Night Mask (5 page)

“I want to check on Karl Muller.”

“We'll be busy tomorrow.”

“You tired, Leo?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

“Go to sleep. I'll wake you up when we get to the motel. Go on. I'm not a bit tired.”

Leo was asleep in moments. Lani glanced over at him and smiled. Good, solid, prodding Leo. A cop's cop. Methodical, slow to anger. A bulldog on any case. Devoted family man. Everything about Leo was average. Average height, average build, neither handsome nor unattractive. He could go unnoticed in a crowd of three. But his courage was limitless. Lani and Leo made a good team, right from the beginning.

She shook him awake at the motel, and he staggered off to his room. Lani took a bath and went to bed. She had nightmares about drapes that came alive, monsters lurking in the carpets of the Longwood mansion, and ropes and cords that turned into writhing snakes. She awakened tired. She took an ice-cold shower and that woke her up.

Lani was reading the newspaper and working on her second cup of coffee in the dining room, when a story stopped her cold and caused her hand to tremble so badly she had to carefully put down the coffee cup. She read the story twice.

“Hey, kid!” Leo said, sitting down and picking up the menu. “What's up?”

White-faced, she handed him the paper. Leo read, THE BODY OF ALBANY POLICE DEPARTMENT DET. BILL ZANETIS WAS FOUND LAST EVENING IN THE EMPTY SWIMMING POOL OF THE OLD LONGWOOD ESTATE, JUST OUTSIDE OF TOWN. A SPOKESPERSON FOR THE DEPARTMENT SAID THE DETECTIVE'S FOOT BECAME ENTANGLED IN AN OLD ROPE AND HE TRIPPED, FALLING ONTO THE CONCRETE FLOOR OF THE POOL, BREAKING HIS NECK ON IMPACT. THE ROPE WAS TWISTED SO INTRICATELY AROUND HIS ANKLES IT HAD TO BE CUT AWAY.

Leo's face was impassive as he laid the paper aside and thanked the waitress for the freshly poured cup of coffee. He ordered breakfast. When the waitress had left, he said, “Accidents happen, Lani.”

“What rope, Leo? There was no rope by the pool.”

“That we saw. It was dark.”

“The moon was out, Leo! We both commented on how much light it was affording us.”

“Now, you just settle down, Lani,” he whispered. “We're dealing with some kooks here, not the devil.”

“He was so tangled up in the rope it had to be cut away from his ankles, Leo.”

“I read it. So? He panicked, and that made matters worse. You ever try to kick a garden hose from around your feet or ankles? I have. It's a mess.”

“We're in over our heads, Leo.”

“No, we're not. Now you listen to me, Lani. I've never seen you so spooked. You know as well as me that everything has a logical explanation. We've worked too many murders together, kid. Get your cool back. We'll solve this one.”

The waitress brought their food, and Leo dug in. Lani picked at her breakfast. “Eat, eat!” Leo urged her. “We've got a long day ahead of us.”

“I got a bad feeling, Leo.”

“You constipated or something?”

Lani laughed at the expression on his face and started eating. Leo could always make her feel better.

They met back at the motel restaurant for lunch, and Lani's mood had lifted considerably. Leo was in his usual good mood.

“Karl Muller has a history of mental problems, Leo. He had a major breakdown just before the murders. Anna was confined for more than six months due to mental problems. Both of them were treated for hallucinations.”

“So much for flying knives and drapes that come alive, and ropes that turn into snakes.”

“Right. What'd you find out?”

“The Longwood mansion is as old as the Mullers claim it to be. The original plans are on exhibit at a local museum. No hidden chambers or secret rooms to be found.”

“Are we through here?”

“I think so. For the time being. Let's check out and head for Boston. I have an address for the half brother and sister.”

* * *

The same late afternoon that Lani and Leo were interviewing Karl and Anna Muller, Cal Denning had stopped on the way home for milk and bread. For reasons he could not understand, he was jumpy. His stomach was all knotted up with tension. Once home, with a martini in his hand, all settled in the recliner to watch the news (not the news carried by KSIN), he began to feel better.

Cal lived alone, up in the hills, in an A-frame with a lovely view. His nearest neighbors were more than a mile away. They never socialized, and that's the way he liked it. He didn't even know their names.

Cal was not an especially unfriendly type of person, he just liked his privacy and his cats. Twice married and twice divorced, Cal had made up his mind a long time back that he was better off single. He settled down for the early news and took a sip of his martini. One of his cats suddenly yowled loudly and made a dash for the kitchen. Cal thought nothing of it. Mice were not an infrequent thing.

“Get 'im, Mr. Nixon,” Cal said, and turned his attentions back to the TV.

The last thing he remembered was a terrible, painful roaring in his head, and Cal Denning's world turned black.

Since he had the next two days off, he would not be missed by anyone at the station complex.

