The Devil's Water: Scenic City Murder Series #1 Page 6

  CHAPTER 17

  He sat staring down into a black cup of coffee. It was 10:00AM, over 24 hours since the Gamblin story broke. Clutch had read the piece more than once. He had studied it and tried to figure out what the article had said without really saying it. For one, Gamblin had intimated that Tasha had a drinking problem. That wasn’t terribly big news since Tasha had made no secret of it, really. Gamblin was just trying to embarrass the department with that. What had he left out, though? Clutch sat back and clasped his hands behind his head. The most glaring thing he could think of that was left out of the article was the news he had received from Janese Dupri. No mention of dark blue cars or green hats or beards anywhere in the article. That would’ve been huge to Gamblin and he certainly wouldn’t have kept his fat mouth shut had he known. Clutch realized that the only people who witnessed the interview firsthand were a couple of detectives from vice. He knew the men well and knew they were upstanding. Ryan Skopic, Jeff Wilder and Tasha were the only other people who were aware. Clutch had been careful with Wilder and told him not to tell a single soul about it. At this very moment, Clutch realized that he hadn’t. He realized that Wilder would’ve told his partner before he told anyone else and Clutch knew to his core that he hadn’t. He knew because Martin Vicelli called in sick for work yesterday and, according to Wilder, he had called him last night to ask about how the day had gone at the PD. Clutch thought about it a moment more and his jaw muscles began working as he clenched his teeth. He picked up the desk phone and dialed in house. It rang twice before Vicelli picked it up. “Yeah”

  “Martin I need to see you for a few minutes. Can you come down here?”

  “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Martin Vicelli strolled into Clutch’s office and took a seat in the chair by Clutch’s desk. He had a smile on his face. “What’s up?” he asked innocently.

  “Hey, I heard you had a 24 hour bug yesterday. You feelin’ better?” Clutch asked as he returned the smile.

  “Yeah. I just had an upset stomach is all. Spent most of the day in the bathroom.”

  “Is that right?” Clutch asked, the smile turning into an expression of concern. “Well Martin, what I’ve called you down here for is to talk to you about the article that came out in the paper yesterday.”

  “Oh, yeah. That was terrible. How is Tasha?”

  “Well fortunately, after talking to her, I convinced her to stay with the case. She had been drinking yesterday. This whole thing has been very hard on her and, as you know, she drinks a little too much.”

  “Yeah, I know she has a problem with that.” Vicelli said as he darted his eyes away and looked down at his shoes. Clutch’s gaze never wavered. He stared at Vicelli.

  “Well Martin, since we’re talking about the major players involved in this recent turn of events, I have to ask you. How’s Hank Gamblin?”

  Vicelli’s eyes opened wide. He glanced back up at Clutch. “What?”

  “Hank Gamblin. The reporter from the paper. The one who wrote the nasty news article yesterday.”

  “Well…I don’t even really know him. I…I don’t talk to him.” Vicelli stuttered.

  “Aw, c’mon Martin. You know Hank! Everyone around here knows Hank. It’s just that you know him better than most. Matter of fact, you’ve been leaking information to him since this whole thing started.” Clutch said with a wicked smile on his face.

  “N..no. You’ve got it all wrong.” Vicelli said. Clutch noticed that his upper lip was beginning to sweat. He watched as Vicelli swallowed, his Adam’s apple jumping up and down.

  “Well, I’m a betting man Martin. I’ll bet that I can lean on Hank and get him to squeal. See Martin, Hank ain’t loyal to anybody. Even his, shall we say, anonymous sources close to the investigation?”

  Martin Vicelli stared at Clutch. A drop of sweat trickled from his temple to his cheekbone and finally landed on his dark pants. His upper lip was absolutely drenched. “Are you gonna fire me?” he finally asked, breaking the silence.

  “Depends. Skopic and I talked it over. There is some information you could feed Gamblin that would be beneficial to the police department and those of us who are trying to catch this bastard. You do that and we’ll see what we can do about keeping you around. You’ll probably be demoted from detective, though.”

