Chapter 6
13 days earlier
Great! If Don hadn't been holding a cordless phone, he probably would have banged the receiver down. After the awkward day in San Quentin he'd truly been in urgent need of a diversion and there would've been no better place than Ivy's arms. Too bad, that she had to comfort a friend whose fiancé had apparently gotten cold feet shortly before the wedding. For just a second Don thought about, he and two women ...
"Just stop that shit," he muttered.
"Pardon me?" Megan inquired as she rounded the corner.
"Uh… nothing."
"How was your day?" she yawned and stretched her back, "The rookie is annoying me. Sometimes I feel like I'm sitting in an interrogation room myself."
"All of us were bustling at the beginning," Don said wistfully. "During that time you don't have any clue what bullshit is waiting for you out there and you're thinking only in black and white. There are no grey areas and you don't question everything permanently."
"Don?" Megan seemed amazed. "What happened? Did Craven bother you that much?"
He got up and put his jacket on. "I've called a meeting for tomorrow morning. I've had enough for today. Hope you don't mind."
He gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder and left. Megan followed him with her eyes, frowning. It was just after 7 pm and Don did not want to go home to his empty apartment to cook himself a meal in the microwave and then, still alone, sit down in front of the TV with popcorn and a beer.
The sight of Charlie, his shoulders slumped, sitting on the porch steps holding a bottle of beer in one hand did nothing to cheer him up either.
"Hi Chuck," he said warmly. "What's the matter? Has dad given you detention for the rest of your life?"
Charlie muttered something unintelligible, possibly some kind of greeting, and took a swig. Don sat down next to him. Charlie's obvious suffering sparked a wave of sympathy in him.
Putting his own problems aside, Don gently asked, "Everything okay?"
"What does it look like?" Charlie sighed.
"No idea," replied Don. "Don't you usually creep away into the garage and find a solution for unsolvable math problems instead of getting drunk?"
Charlie looked up. "This is my first beer, Don. And I have been in the garage till now."
"You've always been a lightweight. Is there one left for me?"
Charlie nodded. "Look out – Millie is in there with Dad…"
"That's nothing new."
"…And they're playing chess," Charlie went on, undaunted. "Last time she beat him it took a whole week before he got over it."
Don smirked and disappeared briefly into the house. He'd hardly sat down again when his little brother asked with a mischievous grin, "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Why?"
"Shouldn't you be with Ivy… having a romantic candlelit dinner?"
"What the heck…"
"She was talking about you all day. You must have impressed her." Charlie grinned from ear to ear.
"What did she tell you?" Don wanted to know.
Charlie shrugged.
"Charlie?!"
"Is this some kind of interrogation?" he acted innocently.
"Forget it."
Silence fell between them.
Suddenly Don couldn't resist. "And? She'd been really talking about me?"
Charlie nodded intently.
"Say…" Don began carefully. "I've heard you and Amita have called her "Poison Ivy". Is there a reason for that?"
"She was already married twice and both of them died," Charlie answered, struggling to maintain a serious expression.
Don eyes widened. "What did they die of?"
"Well… nobody could really tell."
Don took a big swig from the bottle. His facial expression spoke volumes. The FBI agent had taken over and his mind was going a mile a minute.
Charlie couldn't stand it any longer. He burst out laughing, slapping himself on the thigh with his open palm.
"Not funny," Don objected.
"But you should see your face!" Charlie hooted. "It's priceless! Payback is sweet!"
"You dirty little bastard!" Don set his bottle down and lunged at him.
Alan came out on the porch. "Do you two need a referee?"
Don shook his head. "Thanks, but I have everything under control."
"I can see that," Alan growled, watching Charlie try desperately to escape Don's grip. "I'm going back to Millie. He headed for the door, grumbling "Two grown men still behaving like …"
"Stop, I give in!" Charlie shouted at last. He was almost choking from laughter.
"If you were younger I'd put you over my knee and spank you," Don grinned. "Now tell me the real reason you call her that."
Charlie took a deep breath. "Ivy is highly involved in environmental protection. During her studies she was an active member of Greenpeace. She demonstrated against the transport of toxic waste and even tied herself to railway tracks once."
Don looked impressed. "That's her nature. Right now she's helping a friend whose fiancé left her at the altar."
"Typical Ivy," Charlie commented. "Amita told me yesterday that she has an invitation to be a guest lecturer in France."
"Wow, that's great," Don said, then glanced at Charlie. "I take that back. It's not great – not for you." He put a comforting hand on Charlie's shoulder.
"She'll be gone for two months. Right now, where ... Never mind. You don't get a chance like this too often. She should do it." Charlie tried to smile.
