Victims

CHAPTER
32

Petra rang the bell, white paper bag in hand. She had on a sleeveless navy silk sheath, red sandals with heels, strategic pearls, darker-than-usual lipstick. First time I’d seen her in a dress.

Robin said, “Date night interrupted?”

“Woman plans, God laughs.”

Petra bent to pet Blanche. Blanche rolled on her back, earned a massage.

Petra said, “We made it through the first course, I took dessert to go.”

I said, “Want some coffee?”

“Strong, if you don’t mind.”

I brewed Kenyan, kicking up the octane. Robin and Petra settled at the table and Petra pulled plastic-topped boxes out of the bag. Assortment of cookies, four slabs of chocolate cake.

Robin said, “That’s more like catering.”

“I brought for everyone, seeing as you guys are donating home and hearth to the dark side.”

A heavy hand pounded the door.

Milo trudged in bearing a brown bag, greasy, flecked with powdered sugar. He scowled. “Who mugged a pastry chef?”

Robin sniffed the air. “This Magi brings churros?”

“It seemed like a good idea.” His eyes fixed on the chocolate cake.

“Flourless,” said Petra.

“Got nothing against flour, but why not?”

He put the churros aside, was ingesting cake before his haunches met his chair. Blanche waddled over and nuzzled his ankle. He said, “Yeah, yeah,” and conceded a rub behind her ear. She purred like a cat. “Yeah, yeah, again.”

Robin took her cup and headed for the back door. Blanche followed. “Good luck.”

No one invited her to stay. They like her.

Petra said, “This fake psychologist is Huggler’s confederate, as well as the Pitty character Eccles claimed was stalking him?”

Milo said, “Working assumption, kid, but it feels right. He steals one identity, why not another? Can’t find any ‘Pitty’ in the file, so maybe it’s a nickname. Or Eccles was totally delusional and we’re wrong.”

She turned to me. “How did fake-o come across when you talked to him?”

“Pleasant, professional, the right paper on the wall. The only time he stepped out of the role was when he complained that Vita had implied he was a quack. At the time, I took it as collegial banter.”

“Looks like she was right. Sometimes I wonder if those nasty people don’t have special insights. Maybe because they see everyone as a threat.”

Milo said, “But look what happens after they get elected.”

“Good point.” She turned to me. “You see Vita insulting him as the reason she got killed?”

I nodded. “His trigger, Huggler’s fun. We have two people working in concert, with layers of pathology building on each other. I’m not sure either of them understands it fully. At the base is Huggler’s fascination with human plumbing and no, I can’t tell you how that developed. It’s normal for children to wonder how their bodies work and kids who hold on to that curiosity sometimes channel it professionally-become mechanics, engineers, anatomists, surgeons. For a few, interest grows to obsession and gets tangled up with sexuality in a really bad way.”

She said, “Dahmer, Nilsen, Gein.”

“All of whom were described as odd children but none of whom had especially horrific childhoods,” I said. “Huggler killing his mother at eleven suggests a less-than-optimal upbringing, but it doesn’t come close to explaining the act. Whatever the reason, something short-circuited in his brain and he began pairing sexual gratification with plunging his hands into visceral muck. Being locked up for most of his life made him a prime target for observation and I’m betting one of his sharpest and most frequent observers wasn’t a doctor. It was a young man working a low-status job. Someone who’d never be invited to staff meetings but craved authority and had the time to pick up all sorts of interesting things.”

“Doctors come and go,” she said, “but guards stay on the ward for eight-hour shifts.”

“And this guard’s ability to sniff out depravity could’ve been fine-tuned because he could relate to it on a personal level.”

“His own kinks.”

Milo said, “Psychopath pheromones. One beast smells another.”

I said, “Pitty, or whatever his name really is, studied Huggler long enough to become a Huggler scholar. He befriended the boy and a mentor-trainee relationship developed. The boy had finally met someone who appreciated his urges instead of condemning them. Maybe it was Pitty who caught small animals for Huggler to play with.”

