A Taste Of Death Joe Casey sat hunched in his easy chair, cradling his head. The young policeman couldn’t remember ever having a headache so severe, nor stomach cramps so bad. His arms and legs felt numb and his face burned. A bitter taste made his mouth fill with saliva, and a sudden urge to vomit forced him from his chair and into the bathroom. Something is wrong, very wrong! he thought, his heart hammering. His throat burned and for the first time he felt frightened and very much alone in his small bachelor apartment. He staggered toward the phone, his head whirling. He never made it. The cramps sharpened, like razor blades slashing his insides. Moaning, Joe grabbed his stomach. He lost his balance and fell to the floor, arms and legs flailing. His body became rigid, out of control. Darkness descended. He convulsed and then lay still. Arsenic killed Joe Casey. Martha said, "Well, dear, for a gallon of elderberry wine, I take one teaspoonful of arsenic, . . " from Arsenic and Old Lace by Joseph Kesseiring. Homicide Detective, Lieutenant "Wolf" Schmidt, saw the blue Mars lights of the squads in front of the apartment building where Officer Joe Casey lived. He walked up to one of the uniform officers at the entrance of the three flat and said, "How did it happen?" "Nobody knows for sure," the officer said. "When Casey missed role call this morning, the sarge called him but there was no answer. That’s when he sent me and Bradley to check on him. The janitor let us in and we found him on the floor. There were no signs of a struggle but his face was so red and strained. He was curled up with his hands holding his gut. I hated to see it!" Schmidt said, "I know, it’s awful. He was like a son." Schmidt walked into the building and saw other police officers and a medical examiner he knew from other cases. He showed his badge and said to the medical examiner, "I’m Detective Schmidt, I knew Officer Casey. Can you tell me what happened?" "I’m not positive, but as soon as I bent over him, I smelled a faint odor of garlic from his body. That’s a telltale sign that it’s arsenic. Forensic will check all of his food and drinks for the source. The autopsy will confirm if it’s arsenic." "Thanks, Doc." Schmidt stood over Joe Casey, looked down on his mottled, distorted face and thought, He was a kid, just three years on the force. He was a good cop and tough when he had to be. Why Joe? Joe’s face was red with a rash and the contortion of his face must have been from the pain he suffered. Schmidt smelled sour odor of vomit and the faint odor of garlic. Why would anyone poison Joe? Who was the bastard who did this! The next morning Lieutenant Schmidt stood before his Homicide Detectives and said, "Since May 1st there’ve been ten unsolved homicides, all caused by arsenic poisoning. The latest was a patrolman in the 19th Precinct. We assume they are all homicides because there were no suicide notes or obvious reasons for the victims to take their lives. "Three of the victims were from the North side, two from the Downtown area, three from the Northwest side, and two from the South side of Chicago. Needless to say, ten unsolved murders makes us look very bad. The Chief has assigned more detectives to our unit. We weren’t under-manned, so that doesn’t make us look good either. But it means we’ll have at least three detectives to each case. Since all the victims were murdered by arsenic, I’ve asked the Chief of Forensic, Dr. Adler, to tell us about arsenic." Dr. Adler stood up and faced the detectives. "Good morning everyone. Each poison is assigned a toxicity rating from one to six to determine the amount needed to cause death. A poison with a rating of one would almost be nontoxic because great amounts would be needed to cause death. A rating of six would require only a minute dose to cause death. Arsenic has a toxicity rating of 5, which means it wouldn’t take much to kill a healthy adult. Approximately 5 to 50 milligrams, or seven drops to one teaspoon, of arsenic would do the job. It doesn’t take much arsenic to cause death. "Symptoms can appear as quickly as one minute after poisoning. Arsenic is odorless and tasteless and is toxic in the gastrointestinal tract. Poisoning may cause death in two to twenty-four hours. It depends on the individual and the dosage. "Some of the symptoms and signs are headaches, low blood pressure, garlic odor from the victim’s body, severe stomach cramps, diarrhea, nausea, vomiting, dizziness, bitter mouth taste, numbness, skin irritation, seizures, and finally coma." The detectives listened to each word Dr. Adler said. Each