Faye Kellerman - The Ritual Bath

“So I give him my knife, and we start to hunt for kike. But then we saw this big fat nigger bitch with a mean-looking piece thinking she was Queen Shit. We see the nigger and, man, that was even better than a kike. So maybe we hid in the hills and made a little noise. Big fat coon comes up to see what’s happening, and we knocked the gun out of her fat hands.”

The boy began to pick his nose.

“Like I said, I thought we was just gonna kick some ass. Then maybe one of my buddies takes out my blade. Honest, I thought he just was gonna play around. You know a poke here, a poke there. But he wanted more, man. Fuck, he slashed her. Man, I was fucked-up blown away. I mean I was totally blown away. I’ve kicked ass, but I never wasted no one. I’m telling you, I was completely blown away. Shit, all this blood started pouring out in gushes, man, in fucking gushes . Freaked us all out, all this blood all over our hands, all over our clothes. The dude who did it completely freaked. Started laughing like some goddamn hyena, then began to hack away at her arm. The blood kept coming , man. The others stomped on her knee, and you could hear it break, you know? Man, you could hear the crack for a mile. Shit, it was weird, real weird.”

“Who did the slashing?” Decker asked.

“It wasn’t me, man. I didn’t know he was gonna slash her. Man, I didn’t do nothing, just maybe stared while they ripped her apart. See, by then I was already coming down, but they were still flying, man. You know dust. It does weird things.”

The P. D. groaned, scratched some notes, then lit a cigarette and gave one to Cory. All the others followed suit. The room became a cloud of tobacco haze.

“Then it all got kinda fuzzy,” the boy continued, after filling his lungs with smoke. “I mean, I don’t remember too much after the nigger bitch bit it. Just that it all got kind of fuzzy, and they were doing a number on her. Then, we heard noises like someone was coming, and we all took off. Man, I forgot to ask for my knife back in all the mess. Or maybe it just got lost. I don’t know where you got it. But I didn’t use it on her, man.”

“Who did?” asked Morrison.

Schmidt thought a moment, then said, “I don’t think I should tell you that.”

“Such discretion,” muttered Ronson.

“You split after you heard the noise?” Decker asked.

“Man, we were gone !”

“Theoretically, Cory,” Decker said, “what were the names of your friends?”

Ronson protested, but the boy ignored him.

“Maybe, just maybe, their first names were Clay, Dennis, and Brian. That’s all I’m sayin’ for now.”

“Captain?” asked Decker.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Brief interlude, Counselor?” Morrison asked the P. D.

“Why the hell not?” snapped Ronson.

“Great,” Birdwell said, adjusting his glasses. “I’ve got to make a couple of calls.”

“I buy it,” Morrison said to Decker when they were alone. “Do you?”

“Yup.”

“The question is do you go for a sure thing and charge him with Murder One, or do you take a chance that a jury will believe him and try to get all four of them?”

Decker thought a moment.

“I don’t feel comfortable letting him take the sole rap when there are three others involved. And I think it would be hard to convince a jury that Schmidt acted alone. Also, other shoe prints and tire tracks were found at the scene. Be interesting if they matched his friends’.”

“If he turns state’s evidence, then we can get warrants for his pals.” Morrison tapped his foot. “Let’s try for all four. Now how much do we give up in exchange? Letting him off with just an assault charge would be a travesty of justice.”

“For more than one reason, Captain. I don’t think he did the Adler rape.”

Morrison knitted his brows.

“Why the hell not?”

“Someone tried to break into the ritual bath the night Florence Marley was killed. Cory didn’t mention a thing about it. I think the perp who broke in that night was the same one who did the Adler rape. I made a tactical error by mentioning the rape the first time I questioned Cory after the supermarket thing, and the kid was somehow smart enough to use the information and plea bargain with it against the murder rap.”

“Shit.”

“You’re telling me,” Decker said. “I feel like a jackass.”

Morrison paused.

“I’d like to have someone in custody before I dismiss the charges. He confessed, Pete.”

“I just don’t see it. Cory and his friends have had minor brushes with the law. And whenever there was a weapon involved, it was a knife. When we searched Schmidt’s house, we found only one gun, and it belonged to his father. These kids are cutters. The Adler rapist had a gun. The night I first searched in the hills, someone shot at me. Someone who knew how to use a piece.”

“Perps have been known to use different methods.”

“Granted. But still, I’d like to delve a little further into the case before sticking it on Cory.”

“I’m assuming you’ve questioned Macko about it?”

“Yes. It’s not his baby.”

“How’s your caseload?”

“With the Marley murder and the Foothill thing out of the way, I’ve got a little more time on my hands.”

“Any suspects?”

“A few.”

“It would be handy if Schmidt knew he didn’t have the Adler thing to bargain with. Let’s say, we’ll keep it quiet for forty-eight hours. See what you can do in two days.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Birdwell returned.

“Where do we go from here?”

Morrison briefed him.

“So what do you want to do with Schmidt?” the prosecutor asked, wiping his glasses. “Stall him?”

“Yeah, we stall him for two days,” Morrison responded. “Tell him we’re considering the trade.”

The captain turned to Decker.

“Have Hollander or Dunn pick up his friends on suspicion of murder, while you search for the ritual bath rapist. I don’t want them splitting on us when they get wind of the fact that Cory’s in deep shit.”

“What do we do if the Adler case comes up dry in two days?” Birdwell asked.

“Then we’ll have to see about a deal.” The captain turned to Decker. “Two days, Pete. Starting right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Decker started to walk away.

“Pete,” Morrison called out.

“Yes, Captain?”

“Good job on the Macko collar.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Rina waited for Decker in the park.

It had been two days since the capture of the Foothill rapist, a week since they had last talked. Though she would have loved to call him up-to congratulate him on a job well done-she didn’t want to be a nuisance or give him the wrong idea. After all, she’d been so firm about not seeing him socially anymore.

But today he had called, saying he needed to talk to her, and they arranged to meet for lunch. Now she wondered if the rendezvous was wise. They could have spoken over the phone-there was no need to talk face-to-face-yet she had agreed and was excited about it. Being brutally honest, she asked herself whose needs were being satisfied.

He had occupied her thoughts since the first time she’d laid eyes on him. Feeling so vulnerable the night of Sarah’s ordeal, she’d been attracted to his self-assurance and physical stature. And in all the time she’d known him, never once had he taken advantage of her momentary weakness. He was kind to her boys and respectful to her, never mocking her religious beliefs. And she loved when she dreamed about him, the images exhuming sensations in her body that had been buried for so long.