Curran stared at the mass of records and files sprawled across his already messy desk. Before him were arrayed the worst that Boston could offer up in terms of real scum. The case histories that he’d spent the morning reading would jar even the most-rooted individual. Pedophilia, serial rapists, murderers, child abusers, racists, and more all lay on the desk.
Curran looked at the yellow notepad next to him. He’d listed each criminal and their present whereabouts. He went down the list and crossed off anyone in prison. It seemed unlikely that the Soul Eater would resort to trying to get to someone behind bars.
Four other criminals were out of state. Curran crossed them off as well. For some reason, this guy had chosen to hunt in Massachusetts. He must have somehow known that his prey would be here.
The list dwindled down to just five. Curran looked at their rap sheets and tried to put them order of which he considered the most evil. When he’d come up with the next likely candidate for execution by the Soul Eater, he sat back and sighed.
Was this just a shot in the dark? If he’d applied this same formula earlier, would he have been able to predict that Fields or Simpson would have been the next target?
He frowned and reached for his coffee. No one ever said it would be easy.
A glance at the clock told him Lauren would most likely be out researching some more. This case was getting stranger by the minute, given that Lauren had insisted there were two corpses in Brighton last night.
But there weren’t any bodies.
Had she imagined it? Was the case beginning to fry her brain and make her think things were happening that weren’t? Curran had seen it happen to hardened vets of the force. Sometimes the cases got inside your head and messed about with your wiring. Before you knew it, you’d swear you saw purple elephants dancing across the street.
Now I’m just making excuses.
He grinned to himself. If there was ever anyone who could call him on his own insecurities, it was himself.
The fact is, Steve boy, you just don’t want to admit that any of this has a supernatural bent to it. Missing bodies only enhances the fact that something otherworldly might be at work in your town.
Yeah.
That was it.
And the fact that you’ve got a thing for Lauren.
He sighed and downed the rest of his coffee. Okay, time to shut up the inner monologue. He called down to Kwon’s office. His friend answered on the third ring.
“You doing anything important tonight?”
“Yeah, I got me a hot date with a stewardess.”
“I think they’re called flight attendants now, pal.”
Kwon sniffed. “I don’t go in much for political correctness. Damned junk has ruined this country.”
“Anyway,” said Curran, “I said ‘important.’”
Kwon cleared his throat. “You ever date a stewardess?”
“No.”
“If you did, you’d know it was mighty important.”
Kwon’s libido would kill him one of these days, thought Curran. “Want to help me do some surveillance tonight instead?”
There was a pause. “Lemme get this straight: I can go out with an incredibly attractive Filipina or I can sit with you in a cramped cop car, in the cold, sipping water and hoping my bladder doesn’t burst. Maybe you spring for some cheap take-out grub and I get indigestion. That about right?”
“More or less.”
“You see an obvious choice here, Steve?”
“I could use some help.”
Kwon sighed. “You’re kidding me right?”
“Be good for you. Take your mind off of all that carnal sin in your life.”
“’Carnal si-Steve, you hear what just came out of your mouth? You’re starting to sound all…religious on me. That freaks me out.”
Curran looked at his watch. “You in or not?”
“You realize if I break this date, you owe me big.”
“I’m already indebted something fierce to you buddy.”
“Yeah.” Kwon sighed. “Well, what are friends for?”
“See you at five.”
Rain spattered the windshield as the little daylight that was left quickly got blotted out by the encroaching night. Curran flicked the wipers and saw clear glass for a few seconds before the water made everything look like it was melting again.
Kwon rubbed his hands. “Turn up the heat, man. It’s freezing in here.”
Curran flipped the heater switch and felt the sudden rush of hot air fill the front seat. “Thanks for coming along.”
“Yeah.” Kwon sighed. “I was going to get introduced to naked Twister tonight.” He looked at Curran. “You ever play that?”
“No.”
“Yeah. Me neither.” He sighed again. “Thanks a lot.”
“Consider this service to your country.”
“More like bailing your ass out of some serious lonely work.”
“That too.”
Kwon turned up the collar on his coat. “Who is this schmoe, anyway?”
“You’ve never heard of Randy Scoliari?”
Kwon looked at him. “Steve, I just cut stiffs open. I don’t much care about ‘em while they’re alive.”
“Scoliari runs with the Gambinelli boys. Big gun runners. Last we knew they were involved in trafficking weapons up from Alabama by way of Pennsylvania and up to Boston. They sell ‘em to school kids down near Chinatown for a few hundred apiece. They make damned good money on it, too.”
