Divine Vices (21 page)

“Will
do, sir.”

Making
our way over to the automotive station, Gwen kicked the jean legs of the individual
whose upper body was under a blue car.

“Hey,
Welch, hand me the wrench!” called out Joe from beneath the frame.

“It’s
Gwen!” my friend corrected.

Joe
wheeled himself out, and lit up at the sight of her presence. “What in hell
brings you here, Meyer?”

“I
need a favor.”

“Speak
it,” Joe replied. “And I’ll consider.”

“We
need a car,” said Gwen. “Kurtspatrick is watching the parking lot, so she’ll
report us for leaving.”

“And
you expect me to do what exactly? Give you one of the other students’ cars?”

“I
was thinking maybe I could take Maude,” Gwen said.

“Who?”
I asked.

“You’re
not taking the Driver’s Ed car,” he said. “If something happened to her on my
watch, it would be my ass.”

“I’d
make it worth your while,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

“No,
you won’t,” I interjected, pulling her away. “You’re not pimping yourself out
for a car.”

Gwen
turned to Joe and held up her pointer finger, asking for a moment of privacy.
She yanked me away with a forced smile.

“What
are you doing?!” she sneered. “We need a car, and he’s hot.”

“What
about Jeff?”

“It’s
a free country and it’s not like I’m marrying him,” she said. “Besides, this is
the only safe choice we have. Plus, I wouldn’t object going to at least first
base with Joe.”

“I
doubt he’s gonna let us drive the car all the way to Arlington.”

“And
we won’t. The Buick is still at your house,” she said, walking back over to
Joe. “Here’s the deal, Feldman. We’re just gonna swap vehicles after we get out
of the lot. Is there a way for you to pick up Maude at Cassie’s house when you
have a chance?”

“Can
I ask what this pertains to?” asked Joe.

“Top
secret investigation,” replied Gwen.

He
laughed. “On what? Overpriced handbags?”

“Hardy
har har,” she cracked. “No, but thank you for the confidence.”

“There’s
one condition.”

“Speak
it.”

“She
drives,” he said, looking over at me. “I shared Driver’s Ed with you last year,
remember? I know what kind of destruction you can wreak on a car even during a
short outing.”

“Deal.”

“Leave
Maude parked on the street, and put the keys on the back tire. I’ll pick her up
in about a half hour,” said Joe. “You live off of Avery Lane, right?”

I
nodded.

Joe
grabbed a set of keys off a rack mounted on the wall and motioned us out of the
shop. “Meet me on the corner of Main Street and Elm. I’ll drive Maude passed
Kurtspatrick. She knows me. I’ll just tell her I’m taking the car out for a
run.”

Five
minutes later, Joe met us at the curb and lobbed the keys over to me. “Be
careful with the old gal.”

“What
do I owe you?” asked Gwen.

“Consider
it on the house.”

She
walked up and gave him a peck on the cheek. “Thank you.”

Maude
was an old Cavalier that had a white body, mismatched doors, and a red hood.
She had certainly been taken around the block more than a few times and had had
quite a few run-ins along the way.

“So
how much of this damage are you responsible for?” I asked Gwen as we climbed
inside.

She
chuckled. “The hood.”

“Not
surprised.”

“What
can I say? That tree jumped out right in front of the car.”

“Of
course it did,” I said, igniting the engine. “Now, you’ve got me breaking the
rules and abandoning my responsibilities, along with committing grand theft
auto. So, are you going to tell me what all of this is about?”

“Glad
you asked,” she said, pulling out a folder from her bag. “Okay, I figured that
a little sleuthing into Annalisa’s family lineage might prove to be
interesting.”

“How
come I already don’t like the sound of where this is going?”

“Well,
obviously given the fact that you two share partial bloodlines, you’d do best
to listen.”

“Don’t
tell me Veronica’s related to us?” I uttered dreadfully.

“...
No.”

“Meyer,
you’ve got about twenty seconds to become interesting.”

“Well,
I need about thirty.”

“Fine,
go.”

Gwen
pulled out a family tree graph from her folder and handed it to me. “I ran a search
into everybody still alive on that list, and might I say, your mom’s side of
the family... bunch of unsavory folks there.”