  Vicelli’s face turned white. “What’s the other option?”

  “Well, if you don’t cooperate, I am putting you on leave without pay. Then I’ll make sure there is a full and thorough internal affairs investigation and then….I’ll fire your ass. I don’t think you want to go down that road, do you?”

  “No I don’t.” Vicelli finally whispered. Clutch wasn’t sure but he thought the man was about to cry. “What do I need to do?”

  “When the time is right, I want you to give Gamblin some information. We have reason to believe it’s false but it might put the killer on the move. It’s worth a try, anyway. I will depend on you to do exactly as I say. You veer from the plan at all and you can kiss your solid career and pension goodbye. Understood?”

  Vicelli’s lip was quivering. Clutch stared at him for a full minute while he tried to get his emotions under control. “Understood.”

  CHAPTER18

  Tasha Yoder was standing in the middle of her classroom watching the students examine various pieces of evidence. The class was Crime Scene Investigation and the course had closed quickly for the fall quarter. Everyone wanted to be a CSI. They all thought they could be the next Ted Danson or Jorja Fox. Little did the students know that crime scene analysis wasn’t nearly as exciting as what they saw on TV. All of the crime dramas had these “wonder computers” where any information pertaining to the case was only a few seconds and the press of a button away. Tasha was very aware that it didn’t work like that in real life. Right at that instant, she was staring at a young man who had picked up a coke bottle and began dusting it for fingerprints. “No, Chad. Stick that in the evidence bag and process it later. You only need to dust things that can’t be moved from the scene.” Chad glanced up at her and blushed. Tasha could see that the poor lad felt like a complete fucking idiot. She still had an hour to go before class would be over, then no class for the next couple days. What’s new, I’ll be classless. She smiled and chuckled at the thought. She was looking at the big oak tree outside the window as her phone vibrated. She snapped the phone off her belt and hit send. “Yeah.”

  “Tasha, it’s Clutch. You busy?”

  “I’m in the middle of class. Can I call you in about an hour?”

  “I’ll be here.”

  Tasha signed off with him and proceeded to have an uneventful last half of class time. She walked down the hall to her office. She grabbed her satchel and closed her office door. As she walked out of the Criminal Justice building, she noticed the coolness of the afternoon. Fall was in the air. The cicadas, however, were still high and shrill. Tasha always thought cicadas were mother natures answer to leaf blowers. She loved crickets but couldn’t stand cicadas. She walked over to a bench sitting between two crepe myrtles and plopped down. Pulling her phone from her waist, she dialed Clutch’s number.

  “Yep.”

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Hey kid. Well… I talked to Vicelli. He’s our leak, of course. I told him the only way he could keep his job is if he worked with us. Even then, he would be demoted.”

  “The only thing I asked of you was to keep me out of the news.” Tasha said, she could feel the anger starting to rise from her gut.

  “I know. I’m sorry, Tasha. I wish I could make things different but I can’t. What I can do, however, is punish the prick and try to use this to our advantage.”

  “Yeah, how you gonna do that?”

  “I was thinking about how you said the killer enjoys knowing more about us than we do about him. That got me wondering if there wasn’t something we could get out there about him.”

  “Yeah, but we don’t know shit about him other than what Janese
told you. Even then, Janese coulda picked the wrong guy.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I told Vicelli that I would feed him some information which was probably false about the killer. Sensitive information. If he would give the information to Gamblin and it gets in the news, the killer might make a move.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “That the killer is impotent. That he has a sexual dysfunction. That he’s been using objects on the women to rape them.”

  Tasha thought about the angle for a moment. It was good. Very good maybe.

  “This could possibly push the killer. Make him want to prove his virility. He also has a very high opinion of himself. Thinks he knows much more than the rest of us. This might insult him into doing something rash. Hell, I think this is worth a shot Clutch.”

  “It’s about the only thing we have right now other than some testimony from a prostitute.”

  “Right.” Tasha agreed. “Have you figured out when you want Operation Impotence to go into effect?”

