Englishman In New York Ch 09

Reverend Taylor looked quite surprised when a small army of New York's finest showed up at the door of the church. The arrest went down without a hitch and Sutton, Fusco and Mainwaring remained behind with the other officers, searching the premises for additional items of evidence.

"Suttie!" Fusco's call brought her running and she and Mainwaring entered the vestry, heading into the minister's small apartment. Her partner was standing across the room, pointing at the bottom of the cabinet; the same cabinet that housed Taylor's rubber sex doll. A dark liquid was steadily flowing from under the door, flowing in rivulets across the cement floor and soaking into a small, dilapidated throw rug.

Mainwaring approached the door, using his handkerchief to grasp one of the door handles and slowly pulled it open. Inside, next to the rubber torso, was the torso of a woman, a sight that drew a gasp from everyone present.

"Jesus Christ! That's Darla Webb!"

Sutton edged closer, her eyes riveted to the woman's face. Her expression was one of desolation, of giving up her life and it shook the detective to the bottom of her soul. The look in her eyes ... "Suttie. Suttie, are you all right?"

"Y-Yes." She snapped back into her professional mode, still shaken. "I'm fine."

Fusco moved up behind her, his voice low and timorous. "Candace, she looks like you." For the first time, Detective Sutton stared at the body,

really

stared. Darla Webb was a brunette, yet her hair was blonde. A wig had been placed on her head. "And look, on her chest." Pinned through the fatty tissue of Darla Webb's breast was a police badge. Her badge number, 5803, had been written on a strip of antiseptic tape and attached to it. Mainwaring and Fusco stared at her for a long moment, neither wanting to comment.

"It was him."

"What?" Fusco shouted.

"It was him. Our Englishman."

"What are you saying? How could it be him when we've got evidence on Taylor?"

"I don't know how to explain it, Mainwaring. I just know it. This is a message to me."

"Why to you?"

"He must have come back to the bar. He must have seen me with her and decided that I was keeping her from him." Sutton couldn't rip her eyes away from Darla Webb's vacant eyes. "He's telling me that he's coming for me next."

"But what about Reverend Taylor?"

"He's innocent."

Fusco moved in front of her. "What are you doing? We have this shithead dead to rights!"

"Do we?"

He looked over to Mainwaring who was also staring at her. "What the hell is this?"

"This is a plant, staged for our benefit and to implicate Taylor. Taylor's not the killer." She turned to leave the room, tossing words over her shoulder, "He's out there waiting for me."

He put two quarters into the machine and slipped the newspaper under his arm. His apartment was just a few blocks away and this was a necessary part of his everyday routine, his way of maintaining a connection with the real world. He checked his watch and quickened his pace. Nearly six o'clock. Time for the news. Time to find out if that detective got his message.

The Eyewitness News broadcast began at 5:59 and he settled into his recliner, newspaper on his lap and a beer in his hand. "Good evening. We start off with breaking news from St. Peter's on the Lower East Side. Reverend Henry Taylor has been arrested for the murder of Samara Wilcox, Tania Briars and latest victim, 38-year old receptionist Darla Webb.

Mrs. Webb had been involved in a fight earlier at the Motor City Bar but managed to escape without injury. Once the police had left, Mrs. Webb left on her own, despite being offered transportation by the police and was assaulted and murdered on Canal Street."

He listened intently to the broadcaster, weighing each word and looking for a glimpse of that bitch, Detective Sutton. He wondered if she would be brave enough to face him. Finally. What he had waited for. The big-titted bitch cop came on the screen.

"Can you tell us anything more about this investigation?"

The woman's eyes left the face of the female reporter and turned into the camera's lens. "The investigation is not over. We've arrested a person of interest but I don't personally believe that that person is the perpetrator. I believe that he's still out there, waiting to strike again."

Sutton stared into the camera, ignoring the angry whispers from Mainwaring, who stood just behind her. "I got your message. I'm waiting for you."

The reporter turned away from her to finish the broadcast segment and Mainwaring grabbed her by the shoulders, spinning her around. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Trying to find the murderer, Mike. Time to play his game."