I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (21 page)

Five minutes later Carrie was in the living room waiting for her cue to leave.  The chief checked the front from his lookout post in the bedroom and came back out to the front door.

“Everything looks calm out there, I think it’s time for you to go”, he said as Carrie stood waiting with her purse hanging from her shoulder.

“Do you have a permit to carry a weapon?” he asked her.

“No, I don’t”, Carrie answered, “its Francine’s. She gave it to me after the second killing. She showed me how to use it.”

The chief checked to see that the safety was set and he handed the small-caliber automatic pistol to her.

“Keep it for now”, he said. “We’ll see about getting you a permit before the end of the week”, he added in a fatherly tone.  Chace looked on without comment.  The chief had again strayed from basic standard police policy, this time by knowingly allowing a person with no concealed firearm permit to carry one.

He and the chief stood aside while, as instructed, Carrie went out and, as she always did, left the door slightly ajar, but set to lock.

“Here we go, heads up”, the chief said to Chace. “I’ll be back in the shadow in the dining area. I’ll watch out the back sliders and I’ll be watching you through that mirror. You stand right there at the door.”

Chace took his position with a hand on his hip-mounted 9mm pistol.  Chief Devaro had his police-issue automatic riot gun and his 9 millimeter automatic pistol on the dining area table, muzzles facing the front door. His right hand was on the butt of the .357 Caliber Magnum revolver holstered under his left armpit.

They waited.  Nothing…, nothing was happening.  “
Carrie must be gone by now”
thought Chace.  It seemed like an eternity had passed.  A gnawing feeling passed through his stomach area.  Second thoughts were creeping into his mind.

The fireworks show was in a finishing phase and then there was nothing but silence.

Could this be a set-up? Am I the patsy?
Thought Chace
, I’m here with my back to Lou Devaro, with his arsenal pointed my way and the only witness is locked in the laundry room.  What if Lou’s involved?”
Don Chace could feel the hair on the back of his neck beginning to bristle.

In the darkness of the brush patch, the enraged figure waited, breathing heavily now, with a rapid, pounding heartbeat and temples pulsing.  Carrie came out of the house and walked toward her car.

The voice, rasping now, but out of her range of hearing, began to rise.

“Just like before…like all the others….I’ll get them, Kai-Rhee, I’ll get them all.”

A familiar illusion was blazing in the mind’s eye of this deranged killer.  The victims always looked astonished as he whirled and struck with lightning speed.  In his mind he could hear, over and over, the gurgling, muffled cracking sound as the callused outside edge of his expertly-trained chopping hand demolished the insides of their throats.

He started moving toward the front door where Carrie had exited. She was driving away now.

“Haaiiiiiya!”  With a protracted, screaming yell, the running form bounded animal-like over the front steps of the house and put a shoulder against the door.

Chace was turning back toward the chief in the shadows with a doubtful expression on his face when he heard the blood curdling screech beyond the door.

He was drawing his pistol when the door burst open and a ranting, crazed figure, with a painted face below a white head band, hurled toward him, spinning and kicking.  Before Chace could bring his pistol up, a crushing thud against his neck stunned him and he reeled into the open door, banging his head against the exposed edge.

Chief Devaro was startled as well.  Upon hearing the scream from outside he had glanced out through the rear sliding door and then, in his peripheral vision, saw the reflection in the hallway mirror of the front door bursting open.  He stepped quickly around the table toward the living room and saw Chace go down.  The crazed, screaming figure was standing over Chace looking down.

Stunned, Chace instinctively raised his arm to ward off any further blows.  The attacker, startled to see that his prey was still moving, pulled a dagger from a sheaf behind his back and raised it, getting ready to finish Chace off.

“Hold it right there!” boomed the chief.  He had accidentally pushed the automatic pistol off the table as he grabbed for it while whirling around to confront the attacker.  He reached for the revolver in the shoulder holster.  The crazed attacker looked away from Chace and glared at the chief with wide, bulging, bloodshot eyes.  Letting out a piercing shriek he raised the dagger over his shoulder to throw it as the chief leveled the revolver and squeezed the trigger.

There was a thunderous blast as the pistol discharged, kicking the barrel up from the recoil.  The chief saw the impact just as he caught a glimpse of spinning steel and felt a sharp impact under his chin.  The attacker was driven backwards out through the open door by the impact of the high-velocity bullet.

Chace was gaining back his consciousness and clearing his head from the blow to his neck.  The attacker was lying on his back, stretched through the open doorway.  His unseeing eyes were open as his head was chin-up and hanging down over the steps.

Chace turned to look toward the chief who was now sitting on the floor with his revolver slipping from his limp hand and a knife handle jutting out from his throat.  Chace’s vision faded and he sagged to the floor.