“And you think the Soul Eater’s gonna hit a gun runner? I thought you told me this demon guy was targeting serious scum. Scoliari doesn’t exactly sound like the most nefarious dude you could dig up.”
Curran nodded. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But I read a bit more into his jacket and found out that he was suspected in over thirty rape cases that never went to trial.”
“None of them?”
“Nope.”
“How’d the DA manage to blow thirty cases like that?”
“Wasn’t the DA. Someone got to the witnesses and plaintiffs.”
“You think it was Gambinelli?”
“Coulda been. Regardless, Scoliari is a nasty guy. I think there’s good odds on him getting targeted by this guy we’re looking for.”
Kwon looked at him and Curran saw a smile creep out on to his face. “You won’t admit it yet, will you?”
“Admit what?”
“That this might be supernatural. You’ve never even said Soul Eater while I’m around. You afraid if you say it, it’ll become more real for you?”
Curran shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Still a disbeliever. Even after the green brains.” Kwon cracked a thermos. “You want some?”
“What’s in it?”
“Irish coffee.”
Curran frowned. “I’m working here, Kwon.”
“Well, I’m not driving. And the least I can do is get comfy if I have to sit in this crappy car on a rainy night like this. Cripes, it’s pissing down ice out there now.”
“Keep your eyes open.”
“For the Soul Eater. Jeez, go ahead and say it already.”
Curran shook his head. He could say it around Lauren, but not Kwon. Did he believe it less around Kwon? No. He just didn’t want to piss Lauren off. He sighed. “Just keep your eyes peeled.”
Kwon took a long sip from the thermos. “Problem with you is you got too much logic rattling upstairs in that thick head of yours. That kind of crap will get you into trouble, my friend.”
“Too much logic? How can that be bad?”
“Be bad because that damned FBI put it all there. Crap, Curran, how many times have you solved a case going on sheer instinct? You know as well as I do a lot of the time logic and reason got nothing to do with this. Sometimes…it’s just a feeling.”
“We aren’t talking about feelings though, Kwon.”
“Nope. We aren’t. We’re talking about the supernatural.”
Curran flipped the wipers on again. “Tough. That’s what it is. Tough to take all this in one gulp. I haven’t exactly been the spiritual type for most of my life. Not since…” He trailed off.
“Yeah, I know.” Kwon watched him. “You told me about it. Once.”
Curran eyed him. “When?”
“Over about twelve beers. I know about Joey.”
Curran peered out the windshield again. Sleet bounced off the hood of the car. Beyond, he could see the expensive brownstone on Beacon Hill. Scoliari kept a couple of places in Boston, but according to a friend of Curran’s on the Organized Crime Taskforce, Scoliari was holed up here right now. “You really believe this stuff?”
“Got no reason not to.”
“I thought most Koreans were Buddhist.”
Kwon grunted. “Tell you something about that, Curran. You go to any war-torn country and you’ll find a whole lotta people embracing just about any religion that promises to save them.”
“War torn?”
“So, it was a few years ago. I’m talking about what that kind of strife does to parents who then raise kids. My folks grew up Buddhist, embraced Christianity during the war and then urged us to follow whatever our heart told us was right.”
“So, you’re Christian?”
“Nah. I don’t go in much for organized religion. I’m more of a free-wheeling entity.” He leaned back and started humming.
“But you believe Lauren.”
Kwon looked at him. “What — I gotta be Christian to accept the notion of good versus evil? To believe that there are some totally nasty freaks living in this world? Crap, man, I see that kind of crap every damned day. Religion’s got nothing to do with it.”
“Yeah, so I guess I oughta feel the same, huh?”
“Not necessarily. But you at least ought to keep an open mind.”
Curran tapped the steering wheel. “I’m not much on faith, am I?”
“Not much, no.” Kwon shook his head. “Puzzles the hell out of me what Lauren even sees in your ungrateful ass.”
Curran looked at him. “What?”
Kwon belched. “What?”
“What’d you just say?”
“About Lauren?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing.”
“It was something.”
“I said I can’t figure why she’s obviously interested in you.”
“You really think that?”
“’Course. I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.”
“But she’s becoming a nun.”
“Yeah,” said Kwon. “She sure is.”
“That’s not good.”
“Depends on who you’re referring to it being good for. It’s good for God. He’s getting one helluva great lady in his service. Kinda sucks for you, though, huh?”