detective had seen dead, arsenic victims. Schmidt thought, He just described Joe Casey. "Arsenic can be breathed or inhaled, absorbed through a membrane, and swallowed. It comes in the forms of Arsine gas and white powder. Even though arsenic is a deadly poison, traces of it are in all human tissues and we come in contact with it every day since so many things contain arsenic. That pretty much gives you the obvious characteristics of arsenic. Are there any questions?" "Doctor Adler, I’m Detective Kelly. You mentioned that arsenic could enter a membrane to poison a victim. Does that mean the skin, like on your arms or face?" "No, the membranes line the vagina, the rectum, the nasal passage, and under the tongue." "Doctor, thank you for your talk. I’m Detective Jones. Arsenic is, like, out of the 19th century. Why would the perp or perps choose arsenic instead of cyanide or strychnine? I would think they would be faster than arsenic since, if I’m not mistaken, they both have a toxicity rating of six." "Interesting point. There could be any number of reasons but I would guess that arsenic would be easier to obtain than cyanide or strychnine. It’s only my guess." "Thanks for a very interesting talk, Doctor Adler. I’m Detective Rosenbaum. If the poisoner is the same perp for all ten victims, are we dealing with a mass killer or a serial killer?" "Not exactly my expertise, but we have mass murderers like Tim McVeigh who murdered many people at the same time. To me a serial killer is someone who keeps killing until he or she is stopped, either killed or incarcerated. The arsenic killer is not a mass killer. I would have to say he’s a serial killer." Doctor Adler said, "If there are no more questions, I thank each of you for your attentiveness. Good luck in solving these murders." Detective Schmidt thanked Doctor Adler and then said to the detectives, "I want each of you to imagine that you’re the arsenic perp. Try to imagine why you would want to kill people with arsenic. His victims seem to be chosen at random. Study each case. Find any similarities. What are your suspicions? What has your mind learned and what does your gut tell you? That’s all for now." Schmidt walked back to his desk and thought, Five men, four women, and a sixteen year old boy. Three Afro-Americans, four Caucasians, two Hispanics, and one Japanese. The adults ranged in age from twenty-two to seventy-three. All from working class families. None of them knew each other nor worked at the same place. What’s the connection? Schmidt sat at his desk and read a reference book on poisons, specifically arsenic. He kept asking himself, How could anyone kill that many people with arsenic and not leave a clue? It had been a long day. Finally his shift was over and he headed for home. The next morning, Detective Schmidt was doing some paper work at his desk when his phone rang. It was Captain McCarthy, the Chief of Homicide. "Schmidt, we need to talk. Come to my office, now." "Yes sir, Captain, I’ll be right there." Schmidt knocked on the Captain’s door and heard the captain’s order, "Come!’ Schmidt opened the door and the Captain immediately said, "Have a seat, Wolf. You and I have known each other for a long time. We go back to police academy and I was one of your instructors. You’re a fine detective, your record speaks for itself. You’re conscientious and persistent with every case you work." Schmidt bowed his head and thought, He doesn’t compliment without critizing. What’s coming? "However, there have been ten unsolved arsenic murders in three months and you and your detectives haven’t come up with a single clue. We’ve got to solve these murders before there are any more. I hate to tell you this but you’re off the case. Starting tomorrow, Lieutenant Olson will be in charge of the arsenic homicides." Scmidt’s face turned red and he frowned. He swallowed hard, looked the Captain in the eye and said, "I always respect your word, Captain, but please sir, reconsider your decision. I know my team doesn’t appear to have accomplished much but I would like to explain how they really have. "My men and women have checked all of the arsenic victims’ routines, just before their deaths. They’ve questioned relatives, friends, and coworkers about the deceased. They’ve had the Health Department inspect the food places they frequented. Restaurants, food marts, bakeries, delis, and the Farmers’ Market were all checked thoroughly for any traces of arsenic. Drugstore pharmacists were questioned at length about the safety and security against tampering with vitamins and over the counter medicines the victims