Bad Thoughts

Chapter 35

Malcolm Winters had the same chin, or lack of chin, as his son, Herbert. The rest of him, though, was different. Frail, hunched over, his eyes pained, his face sagging. His wife, Ethel, was a brittle thing of a woman. All wrinkles and bone. Step on her and she’d crack like a stick. The room they were in had a scrubbed, powdery smell. No hint of that familiar, rotting odor. Everything clean and in its place. Medical journals lined several book shelves.

“He left home when he was eighteen,” Mr. Winters explained.

Sitting was too much for Mrs. Winters. She popped off the floral-patterned sofa, her hands nervously pulling at each other. “Are you sure I couldn’t get you anything?” she chirped out in an unnaturally brittle voice.

Shannon declined. Mr. Winters took hold of his wife’s arm. Reluctantly, she let herself be guided back to the sofa.

“There was no way to know that he would do what he did,” Mr. Winters said. “We gave him a good home. We never hit him. We did everything you’re supposed to do.

“There was never any hint at all,” he said after a long pause, “except for that poor Chilton girl.”

Ethel Winters put a hand to her face as if she were about to weep. “There were all those animals,” she said.

“There were no animals!”

“Of course there were. Those stray dogs and cats-”

“How were we supposed to know he had anything to do with them?”

“You knew. We both knew. Just like we knew about little Marjorie Chilton.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Mr. Winters snapped back at his wife, his sagging face growing beet red. He turned back towards Shannon. “At the time, neither us had any suspicions about that girl. There was no reason for us to have had any. There were no reasons for anyone to have had any.”

Ethel Winters stared at her husband in stony silence before looking away, her lips pressing hard and virtually disappearing within her lined, wrinkled face.

“Of course, anyone can look back with hindsight… but how can anyone expect a thirteen-year-old boy capable of doing something like that? How could you think that of your own child?” Mr. Winters asked.

“He was only six when he started with the animals,” Ethel Winters said.

Mr. Winters ignored her. “If I had any idea that he had done those things to that little girl I would’ve had him committed. I wouldn’t have let him walk free. You have got to understand he was a quiet, introverted boy and people were suspicious of him because of that, and well, his appearance. He was unnaturally pale, almost an albino. And along with inheriting my chin…”

His voice trailed off as he lost himself in thought. Then, almost pleading, “I’m a doctor. If there were any indications of deviant behavior, of psychosis, don’t you think I would’ve picked up on it?”

“You ignored it,” his wife said.

“I didn’t ignore anything!”

“I can tell you firsthand he was as psychotic as they come,” Shannon said.

“I know you can,” Mr. Winters agreed, trying to smile. “I feel sick inside about what happened to you and your mother. I wish there was something I could’ve done to have stopped it. I’ve been wishing that for twenty years.”

“I appreciate your concern,” Shannon said dryly. “Do you have any other children?”

Mr. Winters shook his head, surprised.

“How about any friends who might’ve been with your son?”

Mr. and Mrs. Winters looked at each other. “We told the other detective all about that,” Mr. Winters said.

“About what?”

“About my brother Earl’s boy, Charlie. The two of them were together all the time as children. They left Mornsville together. Didn’t that detective tell you any of this?”

Shannon shook his head.

“God help us,” Ethel Winters murmured, “the two of them even looked alike. Ugly little bastards.”

Charlie Winters’s parents were both dead. Neither Mr. or Mrs. Winters had heard from their nephew since he left Mornsville with their son. “I told the police that he might’ve been involved with what happened to you and your mother, but I never heard anything more from them,” Mr. Winters said.

Before Shannon left, Mrs. Winters moved close to him, her bony hands touching his arm. “The FBI had told us they were investigating Herbert for other murders. They never found any, but I know there were others. God help me, I’m afraid to think how many there were.”

Shannon was able to get on a ten o’clock flight back to Boston. He dozed off quickly, almost as soon as he closed his eyes. Charlie Winters was waiting for him. Winters’s rotting, sickish odor was waiting for him.

“I know who you are, Charlie,” Shannon said.

“You’re a day late and a dollar short, bright boy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Winters smiled. A thin, diseased smile. “Everybody knows about me. They’ve been showing my picture on the news all night. As it turns out, you were the last to know.”

“You’re lying-”

“I wish I were. Sad to say I’m not. And even sadder, our special little relationship is coming to an end. After tonight.”

