Robert Walker - Scalpers

"Peggy Carson came by, Dean. She tried to get me to fill her in on what we've found, but given the situation, I stonewalled her. This isn't the time for leaks, and you know how word gets out, guys like that reporter Evans last night. Hell, they're everywhere—"

"You did the right thing, Sid. Keep the jar and the chloroform between you and me. Don't even bring Tom Warner in on it."

"Warner's okay, Dean, just a little green."

"Defend him if you like, Sid, but like many of us, he's also easily swayed by a pretty face, and if by a pretty face, no telling who else might control him. Frankly, given all that's happened around here, with your scissors turning up like they did ... don't know if I wouldn't clean house, if it were my house to clean."

Sid looked down the corridor to where he'd last seen Warner. “You really think ... naw!"

"I didn't say he might be the killer. But if you can't be sure your people are with you one hundred percent, no matter how dire the situation, well, old friend, you've got people putting little pins in your balloon and the results can be ... explosive. How, for instance, did Hodges know enough to double back on your reports early on in the case? Who provided the odor for them to sniff at?"

"Tom?"

"Like Dyer told you, Sid, watch your backside."

Sid had a lot to think about. Dean got his things together from the lab and started out. Sid stopped him at the door. “I sure wish you didn't have to go, Dean, but I understand. Really. Have a safe trip, and I'll keep in touch."

"Before you take anything to Hodges, make sure it's everything. Overwhelm him with the evidence and he'll have to back whatever play you make."

"Right, standard practice time. I guess I let a lot go by the wayside here. Too cushy a job. Tell you what, if Hodges throws me out, I may show up on your doorstep."

"Brr! Don't forget Chicago winters!"

The two men laughed as Tom Warner looked on with what might be envy in his eyes. Dean noticed the assistant had begun to rummage near Sid's office, and now he stepped inside with some papers in hand to lay on Sid's desk.

"Sneaky fellow, that Warner,” Dean said.

Sid turned to see Warner in his office where both jar and chloroform result lay exposed. Sid rushed to the attack, shouting at Warner, whose face drained of color.

Dean chose the moment to escape without further discussion. Sid could give his regards to Chief Hodges, Frank Dyer, and Hamel, if necessary, but Dean wanted to say a personal good-bye to Peggy Carson. It only seemed right. He'd return to his hotel, shave and shower, get a change of clothes, and from there make his flight reservations and telephone Jackie. He'd then have a brief and final phone talk with Peggy Carson, unsure what he might tell her beyond the fact that both he and Sid Corman knew that she was telling the truth, that she had not killed Park, and that the case was now in Sid's hands.

As Dean was passing through the lobby of the municipal building, Frank Dyer came racing after him, shouting for his attention. Dyer seemed shaken.

"Corman tells me you're leaving."

"That's right."

"Because of Hodges, last night?"

"Among other things."

"You can't do it."

"Yes I can."

"All right, all right, you can ... but you may like to do some reading while you're running away.” Frank tossed a police report at him, which indicated that the Scalper had struck again, this time killing a woman and almost the woman's child as well. “Last night, after Park?” Dean could hardly believe it. “Why the elaborate set up to make Park the fall guy if the killers then go out and announce to the world they're still on the loose?"

"Hey, we're not dealing with rational people here."

"Oh, but the set up at Park's that was rational, calculated."

"Double personality, then, a schizo, right?"

"Has to be. What about the kid, you talk with him?"

"Her. A little girl named Nola Jimenez. She was in shock when found wandering into traffic."

"When do you intend to talk to her?"

Dyer shook his head. “She saw her mother murdered."

"And she may be able to give us a clue."

"Not for a while. The trauma center has her, and there's no way to get to her for the time being. What do you care, anyway? You're heading for home."

"I care, Frank ... that's my problem."

"Good, then maybe you'd like to talk to another witness to last night's homicide?"

"Another witness? Who, where?"

"Sid didn't tell you anything about it. He said he was about to when you got it in your head to run out on us, like Hodges wants. Hell, man, we need you here now more than ever!"

"You're sure, Frank, this isn't the work of a copycat killer? It still makes no sense that they should attack again after the setup at Park's. Did you question the woman's husband, boyfriend, relatives—anyone? You know as well as I do that more than eighty percent of crimes committed against people are by people they know—"

"We've got a witness says one man he saw was pintsized, a dwarf."

"Damn, then it was them. Where's this witness?"

"Sobering up, downstairs, in holding."

"A drunk?"

"He was in the alley where they did the woman, says he saw the whole thing. When we arrived he was there. He didn't call it in, he says, ‘cause he didn't have a quarter and believed he was hallucinating from the drink. Says he didn't dare move, though, the whole time. He was in behind some cans, in a doorway. Says the girl hid right alongside him for a little bit, before racing off. The dwarf was after her. Says the other guy was normal in size, well-dressed ... said the dwarf looked like a refugee from a circus, like a clown or monkey, covered with hair, except for a section of head—"

"The scalp?"

"You got it."

"These two make no sense. There's no pattern, no handle here, except maybe..."

"Maybe what?"

"The other victims stack up each a different nationality or color. Now here comes a woman named Jimenez, Spanish—"

"And her kid. We might've had to call it double homicide if the old man can be believed. Nobody outside the few of us on the case—and Peggy Carson—knew of the dwarf. And Peggy was sworn to keep it in house. The papers, the TV people, nobody knew. Now we've got this old souse who says right out it was a dwarf and another man. So you tell me—is it or isn't it our Scalpers?"

"Guess these men are truly driven,” said Dean. He struggled for an answer within. The killers so far had displayed an unusual fixation on hair, and if the drunk could be believed, now a desire for the scalp of a child. Hair had always been the killers’ reason for taking a life. A child's scalp now, was that the new atrocity they planned for the city? It was as if just thinking the awful thought made it so. Like Sid, Dean felt like he was the cause of the horror, rather than an agent bent on ending it.

"You see now, Doc, why you can't go?"

Dean saw all right: he saw red. It was as if the killers had done this animal thing to taunt him, to send a clear message to him that no matter what he did, they were freely going about the city taking life wherever and whenever they chose.

"What do you know about the victim?” Dean asked Frank.

"Mother of three, carrying her fourth, a Spanish lady name of Jimenez, Emanuella Jimmenez. Family's in shock, pestering the hospital for the kid."

"Where did all this occur, Frank?"

"She was being helped out by family services, treated as an outpatient at Mercy. She got counseling there, medication and treatment. Her doctor is, was, Dr. Martin Zodese. We talked with people at the hospital, which was the last place Mrs. Jimenez was seen before it happened."

"Last night, while we were working over Park's remains..."

"Sometime between eight and ten, Sid puts it at. I'm surprised he didn't tell you about it, but then, I don't have what you'd call a stellar witness, and maybe ... maybe you're right ... maybe there is no connection and the old bum just conjured up what he saw out of his head...."