The Ninth Man by Dorien Grey

Author:Dorien Grey [Grey, Dorien]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery
Publisher: Untreed Reads
Published: 2015-08-25T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Rholfing was dead, and I was technically without a client. But I had about $300 of his retainer money in the bank and another $500 stashed at home. I also had a burning sensation in my gut that told me I was going to follow the case no matter how long it took or where it might lead.

I still couldn’t shake the feeling of responsibility I had for Rholfing’s death. If he knew the victims, he knew the killer—I was positive of that much. And if I’d told him Rogers, Klein, Harriman, Granger, and Barker were dead, he would never have invited his killer in. And if wishes were wings, elephants could fly.

At seven-thirty the next morning, I was on the phone.

“Good morning.” Tim’s voice as a bit groggy.

“Tim. Hi. Sorry if I woke you, but I’ve got some news I wanted to prepare you for.”

“I’ve got VD.”

“No…”

“You’ve got VD.”

“No, damn it! We’ve got another death. Rholfing—McDermott’s lover.”

“Holy shit! That must have been the one they were wheeling in just as I was leaving. He was in a body bag, but it wasn’t all the way zipped up and I thought that bleached blond hair looked familiar.” He paused, then said, “But how did you find out?”

“I found him yesterday afternoon. I called the police from Rholfing’s apartment, but didn’t identify myself and wasn’t about to stick around for them to get there. I didn’t want to call you at work, and wasn’t able to call after you got home.”

“I had a date right after work,” Tim said. “I didn’t get home until late.” Another pause. “I don’t suppose I have to ask how Rhol…Rholfing, was it?…died?”

“Not if the slight scent of almonds and blue skin gives you any clue.”

He gave a long, slow sigh.

“Here we go again.”

“Look, Tim,” I said, “I really hate to put you out on a limb like this, but could you make an extra effort to find out what’s going on with the police? Surely they’re not just going to sit on their hands with seven deaths and counting.”

“Dream on, good sir.” His voice showed his bitterness. “From everything I know, they’ve done nothing but sit on their hands so far. ‘Proceeding with all deliberate speed,’ I believe they call it. They’re positive it’s a serial killer, though, which gives their lack of action a certain credibility, in their eyes at least. All they can do is wait for the next body and hope the killer makes some sort of traceable mistake.”

There was yet another slight pause, then: “Tell you what. I know one of our people on the force. I don’t know whether he’s aware of what’s going on or not—I told you that rabidly homophobic police chief of ours is trying to keep this a very private party—but I’ll check with him without giving too much away. It’s a toss-up as to whether he’ll have anything or not, but it’s worth a try.”

“Tim,” I said honestly, “I don’t know what I’d do without you! I really owe you.

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