

“So what happened?” PJ asked after Millie left.

“When I took a second look, he was gone. That’s when I knew I had spooked him toward Vince. Not to me, like it should have been, but to Vince. I went in through the bathroom window. I heard the shotgun blasts, two of them. Vince took it in the chest and in the face. Never had a chance. I took the creep down, shot him right through the heart while he stood looking down at Vince.” He paused, raised his eyes. PJ saw a hint of fire in them. A cold fire.

“Self-defense, of course,” he said.

“Of course.”

“After that, nobody was anxious to be my partner. Big surprise there. I did some desk work while Internal Affairs checked me out for use of deadly force without cause. They couldn’t make anything stick, but by then I was an outsider. Never was able to get back in. Worked a few cases solo, but just couldn’t seem to get the fire lit again.”

PJ nodded. As a psychologist, she knew there were many variations of job burnout, and those who worked in law enforcement experienced the whole range.

“When Howard talked to me about this assignment, I got so excited I nearly crapped in my pants. Seems like the fire was still there after all. But I have to tell you, I intended to have as little to do with you and the computer as possible. After a week, I still feel that way, at least about the computer.”

“I guess I should be flattered I’m not lumped in with the computer.”

“Now it’s your turn on the hot seat. What brought you here to St. Louis? How’d you ever get involved in police work? You know, you’re not exactly the typical grist for the Department mill.”

“Detective, I know this is going to seem like I’m trying to evade your questions, but I really need to get back to my hotel now. I’m tired, and I want to see my son. We can talk again some other time.”

“Yeah, isn’t that typical shrink talk. I spill my guts and you button up. At least give me the Reader’s Digest version, OK? And no bullshit.”

PJ laughed. “You mean condensed? All right, in one hundred words or less, and no bullshit. I moved here to get away from my ex-husband. We just got divorced. He was fooling around with another woman young enough to be his daughter. I took this job primarily because I wanted to use the VR software I developed. Now that I’m here, I feel like I might be able to do something worthwhile, help people, fight crime, that sort of thing. I have a son who probably blames me for breaking up his happy family. I can sense your dedication, but I find you infuriating at times, and it’s all I can do not to pick up the computer and bop you over the head with it.”

“Fair enough. But I still expect the full story sometime.” Schultz was rummaging in his pockets. He came up with some folded bills, and motioned Millie over to the counter. PJ and Schultz paid separately. PJ left a dollar tip tucked under her pie plate. Schultz left a quarter, explaining that he didn’t want Millie to think he liked the food. Or the service, for that matter.

“It’s nearly midnight,” he said as they prepared to dash through the rain to their cars. “I’ll see you back to the hotel.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that. It’s out of your way.”

“Don’t give me any sass, Doc. I’ll follow you. When you get to the parking lot, stay in your locked car until I get there. We’ll walk in together.”

PJ thought his suggestion was very strange. She was sure the hotel was in a nice area. But if he wanted to play Mr. Protector, she had no objections.

He opened the door. She thought he was opening it for her, and she moved forward. Instead, she almost collided with him as he pushed his bulk through ahead of her and took off at a fast walk. She heard his voice drifting back through the rain.

“You just wouldn’t believe some of the things that go on in hotels these days.”

Pauley Mac tapped on the hotel suite door. “Room service.”

There was a pause. Pauley Mac was certain that Ilya Vanitzky was checking him out through the peephole in the door. He smiled, confident that his bearing, his outfit, and the tray he was carrying would pass inspection. After all, he had done this before, though with different intentions.

“I didn’t order anything.”

Aware of the peephole, Pauley Mac made a show of checking an order ticket. “This is room 468, right? An order was placed fifteen minutes ago. Chocolate covered strawberries.”

“Was the person who ordered named Katrina?”

“Don’t know. Tall woman, mid-twenties, dark hair. Paid cash. Could I bring these in now, sir?”

“Yes, of course. One moment, please.” There was a certain sensual warmth in the voice, in spite of the neutral content. Perhaps Katrina was more than a two-night stand.

The door opened to reveal a handsome man in a bathrobe, hair wet from the shower. “Put them on the table.”

Pauley Mac strode confidently into the room. He expected Vanitzky to follow him over to the table, letting the door close, but he didn’t. He simply stood there, dripping, with the door open to the hallway.

“Could I get you to sign this ticket,” Pauley Mac said, “to show that the delivery was made?”

That did it. Vanitzky let go of the door, which closed automatically, and came over to the table. As he obediently bent to sign, Pauley Mac struck him on the back of the head with the paperweight he had concealed in his pocket. He had used the paperweight before, and was quite fond of it. It was a pewter statue of a horned toad, squat and substantial, with thick, pointed projections down the spine. It had belonged to Pa, and heaven only knows what he used to do with it. Pa certainly wasn’t talking.

Pauley Mac’s internal chorus chattered like housewives at a coffee klatch. Some voices, darkly emotional ones, urged him on. Others screamed at him to stop, that what he was doing was wrong, and that there was still time to walk away from it—walk away from everything, stop the killings, go somewhere and start over. But the dark voices, with Dog to shore them up, won out every time. Pauley Mac wondered what would happen if he invited in a guest who was as strong-willed as Dog.

No way, good lay, fat chance, bitches dance,
came Dog’s throaty sing-song, slicing through the babble.
Cut butt, slice nice, slide glide.
Now that the first blow had been struck and the outcome of tonight’s work was a certainty, a wild animal excitement took hold of him. Pauley Mac felt the hot flush and stiffening between his legs, and Dog moved his hips, thrusting them into the air. He yanked open the zipper on his black slacks and stroked his erection frantically. Pauley Mac was barely able to propel himself into the bathroom and grab a washcloth to avoid spilling his come on Vanitzky’s prone form. He stuffed the sticky cloth into his pocket along with the pewter toad.

From the other pocket, he pulled surgeon’s gloves and put them on. Taking the key, which was one of those plastic cards with a combination punched into it, from the top of the television, he went down a back stairwell and out to his pickup. The storm that had been threatening earlier was in full swing, with lightning splitting the sky and rain driving hard, finding its way down the back of his neck as he dashed to the truck. On the way back he got even wetter because he couldn’t go at a full run. He carried a large black case, a cube about twenty inches on a side, back up to the suite. It was almost midnight, and the halls were deserted.

Schultz pulled into the hotel parking lot right next to PJ’s Rabbit. He thought the cars made a good pair, his reddish-orange Pacer and her Rabbit convertible in blue which had faded practically to gray. The door on the driver’s side of the Rabbit flew open and PJ ran for the lobby. Cursing under his breath, he took off after her. The ache in his knees was back, and his left leg was too stiff to make good time. She beat him to the lobby.