“What was the payoff for him?”

“Adulation, subservience, or maybe just having someone like himself to relate to. Given Huggler’s age and his apparent adjustment, there was a good chance he’d get out when he became an adult. Then Marlon Quigg ruined everything by exercising his own powers of observation, Huggler was subjected to unnecessary surgery and got put in Specialized Care. If I’m right about his only being out for five or so years, he was shipped off to another hospital, probably Atascadero, and got thoroughly institutionalized. A relationship with someone who claimed to care about him would’ve been his only link to reality.”

“Pitty moves with him, Pitty’s reality becomes his?” said Petra. She shook her head. “That surgery, talk about institutional abuse. I guess you could see a tit-for-tat: They cut his neck, he breaks other people’s necks. But then why haven’t we seen any throat-slashing? Wouldn’t that be a more direct symbolic revenge?”

“I could theorize for you all day-maybe he chose to avoid slashing because it cut too close to home. So to speak. The truth is we may never know what’s been stoking Huggler’s engine.”

Milo said, “V-State closes, mentor follows mentee, mentee finally gets out, mentor turns him into a lethal weapon. That’s your layer two?”

I nodded. “A weapon aimed at people who anger each or both of them. Pitty might not want to soil his own hands but if he’s the brittle, power-craving narcissist I think he is, he’d crave payback for slights the rest of us would shrug off.”

Petra said, “Are we talking something sexual between the two of them?”

“Maybe but not necessarily. It’s possible neither of them has anything close to a conventional sex life.”

“People irk me,” Milo said, “I sic Lil Buddy at them and they become anatomy projects.”

I said, “And Lil Buddy loves the assignment. That’s layer three: a perfect partnership that satisfies both of their needs. Let’s start with Vita Berlin: obnoxious, combative, spreading misery wherever she went. Like most bullies she had a keen sense about who’d make a safe victim and the man she knew as Dr. Shacker seemed perfect: physically unprepossessing, outwardly mild, and a psychologist-we’re expected to be patient, nonjudgmental. Think of the movies you’ve seen about therapists: Most show them as absentminded wimps. Vita may have been forced into sessions with the little wuss in order to collect her insurance settlement but she was damn sure going to have fun along the way. Right from the start she resisted, needled him, finally came out and let him know she thought he was a charlatan. Unfortunately for her, he’s anything but nonjudgmental. I wouldn’t be surprised if the death sentence was passed the moment the words left her mouth.”

“Call in Huggler,” said Milo. “Easy hit because fake-o-Shacker had her address, phone number, knew what she looked like.”

I said, “And despite her resistance she might’ve given out some personal details during the evaluation that also made stalking her easier. Huggler was spotted lurking near her garbage cans. My guess is he went through them, found her empties, knew she was a serious solitary drinker. If he found pizza boxes, that would also have helped set up the kill. In general, her routine was easy to learn because she rarely went out except for shopping and occasional meals at Bijou.”

“Think Pitty was in on the kill?”

“It’s possible he held a gun on the victims, served as a lookout. Two actors would explain no sign of struggle, even from someone as aggressive as Vita.”

Petra said, “The pizza box ruse was still a gamble, given Vita’s temper. What if she was sober enough to make a ruckus?”

I said, “ ‘Oops, gee sorry, ma’am, wrong address.’ Huggler leaves and they wait for a second chance.”

Milo said, “Eccles snoozing in the alley would’ve been a piece of cake. Same for Quigg.”

Petra said, “If we’re right about Quigg, he’d have been the major target-the person to blame for everything bad that happened to Huggler. With that kind of rage, why wait five years to get him?”

“Maybe there were other targets just as important-like Shacker-and they’re going down a list.”

Milo said, “Like the doc who actually did the throat-cutting.”

“Oh,” I said.

They looked at me.

“Huggler was busted for trespassing behind a medical office. The police assumed he was about to break in and steal dope. But what if Huggler had a more personal connection to the doctor?”

