“Whoa, hold on. We’re just getting started. One step at a time, please. Look, I’m still trying to put the basics together. I’ve got my best investigator, Lieutenant Esquivel, working overtime on this. I’m supposed to meet him in about an hour to get his update. Why don’t you and I meet at the hospital, say at six-thirty, exchange info, and then call it a day? I don’t know about you, but I’m beat, okay?”
“Okay, it’s just that when you find a common link like this you jump on it,” she answered. “I’ve found that there are no coincidences in medical investigation, at least until you prove there is.”
Kendrick paused and waited for Shelby’s reaction. When he nodded, she continued. “Having four men out of six work at the same place tells me that’s where we start. Food, water, or air, and there’s no telling what they may have out there to contaminate. Shelby, this may be some space virus. We’ve got to get on this.”
“Ms. Kendrick, you may be right…I just don’t know. Somehow there’s something very ominous about all of this, something sinister and evil. I can feel it in my bones.”
“I think your bones have the flu, Captain, that’s all. All my instincts tell me that we either have a case of some type of food-…or perhaps, water-transmitted virus or, God help us, let’s hope it’s not an air-transmitted virus. I’ll see you at six-thirty.”
Quickly, she was up and gone. Shelby thought, That woman can disappear faster than anyone I’ve ever seen. He decided he’d better check his messages and he, too, left the library.
Shelby opened the door to the unmarked Crown Vic and waited for the blast of Texas heat to escape. He slid in and reached for his cell phone. As his hand touched the phone it rang, startling him a little. His nerves were on edge.
Quickly, he picked up the phone and simply said, “Shelby.”
The voice he heard was cold and mechanical. “Jimmy Dick, how are you?”
No one had called him by that name since his mother died eight years ago. An unexplainable feeling of panic coursed through his body.
“Who is this?”
“Well, Jimmy Dick, I thought it was about time you and I talked. It’s time the world knows about me. You may call me Michelangelo, Mr. Michelangelo.” There was a slight pause; Shelby could hear the man suck a breath before he continued. “Now listen. Pay attention to what I have to say. I want you to tell the papers…and the TV people this…Tell them the six HBV men were evil and they deserved to die. Did you hear me?”
Shelby didn’t know if the man was on the level or not, but he was willing to listen. There was no doubt, he wanted to hear the rest of the story when he told the caller, “I hear you.”
“Tell them there are three others who are going to die and that’s all. Do you understand? If you don’t tell them exactly what I’ve just told you to say, you and Ms. Kendrick will be the next victims to hear Michelangelo’s song.”
There was a slight pause and then, “I know all about you, Shelby, everything. Computer records.” The voice seemed to hiss. “You understand, don’t you, Jimmy Dick?” The laugh was a sinister rumble that sent an icy chill through Shelby as Michelangelo continued to taunt him. “I know everything, Captain. I know where you went to high school, your teachers, your grades, and, as you can see, Captain James Richard, 444-35-2727, Shelby, I know everything there is to know about you.”
Shelby felt cold all the way to the marrow. For the first time in his eighteen years as a policeman, he felt totally vulnerable and he was scared. If this guy is on the level…God help us all.
“Now do it, or I’ll have no reservation about using you and Kendrick as examples…You do understand, don’t you, Jimmy Dick?” Without another word, the phone suddenly went dead. Michelangelo was gone. What’s going to happen next? Shelby wondered.
Chapter 4
Shelby was noticeably shaken as he eased back into his chair in the homicide office. His was the corner office. Sometimes he looked around and thought, Eighteen years and this is about all I have to show for it. But today his mind was totally focused on Michelangelo and the call he had received thirty minutes earlier.
“Esquivel, come in here for a minute and give me an update. What’s new in the Michelangelo case?”
Esquivel looked ragged and tired as he closed the door and slid into a side chair. “Here’s where we’re at, Captain. We just got an ID on the first victim, the one hit by the garbage truck on the Gulf Freeway.” Esquivel looked at his notes. “Let’s see, his name is Terry Stafford, 4127 River Rock. Married, two kids, and get this, he doesn’t work at the Space Center. He’s a real estate salesman with Coldwell out in the Jersey Village area.”
Shelby’s mind seemed to blink on and off, but he was determined to hang on until his meeting with Kendrick. There was still so much to check and this thing seemed to be snowballing.
“I want two things checked out on all the victims. Have Sergeant Price find out about each victim’s last phone call. In fact, have him get their phone records, home, office, cells, pagers, whatever it takes. Let’s start with the past three months.” Shelby blew his nose, folded his handkerchief, and said, “Have him check their personal property to see if any of them has a key with the number seven stamped on it. I’ve got a feeling that before all of this is over, we’ll find a solid connection between these victims and whoever is involved in taking them down.”
“Captain, are you sure there’s foul play here? How do we know it’s not just some kind of medical problem? I mean, do you know something I don’t?”
“About an hour ago I got a phone call from someone who gave me a message for the press. He wants me to tell the world that these men were evil and deserved to die. He said if I didn’t deliver the message, he’d take care of me too. I believe he meant what he said, and I’m sure he’s somehow putting this virus or whatever it is in their heads via the phone.”
“Maybe it was a hoax call.”
“No, it’s the real thing. He had my private number, something not many people have. Have Price put a tap on my phones right away, okay? And see if we can trace that call. The maniac said he had three more people to take care of so we need to move on those phone records fast. What else?”
Esquivel flipped through his notebook. Exhausted from the twenty-four-hour day, he covered a yawn and hoped his girlfriend would understand being stood up. “I still need to get everything typed up. Things are moving so fast I’m getting confused and I have notes. Let’s see,” he said, half to himself, “Stafford, then Soto and I need to get Price on the phone records. I need someone checking on the number seven keys, and we still have a John Doe to ID. And then there’s Feller on Thursday.”
Esquivel looked up from his notes and said, “Captain, one thing that comes to mind right off the bat is that they’re all white males about thirty to forty years old. And they’re all in very good physical shape, like maybe they all work out. I’ll check the health clubs to see if any of them are members.”
Shelby watched as Esquivel tapped his finger on the page. Thinking, before he said, “Feller was the only one zapped on Thursday, and he was over on the north side. He’s the only one who wasn’t in the area of the interstate and downtown.”
Shelby’s energy had melted away. His chair seemed to be a sponge that sucked away his will to keep moving. A shallow fog rolled into his head. All he wanted to do was lie down for a few minutes. “Find the officers who brought Feller in,” he told Esquivel. “I want to talk with them and see if they can shed any light on this.” Esquivel nodded as Shelby continued. “Then I want you to interview each of the men involved in getting the rest of the victims to the hospital. Assign a team to each victim