The Demon in the Doll

Chapter 21

Being a cop isn't nearly as glorious as it seems. Don't get me wrong. I love the job more than life itself. But the paperwork can really get you down. Lucky Larry's didn't open until 4 p.m., so I spent most of the day catching up on old cases. You know, dotting-the-i's-and-crossing-the-t's kind of stuff.

At noon I had a visitor. It kind of broke up the monotony of the day. He was a good Samaritan named Michael Kist, and he worked as an engineer for one of the local oil companies. Michael was a Yankee like my partner. He came from Pennsylvania.

He knocked on the door to my office. "Are you Detective Kingsley?"

"That's right."

He stepped in and took a seat in front of my desk. "Do you mind if I sit?"

I sighed heavily. "Would it matter? The deed is done."

He smiled awkwardly. "I'm just a little nervous."

"And why is that?"

"Well, I'm a little starstruck if you want to know the truth. I remember you back when you played for LSU. You were amazing."

"Thanks. But now I'm simply a working man like you. So how can I help?"

"I have a big problem with insomnia. In fact, I used to just sit in bed waiting for the sandman to smack me in the head with his fabled pillow. But these days I go for joyrides if sleep doesn't come."

"And?"

"I heard about that headless whore that you found in the cemetery, and I might have some info that will assist in your search for a culprit."

I breathed out heavily. "First of all, she wasn't headless. And secondly, we don't actually know if she was a prostitute. I prefer to simply think of her as the victim."

"I apologize. I'm a college-educated man who needs to mind his tongue. In fact, I maintained a 4.0 average at Penn State while majoring in chemical engineering. I should know better than to pigeonhole people. It's just that the victims of these types of crimes often work in the sex industry."

"Let's leave her out of it. Just tell me what you got."

"Anyway, I couldn't sleep. So I was driving around in my truck when I saw this huge guy jogging down the road at two in the morning. He was heading in the same direction as the graveyard."

"You say he was big?"

"Huge. He had to be at least six-and-a-half-feet tall. And he was put together like a brick shithouse. I definitely wouldn't want to tangle with him."

"How old was he?"

"I couldn't tell."

"Not even a guess?"

He shrugged. "Well, he seemed very athletic, so you have to figure that he's young. Maybe his early twenties? It was dark."

"Was the guy black? Was he white? Any little detail would be appreciated."

"I think he was white. But then again, he could have been black. I'm not really certain."

His information was compelling. There was a large athletic man near the crime scene when the beheading took place. Unfortunately, his description was so vague that there wasn't much I could do with it.

Mr. Kist looked me in the eye. I found his stare disconcerting.

I said, "Is there another detail that you would like to share?"