“Elaine must have recovered-”

“No, sorry chump, she’s dead as a doornail.”

“Then how’d they find out about you?”

Winters’s pale, rattlesnake eyes dulled a bit as he stared at Shannon.

“Damn you! Answer me!”

“You see, I don’t have to,” Winters said after a while, “but I’ll trade you. You tell me why you didn’t call any of your cop friends after speaking to my aunt and uncle, and I’ll tell you how I got careless.”

“I was waiting until I got back to Boston.”

“You’re lying. Even in your dreams you’re a little pissant liar. I think you were planning on keeping it a secret. I think you were going to try to track me down so you could enact your little lying pissant revenge on me. And to hell with all the innocents who would die in the meantime. And, Billy Boy, there would be plenty. Is that it?”

“Fuck you.”

“If you want to trade you have to trade fair. Is that it, Billy Boy?”

“Okay. That’s it. I was going to find you and then cut your fucking ugly head off just like I did your cousin. And then I’d have a pair of the god ugliest bookends on earth.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Winters said. “Except, I’m not keeping my end of the bargain. You see, I just keep taking from you. Taking and taking without giving anything back. I took your mommy and, for the most part, your daddy from you. I took your childhood, your career, and even your sanity. And I took that pretty bitch redhead you dream about. Oh yeah, earlier tonight, I took your dago cop partner.”

Winters nodded slowly, his face expressionless, his skin a grim, icy white. “That’s right,” he explained, “I got him tonight. I snuck up behind him. I think he smelled me at the last second but before he could completely turn around I had an ice pick in his kidney. And then we had some fun. A couple of hours of hard rock and roll.

“So come on,” Winters asked, “what’s left for me to take?”

“You sick piece of shit.”

“That’s not it,” Winters said, shaking his head with exaggerated pity. “That doesn’t even make sense. Why would I want to take a sick piece of shit away from you? Come on, think harder. It’s really pretty easy. Even for such a bright boy.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to guess what I can still take away from you. I’ll give you a hint. It’s an old joke. Take my blank, please.”

Shannon didn’t say anything. Winters was only a few feet from him, his body bobbing up and down as if it were floating on the ocean. He wondered if he could end it right there, if killing Winters’s dream self would kill off his physical self. He wanted to try it more than he ever wanted to try anything. Winters seemed to sense what Shannon was thinking. He started to chortle, his slit mouth twisting into a smirk.

“You don’t want to try that, now,” Winters admonished softly, his singsong voice rising and falling with the bobbing of his body. “If you did, I’d have to break your fingers some more and you’d wake up screaming like a baby. Like last time.

“Anyway,” Winters added, “being such a bright bulb, you’ve probably guessed what’s left for me to take. If you woke up now you won’t be able to stop me. I’d just have to go ahead and take it. Tonight. Besides, if you could kill people off in their dream states, don’t you think I’d be doing it?”

Shannon took a step back. “Okay,” he said, “what do you want from me?”

“In a minute. Just so we’re clear, I’m talking about your wife. You know, take my wife, please. I’m with her right now. She’s all dressed up like a Christmas turkey. And I’ve got the carving knife.”

“Why do you think I care? She left me.”

“You care, Billy Boy. You don’t want her to end up like all the others, do you?”

Shannon found himself involuntarily shaking his head. “For the last time, what do you want?”

“The same as you. I want the two of us to get together tonight. Have a little dance. Make a little romance.”

Shannon agreed and Winters gave him the address where he had Susan.

“I’ll be watching you,” Winters warned. “Just like I can meet you in your dreams, I can watch you while you’re awake. If you speak to anyone, call anyone, I’ll know about it. And I’ll do things to her that I’ve only dreamed about. Imagine that, things that someone like me has only dreamed about. Then I’ll disappear. So don’t be stupid.”

Winters body floated off, floated until it became a small, white point. Floated off until there was nothing.

Turbulence jerked Shannon awake in his seat. For a brief heartbeat he could still smell the odor, for a bit longer he could taste it in his throat. He found himself gagging from it. The woman sitting next to him was eyeing him somewhat suspiciously.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Shannon nodded and, when he could, he muttered something about having a bad dream. He found a pen and wrote down the address Winters had given him. He couldn’t afford to forget it. Then he fell back into his seat, feeling his heart skipping on him, racing away like a rabbit’s.