  “Haven’t nailed it down yet. Of course, if something else happens we’ll have to weigh the options then.”

  “Well, keep me in the loop.” Tasha finally said.

  “Tasha? One more thing.”

  “OK?”

  “What are you doing this evening?” Clutch asked.

  “The usual.”

  “Well, instead of going to Malone’s and drinking all night, why don’t you join me for a meeting at St. Mary’s?”

  “I told you I didn’t want the program. I don’t want anything to do with it.” Tasha stated flatly.

  “C’mon, Tasha. Do it for me. Hell, do it for your mom and dad.”

  “Dammit, Clutch. That isn’t fair. Don’t go there with me.”

  “OK. I’m sorry. Ultimately, you need to do it for yourself. I just thought we might go tonight and if you don’t like it, I’ll never talk to you about it again.”

  There was a long silence. Tasha really wanted to spend the evening with her good buddies Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. Nevertheless, there was something playing around in the back of her mind. It was a feeling that maybe she had a compulsion, an overpowering desire to drink. That the only way to quell the urge was to do it, over and over again. Needless to say, she would always experience the same results. Lying in bed, wondering what she had dragged home with her the night before. The sweats. The shaking. She would always say she would never drink again. She would pray to some evasive deity and make false promises to herself as she leaned over the toilet bowl. She would do the same thing over and over again and expect different results which, as a very wise person once noted, is the very definition of insanity.

  “Alright. I’ll go.” She finally said, breaking the silence.

  “Great. I’ll be over at your house about 6 o’clock then. Meeting is at 6:30.”

  “Hey, I don’t want to share anything though. Leave me out of that.”

  “You don’t have to share. It isn’t a requirement. Just listen if you want.” Clutch laughed.

  They signed off and, as Tasha walked to her car, she wondered how it felt to not be compelled to drink. How would it be to really just take it or leave it. She shook her head as she crossed the college parking lot. She realized that concept was completely foreign to her.

  It was straight up 6o’clock when Tasha heard her doorbell ring. Clutch had been true to his word. “Ya ready?” he asked as she opened the door and grabbed her purse. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” They rode to the church in silence. Tasha was feeling a little nervous but was trying her best to hide it. Apparently, she wasn’t trying hard enough. “You scared?” Clutch asked as they pulled into the parking lot. “Nah….well….maybe a little.” She answered. “Relax. You’re gonna be fine.” There were several people walking into the church and, Tasha noted, it looked like there might be a crowd. She gazed across the church parking lot and noticed a rotund woman waddling toward the church. “Jesus.” Tasha exclaimed. “Is she in the program?” Clutch glanced toward where she was looking. “Oh yeah. That’s Sharon B. Been in the program longer than I have.”

  “Fat lotta good it’s done her.” Tasha said and chuckled under her breath.

  “Hey, Tasha. When we go in there, how about leaving the smartass at the door Okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “Besides that, she’s a great person. Tells a hell of a story. If you pursue this, she would make a good sponsor. She’s got a lot of good long time sobriety.”

  “Look, I’m not ready to talk sponsors or anything like that. I’ve not even made it in the door yet, Clutch.”

  “Sorry. I just really want you to get this.”

  They walked in and found a seat toward the back. The sanctuary was almost full. Tasha noticed that there were folks there of all different types of backgrounds. Some folks were in uniforms. Clearly, they had just come straight from work. A man sitting fairly close to her was in mechanic’s clothes with grease stains on his shirt. Off to the front of her, a man was dressed in a suit and tie. He looked like an accountant type. In a few minutes, a woman appeared at the front of the church. She offered a few announcements and then asked if anyone wanted to share. A young man who didn’t even look old enough to drink raised his hand and began to speak. “I’m Joey and I’m an alcoholic.”

  “Hi, Joey.” The crowd said in unison.

  Tasha glanced over at Clutch. He was totally immersed in what Joey was saying. Tasha tried to listen but she kept on being pulled into observing folks. She watched young and old as they listened to the various stories. As the meeting ended at 7:30, she grabbed her bag and followed Clutch to the door.