Milo said, “Stalking the surgeon. Problem with that is the arrest was in Morro Bay and Huggler’s surgery took place a hundred miles away in Camarillo.”

“People move.”

“The same surgeon just happened to live near two hospitals where Huggler was confined?”

I thought about that. “Maybe Huggler was taken to that particular surgeon because of an arrangement with V-State-some sort of consultancy. When V-State closed the guy went for the same thing at Atascadero.”

Petra said, “A guy who couldn’t make it in private practice. Maybe he had his own issues.”

I said, “Obviously, he had ethical issues.”

“Going for government dole,” said Milo. “I guess anything’s possible.”

She produced her iPhone, poked and scrolled.

Milo said, “What’s on that?”

“My notes.”

“You’re totally digital?”

“I copy stuff from the murder book so I can follow up at home… here we go. Huggler was busted at Bayview Surgical Group of San Luis Obispo County. It’s the right specialty, isn’t it?”

We shifted to my office and I ran a search on Bayview, found no current listings. But a four-year-old item from a San Luis Obispo TV station featured the disappearance of “local surgeon Dr. Louis Wainright, staff member of Bayview Surgical Group. Wainright, 54, was last seen hiking in the foothills above San Luis Obispo with his dog 11 days ago. The doctor’s SUV was found in a park service lot but neither he nor his German shorthaired pointer Ned has been seen since.”

Additional hits on the disappearance described futile searches conducted by law enforcement and a cadre of Eagle Scouts. A picture of Wainright showed him grim, gray-haired, and bearded with a strong jaw and outdoor skin.

“Dr. Hemingway,” said Petra. “Walking with his dog, just like Quigg. And our boy has a thing for animals.”

Milo said, “Let’s make sure Wainright didn’t eventually show up.”

He phoned the Morro Bay Police Department. A desk officer named Lucchese remembered Wainright because the surgeon had once removed a fatty tumor from his back.

“Good surgeon?”

“Not really,” said Lucchese. “Left me a lump scar. No bedside manner, either, just get in there and slice. Only reason I used him is he had a contract with the union.”

“Any theories about what happened to him?”

“That was some pretty rough terrain he was climbing. Best guess is he broke a leg or fainted or had a heart attack or a stroke or whatever, lay there without anyone noticing and either died outright or from dehydration or hypothermia. Eventually he probably got taken care of by mountain lions or kye-oats or both.”

“Human suspects were never on the radar?”

“No reason for them to be. Why’s this interest you, Lieutenant?”

“A former patient of Wainright’s is a suspect in a killing down here.”

“That so. Who?”

“Former inmate at Ventura State in Camarillo, back when Wainright worked there.”

“A nutter? We got plenty of those over at Atascadero and I guess one of them could’ve known Wainright from there. But those guys never get out, they’re the least of our problems.” He chuckled. “Best therapy: Lock ’em up and toss the key.”

“Wainright worked at Atascadero?”

“Part-time,” said Lucchese. “Guess he had a contract there, too. But there were no escapes around the time he went missing, no alerts, nothing. I’ll ask around for you but I won’t learn anything.”

Milo thanked him and clicked off.

Petra said, “Oh, my.”

I said, “Shacker was first, then as soon as Huggler got out, they went after Wainright. The trespassing bust delayed but didn’t deter them. A year later, Wainright was dispatched.”

“Easy to stalk the guy while he hiked,” said Milo. “Why would he fear a vengeful patient from almost twenty years before?”

“Even Huggler’s arrest wouldn’t have alerted him. If he even remembered-or knew-Huggler’s name. Morro Bay PD figured Huggler for an addict out to score, no reason to I.D. him to Wainright after they picked him up. Even if they had, why would Wainright connect a grown man to a kid he’d operated on years before?”

“Surgeon becomes patient,” said Petra. “God, how many others are out there?”

Milo said, “If Huggler and his mentor could wait to handle Wainright and Quigg and whoever else they might’ve done in between, why’d Shacker have to go right away?”

