You have to be a good judge of character in this job. Take, for instance, my situation with the good detective. I would be a fool to let him handcuff me if I thought he was involved in this or if he gave me some form of the heebie geebies. For some reason, I liked this guy. Trusted him. Don’t know how to explain it really, but I think it came from watching him try to grill me the night before. There was something very earnest about his anger. He still cared about the victims—still felt like he owed them a duty to solve their crimes. He was young.
Still, he was doing me a big favor by letting me into the crime scene. But I was in handcuffs, which is obviously risky. Especially since I’d only known this guy for a few hours. This was either one of the fastest jump to handcuffs two men have consensually made or it was a huge mistake. Still, I like to know the odds are in my favor.We made our way up the stairs. What this place lacked in charm on the outside, it made no attempt to make up for on the inside. The railing was rickety and falling. The lights flickered and there was a thin layer of what I have to call “goo” covering the floor. The second floor door had a welcome matt in front of the door, which almost distracted from the police tape across the doorway.
“So, I don’t think I caught your name the other night.” I said, trying to break the odd silence of walking upstairs while I was wearing handcuffs.
“I guess you wouldn’t have.” He said quietly. “Chance Clemens.”
“Good to meet you.” I said, trying to offer him my right hand to shake, but giving him both instead. “I’m [Gumshoe].” We made a nice shake of it anyway.
He pulled a flashlight from inside his coat. “No lights in there. So you stay 2 feet from me at all times.”
As he opened the door and flicked on the light, I could tell I was going to regret this. “So, you think I’m innocent.” I said taking a step through the door as he opened it. The room (and that was all it was, one large room, a toilet behind a door and a furnace standing near the far corner) was what you’d call an “open floor plan”, but I can’t imagine that’s a concern of anyone who rents here. There was a little light coming in through the windows, which probably lit the room about as much as anyone would want. In the harsh light of the flashlight, a lot of ugly stains showed up. I don’t think they necessarily had anything to do with the crime, but it certainly didn’t help.
I slipped the handcuffs and pulled them off. Ahh, yes, putting the odds in my favor.
“Why would I think you’re innocent?” He said.
“No way I can talk you into this if you’re not having your doubts.”
“She. Edna. She’s got something against you. I haven’t figured out what it is, but she doesn’t like you and I think that’s clouding her on this.” He shined the light on the ceiling and I saw the chains hanging down, catching the light with an almost playful glint. “This is where she was found. Hanging from these chains.”
“So, she was far enough that no one could see in from the street.” I looked at the chains. They were thick. I know a lot about chains as you can see. “Yeah. There was a thing when I left the force.” He moved his light down the chains as if he expected the chains to tell us something they hadn’t before.
“Yeah. No one tipped us as to what was inside. The apartments across the street aren’t inhabited by what you would call upstanding citizens. What sort of thing?” He shined a light on the floor.
“I got caught up in a murder investigation. I was the prime suspect for awhile and I took off. Pissed Edna off. Eventually, the evidence turned a different way and I was off the hook. Still, I left the force before they could kick me off—you know for running out on an investigation—and set up as a PI. Edna didn’t appreciate me running off without a fight.” I took a breath. “No blood on the floor.”
I was looking over the scene, when I heard the rustling in the corner behind the furnace. Chance kept his flashlight steady on the area below the chains. Maybe he didn’t hear it.
“A lot of rats in here,” I said hoarsely.
“Yeah. Saw a bunch in here the other night.” He slowly shined his light back up the chains. “We thought whoever it was moved the body here after she died. Can’t figure out a reason, yet.” He paused. “You got a way of screaming innocence.”
“Last time it was suffocations. Rope, I think.” And then he shined a light on the wall, and I could see the writing. “Well. That right there is why I’m a prime suspect, Chance.”
“So, you do recognize it?”
I wasn’t a big Meatloaf fan. Don’t get me wrong, he had some great stuff going on in the 70’s and his voice was that of an unchained god—powerful, raw, and dangerous. And I even want to like some of his newer stuff. But after what happened last time, it was hard not to feel the lyrics, the music itself, maybe, were tainted. Even so, I can recognize most of the unobscure Meatloaf lyrics. Call it a gift if you must. “Yeah. I recognize it.”
In large painted letters on the wall was, “WILL YOU HOSE ME DOWN WITH HOLYWATER IF I GET TOO HOT? HOT!”
“Meatloaf?” He said.
“Yeah.” I turned to look at him. “That’d be why she asked about my record collection.”
“That’d be it. Didn’t find any Meatloaf though.”
“No. But you did find some REO Speedwagon, which probably means something, since she was probably dressed after she was killed.”
“That how it was last time?” He kept his eyes on me, but didn’t give anything away.
“Yeah.” I closed my eyes and I could still see Mindy James. I’d known her in highschool. Went to junior prom with her, but it had been a while and a lot of arguments before she was found her chained to the wall, same way Ms. Flettering had been, more or less. Strangled, dressed later and chained up. We think she stayed that way for a couple days until a mailman walking by the house smelled something and peaked in a window.
“Still a lot of people like REO Speedwagon, so it’s not like there’s a lot on you. Yet. You done?”
“Yeah.” I spoke quietly. I didn’t say much as we walked down the stairs and out the front door. I waited until we got to the car. “You read the file on that case?”
“Just this morning.” I threw the cuffs at him. “So, you’re a magician too?”
“I’m full of surprises.” I rubbed my wrists and let out a sigh. Knowing that a murder spree that claimed 6 people, ruined the lives of friends and family, and punched my career in the kidneys, had been thrown in my face again wasn’t sitting well with me.
“So. What’d you find out about that client of yours?”
“You didn’t seem to be buying that last night.””Ahh that,” he said with a waive of his hand, “you know how it is. You keep shaking someone till something falls out of ‘em. You were holding something back.”
“Yeah. So was your partner.” His mouth climbed up the side of his face, but he stayed quiet. “I got a guy calling me about my client. Hopefully any minute.” I checked my watch, 2:30.
“You know I’m gonna have to follow you wherever you head next.”
“Guess so.” I said, ducking into the Camino.
“We found that Nickelback album. For some reason it was stuck in a drawer way far away from all of the rest of the CDs.”
“Son of a bitch.” I pulled my head out of the car, rethinking my strategy. “We could carpool.”
Before Chance could say anything, my cell phone rang. I walked away from Detective Clemens for a minute to take the call. I turned my back to him and the apartment. Bruce came through. Of course.
“So,” I said after I hung up the phone. “The car is registered to Aaron Masters. Here’s the address we’re given. Let’s take your car.”
“Aaron Masters. Name rings a bell.”
“That’d be because it’s the name of the man who is sitting in jail right now. For the murders of six people. Liked to strangle them and dress them up in t-shirts of classic rock bands.” I let it sit there in a minute. “Way I figure it, we’re either dealing with a copycat who is trying to pay homage to the original.”
“Or?” Chance spoke quickly.
“Or we get lucky and it’s just a guy with a somewhat common name and we put him down quick for this.”
“No way we’re that lucky.” Chance said pushing the car into gear and heading out toward the address. “So, you didn’t get a chance to interview him?”
“Wasn’t even a suspect when I was around, so I never had the pleasure. I’m thinking I’m not gonna get a chance to interview him now either.”
“What do you think? Another pizza parlor?”
“We're probably not that lucky either.”
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