  “You want to stick around and meet some of the people?” he asked her.

  “Not tonight.”

  They got back to the car and Clutch crawled in the drivers’ side. “Well, how did you like it?”

  “I don’t know. I guess some of the stories were interesting. I just don’t understand how you consider these people the authority on addiction. Many of them look like they smoke 3 packs a day judging from the folks puffing outside the church. They also drink coffee like it’s water.”

  Clutch laughed which was not the response Tasha was expecting. “Look Tasha. The only requirement in the program is a desire to stop drinking. I don’t consider those folks the authority on anything. We’re all just a bunch of drunks who are trying to stay sober the best way we can.”

  “Could you see yourself going back to a meeting sometime in the future?” Clutch asked.

  “I dunno. Maybe.”

  Clutch pulled up to Tasha’s apartment and let her out of the car. “Call if you hear anything more about the case.” She said as she closed the car door.

  “Will do.”

  Tasha wiggled her key in the front door lock and pushed on the door. As soon as it gave way, she entered her foyer and threw her purse on the kitchen counter. She walked directly over to the refrigerator and opened it. There, she saw two full shelves of beer. She grabbed a Corona, popped the top and took a very long gulp.

  CHAPTER 19

  He had given her a stuffed animal to hold. She wasn’t sure what it was but she thought it might be a dog. It had long ears and a wide mouth. She felt it sometimes in the night and it made her feel loved. Carol Shipley was staring at the empty darkness. He hadn’t been to visit her in a long time and she figured this was because he had someone new. Carol knew she wasn’t alone. She had heard the cries for help. She had heard the screams when he hit her or when he violated her. She wasn’t the only one stuck in this dungeon hell hole. Nevertheless, Carol knew that the woman’s cries for help were useless. No one was coming for her. No one had ever come before and Carol knew that she had not been the only one. She had heard screams from different women. She’d listened to their plaintive cries. Eventually, those cries went away and she would never hear them again. Now there was fresh meat and he was making her pay for being the new kid on the block. Carol moved her arm, which was bound, and touched her stuffed animal.
It was truly the only constant thing she had. The man had been bringing her food twice a day. Lately, though, he had been unchaining her arms and letting her feed herself. It was a little hard in the pitch black darkness and her arms ached from having been tied up so long. Still, she was glad to be able to do that for herself. Carol felt herself getting a little stronger. For one thing, she wasn’t receiving the medicine nearly as much and she wasn’t being raped every night anymore. On days that he didn’t violate her, he didn’t give her the medicine either. She figured that was why her mind was finally starting to clear a bit. Carol had actually begun developing a plan to break free from this hell. If she was unsuccessful, she was sure he would kill her but what did she have to lose? She might as well be dead if she had to live for years, perhaps a lifetime, like this. Carol laid there and tried to think. She knew that it was nine steps from the doorway to the bed. She’d heard him cross that distance many times. She could almost see the door in her mind’s eye. Carol knew the door was unlocked. If she could get to the door, she could just open it and run out of the room before he got to her. Should she try to help the other woman? No. If she got out of the room she would need to worry about herself and no others. Her only objective would be to get out of the house. Carol closed her eyes and hummed quietly to herself. She could see the black and white piano keys on her grandmother’s huge Wurlitzer piano. Carol couldn’t play the piano but her grandmother would sometimes play for her when she had been a good girl. She could see a small hand, her hand, reach up and press down on one key after the other. Four notes in all. Bumm..ba….Bumm…ba. One, two, three and four. Now Carol had a melody in her mind. One, two, three and four. She hummed the notes over and over and over. Somewhere, she had read that this was a type of hypnosis and it probably was. It seemed to soothe her during the very lonely times. She continued humming for minutes which seemed like hours. Finally, she felt herself drifting. She reached and touched her stuffed animal and brought it as close to her as possible. Bumm…ba…bumm…ba. One, two, three and four. Within seconds, Carol Shipley was asleep.