took. No food, drinks, vitamins or over the counter medicine showed any trace of arsenic, in any of the places the victims frequented. "Captain, I believe we’re dealing with a perp or perps similar to the Tylenol murderer. The Tylenol victims died from Tylenol capsules laced with cyanide. Our perp has laced some very common item with arsenic, an item that all the victims used. Captain, I believe we’re coming to a turning point. I believe we’ll soon have a clue that leads us to the arrest of the arsenic murderer. Please give me and my team seventy-two hours to solve these murders." Captain McCarthy scowled and scratched the top of his head. Finally he said, "I shouldn’t change my decision but I know you, Wolf. I thought, if anyone could solve this case it’s Wolf Schmidt! All right, today’s Wednesday! You’ve got until Friday night, midnight. I want an ongoing report on any new developments. I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night, you call me. You know my home number. All right, Wolf, that’s all, good luck!" Back at his desk, Schmidt dialed Officer Murphy, the police dispatcher, and said, "Hi Murph, this is Schmidt. Please contact my detectives in the field and tell them I want them in our War Room at 1500 hours. Thanks, Murph." Schmidt hung up the phone and a uniform officer approached him and said, "Lieutenant Schmidt, we just got word a body was found on the South side. It’s a male, Afro-American. They’re almost certain it’s another arsenic murder." Schmidt became pale and his eyes stared straight ahead. Finally he looked at the officer and said, "Thanks for briefing me. At least I won’t be shocked in front of the entire unit." "I’ll let you know if I hear anything else, Lieutenant." By 2:45 all the detectives had arrived in the War Room. Detective Schmidt stood before them. He didn’t show his pleasant demeanor and smile and the detectives knew right away something was up. Schmidt said, "Let’s get right to it. The Chief called me into his office earlier today. He wanted to take me off the arsenic case. He said we weren’t doing our job. "In three months there’ve been eleven arsenic murders, counting this afternoon’s, and we haven’t come up with a single clue. Under my command, we have until midnight, Friday. I don’t expect a miracle, only some clues. I don’t want any of you to force an interrogation or an arrest. Just be the good detectives that you are. Be thorough and persevere. If you find anything or have any new ideas, I want to hear about it right away, no matter what time of day or night. We’ll meet here again tomorrow morning after role call. That’s all for now." Schmidt got in his car and turned on the news station. He heard, "Mr. Mayor, why has our police department been so ineffective in solving the arsenic murder cases? Eleven of our citizens have been fatally poisoned in the last three months. I’m told that dying by arsenic is a very painful way to die. Our citizens don’t know who or what to trust. What’s being done to stop this serial killer?" Schmidt thought, Reporters are like vultures, waiting for their next meal. They don’t care who dies, so long as they get a piece of the carcass. The mayor said, "I talked with the Chief of Homicide and he said his detectives are working around the clock to bring the perpetrator to justice. The Chief has increased the number of police officers on the investigation and believes there will be an arrest in the very near future. I don’t have anything else to tell you." Schmidt punched a music station. He thought, We’re always the patsies for the goddamned media. They even screw us when we’re good! Maybe we deserve it this time. How can someone successfully poison eleven people without leaving a clue! Schmidt pulled into his driveway and went into his house. His wife, Sylvia, greeted him, "Hi Wolfie, honey. I have dinner ready. We’ll eat when you’re ready. How was the day?" "Hi sweets, it smells great, so let’s eat. The day? Eh, it was interesting." They sat and ate one of Schmidt’s favorite meals, short ribs with oven brown potatoes and his favorite dessert, key lime pie. When they finished, Schmidt said, "What more could a guy ask for? Honey, that was delicious." They went into the den and Schmidt pushed back in his favorite recliner while Sylvia picked up a magazine from the coffee table. He looked at his wife and thought, She’s always been sweet and even with her gray hair and a few wrinkles, she’s still my sweetheart. Sylvia turned the cover back of a Time magazine and read the first page for a few moments. Then she moistened her right thumb and index finger with her