Serial Uncut - J. A. Konrath [26]
Better to nip it in the bud and drop him fast. Though I didn’t have to feel good about it.
I took a deep, steadying breath, and managed to sip some coffee without spilling it all over myself, all the while keeping one eye on the entrance. I’d hurt the pimp bad enough to require an emergency room visit, but if he were tougher and dumber than I’d guessed, he might return with a weapon. I set my purse on the counter, my .38 within easy reach, just in case.
“You’re Lieutenant Jack Daniels, aren’t you?”
I glanced at the fat man again. Even though I’d been on the news many times, I didn’t get recognized very often in Chicago, and it never happened away from home.
“And you are?” My voice came out higher than I would have liked.
“Just a fan. You got that serial killer Charles Kork, the one they called the Gingerbread Man. How many women did he kill?”
“Too many.” I turned back to my coffee.
“I saw the TV movie. The one that became the series. You’re much better looking than the actress who played you.”
I was in no mood to be idolized. Plus, there was something creepy about this guy.
“Look, buddy, I don’t want to be rude, but I’m really not up for conversation right now.”
The fat man didn’t take the hint. “And you got Barry Fuller. He killed over a dozen, didn’t he? He was both a serial killer and a mass murderer, due to all those Feds he took out at that rest stop.”
I sighed. The waitress came by with my cheese curds. She set down the basket and winked at me. “These are on me.”
“Thanks. I could use some salt.”
I tried a curd. Too hot, so I spit it back out into my palm and played hot potato until it cooled off. My biggest fan refused to give up.
“There were others in the Kork family as well, weren’t there? A whole group of psychos. I heard they killed over forty people, total.”
I really didn’t want to think about the Kork family, and I really didn’t want to have a late-night gabfest with a cop groupie.
But, on the plus side, knocking out that pimp’s teeth really woke me up.
When the waitress brought me the salt, I asked for my meal to go. The fat guy apparently didn’t like that, because he gave me his back and had an intense whisper exchange with his buddy; a younger, attractive man in a flannel shirt. The young guy nodded, got up, and left.
“Just one last question, Lieutenant, and then I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
I sighed again, glancing at him. “Go ahead.”
“Did you ever try to take on two serial killers at once?”
I popped a curd in my mouth. “Can’t say that I have.”
He smiled, lopsided. “Too bad. That would have been cool.”
The fat guy threw down some money, then followed his buddy out.
No longer pestered, I decided to eat there, and settled in to eat my cheese curds.
5
Taylor hadn’t ever killed a cop. He came close once, a few years ago, when a state trooper pulled him over, and asked him to step out of his truck. Taylor had been ready to pull his knife and gut the pig, but the cop only wanted him to do a field sobriety test. Taylor wouldn’t ever risk driving drunk, and he easily passed, getting let off with a warning and pulling away with a dead hooker in his sleeping compartment.
But he was itching to get at this cop. Taylor liked strong women. He liked when they fought him, refusing to give up. They were so much fun to break. Especially when they had such adorable feet.
As Donaldson suggested, Taylor had left the diner and gone back to his rig to grab the ether. Candi with an i was still out cold, but she held far less fascination for Taylor than this new prospect.
I’m going to have a little nip of Jack Daniels, he thought, smiling wildly. Maybe more than one. And maybe not so little.
For helping out, he’d let Donaldson have Candi. While Taylor wasn’t into the whole