Stacey Page 3

  Chapter 7

  IRIS AND TONI WERE elated when they entered Iris’ apartment after their tour. Finding DNA on the body of Mrs. Mills meant that the case could be closed within the next forty-eight hours. Open and shut.

  “I got first dibs on the shower,” Toni announced as she removed her jacket and kicked off her Nikes at the same time.

  Iris did the same, but she made a beeline toward the kitchen. "Whatcha want for breakfast?" she called out to her girlfriend.

  "Anything but your lumpy oatmeal," she yelled back as she turned on the shower.

  "Oatmeal? O.k."

  After breakfast and a shower, the two detectives made love. Five hours later Iris opened her eyes and realized that Toni was gone. There was a note left on the nightstand next to Iris’ bed. She picked it up and read it: I loved the sex, it was awesome like always. I'm going to check on my apartment, there's a lot of crooks out there. Hey, when are we going to live together?

  Iris smiled and muttered to herself, "I love you too." She lay her head on the pillow and stared at the ceiling and thought: I don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment. Hell, I can't even kiss her in public without feeling self-conscious. Iris dragged her nude and tired body out of bed and toward the bathroom. After she'd showered, she ate a piece of toast and had a glass of O.J., she packed her gym bag and headed out the door.

  Outside the clouds were gunmetal in color, and a stiff wind was blowing in from the northeast. Iris zipped her North Face jacket up to the neck. She ran across the street to get the Daily News, then she dashed back to her Durango.

  Iris’ routine on Saturdays was thus: a visit to her sister’s apartment, then she was off to the range where she would spend ninety minutes shooting circles around all the men that were there. They hated her guts. From there she would head over to Third Avenue to practice Jeet-Ku-Do, a style of Kung Fu that the legendary Bruce Lee had brought to the world stage. Bruce Lee's style of Kung Fu focused on strong arm and hand techniques, movable stances, fast footwork, and blinding speed. Iris had been practicing this style of Kung Fu for fourteen years—ever since she joined the N.Y.P.D.

  After leaving the Kung Fu studio, Iris stopped by the Double 0 where she found Casper at his desk. Casper's cubicle was set up like all the rest, his desk and his partner’s desk were facing one another. Iris looked at Lori Tail's desk. She had never seen such a sloppy work place. "Whatcha doin’, big guy?"

  "Oh, hi, Iris. What are you doing here on your day off?"

  "You ask me the same thing every time I come in on my days off," she answered as she stared at his partner’s side of the desk. "She's a freakin' slob..."

  "Who?"

  "You know damn well who I'm talkin' about." Casper looked at his partner’s mess.

  “She'll clean it up later,” he muttered.

  Love can blind a person, she thought as she placed her hand on top of her friend’s shoulder and shook her head. "So, what're you doin'?" Iris asked. She walked over to her own cubicle, which was opposite his.

  "I needed to catch up on a few things, and you?"

  "I needed to catch up on a few things myself." Iris looked over at Detective Tail's side of the cubicle again. "So how long have you two been dating?" Iris caught a twinkle in Casper's eyes.

  “For four months, now.”

  "Where did you two meet?"

  Casper sat back in his swivel chair and placed his hands behind his head. "I met Sunshine—"

  "Wait a minute. Sunshine. Is that what you call her?" Iris thought about the woman's gothic look.

  "Yeah, why? Is something wrong with that?"

  "No, no, I was just thinking." Iris paused. She knew how sensitive Casper was about everything concerning him and his incredibly white skin.

  "O.k., anyway, I met Sunshine at Midtown South and it was love at first sight."

  "Oh really," Iris sensed that the conversation was about to get interesting, so she rolled her swivel chair over to his cubicle. "Continue. Love at first sight, huh?"

  "Yeah," he said, smiling." Iris looked deep into the eyes of the man who she considered her only male friend inside the N.Y.P.D., aside from Lt. Stone. Casper was a big softy at heart who loved to read Carl Jung and who studied Greek philosophy. He was a terror on the street but had no clue when it came to women. His albinism repelled most of the women he'd met.

  "Are you two living together?" Iris asked, her tone filled with concern.

  Casper giggled like a teenage boy. "Nooo, well, sort of. She's at my place more than she's at hers." Casper looked around the squad room, then he waved Iris closer. “She's the first girl I ever had sex with, and I love her so much for that. When I was in college, the girls wouldn't come anywhere near me. Sunshine lets me touch her, her kiss..." Casper choked back his tears. "I love her... just for allowing me to do that."

