In the Shadow of the Arch Read online

  The two women made sure their respective children- Marie's son Toby and Debra's daughter Alexa-had their bottles firmly in place before turning their attention to the Greek salads they'd both bought.

  "Are things still bad at home, Deb?"

  "They're not bad…" Debra said, lamely.

  "Still no sex?"

  Debra shook her head. "Allan treats me like I'm his…"

  "Mother?"

  Debra nodded.

  "It's not that you're like his mother, Deb," Marie said, "but that you are a mother. He's just looking at you differently."

  "Did that happen with you and Will?"

  "Oh, yes," Marie said, "it's still happening. Men are such children themselves, especially around a mother. You should do what I'm doing."

  "What's that?"

  Marie just smiled.

  "You're not!" Debra said, shocked.

  "I am."

  "With who?"

  "You'll never guess." Marie looked so smug.

  "Who? Don't keep me in suspense." Debra was pleading. She needed some excitement in her life and she was too chicken to go out and get her own.

  "The UPS man."

  "No!"

  Marie Tobin nodded, looking very satisfied with herself.

  "Why? How? What's he look like? Oh, God, I want all the details," Debra said, over her shock but still excited by the news.

  "I thought you would," Marie said, and leaned forward to give them to her.

  ***

  He watched the two women put their heads together. He just knew they were talking about him. What were they saying? he wondered. Did they like the way he looked? Maybe they'd both be interested… but no. He couldn't even think about doing anything with the dark girl. The blonde, though, she was perfect. She looked just like the one in the movie-she was the one in the movie, with her hair down her back and her bare legs…

  He willed them to finish their salads and go their separate ways. He had an erection that was almost painful, and swore he could smell the blond woman from across the room.

  She was as ready as he was.

  He knew it!

  ***

  He watched them until they finished their lunch, and then they left the food court together. Instead of taking the elevator they took the escalator, even though there were signs clearly stating that strollers were not permitted on them. Why did people think they could just ignore signs like that? That kind of arrogance drove him crazy, and he was sure that it was the brunette's doing, not the blonde's. The dark-haired mother got on the escalator first, and the poor blonde simply followed her.

  She was easily led astray. This made her even more precious to him.

  He went up the escalator after them, keeping a safe distance. They walked together to the parking lot exit near the Pasta House Co. and left the mall together.

  He watched as they went down one aisle and then he moved to the next and kept them in sight. There was still a chance that they would reach the friend's car first and then he'd have free access to the blonde.

  But even in this she spoiled it for him. They reached the blonde's car first and the other one stood there with her, waiting for her to get in.

  He was incensed! There was nothing he could do to quell it. It would eat him alive if he didn't release it somehow, and he knew just how to do it. The bitch deserved it.

  As the blonde pulled her little Honda out of her parking space and drove off, the dark-haired bitch walked a little further to her car, which-of course-was a van. On top of everything else she was one of the legion of van bitches that had begun to pop up more and more. He hated van bitches. When he found the perfect woman for him he wouldn't touch her if she went to a van.

  As he followed and watched her start to put her child in the van, he realized this was probably for the best. The urge had come too soon this time. It was only a few days since the last one, and this action probably would have gotten him in a lot of trouble. As it turned out, the bitch had probably done him a favor, but he still felt the need to vent his anger.

  He reached her as she was putting the stroller into the van. She was parked out of sight of the mall and standing on the passenger side. No one would see what happened next.

  He approached her and said, "Excuse me?"

  She was half in the van and off balance as she looked over at him.

  "Yes? Hey, you're-" she started, straightening up, but she had no chance to finish.

  He punched her in the right eye.

  She yelled, grabbed her eye with one hand, and fell to the ground hard. She put her other hand out to catch herself, and there was an audible snap of a bone as she landed.

  "Bitch!" he spat at her, and quickly walked away, leaving her crying on the ground.

  21

  "Is this going to become a habit with you?" Valerie Speck asked Keough.

  "It's my way of getting to see you again." There was silence on the other end of the line. Keough waited, and was about to speak when she beat him to it.

  "If you want to see me again," she said, "all you have to do is ask."

  "That means I have to call you at work."

  Another silence, this one shorter.

  "Here's my home number."

  She gave it to him and he wrote it down.

  "How's the baby?"

  "She's fine," Valerie said. "Did you know that she's the second one?"

  "Second one what?"

  "Second baby found in a Dumpster."

  "No," Keough said, with great interest. "I didn't know. Where was the other one found?"

  "Wait…" He waited, wondering what the connection could be between two infants left in Dumpsters in different parts of the city-if they were found in different parts.

  "Here it is," she said. "South County, Mehlville, to be exact."

  "Where the hell is that?"

  "South," she said, laughing.

  "You're smart," he said. "I like that in a woman."

  "Let me know what happens, will you?"

  "You can bet on it."

  They said good-bye and hung up. He turned in his chair and looked at Haywood.