“Meyer,”
I warned.

“Right,
sorry. Where was I? Oh yeah, one of the names in particular jumped out,” she
said, pointing to an individual on the chart. “Sixteen-year-old Kerri Spencer
of Arlington, Maine.”

“And
her significance being?”

“Well,
this distant cousin of yours, three times removed, just so happened to attend
the local high school, before she went missing last September.”

My
nerves instinctively tightened. “You’re kidding?”

“No,
I am not,” she said proudly. “And it gets better.”

“Better,
or more scandalous?”

She
didn’t bother to reply. We both knew.

“Guess
who was brought in for questioning in regard to her disappearance?” queried
Gwen, handing me a folded up newspaper article. “Arlington’s shiny, leading,
sophomore-turned-varsity quarterback, Jackson Matthews.”

Opening
up the article, the headline instantly sent my stomach into a freefall.

“Do
I have your attention yet?” Gwen asked, a restrained smirk slipping to the
corners of her mouth.

“Undividedly.”

“Turns
out New Haven’s new Casanova just so happened to be one of the last people to
ever see her.”

“But
he wasn’t charged with anything, was he?”

“No,
insufficient evidence. But this was just the second of four girls to go missing
over the course of a few weeks. To say trouble follows that boy around would be
putting it mildly. I’d say he just might be the
trouble
.”

We
were on the road for about forty minutes or so, and Gwen caught me up on
everything to do with each missing person’s case in Arlington. Thankfully, her
argument for calling Jack into suspicion still had a few plot holes, and I
gladly took the liberty to express my contention.

“None
of the girls in Arlington were found, let alone knowingly murdered, and nothing
points to cultish activity,” I said as soon as she took a break.

“Yeah,
well, when four girls disappear without any sign of them resurfacing after a
year, it’s safe to say that they’re probably not still alive. This cycle of
disappearances
could have been like a test run, you know. With an already prominent sense of
arrogance and condescension, along with knowing that he got away with the whole
thing, maybe he decided to up the ante and start being more public about it.
Annalisa had been missing for days before she was killed, proving that her
murderer displays some of the classic characteristics of what is called a
hedonistic thrill killer.”

“And
for those of us who aren’t criminal pathology buffs, that means what exactly?”

“It
means that this individual gets off by the hunt and the kill of their victims.
They find stimulation and excitement by committing the crime.”

“Like
General Zaroff?”

“Precisely.
The pursuit is just as stimulating as the kill itself. And given Jack’s serial
seducing ways, it’s a concept a long ways from farfetched.”

“Let’s
not jump the gun here,” I interjected.

“And
stop trying to turn a blind eye to the obvious here,” she warned. “Wake up!
Jack’s a seducer who, as you very well know, lives for the hunt of the game
when it comes to matters of the heart. He’s arrogant and clearly displays
narcissistic characteristics associated with thrill seekers. He thinks he’s
untouchable. Hello,
Murder By Numbers
. Tell me this isn’t ringing a
bell.”

“If
that is the case, then don’t thrill killers generally try to pick victims at
random?”

“Normally,
yes, but that’s not a definite M.O.”

“I’m
sorry, but Jack? Really? Why would he do something like this? Sexual
frustration? I highly doubt it. Since when do guys who look like him resort to
murder for gratification?”

“
American
Psycho
.”

“Firstly,
not the same thing. Secondly, I’m talking about reality.”

“Maybe
he got bored.”

I
actually laughed. “Gwen, I get bored all the time. You know what I do? Pick up
a book. Not give in to homicidal tendencies.”

“That’s
what you, a normal, functioning member of society, would do. But think about
it. Jack’s lived his whole life with the opportunity to have any girl he’s ever
wanted. You’re telling me that when something comes that easy for you that it
wouldn’t eventually become a bit tedious?”

“I
still can’t see it.”

“Do
you know how long he’s been in town for?”

“Including
the time he spent moving, probably a couple weeks.”

“And
not long after his arrival, this crime wave just so happened to strike the
area. Coincidence? I’d say not. And let’s not forget that you didn’t meet him
until the morning that Annalisa’s body was found. And not a single other crime
matching hers or Veronica’s has occurred since your promising introduction.
Think maybe he’s set his sights on a new target?”