  Iris’ heart went out to her big, white friend. She got up from her swivel chair, walked over to where Casper was sitting, and gave him a big hug.

  "I'm going to asked her to marry me, look," he said as he opened the top drawer of the desk. Casper removed a black velvet box. "Look at this." Casper opened the box, and Iris stared at the most beautiful diamond she had ever seen.

  "Wow!" Iris said.

  "Do you think she'll like it? It's two-and-a-half carats."

  "She'd be a crazy woman if she didn't." Iris stared at her friend for a second.

  "I hope so," Casper said as he gazed at the engagement ring.

  "Casper, are you sure that this is the one—"

  Casper jumped out of his chair. His six-nine frame loomed over Iris. "Why? Why are you asking me that? Did you hear something?" Detective Leroy Chalk was a wealthy man. He did well in the stock market.

  "No, Casper, I didn't hear nothing, I'm just saying..." Iris stopped Casper from his manic pacing. "... I just don't want you to get hurt, Casper, that's all." Casper looked down at his best friend. “Because if she breaks your heart, I'm gonna have to kick her ass." This brought a smile to Casper's face. "I'm not gonna let no woman play my little bro." Casper hugged Iris and lifted her off her feet. "O. k., Casper, you can put me down now. Casper... Casper..." Just then Iris’ cell phone went off; Casper put her down. It was ME Raymond Johnson. "Whatcha got, Raymond?"

  "I put a rush on the Mills case, called in a few favors. Our killer's name is Daniel Lewis. Age twenty-six, male Caucasian, last known address is a homeless shelter on Wards Island. He has a short rap sheet." Iris walked over to her desk.

  "Short," she echoed.

  "Yeah, I'm faxing it over right now. Iris, this guy is a sadistic sexual madman."

  "So, she was raped?"

  "She most definitely was. His DNA was all over the sheets. But what he did to her back was beyond comprehension. I've seen some stuff in my day, but this was truly brutal. I didn't know the extent of her injuries until I got the permission from her husband to perform an autopsy.”

  "Breathe, Raymond, you sound like you're about to hyperventilate."

  "I'm sorry... anyway, this guy used that ball-peen hammer to smash every vertebra in her spinal column: The coccyx (the tailbone), the sacrum, the ilium (the hip bone), her entire lumbar vertebrae were smashed to smithereens, her thoracic, her cervical—”

  "O.k., Raymond I got the picture," she said, cutting the pathologist off.

  "I'm sorry, Iris, but this guy needs to be taken off the streets like yesterday. And Iris... she was alive when he heated the pipe and inserted it...."

  "Sweet Jesus! What about the dirt you found in the closet, was it consistent with the soil in her backyard?"

  "Yes, it was. And check this out. We found traces of dog hairs on the sheets, in the closet, and in the old woman's hair, well, what was left of her hair."

  "Dog hairs, I didn't know the tenant owned a dog."

  "She didn't. My team vacuumed the entire apartment and we didn't find any dog hairs anywhere else in the apartment."

  "So, our Danny boy is a dog lover?"

  “Maybe or maybe not. H
e could've just handled a dog just before he entered the apartment. Iris, you've got to stop this guy before he gets his hands on another elderly lady.” There was an urgency in the pathologist’s voice, a plea that Iris had never heard before. Iris’ fax machine came to life, and a photo of homeless looking man slid out. Iris stared at the photo. "There you are, you sick son of a bitch....

  "Iris, are you still there?"

  "Yeah, I'm here, Raymond. And the next time I talk to you this freak will be in my jail cell.” Iris switched off her phone. "Casper, I need you to take a ride with me. We're going hunting.”

  Iris parked her Durango on Hell Gate Circle right in front of the men's shelter on Wards Island. She and Casper studied the mug shot of Daniel Lewis before they stepped out of the truck. Casper looked at a group of men that were sitting on a picnic table. "Do you think he's over there?"

  "I don't know. I'm gonna go inside and talk to someone in charge; I want you to do what you do. If he's among those dudes, just keep him entertained until I come back out."

  "Gotcha."

