Flu
Chapter 107
Berta's hands clench in frustration. "For years, that man's face was so clear in my mind that I couldn't banish it if I tried. But now, when I need to remember, the details are fuzzy."
"Take it slow," Kate counsels. "Walk through the last time you saw him, step by step. Where was he?"
"Standing across the street from our house, staring at the things my brother laid out on the lawn. His skin was red as if he was angry."
"Good," Kate encourages. "Now close your eyes, concentrate on his face. Was it round, oval? Anything stand out about it?"
"Yes!" Berta recalls. "He had a prominent chin, a little like Mr. Castle's, only much longer and squared off at the bottom with a cleft."
"Great!" Kate exclaims, entering the details into her computer program. "Like this?"
Berta nods enthusiastically. "Like that."
"Good, let's try the eyes," Kate goes on.
"Narrow and close together with a tiny fold at the corners," Berta adds, "like someone with a little Asian descent. They were dark, and his brows were practically on top of them. His hair was dark too. And I remember his nose was long, and his ears were kind of big, not sticking out, but big. It was like some parts of him grew faster than others."
Kate's fingers rush across the keyboard. "OK, outsize nose and ears."
Squinting, Berta leans in close to the screen. "Yes, that's the way he looked."
Rick stares at the image. "You know, my mother did a play with an actor who had out of proportion features like that. He had terrible headaches. One night a doctor came backstage and recognized him as having some kind of rare genetic disorder. Mother never knew the details, but that doctor got the actor the right treatment. Nothing on his face shrank, but he didn't get any weirder looking and stopped having headaches. We know the killer was acting crazy. Maybe he has something wrong with him that makes him act that way. But if it is genetic, it should have shown up in the D.N.A. the lab ran from Chris's killer – that is if he was also Larry's killer."
"Not if the lab wasn't looking for that abnormality," Berta points out. "I've worked on articles about forensic genetic profiling. The analysts check for specific markers unless they have a good reason to look for something else. And even then, they might have to send the sample to another lab."
"It sounds like it might be time for C.S.U. to have another go," Kate figures. "The D.N.A comes from Chertov's case. He can request further analysis. We'll also age this rendering and send it to him. A canvass for a man with something bizarre about him is more likely to yield results. And if we can see drivers at the angle of the traffic cam footage, he should be easy to spot."
"Do you think you might actually be able to find Larry's killer?" Berta presses.
"If he is the same person as Chris's killer, we have a chance," Kate replies. "That's all I can say right now."
"At least it's a chance," Berta responds. "I can hold on to that."
Rick gazes around after he and Kate escort Berta out of the 12th Precinct. "It's a lovely day. Do you want to get something from the food truck? We could take it to the little park. We could even get on the swings if you don't give The Peanut too exciting a ride."
"You're not afraid of more swing sabotage?" Kate inquires.
"I'll check the chains and seats before we get on. So, Macho Taco or Cozy Comfort?"
"Definitely Macho Taco, but I don't want to miss the ice cream truck."
Rick wraps his arm around Kate's waist. "We will keep our ears alert for its merry tune."
Merlin Jaspers would prefer using mammals larger than squirrels to make the desiccated gland extract that keeps his head from exploding. Unfortunately, he's already seen the posters going up for missing cats and dogs. He'll have to avoid attracting attention for a while.
He'll never forget the day so many years ago that he discovered his remedy in a tiny shop in Chinatown. He'd despaired of anything ever putting an end to his pain. None of the pills the doctors gave him ever worked, and he couldn't stand the shots.
The magic powder seemed like a miracle, but the shop never had enough of it. He decided to figure out how to make his own. By the time he had his process down pat, the shop owner had passed on, and the location became just another tea room. It didn't matter. Merlin had mastered the magic it took to take care of himself. He just had some problems getting rid of unwanted byproducts.
Now, after all these years, he finally has a place to stay where he can bury his donors instead of disposing of their bodies in his trash. It's too bad he didn't have the little garden apartment weeks ago. He would never have had to risk attracting attention by killing that boy. Of course, it was the child's own fault, going through refuse like that, especially when Merlin had disposed of unnecessary parts. But still, Merlin prefers to stay below the radar. For now, that means employing squirrels.
The drying unit he bought at an auction of used industrial equipment is doing a great job sucking moisture out of the tissue he recovers. Unfortunately, the parts he needs are so small that he has to trap and kill a squirrel or two every day. At least, unlike dogs or cats, no one misses them. He imagines that his neighbors with bird feeders are delighted to have fewer of the furry birdseed thieves around.
It's time to check on how his drying cycle is progressing. If he gets impatient and pulls the product out too soon, it is difficult to pulverize.
Kate sucks the top whorls of a frozen custard cone into her mouth, savoring the cool sweetness. "This is incredible."
"And a wise choice after three extra hot deluxe tacos," Rick adds, swaying slowly back and forth on his swing. "Kate, doesn't it scare the hell out of you sometimes?"
"Other than the danger of a brain freeze headache, why would I be scared of frozen custard?" Kate wonders.
"Not the custard, knowing that people kill children. I understood in my gut why Stuart decided to take a walk when we talked to Sergei about Chris's case. In a couple of months, you'll be bringing our child into a world that has monsters like Chris's murderer in it. On top of all the other things that can go wrong, the thought of malevolent freaks like that terrifies me."
Kate turns in her swing to face her husband. "What frightens me more is a world in which we let them go on killing. Every case we solve, every murderer we bring in, makes this city safer not just for our child, but for everyone's children. Knowing that helps me sleep at night. That and knowing you're there for The Peanut and me."
"Kate, of the two of us, you're the one who slays the dragons. I just help point you in the right direction and hold your coat while you do battle."
"You do a lot more than that, Babe. You see what I miss and find the stories that tie our clues together. I couldn't do it without you, and even if I could, I wouldn't want to."
Rick grasps the chain of Kate's swing to bring her close enough to kiss. "Good to know."