tongue and lips to help turn the page. After a few moments she again moistened her right thumb and index finger with her tongue and lips to turn the next page. She repeated the process every time she wanted to turn a page. Schmidt became rigid and sat motionless. He frowned and stared at Sylvia. Then he jumped from his recliner and yelled, "Yes! That’s it!" Sylvia was wide-eyed and her mouth froze half open. She finally said, "What in heaven’s name is the matter?" "Nothing, sweets, you just helped me with my biggest case. I’ve got to make some phone calls." Schmidt called the station and said, "This is Detective Schmidt, let me talk to Sergeant O’Neil in Homicide. Thanks." A few moments of silence seemed an eternity. Finally O’Neil answered, "Homicide, Sergeant O’Neil." "O’Neil, this is Schmidt. I need you to check something that’s very important. I want you to go through the coroner’s reports on each of the arsenic victims and see if there’s any notation about arsenic being on the victim’s right thumb and index finger. Let me know what you find. I’m at home. Thanks, O’Neil." Forty-five minutes later, Schmidt’s phone rang. He picked it up on the first ring and said, "O’Neil?" "Yeah, it’s me." "Great, what did you find out?" O’Neil said, "The pathologist identified traces of arsenic on each victims’ right thumb and index finger. On seven of them, he found traces on the right thumb, index finger, and also on the third or middle finger. Will that help you?" "O’Neil, this may be the break we’ve been waiting for. Thanks a million. I owe you." It was 6:30, Wednesday night, and Schmidt thought, Our neighborhood library is still open. I wonder if all the Chicago libraries are still open. He got the number for the main and largest library in Chicago, the Harold Washington Library. Next he pulled the list of arsenic victims from his inner jacket pocket. He dialed the Harold Washington Library and asked for circulation. A woman’s voice said, "Circulation, I’m Donna France. How may I help you?" "I’m Detective Schmidt with the Chicago Police Department. I’m working a case and it’s important for me to know if certain individuals have Chicago Public Library cards. Also can you tell me if they used the Harold Washington Library. Can you help me on this?" Ms. France said, "Detective Schmidt, first I need to verify that you are who you say you are. Are you at the Police Station now?" "No, I’m at home." Ms. France said, "Please give me the phone number for the station where you work and your home number so I can call you back." Schmidt gave her the numbers and she said, "Detective Schmidt, I’ll call you back as soon as I verify that you are who you say you are." Schmidt thanked Ms. France and they signed off. Within five minutes the phone rang and Schmidt answered it on the first ring. "Hello, is this Ms. France?" "Yes, Detective Schmidt. Your Sergeant O’Neil said you are who you say you are, so I’ll be glad to help you. Please tell me the names that you are inquiring about." Schmidt read and spelled each name slowly until he had completed the list. Donna France said, "Detective, if you want to hold for a few moments, I can check on these people right away." Schmidt said, "Yes, that’s fine." As he waited he thought, What’s next? If they all used the Harold Washington Library what did they read? He knew, unfortunately, the library computer couldn’t tell him that. "Hello, Detective Schmidt? Yes, they all have library cards and they all use the Harold Washington Library. And they all have books past due." Detective Schmidt’s heart raced and he said, "Do you know the titles of the books?" "Well, yes. Because they are past due the computer shows the titles and authors of the books. They all seem to be mysteries. You know, whodunits. Do you want me to read the titles to you?" "No, but could you make me a copy of the titles and who checked them out? I’ll pick it up tomorrow at the circulation desk?" "The copy will be in an envelope with your name on it, at the circulation desk." "Thank you Ms. France. You’ve been very helpful." Schmidt hung up and called Chief McCarthy. The phone rang twice and a male voice said, "Hello, this is McCarthy." Schmidt said, "Hello Captain, this is Lieutenant Schmidt. I have some information that I think will help us with the arsenic murders. This evening after dinner my wife was reading a magazine. Before she turned each page, she licked her right thumb and index finger. You know, it helps when pages stick together or when they’re real thin. She did this every time she wanted to turn a page. "It struck me that this might be the way the