"Hey, we'll get through this together," Don replied, trying to cheer him up. "I'll drop in every day and get on your nerves."
Charlie rolled his eyes. "Heaven forbid."
--
The next morning Don arrived at the office relaxed and in an exceptionally good mood. He met Megan and the rookie, smiling as she introduced them.
"Don, this is Theodor Vasquez jun. Eduardo Vasquez's nephew. And this, Agent Vasquez, is Special Agent Eppes." They shook hands.
"How do you like it so far?" Don asked courteously.
"It's quite interesting, Sir. I sat down the other night and thought of some questions I wanted to ask ..."
"Later, alright?" Don turned to Megan. "As soon as Colby and David are here I want everyone in the conference room."
"What about me, Sir? I'm part of the team, too, right?" Vasquez said eagerly.
"Of course you are," Don replied soothingly. "And one of us will bring you up to speed but it's not necessary that you be present all the time. Have you been to the armory and the shooting range yet?"
The rookie's eyes widened. "No, Sir!"
"Excellent. Go talk to Agent Strauss – he's over there on the left. When it comes to that stuff, he's the man to see."
Vasquez nodded briefly and was gone.
Megan thought in amusement, Cold steel and the smell of cordite. No man can resist.
Half an hour later all four sat together while Don briefed Megan and David about Craven's 'revelations'.
"This is ridiculous," David said indignantly. "Craven's already on Death Row. It doesn't make any sense to argue that two of the bodies aren't his doing."
"I know," Don sighed. "We've got to find out what's behind his claim."
"Do we really have to?" Colby put in, annoyed. "I think the guy has at least fifteen deaths to answer for – if not more."
"What's your opinion, Megan?" Don asked.
"Craven has killed in different ways and never held to a pattern…" She leafed through the file on the table in front of her. "…Until he began to leave these pieces of paper with verses from chants. According to the report we didn't find any clues with the last two bodies."
"So he returned to his old pattern – so what?" Colby spat. "The guy has a few screws loose. 'Demons'. Bullshit!"
"What better place to hunt demons than in the city of angels?" Don mused. "Let's go over it again."
"It was such a lovely morning," David muttered.
"Megan, you start," Don commanded.
She nodded once. "Craven came to Los Angeles sometime around the beginning of the nineties. By then he already had this delusion about demons but we still don't know what caused it."
"Maybe it was drugs," Colby offered, playing with his pen.
Megan shook her head. "There were never references to an addiction and his murders were not spontaneous but planned… all of them. I don't know any organized junkies – do you?"
"One point for you," Colby admitted.
"In addition, he managed to gather a considerable number of supporters," she went on.
"In times like these that's no miracle," David put in. "There's a lot of poverty and, given the high rate of unemployment, kids have to hold on to something."
"One almost could describe him as the new Charles Manson," Don said. "He knows how to manipulate people, to dominate and even to control them. Otherwise we would have been aware of him earlier. Manson was also an expert at it and we all know how that turned out."
Everyone nodded.
"Why is he insisting now that the two last bodies shouldn't be credited on his account?" Colby wanted to know.
Don shrugged, "What I'd like to know is why he has virtually risked his life to tell me about it. He's definitely nuts, but maybe we should consider that in this case he may be telling the truth."
"You can't simply reopen the case," Megan pointed out.
Don chewed at his bottom lip. "I know," he replied. "I have an appointment with the prosecutor this afternoon."
"Maybe it was one of his followers," said David.
"As far as we know Craven was careful to protect them from the 'demons'. That means they never had direct contact with the victims ", Megan answered. "The murders were solely Craven's doing. He taught his followers how to protect themselves from the 'evil', but he also beat it into them to avoid direct confrontations. He loves to perform for an audience, and I'm sure some of the victims died in the presence of Craven's followers, but he was the one who killed them."
"This is utter crap anyway," Colby snapped. "Demons… good and evil … it sounds like an episode of Buffy."
"You watch Buffy?" Megan asked, stunned.
"I used to, when I was younger."
"What do you mean, when you were younger?" Megan smirked, imagining her tough colleague as a teenager sitting in front of the TV admiring a female vampire slayer.
Colby made a dismissive gesture.
Don's voice brought them back to reality. "Talk to LAPD. See if they have any cases similar to the last two Craven committed. If so… we have a problem."
--
He sat in his little motel room, skimming the news channels. There were no reports about the finding of a young girl's body in Encino in a piece of woodland. He could deal with it – he'd already found a new princess for himself. She was beautiful: blonde hair, ice blue eyes and a simply perfect radiant smile. He had her photos spread out in front of him on the bed. He touched each one, his desire causing heat to burn in his groin. He would destroy the photos later, but not yet. Not yet.