“Jesus Christ!” was the next thing he heard as his uniformed, back-up cohort from Grandford, stooped down to check his pulse.

“I’m Okay...I’m Okay”, Chace repeated. “Get the medics! Check the chief”, he shouted, pointing toward the slumping Lou Devaro.

Suddenly, Max Hargrove came bursting through the doorway, leaping over the attacker’s unmoving body.

“He’s Okay!” Chace shouted emphatically to his startled fellow state policeman. “Max, go see what you can do to help Lou”, he continued.

Maggie was standing outside in the rain with her hand up to her mouth, looking down at the obviously dead body dressed in army-style fatigues.  The face was painted in a military camouflage design and a white band was tied around the head.  A pool of dark blood was forming under the head, on the bottom step.

She stared at what she thought was an insignia on the center of the headband, right above the nose, but it shocked her when she realized it was a bullet hole.

A rescue truck siren in the distance was one of the few sounds right then.  Maggie was puzzled at a familiar odor, like the heavy musk perfume, permeating the steam rising from the dead body.

Inside, the back-up State Trooper un-barricaded the laundry room door and, with gun drawn, slowly opened it.  The man inside was on the floor trying to get his arms under his buttocks in order to bring his manacled hands to the front.  The trooper pulled his arm and stood him up.

“What’s going on? I want to make a call”, the man shouted.  The trooper, instantly combining what he knew with what he could see, was aware that his friend Chace was going to have trouble defending any charges against the man, whose lawyers would claim entrapment.  He decided to offer a deal.

“You may not realize it but those two wounded officers out there just saved your life”, the trooper stated.  “You were the next victim on the list of a serial killer who has murdered three men in the last two months. You’ll be seeing that on TV tomorrow.  We don’t need to fuck around with any trumped up lawsuits, so we’ll let you go and your family and friends will never know you were here”, the trooper said forcefully. “Come on over here and I’ll show you your killer.”

He took the handcuffed man over to the doorway and let him look at the dead body lying in the rain, with steam rising from it and blood pooling below the head.

The man gagged but held back from vomiting.  He turned to look at Chief Devaro, semi-conscious on the dining area floor, the knife still jutting from his neck.  The distinctive smell of discharged gunpowder hung in the room.  The man turned a sickly, light green color.

Chace took the keys to the handcuffs off the chief’s belt.  They released the unshackled, gulping man and helped him step over the body and outside into the rain.  Without a word, he went to his car, got behind the wheel and backed into the street. With tires spinning on the wet pavement, he sped out of sight.

A rescue truck pulled up from the opposite direction followed by two New Haven Police Squad cars.  Medics rushed into the house, stepping over the obviously dead body as Chace motioned them into the living room.

The New Haven officers were setting up portable flood lights and forming a yellow-taped circle around the scene as the back-up trooper walked calmly to his unmarked car.  With a salute to Chace through the driver’s window, he left the scene.

The medics were preparing to transfer Chief Devaro from a body board to a gurney in the front yard as, back inside the house Inspector Chace was taking off his fake turtleneck.  He asked Max to help unbuckle the neck brace.

A large red welt was rising on the right side of Chace’s neck beneath his jaw line, where he took the blow.  A purple and red bruise was starting to swell on his forehead.

Maggie had stepped around the body and come in out of the rain.  She stood next to Max, who put his arm around her shaking shoulder.

“Lou looks bad, do you think he’ll be okay?” she asked, staring at the fallen chief.

“He took a knife in the side of his neck, just above the collarbone.  Apparently it was thrown”, Max told her. “We don’t dare take it out in case it’s in a large vein, or something.  Lou is fading in and out and his pulse is weak.”

Don Chace bent down to hear Lou Devaro as he was straining to speak.  Summoning all of his failing strength, all that Lou could say was, “Did I get him?”

“Right on the bull’s-eye, Lou. He’s done”, Chace responded.

Maggie seemed dazed. “I can tell Carrie was here, you can still smell that perfume she uses”, she commented.

“Actually, Don Chace noticed that she only wore a trace of it. He says the strong odor seems to be on the dead body,” Max replied.  They both glanced at the body out on the steps.

“What the hell..?” Maggie exclaimed. “Max, the face was painted black and green. I got a good look, but..” she trailed off as she pulled Max toward the doorway. The rain was coming down steady now.

The camouflage face-paint on the body was washing off.  The Medical Examiner had inspected the body, pictures had been taken and the body position had been marked.  The sash around the head was pulled off the forehead, showing the gun-shot entrance wound.  Maggie gasped and stepped back.

“Holy shit!” Max exclaimed, “It’s Grover!”

Chace heard the loud exclamations and stepped over to them.

