Dead Cold Mysteries Box Set #1: Books 1-4 (A Dead Cold Box Set) by Blake Banner (best thriller books to read .txt) 📕

originals, they got rid of the originals, and then made fakes to look like the originals they got rid of.” I smiled and she started walking toward Al’s Oasis. “What will they do next century, do you think? Will they make fake fakes to look like the real fakes we have now?”

“Probably.”

We had a couple of buffalo burgers and beer and sat by the window. It was good to see patches of sunlight on green grass, and blue sky through broken clouds.

“After lunch we’ll go over the river to Chamberlain and have the skull sent to the forensic anthropologist. I figure there might just be enough material to get some DNA. If the head and the arms prove to be the same person, we’ll be getting somewhere.”

She chewed and thought. “So we have a rough sketch of somebody who maybe has a route from San Diego, via South Dakota, to New York. Who selects victims at random, young women, kills them, dismembers them, and then distributes their body parts along the route.”

“It’s possible, yes.”

“He is a narcissistic fantasist who is probably obsessed with Conan the Barbarian-type computer games and can’t spell.” I finished my buffalo burger and nodded. “It is beginning to sound a lot like Dave. Two gets you twenty, Dave has been visiting San Diego in July and some other Californian location in December.”

I was still nodding as I wiped my mouth. “It certainly looks that way.”

That was when my phone rang. It was Bernie.

“Bernie, tell me you have some good news.”

“I have news, John, I don’t know if you are going to consider it good. Also, bear in mind you cannot use this in court because it was not legally obtained.”

“I know, Bernie. Tell me what you’ve got.” I put it on speaker and laid the phone on the table.

“You couldn’t find where your suspect was going because there are no such conferences. For the dates you’re talking about, every year for the past fourteen years he has been attending, in July, the San Diego Comic and Sci-Fi Fantasy Convention, and in December, the Fantasy Gamers’ Convention in Los Angeles.”

For a moment, I felt oddly depressed. I said, without much feeling, “That is perfect, Bernie. Where has he been staying? Is it always the same hotel?”

“Hold your horses there, pal. That is by no means the whole story. Because while he has been enjoying the events of the conventions during the day, by night he has been enjoying a very different kind of entertainment.”

I frowned. “Really? Like what?”

“In San Diego he goes nightly, like clockwork, to the Bull Rhino Club on Mission Gorge, at a cost of two hundred bucks a night. And in L.A. he goes to the Angels Massage Parlor on Olympic Boulevard.”

“So, twice a year he gets away to satisfy his fantasies without his mother or his uncle knowing about it.”

“That’s what it looks like, John.”

“Thanks, Bernie. That is really helpful. Take it easy.”

“Sure thing. One more thing you might be interested to know. For the last thirteen years, he’s been seeing a psychoanalyst twice a month.”

He hung up and Dehan and I sat staring at each other. What else could we do?

Fourteen

We were both exhausted, so we didn’t discuss it anymore. After dispatching the skull, we went back to the motel. I left her at her room, showered, and slept until six. There is something disconcerting about going to bed when it’s light and waking up when it’s dark. I lay for a while staring into the darkness above me and wondering where I was and if anybody had left me a note.

Then memories came back. The skull. David. The brothels. I put on the light, had a shower to wake myself up, and got dressed, thinking of Al’s Oasis and the eight-ounce sirloins I had seen on the menu.

I knocked on Dehan’s door, and she came out with wet hair and a big smile on her face. She put a silver pendant on a chain in my hand and turned her back to me, lifting her hair up to expose her neck. “Put it on me, will you?”

I looked at it. It was a David’s star with an inscription on the back. It said, “To Carmen Dehan, from Mom and Daddy, on her first birthday, May 9, 1991.”

We had an awkward moment as I slipped it around her neck. Then I did it up, and she dropped her hair over my hands. I wiped them dry on my pants, and we walked the short distance across the parking lot in silence. She gave me a sudden, mischievous grin and said, “You know? This is the closest I ever get to going on a date.”

I raised an eyebrow at her and smiled. It was the closest I ever got too, but I wasn’t going to tell her that. Instead I said, “Yeah? Why?”

She shrugged. “I hate people. People hate me.”

“I don’t think people hate you, Dehan. You’re actually a…” I hesitated. “A really nice person. But people are terrified of your attitude. If you just toned down the attitude a bit…”

She was still smiling, but she looked curious. As I pulled open the door, she said, “Does it bother you?”

I followed her in and surprised myself by saying, “No, I kind of like it.”

A gleaming waitress with gleaming teeth and hair smiled at us and said, “Table for two?”

She led us to a table for two, and we ordered two beers and two steaks. As we sat, I said, “You’re attractive, you’re intelligent, you’re funny—there must be lots of men out there who’d…”

She cut across me with, “I’m good.”

“You’re good?”

“I’m good.”

I grinned. “Okay…” And we both laughed for no particular reason. We followed the laugh with an awkward silence, and Dehan said suddenly,