  "South," Haywood said. "There's a couple of ways you could go, but from here I'd say…"

  Keough wrote down Haywood's directions and then asked, "Who covers that?"

  "The county."

  He then pulled out a phone book and looked up the number for the St. Louis County police.

  "This is Detective Keough with the Richmond Heights department. I need to speak to a detective."

  "Which one?"

  "Whoever's on duty," Keough said.

  There was a series of clicks and then a man's voice said, "This is Detective Womack."

  "This is Detective Keough, from Richmond Heights. I'm trying to find out something about a baby that was found in a Dumpster out there."

  "I remember that," Womack said, "but it's not my case."

  "Can you tell me whose it is?"

  "Hold on."

  After a few moments of silence Womack came back.

  "That was caught by Barry Gardner, but he's not on today."

  "When is he working?"

  "I'll check the chart… hmm, looks like he'll be back in two days. That's Friday."

  "Listen, I need to talk to him before then," Keough said. "Can I get his home phone?"

  "Can't do that," Womack said, "but I can call him and have him call you."

  "Fine. Can you do that today?"

  "I can try. Where are you?"

  "I'm at the Richmond Heights station."

  "I'll tell him," Womack said. "He'll call you there. He's got kids, too, and this case is tearing him up."

  Good, Keough thought as he hung up, maybe Gardner would call back soon. He and Womack agreed that the Mehlville detective would leave a message with Gardner's wife if the man wasn't home.

  "Give him my home phone, too," Keough said, and recited it.

  "Got it," Womack said.

  "Thanks."

  "Sure."
>
  Keough hung up.

  "Think they're connected?" Haywood asked, from behind him.

  Keough swiveled his chair around.

  "I don't like coincidences," Keough said, "but they do happen."

  "What if a third one turns up?"

  "Then we'll have too much of a pattern to ignore," Keough said.

  He turned and dialed Valerie Speck's number again.

  "I'm flattered," she said, "you're calling again so soon. You don't have another baby, do you?"

  "No, but I'm still interested in that first one."

  "Did you talk to the detective from South County?"

  Keough explained that he'd left a message, but he wanted to know from Valerie if there were any other Dumpster babies.

  "Not here," she said, "but I can check around and get back to you."

  "Thanks," Keough said. "I'll owe you dinner."

  "I'll collect," she said, and hung up with the promise to call back as soon as she knew something.

  At that moment a uniformed cop stuck his head in and said, "Keough?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Chief wants to see you."

  "The chief, or the major?"

  He still hadn't gotten used to calling somebody Major. Since Major O'Connell was also the assistant chief, he tended to think of him as "Chief."

  "The chief."

  The man withdrew before Keough could think of a dodge.

  "Probably just wants to be briefed," Haywood said.

  "Yeah," Keough said, standing up. "Listen, I'm waiting for some calls. If they come in-"

  "Want me to take a message?"

  "No," Keough said, "tell them to hold on and then come and get me."

  "In the chiefs office?"

  "That's where I'll be."

  "Why don't I just take-"

  "Tony," Keough said, "just call over there and ask for me. You can talk to the chief's secretary."

  "Okay," Haywood said. "Okay, I can do that."

  "Thanks."

  Keough left the office and started for the chief's office. The man probably wanted to know if Keough was intending to open a daycare center in the station. It was odd that the two cases which seemed as if they were going to require the most of Keough's time involved kids.

  22

  As Keough entered the chief's office the man's head was down, examining something on his desk. He stood just in front of his superior's desk and waited. Eventually, Chief Harold Pellman lifted his head.

  "Jesus," he said, startled, "are you always that quiet?"

  "Sorry, Chief," Keough said. "You were, uh, occupied."

  "Sit down, Keough."

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tell me about the baby in the Dumpster."

  "My report will be on your desk in the morning."

  "I'd like to hear about it now."

  Briefly, Keough gave the story to the man, who listened intently and waited for the end to ask questions.

  "No one was able to identify the baby on the spot?"

  "No."

  "What about reports of missing kids?"

  "I'm checking that."

  "Who'd do a sick thing like put a baby in a Dumpster?"

  "A sick person. Oh, and there's another twist."

  "What's that?"

  "Well, apparently this is the second baby found in a Dumpster."

  "In Richmond Heights?"

  "No," Keough said, "the first one was found in South County, a place called Mehlville."

  "That's the county. Have you talked with anyone there, yet?"

  "I have a call in to the detective who handled that case," Keough said. "I'm waiting for him to call me back."

  "Keep me apprised of the situation."

  "I will, sir."

  "Thank you," Chief Pellman said. "That's all."

  "Yes, sir."

  But Keough didn't leave.

  "Is there something else?"

  "Yes, sir, there is. The Sanders case."

  "Which case is that?"

  "The child who came walking into the station? The missing parents, with blood in the house?"

  "What about it?" Keough still wasn't sure the chief knew what he was talking about.

  "I was wondering why the case was taken away from me and given to Major Case?"

