The 6th Target

Something else had been dislodged during the fracas. A pipe had rolled out from under the bed.

It was about an inch and a half in diameter, eighteen inches long, with a ball joint screwed onto one end.

A two-part construction that looked like a club.

I stooped down to examine it closely.

There was a fine brown stain in the threads where the ball joint screwed onto the pipe. I drew Conklin's attention, and he stooped down beside me. Our eyes met for a second.

"Looks like this was used as a bludgeon," Conklin said.

Chapter 106

WE WERE IN INTERVIEW ROOM NUMBER TWO, the smaller of the interrogation rooms at the squad. Te

He was wearing a white T-shirt and jeans. He had his elbows on the table. His face was turned down so that the overhead light made a starburst pattern on his balding scalp.

He wasn't talking because he'd asked for a lawyer.

It would take about fifteen minutes for his request to filter down to the public defender's office. Then another fifteen minutes before some attorney would come up and find his or her client in our interrogation room.

Meanwhile, nothing Te

"We got our warrant to search your premises," I told him. "That pipe contraption you used to kill Irene Wolkowski and Ben Wyatt? It's at the lab now. We'll have results before your PD shows up."

Te

"But I'm interested in your thoughts," I said to Te

"I'm writing a book, and I'd like to get back to it, actually."

Conklin came into the room carrying a battery-operated radio. Richie slammed the door hard, then turned on the radio. Loud static came through the speakers. He fiddled with the dials, turned the volume up.

He said to Te

I saw the alarm in Te

"Hey," Te

"In a minute, in a minute," Conklin said. He dialed up the volume, set the radio down on the table. "Can I get you some coffee, Garry? It's not Starbucks, but it's got all the caffeine you could ask for."

"Look," Te

"We're not questioning you, buddy," Conklin said. He picked up a metal chair, set it down with a loud bang right next to Te

"We're trying to help you. You want a lawyer – that's fine," Conklin said directly into Te

"Fine with me," I said over the radio static. I fiddled with the dial, found some '80s heavy metal, turned it up so that the discordant electronic twang almost vibrated the table.

"We're going to exhume the dogs you killed, Garry," I said over the music. "Match the teeth up with those wounds in your arm. And we're going to match the DNA from the blood on your club to your victims.

"And then Inspector Conklin and I are going to sign up for front-row seats for your execution in twenty years or so, unless of course you want to have me call the DA. See if we can get the death penalty off the table."

I looked at my watch. "I figure you've got about ten minutes to decide."

A band called Gross Receipts launched into its jarring rendition of "Brain Buster." Te

"Stop. Stop. Call off the lawyer. I'll tell you what happened. Just please, shut that thing off."

Chapter 107

IT WAS STILL POURING when I parked behind Claire's SUV.

I cut across the street in the lashing rain, ran fifty yards to the front door of Susie's. I opened it to the ringing beat of steel drums and the smell of curried chicken.

I hung my coat on the rack inside the door, saw that Susie was coaxing her regulars into a limbo competition as the band tuned up.

Susie called to me, "Lind-say, get out of your wet shoes. You can do this, girl."

"No way, Suz." I laughed. "Don't forget, I've seen this before." I showed myself into the back room. I buttonholed Lorraine and ordered a Corona.

Yuki waved to me from the back booth. Then Cindy looked up and gri

When my beer came, Cindy proposed a toast to me for the takedown of Garry Te

I laughed off the toast, saying, "I was extremely motivated, Cindy. I didn't want a roommate, and you were going to have to move in with me permanently if we didn't catch that bastard." Yuki and Claire hadn't heard the details, so I filled them in.

"He's 'writing' this book called The Accounting," I told them. "It's subtitled A Statistical Compendium of the Twentieth Century."

"Come on! He's writing about everything that happened in the last hundred years?" Yuki asked.

"Yeah, if you can call page after page of statistics 'writing'! Like, how much milk and grain were produced in each state in each year, how many kids went through grade school, the number of accidents involving kitchen appliances -"

"Jeez, you can Google that stuff," Yuki said.

"But Garry Te

"How'd he even hear all those people and their noises in his closed-off little room?" asked Claire.

"Sound travels through the plumbing and the vents," Cindy said. "Comes out in weird places. Like, I can hear people singing through my bathroom air duct. Who are they? Where do they live? I don't know."

"I'm wondering if he doesn't have hyperacusis," said Claire.

"Come again?" I said.

"It's when the auditory processing center of the brain has a problem with noise perception," Claire told us over the racket in the back room and the clanking of dishware from the kitchen. "Sounds that others can barely hear are intolerable to the person who has hyperacusis."

"To what effect?" I asked.

"It would make the person feel isolated. You stir all that up with explosive-anger disorder and sociopathology, well, you get Garry Te

"The Phantom of the Blakely Arms," Cindy said. "Just tell me there's no chance he's going to get out on bail."

"None," I said. "He confessed. We have the murder weapon. He's in and he's done."

"Well, if he really has this auditory disorder, Garry Te

"Hear! Hear!" said Cindy, pointing at her ears.

We dug in, swapped stories and worries, Claire telling us that her workload had doubled and that "We're having a farewell pour for Dr. G. tonight. He got a job offer he couldn't refuse. Somewhere in Ohio."

We toasted Dr. Germaniuk, and then Claire asked Yuki how she was feeling these days.

"I'm feeling a little bipolar," Yuki said, laughing. "Some days I think Fred-a-lito-lindo is going to convince the jury he's a legitimate psycho. The next morning I wake up absolutely sure I'm going to beat Mickey Sherman's pants off."