He knew Winters was with Susie. There was no doubt in his mind about it. The sonofabitch psycho had told him the truth. And he knew Susie would be kept alive until he got there. About watching him, Shannon knew that was true, also. As impossible as it sounded, he knew it was true. But if Winters were watching him, he wouldn’t be able to do things to Susie, he’d have to be concentrating his energies on Shannon. Unless he took occasional breaks, thinking that watching Shannon ninety percent of the time would be enough. Even still, Susie would be kept alive.

As much as he tried telling himself otherwise, he knew Winters had also told him the truth about DiGrazia. It fit together. Joe would’ve gone to pick up Susie after the case broke against Winters. Somehow Winters followed him and got to him-probably as he was opening the door to wherever he had Susan hidden. Or maybe the psycho found Susie first and waited for Joe. Anyway, Shannon knew it was true and knew Winters would’ve taken his time killing his partner. And he knew Winters would’ve forced Susie to watch.

A numbing calm took over. It was almost peaceful. Something like death. The plane wouldn’t be landing for a couple of hours, but that was okay. Susie would be kept alive. There was nothing to do but wait. Wait and let himself slip into the blissful numbness. And he welcomed it.

Charlie Winters’s eyes opened slowly and, as they did, they focused on Susan Shannon. She was lying spread-eagle on the kitchen table, each of her limbs tied by wire to each of the four table legs. If she struggled the wire would slice her skin. Her own eyes were large and shining brightly with terror. A dish rag had been stuffed in her mouth. All her clothing had been removed.

Seeing her terror excited him. He closed his eyes momentarily and breathed deeply. He could just about smell her terror. A barely palpable pungent smell. Sweeter, though, than the heavy, rotting, death odor that he carried.

He stood up and leaned over her so that his face was inches from hers. Even though she was gagged he could hear the sudden intake of her breath. Pure unadulterated fear exploded in her eyes and it sent a dizzying rush of exhilaration through him that nearly floored him. He had to back up a few steps. He ran his tongue slowly over his lips and swallowed.

“Did I frighten you?” he asked in his soft, singsong voice.

She made a muffled noise that sounded something like “please.”

Charlie Winters could barely contain himself. He picked up the carving knife that he had left lying against her neck and ran the blade over the length of her body, pushing the skin down but not cutting it. He did a complete trace of her body, ending back at her throat.

“You don’t want any sudden movements,” he whispered into her ear, his breath stale and harsh, “because those wires I’ve tied around your wrists and ankles will cut straight to the bone. Probably even clean through it. Understand, sweetmeat?”

She nodded her head, tears leaking from her eyes.

Winters took hold of the index finger on her right hand and slid the knife under it. The drive to cut it off was pounding in his head. For a long moment he stared, transfixed on her finger. Then he let it go and took a step away. If he started now he wouldn’t be able to stop and that wouldn’t be any good. He needed her alive for when Shannon showed up.

Those were the plans he had improvised. They weren’t his original plans, but his original plans had gotten shot to hell because he had let Eddie Podansky live.

Podansky. He had gotten careless with him. He should’ve found his family and taken care of them and then taken care of Podansky. But he had let things slide and the Brookline cop was alive to make the connection between him and Elaine Horwitz. After all, Podansky had stopped him only a few blocks from Horwitz’s office, and the cop was suspicious as hell to begin with. And it wasn’t a difficult leap from Charlie to his cousin Herbert and then to the recent killings.

Since the six o’clock news, his prison picture had been shown repeatedly over the airwaves and there was no disguise for a man who looked like Charlie Winters.

He knew about it over an hour before the news. While out of his body he had eavesdropped on DiGrazia. Then DiGrazia was on the phone with Shannon’s wife, telling her about Winters, and arranging with her to pick her up. Hearing Susan’s voice over the phone allowed Winters to navigate to her. After that it was simple. He knew where she was and he knew when DiGrazia would be picking her up. All he had to do was hide in the bushes with an ice pick and wait.

Charlie Winters forced himself to look away from his prisoner. It just wouldn’t do if he got started now, because if he did there would be nothing left of her by the time Shannon got there. Nothing but pieces, anyway. He let out a lung full of sour, fetid breath as he sighed heavily and then sat back down and closed his eyes. A few moments later he was out of his body and watching Shannon.