Silent Screams - C. E. Lawrence [34]
Walked smiled broadly, revealing a gold tooth. “No sweat. On the eleventh I was out of town. Went to see my dear old mom—I’m a very devoted son. I can show you the plane tickets to prove it.”
Chuck held his gaze. “Plane tickets can be forged.”
“Call my mother and ask her.”
Butts left his pacing and came around behind Walker. “Oh, that’s a good idea,” he said. “I’m sure she wouldn’t be interested in covering for her only son—I know she wouldn’t think of lying to the police.”
Lee touched Chuck’s elbow.
“What?” Chuck said.
Lee leaned in to whisper into his ear. “It’s not him. This isn’t our guy.”
“Okay,” Chuck whispered back, “but I still have to go through with this.”
“Your friend is right, you know,” Walker said. “I’m not your guy.”
Chuck’s fair face reddened. “You know what? I’ll decide that for myself.”
Walked shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “Suit yourself,” he said, cleaning his fingernails with a book of matches. The picture on the matchbook cover was of a tall, curvaceous feline wearing black lingerie. The logo read PUSSYCAT LOUNGE.
“You know,” he said, “I don’t go for Catholic girls. Too uptight.”
Chuck leaned into Walker’s face. “This may be just a game to you, you son of a bitch, but it’s not to us, and if you make one more crack like that, I swear—”
“Hey, easy, there,” Walker said, holding up his callused hands. “I didn’t mean anything by it, man. Just trying to let you know I’m not your guy.”
“Jesus,” Chuck muttered. “What is it with you guys that you can laugh about something like this? What was left out when they put you together, huh?”
“I’m not any happier than you are about this guy,” Walker snarled. “Hell, I’m no killer. It would never occur to me to hurt a woman—ask my girlfriend. I’m a pussycat.”
“Like the dancers at the Pussycat Lounge?” Butts said, indicating the matches on the table.
“Hey, hey—my girlfriend works there, okay?”
“Figures,” Butts muttered.
“She’s a waitress, okay?” Walker said, going for a cigarette.
“No smoking in here,” Chuck snapped. He tried to snatch the cigarette from Walker’s mouth, but Walker was faster, and put it back in the pack.
“Hands off, man—these things are expensive! Jeez, what do you guys do around here for fun?”
“Beat the crap out of guys like you,” Butts shot back.
“No shit. And you don’t get busted for police brutality?” Walker asked with mock innocence.
“Why don’t we find out?” Butts replied.
“That’s enough!” Chuck snapped at the detective.
Walker smiled, and Lee was taken aback by the cruelty in that smile. “You know, every minute you spend with me is time you’re not spending catching this guy. Why, he could be out there right now, selecting his next victim, some good little Catholic girl. Nice piece of virgin ass. He could be putting his hands—”
Lee’s vision seemed to contract, and he felt as if the air in the room was pressing in on him. “That’s enough!” he bellowed, springing to his feet. He lunged at Walker and managed to wrap his hands around Walker’s throat.
But Walker was bigger than he was, and very quick. He broke Lee’s grip and landed a series of punches with such speed that no one in the room could move fast enough to stop him. The first blow connected with Lee’s stomach, knocking the air out of him, and then Walker aimed for his face, an uppercut to the chin followed by a roundhouse that caught Lee in the upper cheekbone, right at the bridge of his nose.
He staggered backward, feeling the blood rushing from his nose, blinded by the force of the blow. He hit the floor hard, dazed and shaken.
Chuck seized Walker by the shoulders, at the same moment calling for backup. Butts was right behind him, pinning Walker’s hands down as two uniformed officers rushed into the room, guns drawn.
“Handcuff this guy,” Chuck said, and one of the officers quickly slipped a pair of cuffs around Walker’s wrists. “Now get him out of here!”
As the officers escorted Walker out of the room, he called out over his shoulder to Chuck.
“Hey, why don’t you get your friend some lithium