  "That's what Major Case does, Detective," the chief said. "They investigate major crimes of violence."

  "There's no evidence that a major crime was committed here, sir."

  "There's the blood, and the missing parents."

  "That's circumstantial-"

  "We're not in court here, Detective. It was decided that Major Case would take over that case. That's all there is to it."

  Keough bit his tongue. If this had happened in New York he would have given more of an argument, but he was new here and was still trying to fit in.

  "Is that all now, Detective?"

  "Yes, sir," Keough said, "that's all."

  He stood up, and before he could even leave the chief's attention was turned back to whatever was on his desk.

  ***

  When Keough got back to the squad office Haywood was talking to a woman who had a fairly recent black eye. She was brunette and young, wearing a sundress, and except for the shiner she was very attractive. He also noticed that her left forearm was sporting a cast.

  She was sitting in a chair next to Haywood's desk, and next to her was an infant sleeping in a stroller.

  "… no provocation at all?" Haywood asked.

  "None," the woman said.

  "He just walked up to you in the parking lot and hit you?"

  "He said, 'Hey,' or something like that. I turned and he punched me."

  "Excuse me for saying this," Haywood said, leaning forward, "but you're a very attractive woman. Did he come on to you in the mall?"

  "No," she said. "I never saw him before… well, yes, I did."

  "Where?"

  "In the mall, in the food court. He was watching me and my girlfriend."

  "Watching you or your girlfriend? Or both of you?"

  "I don't know," she said, annoyed. "That would depend on if he liked blondes or brunettes better."

  "Your girlfriend is a blonde?"

  "Yes." She bit the word off testily.

  "What's her name?"

  "Why do you need her name?"

  "If he attacked you," Keough said, stepping in, "maybe he'll attack her if he sees her again. You wouldn't want that to happen, would you?"

  She turned and looked over her shoulder at Keough. With her in that position Keough could see right down her dress. She was extremely attractive and well built. He could also see that her eye was swollen almost completely shut. Somehow it was even more painful looking at an injury on a beautiful young woman.

  "No, I wouldn't."

  "You give us her name and we'll see that she's warned."

  "All right."

  Keough nodded to Haywood.

  "Hey," Haywood said to him, and then to the woman, "excuse me. That call you were waiting for came in."

  "You didn't call me?"

  "Couldn't," Haywood said, and inclined his head at his complainant. "His number's on your desk. He said he'd be there."

  "Okay, thanks."

  Keough sat at his desk and dialed the number of the detective in Mehlville. They arranged to meet at a restaurant in South County the next morning for breakfast.

  As Keough hung up, Haywood was finishing with the woman.

  "My husband's going to kill me," she said, standing.

  "Why?" Haywood asked. "You can't help it if someone assaulted you."

  "He's always warning me about… about strange men, and about going out alone."

  "You were in the parking lot of a mall in the middle of the day for Chrissake," Haywood said, and then quickly added, "excuse me… but how can he blame you for this?"

  "He will."

  "Do you need someone to drive you home, ma'am?" Keough asked.

  "I took a cab here," she said. "I can't do much driv
ing with this arm and this eye."

  "Detective Haywood here will run you home, ma'am. He can also talk to your husband, if you're worried."

  Keough gave Haywood a look, and the young detective nodded and rose hurriedly. In point of fact, he welcomed the opportunity to spend some time talking to the young woman. Injury or no, she was a knockout as far as he was concerned. Maybe she wasn't completely happy with her husband and would welcome some extra-personal care.

  "I'll be happy to do that, Mrs. Morgan."

  "M-maybe that would be best," she conceded. She looked at Keough and said, "Thank you…"

  "Detective Keough, ma'am."

  "Thank you, Detective Keough. Do you think there's any chance you can catch this guy before he attacks someone else?"

  "We'll do out best, Mrs. Morgan. I promise you that."

  She nodded and Haywood ushered her out, following her, taking just enough time to raise his eyebrows at Keough and mouth a "Thank you."

  23

  The restaurant was called Gingham's, and it featured family-style cooking. It was located on Lindberg Boulevard just off Lemay Ferry Road. Det. Barry Gardner was already there, sitting in a booth in the smoking section. He was a big, red-faced, white-haired man in his fifties, which was how he had described himself to Keough. The man was nothing if not accurate at self-description. Although he was off duty, he had agreed to meet Keough at a place of his choice.

  "Detective Gardner?" Keough said, standing by the booth.

  Gardner looked up and smiled.

  "Keough?"

  "That's right."

  "Have a seat."

  "Thanks."

  Keough slid into the booth opposite the man.

  "I understand you've got a case similar to mine," Gardner said.

  "That's right."

  "Tell me about it."

  Before he could a pleasant-faced blond woman in her midforties appeared at the booth.

  "You gonna eat today, Barry?"

  "You know it, Dotty. I'll have the usual."

  "Country-fried steak and eggs, and a short stack," the woman said. "Right."

  Keough's stomach turned as he thought about country-fried steak at that moment.