“What is it?” he asked, “Do you recognize him?

It’s Bruce Grover!” Max repeated.  He was in shock.

“Oh my God,” was all that Maggie could say.

“He does the maintenance in my apartment building”, Max said quietly to Chace.  The medics were looking to see what the fuss was all about.  Don Chace took Maggie and Max aside.

“Look, I don’t know what the connections are here but you two need to get away from here, real quick.”

Inspector Chace was officially in charge of the scene.  He had briefed the senior New Haven officer on the details.  He had explained about his jurisdiction of the area relating to the homicide investigation of the serial killings across the river, including the concealed ownership of the house here in New Haven, by the State of Connecticut. The senior officer had verified the statements through his chain of command.  Chace was asked about Max and Maggie’s involvement.  He said that he knew the couple and they had happened on the scene after the fact. No further questions had been asked.

Grover’s body had been removed from the doorway to the house and was now lying on the front lawn covered by a canvass.  A folded body bag rested in the rain beside the body.  Inspector Chace was carrying the tote bag containing the assortment of the chief’s firearms as he approached Maggie and Max who were getting into their car.

“I’m not sure how or why you guys got here, but thanks for helping out”, he told them. “We’ll talk later, you’re free to go.  I’m going to the accident room to get checked for a concussion.” Chace turned and, as he hustled toward his unmarked car, he motioned for Maggie and Max to leave.  He had made arrangements with the New Haven Police Department to secure the crime scene and preserve it for any future need for forensic investigation.

Independence Day dawned warm and bright on the town of East Wayford.  The parade started promptly at 8:30 AM at the town center and proceeded on its three mile route through the commercial district.  Its finishing point was scheduled to be at the old high school athletic field where the parade review would take place in front of a grandstand.

The traditional convocation would be given, dignitaries would be recognized, politicians would speak and awards were to be given for the best marching band, best float etc.

Both Chief of Police Devaro and Acting-Chief Lieutenant Salvadore were unexpectedly absent from the parade. The marching contingent of the local police department was led by the senior duty officer.

The morning local newscasts and the newspaper gave brief mention of the previous night’s events across the river in New Haven with a promise to return with further details ‘as they became available’.

Both Maggie and Max were at the Yale-New Haven Hospital, having been there since following the rescue truck carrying Lou Devaro as it left the sting location the night before.  Rose Devaro was there, teary eyed and despondent.  Acting-Chief Lieutenant Salvadore had come and gone.

There was no news of a change in Lou Devaro’s condition ever since he was declared critical upon arrival.  He was in a medically-induced coma in the intensive care unit, awaiting a prognosis by a team of three surgeons. 

Mayor Gene VanDyke had stopped in earlier, on the way to his parade appearance, to get the status of Lou Devaro and to offer expressions of sorrow to his wife, Rose.

They had all napped, off and on, through the night. Maggie stayed with Rose while Max went to the cafeteria to get them coffees with a doughnut and muffin assortment for breakfast.

At 9:15 AM Inspector Chace came into the ICU waiting area.  He had just been released from the accident room, wearing a neck brace and a dry-ice pack bandage on his forehead.  He, too, was anxious about Lou’s status.

At 10:15 two of the surgical doctors came in asking for Rose Devaro.  Rose gasped and clung tightly to Maggie’s hand, bracing for bad news.

The surgeons consoled her with news that her husband’s condition had stabilized.  He was still considered in critical condition while the anesthesia wore off.  He was breathing on his own but still not fully conscious.

The knife blade, they explained, had struck the upper rim of the protective vest, partially lessening the force of the impact.  Its path was deflected slightly upward as it penetrated and it came to rest in a semi-vertical position between the right-side motor control muscles in the neck and the upper vertebra.  There was a laceration on his collarbone.

There was minimal blood loss but there was swelling from the trauma which was pressing against a nerve channel causing some paralysis and intermittent loss of consciousness.  They suggested that it would be four-to-five hours to when the anesthesia would wear off enough so that a more detailed prognosis could be completed.

Rose was somewhat relieved and wanted to know if she could be with him.  They agreed that it would be a good idea.  With an ashen face she gave an anxious look to Maggie and Max and went with the surgeons to be with her husband.

“You two look almost as bad as I do”, Chace said to Max and Maggie. “Why don’t you go home and get some rest. I’ll call one of you with any news about Lou.”

“Call Max,” Maggie said. “I’m a heavy sleeper and might not hear it.”  Chace and Max agreed.

“Except for Lou’s condition”, Chace went on, “I think we can say that the plan worked.  I have no doubt that we got the serial killer.”

“By the way”, he asked, “Why is it you two were at the house last night, and how is it you knew the killer?”

