Free Immoral Certainty by Robert K. Tanenbaum

does the M.E.’s report say? Does it confirm?” He saw in her face that she didn’t know, that if she had read the Medical Examiner’s report (among a thousand such reports) its message had failed to penetrate the part of her consciousness that was frozen into horrified routine.
    Wordlessly Marlene shuffled through the case file and began to turn pages. Karp looked at the distant ceiling. In a few minutes he heard a gasp, a muffled “Oh, shit!”
    “What?”
    “It’s right here.” Marlene wailed, her cheekbones red with embarrassment. She read, “‘Fifth digit of right hand missing. Signs of recent amputation at point one centimeter proximal to the first carpal joint. Crushing of tissues on both lateral and medial surfaces of stump suggest removal instrument was a heavy shears. Lack of circumferential bruising and normal clotting suggest amputation occurred post-mortem.’ I’m dying !”
    She slapped the base of her hand hard against her forehead. “God! What an idiot! I can’t believe I missed that. OK, Marlene, superstar, do you believe that this ratty little woman, who wants a trial, strangled her daughter in a fit of rage, and then calmly cut off her finger with a scissors? Why? And then took her body down to the dumpster, forgetting the finger? And … oh, shit, why go on? It’s all garbage. We got to check the men … no that doesn’t make sense either. I can’t believe a casual … oh, shit!”
    She sprang to her feet and started gathering up her bag and raincoat. “What are you going to do now?” asked Karp, surprised by this instant action.
    “Do? I’m going to reopen this investigation. Jesus, Butch! If Segura didn’t do it, and I don’t think she did any more, we got some stranger running around who likes to kill little girls. And takes souvenirs.”
    After his shower, Felix Tighe put on a black exercise suit and went into Steve Lutz’s bedroom to work out. They helped each other with bench presses, whooshing air out of their lungs and groaning at the peak of the effort. Then Lutz did sit-ups with a twenty-pound weight held behind his head while Felix did bicep curls with thirty-pound dumbbells in front of a full-length mirror. He was feeling good, lifting smoothly, in control, just getting into watching his definition ripple, when the phone rang. He dropped the dumbbells with a clang. “I’ll get it, man, it’s probably for me anyway. Anna’s supposed to call me.”
    He took the phone on its hook on the kitchen wall. It was for him, but it wasn’t Anna. The voice on the phone was rich and dark. Whenever he heard it he felt the same odd feeling, a mixture of desire mixed with something close to dread.
    “Hello, Denise,” he said, his mouth dry.
    “How’s my big boy today?”
    “Fine, Denise. What you up to?”
    “Oooh, just lounging. Lounging in my tub, in perfumed water with lots of suds. I’m making my skin silky and clean. And you know why, don’t you. Yes you do. I’d like to have your hairy body in this tub right now. I’d like to bathe you and lick you dry, like a momma cat. Lick you everyplace. Would you like that? Yes, you would, you dirty child. But not today. It’s not our day yet, is it?”
    “No, Denise.”
    “No, it’s next week. Next Friday. I’ll just have to wait. I’ll just have to wait, and keep myself stimulated until then. Would you like to listen to that, to me stimulating myself?” She giggled. He heard faint splashing, and then other sounds.
    He listened. His skin burned and felt thick, as if he were on some drug. He had to listen to the sounds. She called out his name, her voice rising, cracking. There was silence on the line, except for her breathing and the movement of the water.
    Felix said, “Good-bye, Denise,” and hung up the phone. He slid down the wall and sat on the floor and put his head between his knees, and waited for the strange pleasure sickness to go away.
    He tried once again to figure out how he had gotten in with Denise, when