I said, “Shacker was a solo act by Pitty so Pitty could prove himself to Huggler and cement their bond. For that, he needed a quick, dramatic result.”

“Look what I did for you, Little Buddy,” said Petra.

“There was also time pressure: Shacker was elderly and he’d just been fired, meaning he would’ve left town. So Pitty reverted to something that had worked for him a few months before.”

“Poisoning, as in Eccles’s lady friend,” said Petra. “Two people drop dead within moments of leaving the hospital. What kind of poison could be calibrated that precisely?”

I said, “It wouldn’t have to be poison, per se. With a man of Shacker’s age and dietary habits, a huge dose of a strong heart stimulant could do the trick. As an alcoholic and a cocaine abuser, Eccles’s wife would also be vulnerable to cardiac insult.”

Milo said, “No poison, per se, means nothing on the tox screen.”

He got up, paced, tugged an earlobe. “Everything you’re saying makes sense, Alex, but unless one of these two monsters confesses, I don’t see Mentor going down for anything other than I.D. theft and practicing without a license. And Men tee could get away clean. He’s left no trace evidence and all we have on him are ambiguous sightings and a V-sign he shot to John Banforth that could be interpreted any number of ways.”

I said, “Find them and separate them. Huggler could be crackable.”

“Your mouth FedExed to God’s ears,” said Petra. “I’ve got another timing issue: If Pitty got slimed one too many times by Eccles and took it out on Eccles’s wife, why wait all these years to get the slimer himself?”

“Maybe he figured he’d get more immediate pleasure from watching Eccles suffer than from dispatching him. From having Eccles know what had happened and being powerless to do anything about it.”

Milo said, “Who the hell’s gonna pay attention to some lunatic’s ravings?”

I said, “Pitty could’ve planned to do Eccles after Eccles was discharged but Eccles went underground and Pitty couldn’t find him. As to why didn’t Eccles try to get back at Pitty, maybe his mental illness got in the way-too disturbed and scattered to devise a plan.”

“Or,” said Petra, “he was scared and got the heck out of Dodge.”

Milo said, “Then Pitty just happens to spot Eccles years later in Hollyweird?”

I said, “It’s not that big a coincidence. You’ve got a tip placing Huggler at a Hollywood clinic. The neighborhood’s a magnet for drifters and short-term residents. With Shacker renting a Beverly Hills office, I’ve been figuring him for a nice crib. But maybe he economizes in order to afford that office and he and Huggler are bunking in some pay-by-the-week.”

“On my turf,” said Petra. “Thrilling.”

Milo said, “We could write screenplays all night but at this point we don’t even know if Huggler was actually transferred to Atascadero, let alone Pitty or whatever his name is moving to be with him. So let’s stake out this fake shrink, nab him on I.D. theft, and see what shakes out. B.H. business district is small, we’ll need to be subtle, meaning more sets of eyes, extra-low profile. I’m gonna have Moe and Sean with me and whoever B.H. wants to send, assuming they cooperate. Wouldn’t mind Raul, either, if it’s okay with you.”

Petra made the call. “Done.”

I said, “Did you manage to get hold of Eccles’s last arrest report?”

“Sure did and the complainant wasn’t named Pitty or close. Something Stewart.”

“What’d he list for an address?”

“You really think he could be Pitty?”

“Something about him got Eccles hyped up.”

Back to her iPhone. “Mr. Loyal Steward. With a d.” She read off a phone number and a street address and her eyes got tight. “Main Street, City of Ventura. That’s commercial, isn’t it?”

“It’s also two towns north of Camarillo.”

Her aerial GPS confirmed it. “Big old parking lot, guys.”

She checked the phone number Loyal Steward had given to the arresting officers. Inactive, and a call to the phone company revealed it had never been in use.

“Loyal Steward,” said Milo. “That’s gotta be phony.”

I said, “It’s not a name. It’s how he sees himself.”