Strip Search (18 page)

“Man. Those things hurt.”

“I told you,” Tucker said. “I wanted to use the plastic ones.”

She shook her head. “No. If you’re ever going to learn anything, we have to do it the right way.” She looked up, smiling. “And by the way, you handled that fairly well.”

He beamed. It was obvious that even such little praise as this was immensely important to him. “Really?”

“Really. You corrected your previous mistakes. I pulled all that slut’s tricks and a few more of my own, but you never lost control.”

“I—I was trying to be careful,” Tucker said, head bowed.

“And you did a nice job of it. Which was the point of the whole exercise. To correct mistakes that might bring the whole thing crashing down on us before we have a chance to complete the pattern. Practice makes perfect. A little more work on the disposal of the corpses and I think we’ll be ready to move again.”

“On schedule?”

“Of course on schedule. What’s to stop us?”

“I love you, Esther.”

“And I love you, Tucker.”

Her confidence was no façade; after all, her plan had worked perfectly thus far. Tucker would never understand why he had been instructed to leave those equations at the scenes of the crimes, nor did he ask. He simply obeyed. She needed to know her opponent, without exposing herself to suspicion. She needed to bring the opposition to her—and she did. Those clues brought that psychologist to her office so she could evaluate her, calculate the variables and compute the odds. And the final result? That woman and her associates had no chance of stopping her. They were as far from understanding her as Ptolemy was from understanding Einstein. “So we move forward, as planned. Remember, God is in the numbers.”

“God is in the numbers,” he repeated, as he had learned to repeat so much of what she had taught him. He lifted his left hand, revealing a tiny blue star tattooed at the center of his palm. She raised her hand and pressed it to his. “We are the Brethren of Purity,” he murmured. “And I did good?”

“You did so well—I think you deserve a reward.” She crawled on top of him, then pushed him back against the bed. She took his T-shirt by the collar with both hands, then ripped it down the center.

“Why did you do that?”

“I know how you like it.” Esther gripped him by the arms, pressing her sharp fingernails into his flesh. She crouched over him, then slowly drew a soft line with her tongue from his navel across his stomach and chest.

“Oh, God,” he murmured. “Oh, my God!”

“You have been a good boy. You have compensated for your errors. Will you continue to be a good boy?”

“Oh, yes,” he said, feeling the intense heat of her body enveloping him, carrying him away. “I’ll be good. I’ll be careful.”

“And you’ll do whatever I tell you?” She straddled his groin, brushing herself back and forth against him. She grabbed his nipples and twisted them savagely. “Are you going to be a good boy and obey me?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll do anything. Anything at all.”

I ASKED MY DAD IF I COULD GO TO ONE OF THE CRIME SCENES AND HE SAID that the first one had already been cleaned so I asked how about the second one and he said no he did not think it was a good idea so I asked Susan and she said she did not think it was a good idea but I think she was just saying that because my dad wanted her to say that I think she likes to have me around she likes to call me and invite me and she took me to meet the math lady with the funny look in her eyes and the run in the heel of her hose and the Band-Aid on her left wrist and the blue star on the palm of her hand.

I have to carefully plan my way of getting there because I cannot drive but I know I could drive but my dad will not let me and I do not have a license or even a car but the buses can get me there if I plan it right and I go while my dad is at work so he does not notice that I am gone.

I liked it when Susan asked me if I wanted to go to college because I know smart people go to college and I would like to be a smart person and if I was a smart person maybe Susan would adopt me and we could have babies. Maybe I could learn to do more of that hard math but I do not think I would want to learn it from that lady because I did not really like that lady but I liked her math. I can understand math but I can never understand people. People would be easier if they were equations. I thought that maybe I could make people into equations, like Funny Smile plus Jokes I Don’t Understand plus Shaky Hands plus Smart plus Pretty equals Susan. But I cannot always tell if she’s joking or not and last time her hands did not shake but her voice was funny and maybe I need to factor out the way she smells because it changes so much. But she’s always smart and she’s always pretty. Those are constants. I like constants because they are always the same. You cannot do math without constants. I cannot do Real Life without constants.

My mother used to say I love you and I never knew what it meant and she would get upset so I started saying it back but I still did not know what it meant. My dad tried to explain that when people love each other they want to take care of each other and make each other happy and maybe he’s right but all parents do that so I think there must be more. When Susan is around I get all strange and squishy feeling and my stomach hurts and I really try to be smart and not so weird. Maybe that’s what love is. I wish there was a formula for love but there is not I know because I opened the encyclopedia and looked.

I know I will be in trouble with my dad when I do this, but it will be worth it if it makes Susan happy.

WHEN I GOT TO THE OFFICE that morning, everyone was acting strangely. Not to say they were unfriendly. Just the opposite. It was as if they were going out of their way to be friendly to me. Gave me the shivers.

Granger practically beamed when I passed by. “Morning, Susan.” That was it. No griping about my report, no insults, no attempts to show his superior psychological know-how. “Sleep well?”

“I did, actually.”

“I read your report on your interview with the math nerd. You really think it has anything to do with this case?”

“Well, that formula didn’t draw itself into the grease.”

“Good point. You’re a sharp one, that’s for sure. Congratulations on a nice piece of work.”

Okay, so at this point, there were two possibilities. Either Granger had been taken over by one of those pods from
Invasion of the Body Snatchers,
or he was setting me up. You can imagine which I thought was more likely. While I tried to puzzle it out, O’Bannon sailed up behind him.

“Hey, Susan.”

“Hey, Chief.”

“Hear you and Darcy had a fun expedition to the university yesterday.”