The big male cat, Mr. Nixon, leaped at the intruder and landed on the trespasser's back, digging in with his hind claws and ripping at the person's face and neck with his front claws. With a scream of pain and rage, the cat was slung away and the bloodied individual stumbled for the back door, blood pouring from a deeply slashed face, the tire iron used to smash Cal's head firmly held in a gloved hand. The denim-clad person disappeared over a ridge.

In the house, Cal stirred once and moaned, then he was still.

* * *

Lani and Leo struck out cold in Boston. They checked out every Longwood on the tax records in Boston and surrounding communities, but none were the right ones. Then they went to the newspapers for help and accessed the microfilm and computers for anything that had the name Longwood in it. They found lots of Longwoods, but not the right ones. Then they went to the libraries to ask for help. Again, they found Longwoods, but not the right ones. It was a very frustrating four days. On the evening of the fourth day, after a hot soak in the tub, and then sprawled out on the bed, Lani decided to call the office just to see what was happening back in Hancock County.

“Engineer out at KSIN got the back of his head bashed in,” she was told. “It's a strange one, too. Nothing was taken from his wallet or home.”

“Ripper-related?”

“We're not treating it as such. We think something scared the burglar away.”

“Is Cal dead?”

“No. But he's still in a coma. The doctors think he's going to make it.”

“No more Ripper attacks?”

“Not that we know of.”

Lani lay on the bed for a time, then dressed and walked down to Leo's room. He was relaxing on the bed and pointed to a bottle of Crown Royal on the dresser. She fixed a drink and sat down, telling him about Cal.

“I know Cal Denning,” Leo said. “He's worked on our equipment for free. I'd be very much surprised to learn that he has an enemy in the world. He's a very laid-back guy. And a nice guy.”

“Well, he was almost a dead guy.” She looked down at her drink then lifted her eyes. “It's related, Leo.”

He stared at her for a moment. “You're reaching, Lani.”

“I can't help it. It's related. I know it is. I feel it.”

Leo sighed and slowly nodded his head. “I think the half brother and sister are in California, Lani. In the La Barca area. Did we get anything back on our request to force the opening of the Longwood trust?”

“Denied. No reason to believe the boys have anything to do with the Ripper case.”

“Shit!” Leo cussed, which was something he did not do very often. But this case was causing him to swear more than Lani had ever heard him do.

“The judge said it isn't against the law to change one's name. And after reviewing the files, he further stated that since the boys had committed no crimes prior to the name change, they have every right to expect privacy. Our people are appealing.”

“That'll take two or three years!”

Lani shrugged her shoulders. “You know how it goes, Leo.”

“Let's get out of here, Lani. Catch a plane to Rochester first thing in the morning.”

She reached for the phone. “I'll make the reservations.”

* * *

Damn cat! the Ripper thought, inspecting the face in the mirror. It would be days before the deep claw marks would finally fade. And Denning was still alive. Damn the man! And the Ripper had learned that two county pigs, Leo Franks and Lani Prejean, were now traveling all over the country, backtracking the movements of the Longwood boys. But that little matter was going to be taken care of, very soon. Permanently. No more oinkies.

The face in the mirror sighed in frustration. The urge to strike was building within. Strong now. Almost overpowering. It would have to be soon. If not, the Other would take control, and the Other was not nearly as cautious as conditions warranted.

The face in the mirror smiled. Pretty Tammy would soon be added to the collection of faces, and if everything went as planned, Dick Hale would find his butt in jail, and those bad boys in lockup knew what to do with a cherry-butt like Dick.

The face in the mirror laughed and laughed and laughed. This was such fun.

* * *

The Rochester detective dropped a thin file on the desk. “That's it,” he said. “But since that happened, the remains of seven more have been found, and we think they're all connected.”

“And there might be seven more undiscovered around here,” Leo said.

“Or seventy,” the detective said. “How's it going with you guys?”

“Slow and frustrating,” Lani said, opening the file.

“Ain't it always? Take your time. Use my desk. I've punched up on computer what we know about the other nine. Coffee is over there.” He pointed. “The one who drains the pot makes fresh. Have fun. I got to go work a rape that will probably turn out to be an unsatisfying scrape, and now she's got a grudge against his ass. No offense, Lani.”

“None taken. I know what you mean.” The detective walked away, and Lani and Leo looked down at the photos of the dead girl, before and after. Before was pretty and vibrant, after was awful.

“Leo,” Lani said. “What does this guy
do
with the faces?”

Leo looked at his doughnut. “I don't know. You have a guess?”

“He saves some of them.”

“Good God, Lani!” He laid the doughnut aside.

“He preserves them to take out and look at from time to time.”

“I worry about you, Lani. I really do. You have a weird mind.”