victims came in contact with arsenic. I had Sergeant O’Neil check the coroner’s reports for all of the victims. I asked him to look for notations about arsenic being on the victims’ right thumb and index finger. O’Neil studied the reports and said each report showed traces of arsenic on their right thumbs, index, and middle fingers. "Next I called the circulation desk at the Harold Washington Public Library and found out that all of the victims had Chicago Public Library cards and that they all used the Harold Washington Public Library. They each had past due books and all the books were mysteries and whodunits." Captain McCarthy chuckled and said, "Well done, Wolf. You’re on to somethin’. What’s next?" "I’m not quite sure yet, but I know we’ll be paying a visit to the library." "All right, but keep me posted." Schmidt said, "Oh, I will. Good-night Captain." It had been a good day after all. He and Sylvia went to bed. Thursday morning as he drove to the station, Schmidt thought about Sergeant O’Neil. O’Neil was a surveillance expert in the day or night, outside or indoors. He had a knack for placing mini cameras and microphones in the right places. He was a real techy. When he got to his desk he called O’Neil. "Hey, are you the overgrown leprechaun from Dublin?" O’Neil said, "That I am, that I am! And you must be the German fool who thinks the Cubs will win the World Series." Schmidt laughed and said, "Sergeant O’Neil, please come over to my desk. I need your help." "I’ll be right over, Lieutenant Schmidt." When O’Neil arrived, Schmidt said, "First of all, thanks for your work last night, checking out the coroner’s reports. I think we finally have a break in the arsenic poisonings. It all started when I watched my wife moisten her right thumb and index finger so she could turn pages of a magazine. "Next, you confirmed that all of the arsenic victims had traces of arsenic on their right thumbs, index fingers, and third or middle fingers. After that I called the Harold Washington Library and talked to Ms. France, at the circulation desk. She confirmed that all twelve victims had library cards and they all used the Harold Washington Library. "O’Neil, I’m thinking that someone at the library is lacing the pages of books with arsenic. Whoever checks out a book laced with arsenic, might lick their thumb and index finger to help turn the pages. Their moist thumb and index finger pick up arsenic from each page they turn. They never would know they were ingesting arsenic, since it’s tasteless. And they would only need to lick a few pages to be poisoned." O’Neil said, "My god, how insidious can you get!" "I also found out from the librarian that all the victims were reading mysteries and whodunits. It’s Thursday and I’ve got till midnight tomorrow night. I want us to start a stake-out tonight at the Harold Washington Library in the mystery stacks. That’s on the 7th floor on the East side of the building. "I’m also asking Joanie English to join us. She’s a top Forensic tech. As soon as we get to the mystery section, I want her to check book pages for arsenic. She can verify my theory right away. I had the Chief sign off on our request to the Director of the Harold Washington Library, permitting our stake- out. This morning, I personally delivered it to the Director. He gave us permission and his full cooperation. He even arranged for the guard at the front desk to give us library maintenance uniforms for our ploy. What do you say?" "I’m in. I’ll check out the tech equipment right away. My wife will be pleased to know that I’m gettin’ some culture at the library." "Great, I’ll brief English and tell her we’ll leave the station at 6:30 so we can be at the library shortly after 7:00, closing time." Schmidt called his wife and told her he wouldn’t be home until late. He called Officer English and she said she was honored that he asked her. He briefed her on the stake-out and told her to be ready by 6:30. Then he drove to the Seminary Restaurant or one of their famous Butt steaks and a Greek salad. He finished his dinner and had a coffee with his cigarette. He thought, The poisoner could be a man or a woman, a librarian or one of the maintenance crew. The long shot would be if the poisoner was just another reader who took books home, laced them with arsenic, and returned them to the library. I hope we can keep it simple and get the poisoner on film, lacing book pages with arsenic. He finished his coffee and was about to pay his bill when Gus, the cashier, said, "Officer Schmidt, I just hear on radio, another poisoned. A seventeen year old Korean boy. He