“Gwen,
this is ridiculous. I’ve been alone with him on numerous occasions. If he
wanted to do something to me, he’s had more than his fair share of
opportunities.”

“Then
maybe you’re like his sparkling new muse that’s convinced him to turn over a
new leaf.”

“All
hearsay aside, what are you hoping to prove?” I queried. “As you said, the cops
up in Arlington didn’t find anything to link anyone to the crimes.”

“Not
necessarily true, but we are looking at what could be the broader scope of
things, possibly providing us with a bit more insight.”

“Whoa,
whoa, whoa,” I interrupted. “What do you mean by ‘not necessarily true’? They
found someone?”

She
winced.

“Gwen!”

“Okay,
before you blow a gasket, just hear me out!”

“You
made me ditch school to investigate a closed case?!”

“Hardly!”
she declared. “The police charged Justin Tither for the third disappearance and
Brian Hanover for the fourth, but the evidence on both is shoddy at best.”

“Convictions?”

“Yet
to happen. Both are still under psychological evaluation.”

“For?”

“Not
remembering anything about what happened on the night each of their girlfriends
disappeared.”

“And
the evidence against them?”

“All
of Justin’s friends and co-workers reported that Justin told them he was going
to see his girlfriend, Becca, after he got off work. A friend of hers found him
in her apartment unconscious the next morning when she came to pick Becca up
for school. He had to be taken to the hospital, because he had overdosed on a
deadly cocktail of drugs. Barely pulled through. Cops found Becca’s DNA under
his fingernails, despite the fact that he said he never remembered even seeing
her that night. Funny thing, asides from his memory loss, is that he had no
history of drug use. And the doctors even admitted that they were skeptical of
Tither’s mobility considering what and how much drugs were in his system.”

“Frame
job?”

“Well,
here’s the kicker. Brian Hanover, the one arrested for the fourth
disappearance, has an eerily similar story in spite of the fact that police had
yet to release the details of Justin’s case to the public. Hanover had gotten
into a fight with his girlfriend, Jenna Keener, and had taken his issues with
him to the local dive. The bartender there confirmed that Brian had drank so
much that the guy had to cut him off, but saw that some of his other buddies
there were still buying drinks for him. Hanover had at least five regular beers
and more than four shots of whiskey. Everyone there said the guy could barely
walk. Yet, 3 a.m. rolls around, and cops get a call about a drunkard who had
passed out in the middle of the intersection a few blocks away from Jenna’s
place. They hauled him in and Brian was booked, but the suspicion of how
someone ended up across town taking his own vehicle despite that he was
completely intoxicated was not the issue. It’s the fact that when they pulled
him from his truck, his hands were covered in blood, later identified as Jenna’s.”

“That
sounds like pretty damning evidence, Gwen.”

“But
the rest of it doesn’t make any sense.”

I
rolled the car to a stop as we approached a red light. “This still doesn’t
explain why we’re going to the high school. The police couldn’t find anything
to pin this on Jack, so what makes you think you can do better?”

“Because
they had to consider all possible options. I’m not trying to find a needle in a
haystack. I’m examining an ant under a magnify glass. And if I’m lucky and
right, then I will happily watch him fry.”

“Less
than a week ago, you had him pegged as my future husband. Now, you want him to
become someone’s prison bitch? Your temperament is giving me whiplash here.”

“Yeah?
Well, I know there’s something going on here that everyone’s refusing to talk
about.”

“And
what makes you think that?”

“Social
media sites.”

“You
mean the origin of the Rumor Weed? Yeah, good sleuthing there, Meyer.”

“It
is, actually. I’ve looked through the sites to see what other people’s opinions
are on the topic, and a lot of the locals have been talking.”

“And
what have they been saying that’s so damning?”

“It’s
about what they’re not saying,” said Gwen. “Everyone who’s been in connection
with the case has been under unbearable scrutiny since, and social media has
been buzzing about what others think these individuals had to do with the
disappearances. Everyone but Jack. For some bizarre reason, mentioning him
seems to be taboo or something around here.”

“Did
they say what evidence the police had against Jack?”