“It's the only explanation that makes any sense.” She closed the file. “The cops would know the person is missing. There would be a full description: age, height, weight, hair coloring, scars, and marks. He's not trying to disguise the victim to prevent ID. He loves these faces, Leo.”

Leo grimaced, burped, and put a paper napkin over the doughnut.

“Remember what Zanetis said? Since '72, they have discovered five more bodies in the Albany area. That's seven over there. Eight here. I'll bet you when we're through, we'll have a total of three or four
hundred
bodies over a twenty-year period.”

Leo sighed and settled back in his chair. “He's been a busy boy.”

“Let's go talk to the medical examiner.”

“Yes,” the man said the word slowly. “I remember the cases very well. Of the seven additional bodies found in this area, I can verify that four of them had their faces cut away.”

“You have spare photos we could borrow?” Leo asked.

“Oh, yes. You can have them. Where do you go from here?”

“Buffalo.”

* * *

“Yeah, we hated to let this one go,” the Buffalo detective said. “She was the daughter of a cop.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But after nineteen years ... ?”

“And how many more bodies have been found since the first one?” Lani asked.

“Nine. Five of them with their faces cut away. That we can prove, that is.”

“Do us a big favor?” Leo asked.

“Anything. Name it.”

“Run the name Longwood. See if you have anything.”

“It'll take some time. But I'll be glad to get it done. Come back in the morning?”

“We'll be here.”

* * *

The detective was nervous. He motioned the California cops to follow him. They got in his car and drove away from the central station. “This is juvenile stuff,” he said. “You didn't get it from me, and you can't use it in a court of law.”

“We understand,” Lani said. “We don't have to like it, but we understand. You ought to work in California.”

“No, thanks. New York State is bad enough. It's absolutely unfair to the law-abiding public not to release the names of perverted little creeps.” He pulled over to the curb. “Jack and Jim Longwood, twin brothers, attended a private school just outside of town. It's closed down now. Has been for years. They were both brought in for questioning after the disappearance of a boy from the school. The boy's body has never been found. The school is—was—located on the Tonawanda River. The body was probably dumped in the river and ended up as fish bait in Erie. We had pictures of the little twin bastards, but for some reason unbeknownst to me, the pictures are gone from the file. You know their father was enormously wealthy?”

The California cop nodded their heads.

“Well, money can buy a lot of things. Including cops, I'm sorry to say.” He handed them the file on Jack and Jim Longwood. “Read it in my presence and give it back.”

It did not take Leo and Lani long to memorize the pertinent facts and return the file to the Buffalo cop. “Thanks,” Lani said.

“I hope you catch them. Where do you go from here?”

“Akron.”

“Busy little bastards, aren't they?” the Buffalo cop said. “I just wonder how many they've killed over the years.”

“You sound convinced it's them,” Leo said.

He smiled. “I was uniform then. Yesterday when we spoke, it all came rushing back. I was the first to interview the twins. Arrogant, profane, snooty, little crapheads. Smug. Ten, eleven years old, and they knew all the dirty words in the book. And called me everyone of them.”

“Are the school buildings still standing?” Leo asked.

“Oh, yeah. The complex has been tied up in the courts for years. If you're thinking about going out there, I don't want to know about it.” He smiled. “But there is a stand of thick timber behind the school. Be a dandy place to hide a car.”

* * *

There was no security at the old private school, and getting in was a piece of cake. There were boxes and crates stacked all over the halls, and someone had been kind enough to mark the contents on the outside of every box and crate.

Luck was with them, and they found a crate marked: YEARBOOKS 1975. But in the space for Jim and Jack Longwood was printed: Photo Not Available.

“Shit!” Lani said.

“Now we start looking for records.”

It took them more than two hours, and when they finally found the records section, they were covered with dust and grime and cobwebs. It took them another hour to find the files on Jim and Jack Longwood.

Neither of them realized it, but they were both holding their breath as Leo opened first one file, then the other. They exhaled as the pictures of the twins looked back at them.

“Gotcha, you little jerks!” Leo said.

“We can do a computer enhancement and pretty well know what they'll look like at age thirty,” Lani said.

“We finally got a break.”

They put fresh batteries in their flashlights and repacked as best they could. On the way out, Lani literally tripped over a small box and hit the floor. On the floor, her beam of light caught the printing on the side of the box. DISCIPLINARY RECORDS.

“Well, now,” she said, standing up and brushing some of the dust off of herself. “This just might prove interesting reading.” She opened the box and found the files on Jim and Jack Longwood, and shoved them into her large purse.

“You taking those?”

“You better believe I am. We can always say someone mailed them to us.”

Leo suddenly clicked off his light and shushed her. “Listen!” he whispered, as Lani instinctively cut the beam of her light.

They could clearly hear the sounds of footsteps on the concrete walk outside.

“More than one person,” Lani whispered.