died at St. Joseph’s Hospital." Schmidt’s hands began to tremble as he laid the money and check on the cash register counter. His face was pale and he scowled. He thought, That’s number twelve! Schmidt thanked Gus, walked to his car, and drove to the station. O’Neil and English were waiting for him by the entrance. Schmitd said, "OK you two, if you got everything you need, let’s do it." It was twenty of seven and the three detectives were on their way to the library. They arrived at five after seven. Schmidt parked his unmarked car directly in front of the library. They walked through the main entrance to the guard at the front desk. He showed his badge and said, "I think you’ve got three maintenance uniforms for us." The guard said, "Ah yes sir, here ya go." He handed Schmidt three bulky gray uniforms. "Hope you find what you’re lookin’ for." "Thanks, can you tell us where the rest rooms are?" "They’re both just before the elevators on the left side of the hall." The detectives went to the rest rooms and changed into their maintenance uniforms. Then they rode the elevator to the 7th floor. They stepped from the elevator and saw a sign that read, "Fiction, Mysteries and Science Fiction." The detectives followed the arrow and were soon along the east wall. The lights were all on but the great reading room was deserted. The Fiction section covered ten rows of stacks. Schmidt watched O’Neil assess the area. O’Neil stared at the wall and a large painting of a bearded man. The black frame was wide and he carried a chair over to the picture. He went back to his duffel, pulled out a small, black device and said, "This is a camera, in case you don’t know." He stepped onto the chair and placed the camera near the top of a vertical strip of the frame. The camera blended with the frame. He said, "It will show anyone who’s in these first four aisles. He attached similar cameras at the tops and bottoms of the stacks in the remaining six aisles. O’Neil said, "Now, let’s find a place out of the way where we can be comfortable and keep an eye on things with my receptor screen." Schmidt thought, My Irish friend knows his trade. We’ll see anything that’s goin’ down. Schmidt watched O’Neil open what looked like a laptop computer. O’Neil said, "This screen will let us see what each of the cameras sees." They walked about forty feet to the other side of the great room and into a smaller room behind a countertop that was for checking out old magazines and newspapers. Just then Schmidt and O’Neil heard English yell out, "Bingo! I just tested Agatha Christie’s "Ten Little Indians" and the pages’ right margins, from the upper right corner to the lower right corner, are coated with arsenic. It looks like your theory is fact, sir." "Good work English. Now come over here with O’Neil and me. The rest of the night is a waiting game." O’Neil and English took half hour shifts looking at the receptor screen. Schmidt picked up a magazine from a rack a few feet from where he was sitting. Joanie English jumped up and said, "Lieutenant, with all due respect, whatever you do, don’t lick any of those pages! Please put that magazine back!" "Thanks, Joanie, I hear you loud and clear." Schmidt placed the magazine back on the rack and rubbed his hands vigorously on his overalls. The second hand on the wall clock seemed to move in slow motion and the minutes crept by. At 10:30 the detectives were restless and their chairs, that were initially comfortable, were now hot and hard. O’Neil started to say, "I’ll be glad.." Schmidt silenced O’Neil, by putting his finger to his lips. Down the hall was the faint sound of the elevator door sliding open. Then, the soft sound of wheels passed over the divide, onto the floor. The wheels came closer, then stopped. After a long, silent moment, the wheels started again. They sounded closer and faster. O’Neil looked at Schmidt and English and pointed a finger at the receptor screen. The detectives all looked at the screen and saw a figure with a hood in a maintenance outfit. The figure pushed the cart between two stacks of mysteries and stood still. Its back showed on the screen but the other camera wasn’t able to show the figure’s front side. The figure reached into a pocket, pulled out goggles and a medical mask. It placed the goggles over its eyes and stretched the goggles’ rubber band around the back of its head. Then it tied the medical mask firmly, making sure it completely covered its nose and mouth. Next it took a pair of rubber cleaning gloves from the cart and rolled them over its hands and halfway up its arms. Now the figure was ready to