Ronald Tierney - Good To The Last Kiss - Crimes of the Depraved Mind Series

‘What?’ asked the man from Zurich.

‘Groveling,’ said the designer. ‘It’s so wonderful. I’m so glad it’s popular again.

The main lights dimmed. There was a white spot on stage. Someone important had been introduced. Julia turned. A golden candle flickered strobe-like on Thaddeus Maldeaux’s face. He turned toward her, his eyes catching hers.

The call came into room 450 of the Thomas J. Cahill Hall of Justice at Seventh and Bryant. A body had been found on San Gregorio Road not far from the General Store off Highway One. That wasn’t SFPD business, but there were strong indications that the death of this girl was linked to the deaths of the others, most of whom had strong links to the city. This would interest inspectors Gratelli and McClellan. But it would wait until morning.

All but two of the fourteen paired, Formica-topped desks were empty. One of the two on-duty homicide detectives would relay the message.

The girl had been dead for a few days. The local authorities didn’t know exactly how long. According to the message, the girl was found in a ditch, hidden in the tall grasses. A dog had discovered the corpse.

Julia was having difficulty shutting out the thoughts stealing uninvited into her brain. Each one was related to Thaddeus Maldeaux. Each one seemed to lend progress to a fantasy that was becoming more vivid, more dangerous.

‘What are you thinking about?’ David asked as the Wilkes-Bashford-dressed black mayor entered the tenth eloquent minute of his speech.

‘Nothing,’ Julia said, suppressing a grin.

‘Oh, right,’ David said. He looked over the table to see his friend’s eyes dart away. ‘Are you two flirting?’ he asked Julia.

‘What two?’

‘You have this rather blissful grin on your face and he is spying on you every chance he gets.’

‘He’s a little too full of himself for my taste,’ she said.

‘Um hmmn,’ David said.

Julia had a moment alone outside. David had gotten caught up with friends and Julia had artfully slipped away before introductions could be made and before she’d have to explain what she did for a living and that she lived in a little studio on Hayes Street, though no doubt they would all think that was quaint.

‘Now, now,’ she told herself. This was her own, private little game of insecurity. ‘Grow up,’ she told herself.

She walked further out toward the sidewalk. The huge, dark private club was before her. Then the delicate little park. Behind it was Grace Cathedral. She looked around. The hotels – the Fairmount, the Mark Hopkins, the Huntington. Up here was where the power was, well before the turn of the century. The titans of banking and railroads. Even Levi Strauss – a single, shy man who smoked cigars and invented blue jeans – had been one of the kings of the hill.

Down the hill meant that you descended into the glittering edifice complexes of the financial district; or the swarms of touts and tourists at the piers; or the Peking duck and ginger scents of Chinatown; or back down into the Tenderloin, the tattered bottom of the safety net, where the more base acts of humanity were committed less privately.

‘Where have you been?’ David asked, coming out and finding her staring at the cathedral.

‘I was thinking about getting away.’

‘Are you going up to the river tomorrow?’

‘No. Friday.’

‘Why not go early? I could meet you there – for one day anyway.’

‘I’ve got an investigation to complete,’ she said.

‘Let Paul do it, that’s why you have an assistant.’

‘Paul has to help as it is. Stakeout. And two of us aren’t really enough.’

‘What is it this time?’

‘A guy is suing my client over some on-the-job back injury. Says he can’t walk. He may be telling the truth, but the insurance company wants to be sure before they cut the check. The guy stands to collect a bundle.’

‘So you are standing in the way of this poor man and happily ever after?’

Julia ignored what might have been a deeper insinuation.

‘How about I come up Saturday afternoon?’ David asked.

‘Why do I always end up having to say “no”? I want to escape everything.’

Thaddeus Maldeaux and his mother brushed by them on their way to a waiting car.

‘David? Handball?’

‘Sure,’ Seidman said.

He had ignored Julia. Her stomach pitched. She was shamed by her schoolgirl reaction.

The Camaro was parked on the right, facing down the hill. It was the girl’s idea to come up there. It was her idea to get out of the car. She stood in front, her back to him. The entire city of San Francisco – pulsating with light and energy – unfolded below them. She was more than willing and had even suggested that they could make out up there, way above the Haight. She told him he reminded her of someone.

‘Eminem?’ he asked. He’d been told that before. But he had a better build than the rap star and resented the comparison.

‘No, someone darker.’

‘Darker?’

‘Inside darker.’ She liked him. She would make him happy, she told him. She was so glad to be away from the city. Here, there was electricity in the air. ‘I forgot how beautiful the world could be,’ she said.

He moved closer. She leaned back pressing her body against him. It was quick. She didn’t really have time to resist. He was so quick and so strong.

He lifted the limp body and carried it down the other side of the hill, the vast ocean down there, out there somewhere. Fewer lights dotted the far hillsides. It was lonelier here. Even so, this was the most daring he had ever been. He could see well. It was as if he had a special night vision. He coldly scanned the area for joggers or lovers. No one. He found a spot down the hill, a small plateau on the gradually sloping earth.

He calmly and expertly undid the buttons of her dress. It wasn’t until she was fully naked, that the cold, sharp perception gave way to a deep melancholy – a rich, sad ecstasy.

He undressed, carefully folding his jeans and tee shirt as he had done her clothing. He looked at the unreal shadows and the paleness the moonlight cast upon her body and on his. He dropped to his knees. He felt the blades of grass against his calves. He felt the chilled air on his flesh. He looked up at the sky. There was no way to determine if the moment were real or a dream. Yet, it was the way it was. And he never felt more alive.

There was nothing about him now. Not the ground, not the sky. So calm, he thought. She was so at peace. He let his hands glide feather-like over her body. He was so at peace. There was just the two of them. Naked. Quiet. Still.

When the ritual was complete, he kissed her gently on the lips, dressed, gathered the small stack of clothing and shoes, and left. He drove around until it was light. Barely light. He put her clothing in a Goodwill box.

Gratelli was awakened early by the phone. Soon after he shook some semblance of morning into his head and plugged in the electric percolator. He retrieved his morning Chronicle from the hallway, then called McClellan. After that, he called Albert Sendak in the medical examiner’s office. Not one, but two bodies had been found, both linked to each other and to the rest of them.

One body was decomposing south of San Francisco on Highway One near San Gregorio. Not SFPD territory but the local police were sure the body would be of special interest to them. The local police wouldn’t touch anything if someone could start down immediately. The medical examiner would oblige them.

The other body was a fresh kill up on Twin Peaks. A jogger found the body just as dawn broke. That’s where the two San Francisco inspectors would go first – where the trail was the freshest – before heading south down Highway One. If the two slayings were connected, Gratelli thought even in his groggy state of consciousness, then the killer was getting anxious. The deaths were coming closer and closer together.