“Anyone ever tell you you’re a real poet with words, Kwon?”
“No. Don’t expect ‘em to either.”
“Good bet.”
“Don’t get off the subject, Steve. You’re just all confused about what to do with this lady, aren’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Try definitely.” Kwon chuckled. “I tell ya, first time I laid eyes on you, I would’ve banked money betting you were el’ Mr. Suavo with the chicks. Turns out you’re just a big shy guy, huh?”
“I haven’t got any time for women.” He frowned, but Kwon was right. He did have a problem believing he could talk to women.
“When was the last time you got laid?”
Curran peered through the windshield. “That’s not really any of your business.”
“Crap — that long?” Kwon laughed some more. “Brother, no wonder you’re having such a hard time swallowing this Devil story. You haven’t had your mind properly expanded.”
“I need sex to believe in the Devil?”
“I didn’t say that. I said that constant sex keeps you open to new possibilities is all. You don’t have sex all that often, you start to shrivel up mentally.” He chuckled. “And physically.”
“I’m sure,” said Curran. “So, how often do you have sex?”
“Twice a day,” said Kwon.
Curran sniffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Twice a day whether I need it or not — even if I’m by myself,” said Kwon with a smile. “You oughta try it sometime. Works really well. All those endorphins. Hoo-yah.”
“I think I’m doing fine.”
“Oh yeah, you’re doing great,” said Kwon. “The only woman who’s shown you any kind of interest in all the years we’ve known each other has you flip-flopping over her profession. You’ve got some kind of galactic battle brewing between the powers of good and evil, possibly involving Satan himself, and you’re sitting in a crappy car on Beacon Hill — in the rain no less — talking to some slick gigolo Korean when you oughta be out doing anything related to what I just said.” He took a sip from his thermos. “You’re doing great. No doubt. No doubt.”
“I can’t believe we’re discussing this.”
“Hey, you dragged me out here. I was all happy with my former plans for this evening.”
“Yeah but we have to discuss this?”
“I don’t watch TV. Besides, this is the most relevant thing in both our lives right now. May as well hash it out if we can.”
I’m tired of discussing my non-existent love life, thought Curran. “So you’re convinced that there really is a Soul Eater?”
“Sure.”
“You say it so cavalier.”
“Nope. Just acknowledging what makes the most sense.” Kwon sighed. “Look, I’m a man of science. I deal in human bodies. I see the results of civilization and lifestyle on a very physical basis. You eat a lot of red meat and don’t exercise, I see pounds of undigested gunk in your intestinal tract. You smoke butts — ahem — and you end up with black lungs. You screw everyone you meet and don’t play it safe, you get — ”
“- what’s your point?”
“The point, super cop, is that the one thing I don’t see is how this world affects us on a spiritual level. See, I’ve got no scientific facts and figures that will help me figure out why someone who is otherwise super healthy will just drop dead. So, when I run up against something like that, I usually find I’m pretty open to explanations that I might not otherwise be.”
“And you think I should be, too?”
“Probably make your life a lot less stressful.”
Curran listened to the rain hitting the roof of the car. “It’s not that easy for me.”
“You know what I think?”
“Do I want to?”
“Probably not. I think you’re just scared to start believing again. That nasty-ass priest freaked your belief system up real good. You’ve never wanted to believe in a God since that day because you couldn’t fathom how someone supposedly so super-powerful would ever let an evil man do that kind of stuff.”
Curran stared at Kwon. Kwon eyed him back.
Curran chewed his lip. “Mind if I smoke?”
“I absolutely mind. Don’t kill me with your passive suicidal tendencies.”
“You’re drinking.”
Kwon raised one eyebrow. “There’s no evidence that liquor burps will kill you. Leave the butts where they are.”
Curran cracked the window. “Maybe you’re right.”
“Maybe I am.”
“Doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Self-revelation doesn’t work that way. Despite what Oprah says.”
Curran glanced at him and grinned. “Thanks for hanging out tonight.”
“Forget it. Next time I’ll just unplug my phone so you can’t call.”
Curran’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Yeah?”
“Steve?”
Lauren. Curran smiled. “Hey.”
“Where are you?”
“Beacon Hill. In the cold rain. Kwon’s with me.”
“Can you come pick me up?”
“Where are you?”
“Marlborough Street.”
Curran frowned. Something about her voice. Anger? No. Fear. “You okay?”
“Steve.” She paused. “I think someone’s following me.”