  Iris exited her ride and headed toward the shelter. She turned and noticed that Casper was still inside the vehicle. Ten seconds later, Casper stepped out of the truck dressed, from head-to-toe, in a black. Dark Ray-Ban sun shades covered his eyes. The only thing that Casper was missing was the theme music from Shaft.

  Chapter 8

  CASPER AND IRIS MADE their way toward the building. Casper's hood covered his head, giving him a grim-reaper look. The men that were sitting on the picnic table were staring at Casper's large frame; they couldn't see his ghostly face. There were a few men standing in front of the entrance. They split like the Red Sea as Iris approached; her shield on display. "Now, baby, you play nice with these young men, o.k.? Mommy will be right back," Iris said to Casper with a wink. Casper pulled off his hood in dramatic fashion. Iris heard one man scream like a little girl as the entrance door closed behind her. She smiled.

  Once inside the building, Iris met the director of the shelter, Mr. Jerry King. She showed him the mug shot of Daniel Lewis. "Yeah, yeah, he left two nights ago; he forfeited his bed. He hasn't been back." Iris and the director talked about Daniel Lewis for a few minutes more before she handed him one of her cards. "Call me if he come back."

  Outside, Casper had all the men standing like soldiers. He had the photo of Daniel Lewis in his hand. He glared at each one of their faces as he marched past them, screaming like an out-of-control drill sergeant. "Baby boy," Iris said in a motherly tone, "now didn't I tell you to play nice?" Iris noticed that four of the men had piss stains in the front of their pants.

  Iris double parked her truck on 135th Street, right in front of Chew's Bar & Grill. After placing a police identification card in the windshield, Iris and Casper exited the Durango and walked toward the building. "When we get inside, I just want you to sit tight." Iris pulled open the entrance door. She scanned the room for the man she was looking for. Iris and Casper took a seat in front of the bar. She ordered a cup of green tea for both of them.

  “You come here often—”

  "Shh," Iris said, cutting Casper off. Her eyes were darting from left to right.

  "You're freaking me out, Iris." Suddenly, a fist came hurling at Iris. Casper jumped off his stool, knocking his cup of tea off the bar. Iris leaned back just before the punch could connect. She jumped off her stool, did a flip-n-roll, and came to her feet in a Kung Fu stance. A Chinese man, who seemed to have materialize out where nowhere, stood three feet away from her; his hands were behind his back. He wore a long, black silk robe with a dragon design on the left and right breast. Casper charged toward the man, but Iris extended her foot, tripping the big man up.

  “No, Casper! Please, I got this.” The Chinese man stared at Iris.

  “Are you sure?” Casper asked.

  Iris nodded her head. The Chinese man shouted, "Ho." For the next two minutes, Detective Leroy Chalk witnessed the best display of Kung Fu he’d ever seen. The Chinese man shouted, "Ho," again. Iris stopped on a dime and bowed. Casper looked dumbfounded. The fancy footwork and the incredible speed Iris displayed was remarkable.

  "Good," the Chinese man said as he too took a bow.

  Iris turned to Casper. "This here is Lincoln Chew. He's my Jeet-Ku-Do instructor." Casper extended his hand. Mr. Chew bowed, then he said, "You are the first black-white man that ever-stepped foot in my establishment." Chew studied Casper's face. "Your mother was black?"

  "What?

  "Both of your parents carried the same albino gene, Tyrosinase-negative, but they themselves were not albinos."

  Iris noticed that Casper was fidgeting; a sign that he was getting angry. "Look, Chew, we didn't come here to get a freakin' history lesson on the origin or albinism, o.k.?” She grabbed a manila envelope off the bar and handed it to Chew. "You know him?" Chew glanced at the envelope, then he looked at Casper. "Come, let's go into my office." The decor in Chew's office was traditional Chinese: There was a giant statue of Buddha in the corner to Iris’ left. On the wall, behind Chew's high-backed leather chair, was an eighteenth-century painting of a group of Chinese astronomers; the painting covered the entire wall, and the fragrance inside Chew's office was heavenly. The sound of chimes floated on the air. "Have a seat, my good man," he said to Casper. He and Iris sat in matching wing chairs facing Chew's oak desk. "Can I get you two something to drink.?"

  “No, that all right," Iris answered. “This here is business. Look at that mug shot and tell me if you know this guy. From his rap sheet he was into the drug game.”

