Scott Sigler - Nocturnal - A Novel

Pookie leaned back. The SFPD files, the Chron archives, the library … this wasn’t just keeping something quiet, it was an effort to wipe history clean of anything involving the symbols.

“Doesn’t make sense,” he said. “The Slasher was a serial killer. Mister Biz-Nass says the symbol was found with the Slasher. Now it looks like we have a new serial killer that’s also using the symbol. Why would anyone cover up clues that could help stop a goddamn serial killer?”

No one answered. Bryan looked at Pookie’s plate, then at Pookie, then raised his eyebrows.

Pookie slid the half-eaten plate of scrambled eggs across the table. “Go crazy, Mister Pigerson.”

Pookie’s cell phone rang. He answered.

“This is Inspector Chang.”

“Inspector Chang, Kyle Souller.”

“Well hello, Principal Souller,” Pookie said.

Bryan stopped chewing. He waved his hand inward: let me hear .

Pookie thumbed up the volume and held out the phone. Bryan and Black Mr. Burns leaned in.

“Mister Souller,” Pookie said, “hopefully you’re not calling to give me detention. Unless, of course, I’m detained in a room with a naughty schoolgirl.”

“Inspector, that might not be the best joke to use on a man who’s responsible for the safety of actual schoolgirls.”

“Good point,” Pookie said. “The jury is instructed to disregard that remark. How can I help you, sir?”

“I asked around as you requested,” Souller said. “I got something from Cheryl Evans, our art teacher.”

“Do tell.”

“She said she’s seen drawings by a student named Rex Deprovdechuk. The drawings showed Rex chopping up Alex Panos.”

Son of a bitch. A new lead. “The same Alex Panos that is in BoyCo with the former Oscar Woody and the former Jay Parlar?”

“That’s the one.”

“This Rex, Deprov … what was that last name again?”

“Dee- prov -deh-chuk.”

“Right. He a big kid?”

“Hell no,” Souller said. “Tiny. Couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds, tops.”

“Is he rich?” Maybe Rex had hired someone to take out Oscar.

“Strike two,” Souller said. “Single mom, I don’t know if she works. His teachers said Rex wears secondhand clothes, sometimes has body odor the other kids complain about. I doubt he has two nickels to rub together. I’ve had him in the office a few times. I know he’s had run-ins with BoyCo, but he refused to name them.”

Pookie started to ask for Rex’s address, but stopped himself. “Mister Souller, I told you I’m no longer on the case. Have you contacted Inspector Verde, by chance?”

“I did,” Souller said.

Pookie gave the table a little bang with his fist. If Verde knew about Rex, Pookie and Bryan didn’t dare talk to the kid.

“I called you anyway,” Souller said. “In the education business, we have a technical term for people like Verde.”

“Which is?”

“Fucking douchebag,” Souller said. “I was hoping you were still on the case along with him. He rubbed me the wrong way.”

Pookie laughed. Polyester Rich couldn’t rub the right way if there was a neon arrow flashing the proper direction. “Inspector Verde might be a little brash, but he’s very good at his job. Thank you for letting me know, though.”

“You’re welcome,” Souller said. “I can tell that you actually care, Inspector Chang. I think that’s pretty uncommon. I hope you get put back on this case.”

“Thanks for calling,” Pookie said, then hung up.

Bryan’s eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Pooks, you didn’t get the kid’s address.”

“Because Verde already has it, and he already tattled on us once to Zou, remember? And you heard Souller — Rex is small and poor. He couldn’t have done the killings and couldn’t have hired someone to do them. Is he a valid lead? Yeah, but Verde already knows about him. It’s Verde’s case, Bri-Bri, there’s only so much we can do.”

Bryan leaned back and glared. He wasn’t happy. Pookie couldn’t blame him for that.

“How about this,” Pookie said. “We give Verde a day or two to talk to Rex, then after Verde moves on, you and I find a way to accidentally run into the kid.”

Bryan looked out the window. “I’d rather get on it now.”

“And I’d rather collect a paycheck,” Pookie said. “The chief … of … poh … leece told us to steer clear, Terminator. Unless you want to end up out of a job, we need to play the hand we’ve been dealt.”

Bryan paused, then nodded. Pookie tried to relax. The better Bryan felt, the more stubborn he would become. Pretty soon, Pookie wouldn’t be able to talk him out of following his instincts.

Terminator wasn’t the only one feeling frustrated. The cover-up involved murderers. At least two kids were already dead. If Zou hadn’t been playing these games, would those kids be alive? And whatever was going on, Verde was neck-deep in it — Verde, who knew about the case’s only remaining lead.

Pookie started making a new stack of sugar packets. All he could do now was wait. Wait, and hope that Rich Verde wasn’t covering up for a psycho.

Verde & the Birdman

Rich Verde got out of the car, then brushed some lint off the sleeve of his blue suit. He shut the door and waited for Birdman to get out.

He was always waiting for Birdman. The kid moved in slow motion. This was what the force was coming to? Kid had hair like a dirty mop. He wore sloppy clothes. He had a goddamned gold tooth, for the love of Christ. Bobby Pigeon looked like a pimp on a four-day bender.

“Birdman, come on. Move it.”

Bobby nodded. Even his nod was slow. “I’m comin’, boss.”

They started up Pacific toward the Deprovdechuks’ house. Verde had parked a block away, at the corner of Wayne Place. Sometimes walking up to a perp’s place gave you more options, was less conspicuous. Subtlety, calmness, keeping things as quiet as possible — that was how the job got done.

Souller’s call had come out of the blue. Pookie had developed that source. Rich would have done the same thing, of course, but it still chapped his ass that Pookie’s work had produced a lead. Not that the lead mattered. This was nothing more than a coincidence. The BoyCo kids were assholes, beating up on anyone they could. Rex Deprovdechuk got his ass kicked a few times, so what?

Nowadays everyone wanted to raise kids in a goddamn airlock, protected from anything and everything. Everyone gets a goddamn trophy. When Rich had been a kid, you either learned to fight back or you ate the shit sandwich you were served. So the kid had drawn mean pictures about BoyCo members? So what. It had nothing to do with the killings. He knew it, Zou knew it, but Zou still wanted to dot the i ’s and cross the t ’s.

Whatever Amy Zou wanted, if it was in Rich’s power to give, Amy Zou got.

“Rich-O,” Birdman said. “Riddle me something, brother. Seems to me we’re kind of half-assing this case. Why’d we get it, anyway? Terminator and Pookzilla are Grade-A prime, man.”

“We’re not?”

Birdman shrugged. “I’m game, dog, don’t get me wrong, but this is some high-profile shiz. I’m kind of new for that, you know?”

“You’re fine. I’ll carry you. Just watch and learn, son.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Birdman said. “Why us? And I know I’m just tagging along, so more accurately, why you ?”

Rich wasn’t going to share that answer. Zou could when the time was right. Verde hoped Birdman would work out, because they needed some new blood. That was why Zou had partnered them up — Bobby was a good cop, but he clearly didn’t believe in strict interpretations of the letter of the law. When it came to Marie’s Children, to the symbols, what mattered was how a cop would interpret the gray areas. Clauser and Chang were too goddamn goody-goody to play ball, but hopefully Bobby could be more realistic about how the world truly worked.