work. It slid a cover back on top of the cart. The figure reached down and lifted a black slender canister with a spray nozzle. Grabbing a book from a shelf, and holding it on top of the cart with its left hand, the figure sprayed a page using its right hand. A fine mist shot to the upper right corner, down the right margin, to the lower right corner. Then the figure turned to the next page with its left hand. The process was simple and smooth. Schmidt thought, It wouldn’t take very long to poison a book. Schmidt motioned for O’Neil and English to draw their weapons and to follow him. They crept to the right side of the stacks where the figure was working. Schmidt motioned O’Neil to go around and wait beside the stacks at the other end. A moment later, O’Neil was in position. Schmidt grabbed English’s arm and pulled her behind him. They were set. Schmidt felt like his entire body was shaking even though he was tense and rigid all over. He yelled at the figure, "You’re under arrest! Put the canister on top of the cart and move away from it!" O’Neil started to move towards the figure and Schmidt yelled, "No, O’Neil! Go back! Stay put!" The figure looked at Schmidt and didn’t move. Schmidt yelled, "You!, drop that canister or I’ll drop you!" The figure slowly set the canister on top of the cart. The figure stood still. Schmit moved towards the figure and it suddenly grabbed the canister and sprayed the cloudy mist at Schmidt and English. Schmidt tripped and fell as he pushed English back. The figure leaped towards Schmidt and stood over him, pointing the spray nozzle in his face. The loud shot from O’Neil’s Magnum hit the figure in the right shoulder. It dropped the canister and fell to the floor, groaning with pain. Schmidt said, "English, move back! We’ve got to get away from this air. O’Neil, grab the back of his uniform, and we’ll pull him away from the stacks." Holding their breath, the detectives pulled the figure several feet away. Then all three detectives looked down at the figure. Its left hand covered the wounded shoulder and it moaned from the bullet wound. Schmidt kneeled down over the figure, grabbed the glasses and surgical mask and ripped them off. He saw a pretty, young woman’s face. He thought, How could one so lovely, be so evil? He said, "What’s your name?" The young woman remained silent. Schmidt said to English, "See if she’s got some ID on her." The figure tried to resist English but the bullet wound was too painful. English patted her body and felt a fanny pack under her maintenance uniform. English pulled the uniform open, unzipped the fanny pack, and pulled out a wallet. She opened the wallet and found a drivers license. English said, "She’s Donna France." Schmidt stared at Donna France and thought, You deceived me. You led me to believe that you were helping me. And you were! Schmidt said, "Donna France, I arrest you for the murders of twelve innocent people." Donna France said, "Is that all? I thought I at least killed twenty!" Schmidt Morandized Donna France and then asked, "Ms. France, you helped me arrest you. What made you do these terrible murders?" Ms. France looked at Schmidt, then at O’Neil and English and said, "Books are the most beautiful gifts. Books are for learning and enjoyment. I love books and I dedicated my entire life as a librarian to books. But do you know how filthy people are, how careless and destructive they are with books? I see it every day. Donna France squeezed her hands so hard that her knuckles became white. "The cruddy bastards, old and young, they spit on their fingers to turn pages, and they bend the corner of pages to mark their places. Some even tear off the corner. People are filthy, like a disease that crawls and reproduces filth. I wanted to kill them all! I tried my best and I’m ecstatic that I at least killed twelve worthless, degenerate slobs. Now I want to call my lawyer!" Schmidt said, "All in due time, Ms. France." English had called for the paramedics and a squad roll with her cell phone while O’Neil handcuffed Donna France. Within five minutes the paramedics arrived with three uniform cops. The paramedics bandaged Ms. France and the cops lead her away. Schmidt looked at the clock. It was five minutes before midnight. He said, "Well, we did it and I wasn’t relieved of my command. I didn’t think we’d solve this case by midnight, tomorrow night, let alone tonight. Nice work English, and you too, O’Neil. I couldn’t have done it without you! I just had a thought though. I think all of us readers better start buying our own books for awhile."
Copyright © 2001 Frank Dunsmore |