“Yeah. Actually, I’d like to talk to you about that.”

“I read your report.”

“No, about Darcy. Apparently his math skills are off the chart. Dr. Goldstein was ready to recruit him on the spot and enter him in the Math Bowl.”

O’Bannon smiled a little. “Of course, she doesn’t know about his…difficulties, right? I expect her eagerness would fade if she knew the whole truth, don’t you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone who can do math problems that require over a hundred steps is what I’d call normal.” I was watching them both very carefully, or more accurately, watching to see what it was they were watching for. Six months ago, I would’ve suspected this obviously forced conversation was for the purpose of sniffing my breath, but neither of them were close enough to do that now. For some reason, they just wanted to hear me talk.

That was it, of course. Darcy told me my voice sounded funny. The Valium must’ve been slurring my speech. Granger picked up on it, so today they were all out to see if he was right. Thank goodness I’d stopped at one pill this morning. Although the aching in my stomach and the knocking in my knees told me it wouldn’t be long before I had another one. But I didn’t want to get like I was yesterday—so doped I could barely stay awake, barely assimilate information. Sure, I was an old pro at faking sobriety. But it didn’t help me do my job.

“Well,” O’Bannon said, “let’s talk about it later.” In other words, no way in hell.

“As you wish. But the woman was even talking about scholarships. This could be a golden opportunity.” I turned toward my desk. “Was there anything else?”

Granger and O’Bannon looked at each other without saying anything.

“Okay, look.” I took a deep breath, then started. “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers…” I went through the whole thing at lightning speed, then did it again, just for good measure. Didn’t trip up once. When I’m good, I’m good. “Satisfied?”

Granger frowned. “How did you know?”

“How did I know?” I took a step closer and peered into his eyes. “Because I’m a trained psychologist and to me the human mind is an open book. In your case, a comic book. I know everything you’re thinking, planning, considering, every seedy, greasy little contemplation.” I leaned in closer. “I even know what you were doing in your apartment by yourself last night.”

Granger pulled away, staring at me as if he were ready to re-inaugurate the Salem witch trials. “I—don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s all right,” I answered, eyes narrowed. “Because I do.
Bwah-ha-ha-ha-ha!
”

IT’S ALWAYS A PLEASURE to see Darcy. Except perhaps on those rare occasions when he gets so excited he throws himself across my desk.

“Ooof!” I said, dodging, narrowly avoiding a collision of skulls. All the papers on my desk, not to mention my In/Out box, went flying. “Darcy, what are you doing? Are you blind?”

“You moved your desk forward!”

“I most certainly did not.”

“It is at least seven inches closer to the top of the stairs than it was yesterday.”

“Look, Spock, I didn’t move anything. I—” But of course, I had to look. I stared at the linoleum on the floor and saw square impressions, remnants of where the legs of the desk once had been. About seven inches away from where they were now. Cleaning people, probably. “Do you calculate your trajectory on your way up the stairs?”

Darcy blinked. “Sorta.”

I didn’t bother asking because I knew I wouldn’t understand. “What’re you so excited about?”

He leaned across my desk. His face was lively in a way I’d never seen it before. “Can you keep a secret?”

Darcy had secrets? Since when? “Sure.”

“Scout’s honor?”

I gave him a long look. “Were you ever a Scout?”

“For two meetings. Till the Scoutmaster got mad at me and threw me out. My dad said it was my fault but it was not my fault because this other boy was making fun of me and he said that Saturn was larger than Jupiter bu—”

I held up a hand. “Periods, Darcy. Periods.”

He took a deep breath. “Right.”

“So tell me the secret before I burst already.”

He came so close his lips brushed against my ear, which was pretty unusual for a kid with severe tactile defensiveness. “I went to the crime scene.”

I pulled away, my eyes wide. “Darcy, I told you—”

“I know. But I thought that I should so I went anyway.”

“I—But—” I didn’t know where to begin. “Which scene?”

“The movie studio.”

I looked him straight in the eye. “Darcy, I know for a fact that CS is still restricted. How could you get in?”

Darcy looked to his right, then his left. When he was certain no one was watching, he pulled something out of his underpants and flashed it at me. Something shiny. A badge.

“Where did you get that!”

“I borrowed it from my dad’s desk.”

“You—
borrowed
it! What’s going to happen if he notices it’s gone?”

“He already did. He thinks he lost it. He got tired of looking and went back to making pottery ashtrays.”

“But—he’s bound to suspect—”

“He will not suspect me. He does not think I am smart enough to do anything smart.”

“And he never will if you keep doing crazy stuff like this! Darcy, your father told you to stay away!”

“But I wanted to go.” His face sagged. “I wanted to help you, Susan.”

I closed my eyes and blew out my cheeks. What could I say? It was impossible to be mad at him. “The uniform posted outside must’ve recognized you.”

“I think that he did. But who is going to stop the son of the chief of police?”

Good point. “But Darcy—why did you want to go there?”

“Because I wanted to find something that would help you, so you could solve the case and not be so nervous and shaky.”

“Darcy—”

“And I did.”

My mouth closed. Then reopened. “You found something?”

He shook his head wildly up and down. He looked both ways, making sure no one was watching. Then he reached inside his coat.

It was only a scrap of paper, but Darcy’d had the foresight to enclose it in a plastic evidence Baggie. I held it up to the light.

“Swell,” I murmured. “What’s this one do, prove the existence of Santa Claus?”

“Wrong!” Darcy said. He made a snorting noise, then began jumping up and down. “I know what this one does! I know what this one does!”