BROTHER AND SISTER separated when Reuben knocked on the office door.
"I don't want to rush you, partner, but..."
"One second," Reg called back.
They heard Reuben’s heavy steps fading down the hall. Kris returned to her desk. Reg trailed for a last word.
"Guess this means I’m the sister now," he said.
"Ha-ha, hee-hee-hee, you wouldn’t survive as a woman, trust me. You’d have a heart attack with your first period. Go before you give Reuben one."
"I’ll stop by when I’m done, and then I am headed downstate."
Reg stared dumbly at her lack of reaction, as if he couldn’t believe what he was not hearing. His sister always had something to say when he told her he was going downstate.
Her brow furrowed at his blank, wide eyes. "I don't even have anything to say about that woman today. She is what she is, and that’s not going to change. Besides, I figured that’s where you were going when I saw you all dolled up."
"Dolled up?"
"You said you wanted to be a girl, right?"
"Yeah, yeah." His lips smirked off-center, as he passed her desk on his way to the door.
"Well, you did,” she laughed.
"By the way," he said, "the new light fixtures brighten up the place."
For the length of the narrow corridor, and as the walls expanded into the kitchen, the sounds of his sister giggling like a school girl delighted his ears.
"Okay, Nervous Nelly," Reg said. He slid into the windowed booth, opposite Reuben. "What do you have for me?"
"About time.” Reuben shoved a half empty plate aside, and plopped down an inch-thick case file.
"Barbara Drowns, Shirley Grieves, and Debbie Mourns. All prostitutes, all in their twenties, all dead. All sliced up like Halloween pumpkins and hog-tied to telephone posts around town. Barbara in Munger, Shirley in Glen Eagle, and Debbie along Midland Road. There was evidence of sexual assault in all cases. Also, and not released to the press, each had some kind of weird symbol carved above their left breasts. Popular consensus is the occult. Crime scene evidence is negligible. Lacerations to the flesh show no signs of a pattern, save the symbol, and, in fact, appear frenzied. The cutter may have been aroused by what he was doing, possibly excited by the sight of blood."
Reg listened intently, chewing on a slice of bacon and making connections in his head. Munger, Glen Eagle, and Midland Road, three neighborhoods lined up in sort of a half arc on the map. It’s what made him choose Kawkawlin for his surveillance. It was the next area closest to continuing the arc.
He turned out to be right. But whether the killer was working by design or chance, he didn’t know. If anyone in the department still listened to him, this nightmare would be over. They would have bagged the Animal last night. Unfortunately, he was damaged goods since the incident. His judgment was constantly double checked, and his every suggestion glossed over.
It was all done respectfully, of course. He was once the up and coming star on the force, destined to make Captain faster than anyone before him. Now, he was contaminated stock, with six months left in his mandatory counseling. He called in favors to sneak peeks at case files, and ran surveillance traps on his nights off to redeem his reputation.
Reg shoved another sliver of bacon in his mouth. He tried to convince himself that sooner, rather than later, things would turn.
"On to last night's debacle," Reuben continued, "Angela Anguish. Caucasian like the others, symbolized and sow-tied like the others, a prostitute like the others, and unquestionably dead like the others.”
Reg hung his head and frowned in disgust at the last victim.
“Here are the cherries, partner. Found on the body of Angela Anguish, and none of the others, were microscopic flakes of red paint. Captain Freeman has forensics on double time matching the brand. And, get ready for this, one of the guys at the station dabbles in all that numbers and star stuff. He noticed that the killings are coinciding with the moon.”
Reg cocked his head, still chewing. "The moon?"
"Yep, the freaking moon, man.”
"Rube, make some sense, quick."
Reuben laughed, then looked back down to the paperwork.
"According to an Officer Menendez, the slayings have been occurring in the Lunar Cycle. He says here that the moon has the appearance of being full for about 36 hours. It is within these 36 hours, every 29 days or so, that the Animal has been claiming his victims."
Reg would have thought Reuben was pulling his leg, if he hadn’t mentioned Menendez, and used the words Lunar Cycle. It wasn't his jesting style. Reuben was more—“Evidence is linked to Mr. Krabs, who was last seen in the vicinity of Bikini Bottom.” His two recently adopted daughters had been influencing his whole line of thinking.
"What are you trying to tell me, Rube, that the Wolf Man is real?"
"You wish, at least then we would have some DNA. The task force thinks some kind of moon worshiping cult. They began working that angle with the symbol this morning."
"Hmm."
"Hmm, what, Reg?"
"I’ll let you know." Reg shoveled a forkful of starchy eggs into his mouth. "Have to go.”
"Where?”
He took a bite of toast and polished off the last of the heart attack meat, and slid out of the booth. "Hopefully, to get some answers.”
Reuben caught up with him at the door.
"Not without me. I know that look. You’re onto something.”
"Aren't you on duty? Overtime to help out at home?" Reg said.
"That’s why I am coming with you. If something happens, I will be there in an official capacity, and you won't get in trouble."
A gust of wind flailed their ties leaving the diner.
"Fine, but we take your car, and I'm driving."