Read Online God Told Me To by C. K. Chandler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: C. K. Chandler
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appointment to see him the day he returns.”
“What’s the significance of the barred windows? That’s a common burglary protection in this town.”
“Ten years ago that neighborhood had a low crime rate. Bars were uncommon.”
“Eleven-year-old boys don’t just go off on their own and survive. Detective Jordan, would you care to speculate on how this was accomplished.”
Jordan shrugged.
“Come, come, Detective Jordan. You must have some idea.”
“Maybe a rich family took him in. Maybe he was blessed.”
Hendriks’ tongue darted out and snaked along his lips.
“It also reads here that you two checked with homosexual organizations and covered known homosexual hangouts. I hope you enjoyed your work. Since the blond beauty described by your witnesses sounds queer as a Greek sailor, I wonder if you covered that aspect enough.”
Jordan said, “You might say, sir, it came to a dead end.”
Hendriks’ mouth curved into a frigid smile. “I’m happy you possess a bit of wit, Detective Jordan, as you may soon find yourself without a rank. Now about drugs?”
“None of our informants on the street ever heard of Phillips,” Nicholas answered.
Jordan added, “There’s no evidence of any of the slayers ever using them.”
“No drugs, no sex. Yet Phillips, for whatever reason, gets people to obey his will.”
Nicholas said, “Some form of hypnosis is the best we can come up with at this time.”
“Like Lamont Cranston, Bernard Phillips has the power to cloud men’s minds. Unfortunately, the D.A. will undoubtedly wonder whether or not a jury can withstand such power.”
“Sir, it’s in our report. We’ve talked with two psychiatrists who use hypnosis in their work and a nightclub performer who uses it in his act. All agree it is possible. The right hypnotist given the right subject under the proper circum—”
“That’ll be enough, Lieutenant. I’m giving you one more week. I’ll be spending this week going over my options. I’ll choose the appropriate one if you don’t bring me something solid.”
The detectives were about to leave the office when Hendriks said, “In your report I didn’t read that you checked out the marriage license bureau. Your Bernard Phillips may have gotten married.”
Jordan responded, “Sir, without an approximate date to start with, going through those licenses could take weeks.”
“You have one week.”
It was dusk gray when they left the headquarters building. They walked silently along the little street named Police Plaza, hands in their pockets, footsteps thudding softly.
Jordan said, “Don’t take that lame sonofabitch too serious. We got him just as much by the balls as he’s got us. He used us to try picking up a long shot. He won’t risk letting that come out.”
“We still have a week.”
“Nicholas, we’re not getting anywhere.”
“I’ll find him.”
“Terrific. Then you can start building a case.”
Their car was parked on one of the many short, narrow streets that crisscross lower Manhattan like a scrambled tic-tac-toe. Nicholas told Jordan to take the car, they would see each other in the morning.
“Sorry, Nicholas. I got that court appearance. You’re on your own the next two, maybe three days.”
“Forgot about that.”
“Call me if—”
“Listen, Jordan. I want to thank you for going along with the report the way I wrote it.”
Jordan chuckled. He shoved a cigarette into his mouth and the flame of a lighter lit his face. “We can control Hendriks just so far. Any idea his reaction if he learned this all started ’cause a couple psychos thought God was giving the orders?”
Nicholas asked, “What’re you thinking?”
“Hell, I’ve been a yo-yo on this thing. Phillips might exist or he might be just a big happenstance. For your sake, I hope he exists. I like you, Nicholas. You’re a good cop. We don’t exactly wear the same hats, but believe it or not, I respect you. Wouldn’t want to see you go down.
“What’s the significance of the barred windows? That’s a common burglary protection in this town.”
“Ten years ago that neighborhood had a low crime rate. Bars were uncommon.”
“Eleven-year-old boys don’t just go off on their own and survive. Detective Jordan, would you care to speculate on how this was accomplished.”
Jordan shrugged.
“Come, come, Detective Jordan. You must have some idea.”
“Maybe a rich family took him in. Maybe he was blessed.”
Hendriks’ tongue darted out and snaked along his lips.
“It also reads here that you two checked with homosexual organizations and covered known homosexual hangouts. I hope you enjoyed your work. Since the blond beauty described by your witnesses sounds queer as a Greek sailor, I wonder if you covered that aspect enough.”
Jordan said, “You might say, sir, it came to a dead end.”
Hendriks’ mouth curved into a frigid smile. “I’m happy you possess a bit of wit, Detective Jordan, as you may soon find yourself without a rank. Now about drugs?”
“None of our informants on the street ever heard of Phillips,” Nicholas answered.
Jordan added, “There’s no evidence of any of the slayers ever using them.”
“No drugs, no sex. Yet Phillips, for whatever reason, gets people to obey his will.”
Nicholas said, “Some form of hypnosis is the best we can come up with at this time.”
“Like Lamont Cranston, Bernard Phillips has the power to cloud men’s minds. Unfortunately, the D.A. will undoubtedly wonder whether or not a jury can withstand such power.”
“Sir, it’s in our report. We’ve talked with two psychiatrists who use hypnosis in their work and a nightclub performer who uses it in his act. All agree it is possible. The right hypnotist given the right subject under the proper circum—”
“That’ll be enough, Lieutenant. I’m giving you one more week. I’ll be spending this week going over my options. I’ll choose the appropriate one if you don’t bring me something solid.”
The detectives were about to leave the office when Hendriks said, “In your report I didn’t read that you checked out the marriage license bureau. Your Bernard Phillips may have gotten married.”
Jordan responded, “Sir, without an approximate date to start with, going through those licenses could take weeks.”
“You have one week.”
It was dusk gray when they left the headquarters building. They walked silently along the little street named Police Plaza, hands in their pockets, footsteps thudding softly.
Jordan said, “Don’t take that lame sonofabitch too serious. We got him just as much by the balls as he’s got us. He used us to try picking up a long shot. He won’t risk letting that come out.”
“We still have a week.”
“Nicholas, we’re not getting anywhere.”
“I’ll find him.”
“Terrific. Then you can start building a case.”
Their car was parked on one of the many short, narrow streets that crisscross lower Manhattan like a scrambled tic-tac-toe. Nicholas told Jordan to take the car, they would see each other in the morning.
“Sorry, Nicholas. I got that court appearance. You’re on your own the next two, maybe three days.”
“Forgot about that.”
“Call me if—”
“Listen, Jordan. I want to thank you for going along with the report the way I wrote it.”
Jordan chuckled. He shoved a cigarette into his mouth and the flame of a lighter lit his face. “We can control Hendriks just so far. Any idea his reaction if he learned this all started ’cause a couple psychos thought God was giving the orders?”
Nicholas asked, “What’re you thinking?”
“Hell, I’ve been a yo-yo on this thing. Phillips might exist or he might be just a big happenstance. For your sake, I hope he exists. I like you, Nicholas. You’re a good cop. We don’t exactly wear the same hats, but believe it or not, I respect you. Wouldn’t want to see you go down.
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