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“The perp on Miawashi? Yeah, he’s gone. Not at his mom’s place. Not with his girlfriend.”
“Knows we’re looking at him,” Mason said. “Well. He’s got to be somewhere.”
“Makes it a puzzle,” Scarrey said, cheerfully. Anderson met Mason’s eyes with an empty expression. He didn’t get the joke.
“Internal Affairs finished chewing you over?”
“I’m not getting a written apology or anything, but yeah. That’s done,” he said. “What about you two? Good day?”
“Possibly excellent,” Scarrey said.
“Track down the global satanic conspiracy?”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” Mason said. “Pretty well established that Sobinski’s full of shit, though.”
“Even with the . . .” Anderson moved his arms back into an awkward pose, mimicking the prisoner.
“Even with,” Mason agreed. “I’m thinking we get some of the stuff we found, and we can use it pretrial if his lawyer tries to get him declared incompetent. Still no confession, but . . .”
“Well,” Anderson said, nodding slowly. Maybe impressed, maybe pretending to be impressed. “Go with God.”
“Yes,” Scarrey said. “I was hoping I could see the prisoner one last time, though. If that’s not too much trouble?”
“Fine with me,” Mason said.
“Um,” Scarrey said, looking pained and embarrassed.
Mason hoisted his eyebrows.
“Yes, I was wondering if I might speak with him alone.”
THE INTERROGATION ROOM WASN’T BUILT FOR COMFORT. A SINGLE METAL table, bolted to the floor. A plastic chair for the perp, light enough that even if he threw it at someone, it wouldn’t do any real damage. The walls were a dim, unhealthy green. The CCTV camera sat in the corner, so that the image on the monitor was tilted like something in a funhouse mirror. Maury Sobinski looked up into the camera sometimes, like he was trying to decide whether it was on or not. Mason had disabled the red light-emitting diode on the side months ago. Sobinski’s wrists were in cuffs, his ankles hobbled, and a chain ran around the bolted desk. If Scarrey got himself hurt in there, it wouldn’t be because Mason hadn’t tried to keep him safe.
“This is a bad idea, partner,” Anderson said.
“If I leave them in lockup, someone might overhear, right?” Mason said. “Interrogation rooms are soundproof. No one goes in or out without making enough noise to know they’re coming. Chief’s guest wants privacy, I give him privacy.”
“Except for the part where you put him where you can snoop on him.”
“Yeah, except for that.”
“This is a bad idea.”
“Shh. Here he comes.”
At the table, Sobinski sat up a little straighter. Mason turned up the monitor’s volume a little. Scarrey’s footsteps came before the little man walked into the frame. The relative positions of Scarrey and the camera meant that Mason could only see the back of his head, and that from the top. Perfect angle to see how much the guy was balding. Sobinski’s head shifted in the weird almost-broken way he had. His voice through the monitor was perfectly clear. What had seemed creepy and ominous before came across as theatrical and pretentious now.
“You return, little man. You’ve come for Maury, but you cannot have him.”
“That isn’t entirely true,” Scarrey said. “You can stop. It’s all right. I understand.”
Sobinski’s laughter rattled his chains and scooted his chair across the floor.
“You will bow before the King of Hell,” Sobinski said. “Beleth will eat your heart, little man. Only open up. Let him in. Everything will end for you.”
“Maury, you should stop this. It’s undignified.”
“I am the angel at the gate!” Sobinski screamed, his shoulders twisting in ways that looked unlikely and painful. “I am the archon of the last days!”