Max gave Chace Grover’s name and explained their working relationship, again.  This time Chace wrote it into his note pad.

“As crazy as it sounds,” Max said, “we saw who we thought was Grover, early last night, when he left the apartment in a ‘borrowed’ car belonging to one of the elderly tenants who lives in the apartments.  As a favor, he had driven the car in for servicing, when needed, and occasionally chauffeured the owner for shopping. He had been accused of damaging that car once before, but he denied it.” Max explained.

“He had been acting weirdly lately.  Last night he obviously wasn’t bringing the car in for servicing at that hour. Maggie and I decided that on our way to watch the fireworks we’d follow him, since he was headed in the same direction, but then we lost him when he came over the bridge into New Haven.  We went across the river and scouted around the area for a while and then the fireworks started, so we parked along the river to watch the show from there. On the way back”, Max continued, “we drove past the end of Pickering Street and noticed that the house lights were on and the front door was open.”

“We thought maybe one of Francine’s saleswomen was doing a ‘late showing’, so we went by to check it out”, added Maggie. “We couldn’t believe our eyes when we got there.”

“Ah, I see”, said Chace, putting his note pad back in his pocket.  “Lou and I didn’t want to involve you two in the capture part, if and when it occurred, so we didn’t tell you when the trap was set for last night.  We knew our asses would have been on the line for sure if one of you civilians got hurt in the process.  Carrie worked with us and then she left before the violence took place. She was okay when she left.”

Timing is everything, isn’t it?” Chace added. “Five minutes earlier and you might have headed the crazy bastard off.  He was either high on something or he’d gone completely insane.  I’ve never seen anyone with crazy eyes like that, and the screaming…” he trailed off…

“Was the front door opened all of the time?” interrupted Maggie. “We wouldn’t have even stopped if we didn’t see the open door.”

“Oh, no,” Chace said, “it was closed, but not latched.  He pushed the door wide open on the run, as he came at me.  He thought I was Carrie’s customer.  But I‘m glad you guys showed up, I was in a daze.  I wanted to pull that knife out of Lou’s neck, and I would have, if you hadn’t stopped me”, he said to Max. “God only knows how much damage that could have done.”

Max suggested that if Grover was driving the ‘borrowed car’ it was probably parked somewhere near the house.  Chace indicated that he would call the New Haven police to have them check it out.

“I’ll have them call you, Max, if they find it there”, he added.

“Thanks Don, I’ll call Mrs. Durham when I get back to my apartment”, Max responded.

The trio said their goodbyes.  Maggie and Max went out into the hospital parking lot to retrieve Maggie’s car for the ride back to East Wayford.  Max was exhausted so he took the passenger side seat.

“Well”, Maggie said, “we thought solving the mystery of Mrs. Durham’s car scratches would add a little extra excitement to the evening but who could have expected this.”

Max’s only response was a nod of agreement. The nod turned into nodding off and Maggie let him sleep.
He’s really beat, s
he thought.  Maggie was tired also. Her mind drifted back to the events of the previous night. 
I wonder how Carrie is doing. I think I’ll give her a call,
she decided.

Maggie had Carrie’s number, as she did with all of the Stanley crew, on her cell phone.  She rang Carrie’s number.

“Hello, Maggie?” was the almost instant response. “I haven’t heard back from Chief Devaro, have you seen him? He told me he’d call me. I’ve been calling his cell phone all morning. The news said something happened last night at the Pickering Street house. Have you heard anything?” Carrie asked in a non-stop, nervous chatter that Maggie hadn’t heard from her before.  She realized that, as Chace said, if Carrie had been at the house and left before Grover attacked, she would not have witnessed anything beyond that. 
I’ve got to break this easily to her,
Maggie thought, s
he‘s got this thing with Lou Devaro, a father figure, or something.

Maggie went on to fill in the blanks
that Carrie missed. She heard some gasps as she went on about the chief’s wounds and condition.

In the process Carrie told Maggie that a ‘modeling session’ had been set for that night and that the ‘client’ was in handcuffs in the laundry room when she left.  Maggie informed her that Chace let the client go and wouldn’t charge him with anything.  Carrie expressed no interest in that.

“That was set up by Francine.  Well, I guess he’ll be out of action for a while”, Carrie told Maggie in a cold, detached voice.

“Did they arrest the killer?” she asked.

“They killed the killer.”  Maggie said bluntly.  There was a pause.

“Good. Who got him?” Carrie asked. “Lou Devaro got him”, Maggie said. “I only hope they didn’t get each other.”

Maggie heard a stifled sob from the other end of the call.

“I hope not,” said Carrie, softly.  Maggie said goodbye and ended the call without telling Carrie that Bruce Grover was the killer.  That part had to be left to the authorities.