“He
was hanging out with a group of people after a game, and one of them happened
to be the soon-to-be-missing Tatiana Ranker. The group went to a party at a
friend’s house, and witnesses there said that Jack and Tatiana were getting
really cozy in the kitchen. Then they both seemed to disappear from the scene.
Everyone assumed they hooked up, but the next day, her parents called the
police when they realized that she wasn’t with any of her girlfriends after
never having come home. Jack didn’t have an alibi, but still insisted he was
innocent,” said Gwen. “Unfortunately, there wasn’t any evidence to pin on him,
so no official charges were made.”

“‘Unfortunately’?”

“Okay,
it’s time,” said Gwen, pulling out a black business blazer and a pair of shades
as we rolled past Arlington’s greeting sign.

“What
are you doing?” I said, looking over at her as she threw them on.

“What
does it look like? I’m getting into character. It’s my
Men In Black
look.”

“More
like Ray Charles. Gwen, it’s raining outside, and we’re gonna be indoors. Take
off the glasses. The point of this is to get information. Nothing more. We
don’t want to make more of an impression than we already will.”

“Don’t
think I haven’t taken that into consideration,” she said, taking out a pair of
badges from a side compartment to her bag. “Here’s your new identity.”

“Minnie
Grasper?” I said, reading the laminated label. “And... Trish? Gwen, what are
you doing with their school news IDs?”

“They
weren’t using them, and this way no trace of our inquiries will come back to
us.”

“And
it’ll fall onto them,” I added.

“Please,
anyone with the most basic comprehension of the internet could pull them up
online and see for themselves that we’re not them. They’ll be fine.”

“What
have you gotten me into?” I groaned.

Arlington
High was a fairly new school, its architecture very modern given its simplicity
and lack of ornate features that New Haven was famous for. I pulled into the
visitor’s parking lot, and we headed through the front entrance. Even before we
got so much as two yards into the building, the secretary in the main office
flagged us down.

“What’s
your business here?” the woman asked as Gwen and I came to the front counter.
She peered over reading glasses and examined us over. “I know every face that
comes through those doors, and neither of you are logged into my memory.”

Gwen
and I each cast the other a nervous smile before the secretary noticed the
badges we had pinned to the outside of our jackets.

“Ah,
reporters,” she groaned. “Haven’t seen any of you here in a while.”

We
both breathed a sigh of relief.

“We’re
just with our high school,” I confirmed.

“Yeah,
we just received a transfer, who happens to be from here actually,” replied
Gwen. “For a woman with such a remarkable skill of memorization, I’d suspect
you’d remember Jackson Matthews?” She hadn’t quite landed the tone in the
friendliest of manner. It sounded more like she was about to call the woman out
if she lied and denied it. But I wasn’t about to scorn Gwen, because the very
mention of his name seemed to make the secretary’s face lose color.

“I
can recall the name,” the woman simply replied.

“Is
there anything you can tell us about him?”

She
became more uneasy. “Nothing that the papers haven’t already covered.”

I
decided to take a risk and play dumb on the matter. “Meaning what exactly?”

She
pulled the reading spectacles from her face, looking at me in uncertainty as
she tried to navigate to her next move. “I think his classmates would be of
better assistance.” She pushed a clipboard with the visitors log sheet attached
to it towards the front of the counter and handed Gwen a pen. “Sign yourselves
in, and you can go on ahead.”

Gwen
autographed the page, and I stepped forward, instinctively starting to write a
C
before I realized my mistake. I wound up turning it into a
misshapen
M
as I scribbled Minnie’s name into the log.

“Tell
Stevie Wonder over there that the junior halls are to your left,” said the
secretary, pointing out into the hallway at Gwen who was now blindly heading
down the wrong corridor.

“Will
do. Thanks.”

I
caught up to Gwen and whispered, “Hey, Clouseau, this way.”

She
turned around confusedly, reaching her arms out to feel her surroundings. I
waved my hand directly in front of her face, and she didn’t even seem to
notice.

“Will
you take the shades off?” I barked.

“Fine,”
she said in surrender, prying the frames off. “You were right. I can’t see
squat in here. Now, where to?”