“We have to! Red Mask doesn’t have a scent that a real dog can follow. But a painted dog could. Think of what happened this morning, when your daddy looked at that painting of the New Milford Green. He could hear it and feel it and smell it, and a painted dog should be able to do the same.”
“My God,” said Trevor.
Sissy crushed out her cigarette. “Molly?” she said. “Do you think you can do it?”
Molly looked up at Trevor and took hold of his hand. “Come on, sweetheart. We’ve come this far. And it’s only a dog.”
“For Christ’s sake. Why don’t you paint some horses, too, while you’re at it? Then you’ll be able to ride downtown.”
“Trevor,” said Sissy, and her voice was stern. “Over forty people have already been killed, and if we don’t do something about it, a whole lot more are going to die, too.”
Trevor was about to answer when his cell warbled. He fished it out of his shirt pocket and said, “Trevor Sawyer.”
He listened, and nodded, and then he passed it over to Sissy. “It’s for you, Momma. Detective Bellman. Something really bad has happened.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mask Hunt
A huge black traffic cop waved them through the police barrier on Seventh Street and told them to take a left on Vine and then a right on Sixth. They drew up to the curb outside the Giley Building and found Detective Bellman waiting for them on the steps outside.
Although it was still warm and humid, the sky was slate gray, and there were snakes’ tongues of lightning across the river to the southwest. Further up Race Street, at least ten ambulances were parked in a line with their emergency lights flashing, as well as cars and vans from the coroner’s office.
Detective Bellman opened the passenger door for them and helped Sissy to climb down.
“I was so shocked when you told me about Detective Kunzel,” she said. “That was one death I didn’t see coming.”
“We’re all shocked,” said Detective Bellman. “Mike Kunzel — it was like he was invulnerable, you know? Bulletproof, knifeproof. Deathproof.”
“No witnesses?”
Detective Bellman shook his head. “Like I told you on the phone, he said he had a call from Red Mask inviting him to meet him here. Red Mask even challenged him to bring as much backup as he wanted.”
“How many casualties?” asked Molly.
“Twenty-three, all told, including Mike. Twelve stabbed to death on the third parking level, six stabbed to death on the stairs between the fifth-and the sixth-level landings — that was a really frenzied attack, believe me. Another four fatally injured when the elevator dropped to the basement.”
Frank came around the SUV and nodded to Detective Bellman.
Sissy said, “Detective Bellman, this is my younger brother Frank.”
“Good to meet you,” said Detective Bellman. “Connecticut State Police, yes?”
Frank held up the eagle-crested badge that Molly had painted for him. “That’s right, Detective. Glad I’ve got the opportunity to help you out.”
Detective Bellman pointed up to the parking structure. “We’ve had more than seventy officers searching the parking levels roof to basement, and they found absolutely no sign of the perpetrators nowhere. Not even a footprint.”
“Anybody see them leave the parking structure after it was all over?”
“Nope. There’s an alley at the rear, but that was covered, and there’s no direct access from the parking structure to the Giley Building itself. There used to be a third-story walkway between the two of them, but they demolished it about three years ago for security and safety reasons.”
“How about the Giley Building itself? Have you searched that again?”
Detective Bellman shook his head. “It’s been locked and guarded ever since the last attack, so there’s no way that the perpetrators could have gotten back in there.”
“What did your lieutenant say when I asked you if I could search it?” asked Sissy.
“He said that you were welcome to look for any additional forensics. Provided, of course, you don’t tell anybody what kind of forensics we’re talking about. Especially the media.”
“Don’t worry,” said Sissy. “The words psychic resonance won’t even pass my lips.”
Detective Bellman said, “You pretty much convinced Mike that something psychic was going on, did you know that? I think it was when you heard that cleaner calling out to you from the elevator.”
“How about you?”
“Me — I’m a total nonbeliever. But I don’t believe in not trying out something just because I don’t believe in it. I’m not God, am I, so what do I know? Besides, I think that Lieutenant Booker is pretty keen to give it a try. He used a medium when he was stationed out at Shaker Heights, to look for some missing kid. The woman found the kid in two hours flat. Well, she found his remains.”
Trevor went to the back of his SUV and opened the hatch. “Come on, boy,” he said, and out bounded a large German Shepherd with pricked-up ears. Trevor clipped a leash on him.
“Okay if we take Deputy with us?” asked Sissy. “He’s a first-class scenting dog.”
Detective Bellman said, “Whatever. Sure. Good idea.”
They climbed the steps to the entrance of the Giley Building, where two uniformed officers with shotguns were standing guard. One of them untied the yellow police tape for them and unlocked the revolving doors.
“Officer Gillow here, he’ll come with you, just in case you run into any trouble. If you see or hear anything suspicious, no matter what it is, don’t try to be heroes, okay? Get the hell out of there, quick.”
Molly said, gently, “Did you speak to Betty yet?”
Detective Bellman nodded. “I went around to see her a couple of hours ago to tell her that Mike was gone. She didn’t say a whole lot. I think she’s like the rest of us. We can’t believe that Mike won’t be coming trundling back through the door, whistling that goddamned ‘Goin’ Courtin’.’ ”
“It’s so sad. He was such a great guy. Do you know what he used to call me? ‘Crayola,’ like it was my name.”
“I told him,” said Detective Bellman. “I told him he shouldn’t go up there on his own. We needed serious backup. Mike was always the first person to say don’t rush into things until you’ve checked them out first. But he wouldn’t listen. He went charging up those stairs like a bull, and that was the last time I saw him alive.”
As if he were offering his sympathy, Deputy came up to Molly and Detective Bellman and gave them a single sharp bark. He was a handsome dog, with intelligent brown eyes and a long-haired black and tan coat. He should have been good-looking: as reference for her painting of him, Molly had used three color photographs of the Cincinnati scenting-dog champion, Fritz.
It had taken her an hour to paint him and a further two hours before his image had eventually faded from her cartridge paper. As a precaution, they had shut Mr. Boots in the utility room while they waited for Deputy to make his appearance, in case the new arrival made him jealous. The last thing they had wanted was a dog-fight.
Even so, when Deputy had materialized in the yard and started sniffing at the cicadas, Mr. Boots had started to make that mewling sound in the back of his throat. Something strange was happening, and he knew it.
Detective Bellman patted Deputy’s head. “Good dog. You go sniff out those scumbags who killed my partner, okay? Then I’ll give you all the bones you can eat, I promise you. Forever.”
Officer Gillow pushed his way through the revolving doors first. He was a short, chunky young man with cropped ginger hair and bulging blue eyes. His expression was permanently pugnacious, as if he were bursting for somebody to challenge him or talk back to him or step out of line. Sissy tore open a roll of Life Savers Cryst-O-Mints because she didn’t want to confuse Deputy’s scenting with cigarette smoke. She gave one to Frank and then and she held the roll out to Officer Gillow. He stared at her as if she were offering him a hit off her bong.