Ready. Set. Psycho.

Chapter Four: Solomon

           

Solomon walked down the hall, almost jogging, his shoulders hunched forward trying to keep balance. He reached Clive's office and ran past Linda. The door was locked. Linda opened it for him. Inside, Clive was sitting on a bench matching others Solomon had seen in the hallway.

Clive had the tube in one hand, a flask in another.

Solomon closed the door behind him and stood. "Did you open it?"

"It's not addressed to me, mate," Clive said. "You smell like you don't need this, but..." He offered Solomon the flask.

Solomon sat on the bench and took the tube from Clive. "What do we know?"

"It wasn't there when the autopsy in Brooklyn was done. Sol, someone in the chain of possession — or with access to it — must have put this here. Think Psycho's working with a doctor? I mean, he has fairly advanced pharmacological knowledge. I've always wondered."

"It isn't probable," Solomon responded.

"So, not a doctor?" Clive said. "Someone who could get in?"

"Anyone can get in. I got in just now. Walked in off the street. Passed the cooler. No one stopped me."

"But he must have known this would come to me. Anyone else, they call police, right? I mean, he must have known this would come to me. There's a small list of people..."

"You're not so unique, Clive. Any of a dozen people would have called me on this. He didn't have to know it was you. Hell, even if no one came to me with this, it would go to the captain, and she'd at the very least ask me to consult."

"No, she wouldn't," Clive said.

"Why?" Solomon asked, confused.

Clive was silent for a moment, looking Solomon up and down, and the tension gave Solomon his answer. He took the bottle out of his coat pocket and placed a pill under his tongue.

"But still, it limits the list of suspects. That has to be helpful; to help you figure out where he is," Clive said.

"It's not what I know," Solomon said. "It's what I can prove."

"You know where he is?" Clive said. He brought a flask to his lips and then lit up a cigarette.

"Not inside," Linda called.

"Not now, Linda!" Clive yelled back. "I'm in the middle of a crisis, for fuck's sake!"

Solomon regarded the tube. It was a simple test tube with a cork stopper. Inside was a note. He could see a face ringed by rays of sunshine. He opened the stopper and removed the note, reading it.

"What does it say?" Clive asked, taking a swig and a drag.

Solomon stood. "It says it is going to be over soon."

"What?" Clive said. Solomon handed Clive the note. "I don't get it. It's a sheep, a lump of iron, and an eye? And it looks like a child drew it."

"A child probably did draw it."

"Oh, that's creepy," Clive said. "Why do you have to creep me out? And how does this say it is going to be over soon?"

"You or I," Solomon said, taking the note back and leaving the office. Linda shut the door behind him.

He left the building and got onto the subway, coming up at 68th Street and making his way to 19th Precinct. He walked by the desk sergeant, who nodded, and onto the floor. At the third desk was a woman in her mid-forties, short, stout, wearing a leather bomber jacket and blue jeans. She looked up and saw Solomon coming, leaning back in her seat. "Sol," she said. "I hear Reginald worked out just fine. Maybe we'll draw Mr. Bossman out? You think?"

"Psycho's back," Solomon said. The woman stood and took him to a private office. Before she could sit, she was asking what he needed.

"He's taken someone," Solomon said.

"So who am I looking for?"

"Clive found a note in a body. She had been dead a week, but the note was slipped in over the last three days."

"So we're looking for someone who could have accessed the body?"

"No," Solomon said. "We're not looking for Psycho — we won't find him. It's a dead end, and we don't have time to waste. We are looking for a young woman who won't be missed — too old to be an amber alert. Young enough, twelve to fifteen, and with a history of running away so the police won't take the missing persons report seriously, if a report has been made at all. Just enough attention to get my attention. She'll be poor, too."

"And who's the target? Who has he asked you to kill?"

Solomon put the note on the table. "Ewe. Ore. Eye?" Lisa said.

"It's me or him. This is it, Lisa," Solomon said, taking the note back.

"How long do you have?"

"Almost precisely too little time. If it has already been three days, then I have four before she suffocates. But she won't suffocate."

"Sol..." Lisa said. "You can't let him win."

"It'll be him, not me, Lisa." Solomon stood. "But if it can't be him, then it'll be me, not her."

"This isn't on you, Sol."

"Lisa," Solomon said, "I don't want you doing anything on this. Leave it with me."

"I'm telling the captain."

Solomon smiled. "That's the best thing you could do. That incompetent fuck won't get in my way — won't even get within a hundred miles of me. Has no idea what she's doing."

"Sol, you should leave this to us."

"Get me the leads. And on the off chance there has been a sighting reported, let me know if Psycho has surfaced."

"I guess we're calling off the robbery?" Lisa said. "We'll find Captain Crime another time?"

"Fuck, no," Solomon retorted. "A man's gotta eat."