  Lincoln Chew was also a retired narcotics detective. He took in the face and said, “Yes, that's Daniel Lewis. A one-time radio personality at a popular radio station here in New York, now a full-time crackhead, and K-2 smoker." Chew pushed the envelope back over to Iris. “What did he do?”

  Iris told Chew about the murder of Mrs. Mills. "That doesn't sound like Daniel. He's a drug addict, not a murderer."

  "Well he's a murderer now," Casper said. "She told you we found his DNA."

  "The DNA is hard to get around, but still..." Chew paused, then he continued. "It's just not in his character. He used to work for one of the largest drug dealers in Harlem, Jose Salsa Vega. He was Salsa's biggest customer, which made him Salsa's biggest friend. Being a radio personality, Daniel invited Salsa to all the major parties, parties where celebrities would be present. Daniel hooked Salsa up. Hooked him up in a big way. When Daniel fell from grace, Salsa continued to look out for him.”

  "Where can I find him?" Iris said.

  “The last I heard he was staying at a homeless shelter on Wards Island.”

  "Been there, done that. Give me something else." Chew took a few seconds to think. He took a mint out of a candy dish that was shape like a gorilla's hand; in fact, it was a gorilla's hand. He offered the detectives a mint, but they both declined. Chew popped one into his mouth. "A source of mine told me that Salsa was last seen on 125th Street about a two days ago, and Daniel was with him. So, if you want to find Daniel, Salsa would be the one to ask.”

  "Where can we find Salsa?" Iris asked.

  "Salsa moves his headquarters every day. But I might know where he'll be later. I'll call you when I find out.”

  “So, you have no clue as to where Daniel might be?” Casper asked.

  "There's a crack spot at 505 West 149th Street, between Amsterdam and Broadway. It's in the basement. He might be there." Iris and Casper stood up. "Iris," Chew said, as he too stood up. "If and when you go after Salsa, be careful. He's a very, very dangerous man. He has most of the cops, politicians, and judges in his hip pocket."

  Iris looked at Casper, then she looked at Chew. "I'm a very dangerous woman, and I also have cops, politicians, and judges in my pockets."

  Chapter 9

  AFTER LEAVING CHEW's Bar & Grill, Iris called Toni and told her to meet her on 149th Street. Casper called Detective Lori Tail and told her to do the same. Toni arrived five minutes before Lori did.

 
Iris explained the situation to the detectives. "You make it sound like we're going after some real thugs," Detective Tail said. "They’re nothin' but crackheads, for God’s sake." Iris stared at Casper.

  "Lori, please, just listen, o.k.?" he said.

  “Again," Iris said. “Casper, you take the lead, I'll follow. Toni, you'll check the back of the hall, and the roof. This is a crack spot and our boy could be anywhere in this building.” Iris handed out photos of Daniel Lewis to her team.

  "What about me?" Lori asked.

  "You stay behind me, little girl, and keep your mouth shut."

  Lori looked up at Casper and whispered, “She's gonna stop callin' me little girl.”

  "No, I'm not," Iris said.

  DORIS MADISON, WHO was Billy's aunt, stared at her nephew's back as she reached over to the night table and picked up her cigarettes. She lit one as Billy put one leg through his skinny jeans, then the other. She took him in when her sister blew herself up in a makeshift crystal meth lab back in Shreveport, Louisiana. Doris Madison and some of her girlfriends were into sexual sadism back in Shreveport; Billy Madison had been drafted—at an early age—to play in their nasty little games. Over the years, Billy's gotten quite good at administering both sex and pain.

  Billy glanced at his watch, then he jogged out of his aunt's bedroom. His shift at Ming's Chinese Restaurant started in twenty minutes. Billy went into the bathroom and stared at his refection in the mirror. A giggling monster stared back at him. His eyes pulsated with a glare that would've cut deep into his victim's soul.

  Billy turned on the faucet and splashed cold water onto his face. He took a deep breath, then he stared at his reflection again. He was slipping on his human guise, hiding his demon just beneath the surface.

  IRIS HANDED OUT LATEX gloves to her comrades. Detective Toni went in through the front entrance. The team of investigators, led by Detective Leroy Chalk, found the door to the basement relatively easily. Crackheads were coming in and out of the basement like it was a fast food restaurant on a Saturday night. Some of the dopers who saw Casper's face fled like they'd seen the devil himself.