Free Ladykiller by Lawrence Light, Meredith Anthony

again,” the lieutenant
said.“Only this time, the stiff’s no lady.”
Nita called Reuben’s apartment and got his machine. Her call was
likely the only one it had received in months.
    “Reuben, where in God’s name are you?” Nita kept her voice at
its usual modulation. “Aren’t you coming back? You’re still on duty,
you know. If you forgot and went home, please call and let me know.
It’s kind of busy.”
And it would be. It always was after a killing.
The Ladykiller, indeed, she mused as she hung up the phone.
What would they do about that?
    Sometimes, Dave thought, you could see the killer in the victim’s
face.That’s what his father had said.The last person the victim saw was
the killer. In the glare of his flashlight, Dave tried to read the last face
this victim had seen with his one remaining eye, which was flared
open. In surprise?
    Dave got up from his crouch and dusted off his knees. “No doubt
about it.The same perp.”
“Men now,” Blake said.
“Two nights in a row,”Wise said. “Perp is moving a lot faster.”
“This crime scene is a residential neighborhood,” Safir said.
“That’s different, too. Always before, we got a deserted area.”
“This might as well be deserted,” Blake said. “The neighbors
who’ve come forward so far said they saw nothing. One heard a man
shouting. Then a gunshot a little later. But he was in bed and half
asleep. Everybody was asleep.”
Jamie stood very close to Dave, close enough for him to smell
her perfume. He didn’t seem to notice. “What have you got, Dave?”
she asked.
Dave was thumbing through the victim’s wallet. “Name’s Reuben
Silver. He works at a place called the West Side Crisis Center. Not far
from here.”
“Still no pattern to the victims,” Wise said.
“None,” Safir said.
“No, that’s it,” Dillon said quietly, almost to himself. “That’s got
to be it.That’s what we’re looking for.That’s the link.”
“What?” asked Jamie.
“The missing link,”Wise said.
“The Ladykiller’s making a monkey out of us,” Safir said. They
both laughed.
Blake crinkled his forehead. “A middle-aged social worker?”
“The West Side Crisis Center,” Dave said. “They deal with nut cases
and street people, don’t they.The hooker — I’ll bet she went there.”
“And the stockbroker?” Safir said with heavy irony. “Come on,
Dave.”
“Wait a minute,” Jamie urged, thinking out loud. “If the hooker
and the social worker both knew their killer from the crisis center,
maybe there is a connection to the others, as well. Somebody at the
brokerage house. A messenger. A guy in the mail room.”
Dave nodded warmly at Jamie. “A pusher who worked the cheerleader’s high school. The housewife’s brother. I don’t know, but it’s
there, all right. I feel it.”
A tingle of excitement, like an electric charge, sizzled between
them. Jamie felt a small shudder go down her spine.
Safir and Wise, not sharing Dave and Jamie’s enthusiasm, looked
at each other skeptically. Everyone turned to Blake, who paused
thoughtfully before speaking.
“Right now,” he said, “we need to interview neighbors before
memories fade. Maybe one of them wasn’t sleeping.Tomorrow, Dave,
you go over to this crisis center and see what shakes. It’ll be closed
now. Personally, I have another press conference to worry about in the
morning.”
As the detectives dispersed to canvass the block, Jamie turned
her best smile on Dave. “I’m sure you’re right. I really am.” She
meant it.
Dave smiled back.
    Nita had discovered the utility of the .45 at an early age. It was a sturdy
weapon.You could throw the .45 on the ground and it wouldn’t go off.
The gun loaded easily, with a magazine of bullets shoved into the
handle. Jams were cleared just as cleanly, by sliding the gun’s carriage
back and forth.Yet the .45’s power was its best point. Nita admired her
gun’s ability to carve out half of a target’s brain.
    Her father had introduced