NEED A PENNY TAKE A PENNY

                                                                                          Need A Penny Take A Penny

    It was the blood that was the hardest thing to get used to. McCannless could ignore the rest of it, look at it as evidence. Even the brains splattered all over the wall didn't bother him. He could learn something from the brains. Like at what angle the bullet had hit the body; where the assailant had been standing when he fired; how close he was; things like that. But the blood was different. The only thing you could learn from the blood was how long the heart kept beating after the impact of the bullet. How long it took the poor schmuck to die after his brains had been splattered all over the place.
    "Telephone, Lieutenant ...."
    McCannless looked up to see a somewhat pale looking young officer standing next to him holding a cell phone in his outstretched hand.
    "It's the Captain ...," the officer said. His eyes were riveted on the body lying behind the cash register in a huge pool of blood.
    McCannless reached out to take the phone, but the officer didn't seem to want to let go of it.
    "Oh ..., sorry, sir." the officer said, letting go of the phone at last, "I guess I wasn't expecting, I mean ..., I guess I'm just not used to .....,".
    "It's alright ....," McCannless said, "there's some things you never get used to."
    McCannless put the phone to his ear.
    "--- McCannless here."
    The voice on the other end was somber, concerned.
    "What've you got Mac?"
    "Same as the others, Captain. Three victims this time. Two male customers and a female clerk. Young girl ..., early twenties, I'd say. All three shot one time at close range; the men in the heart and the girl in the head, just like the others."
    "What can we do Mac?"
    "I don't know, Captain, but whatever we do, we've got to do it fast. This is the third time this month."
    "Whatever you need Mac. Anything, anything at all. Just ask and it’s yours."
      "Thanks, Captain ...., but I guess what I really need is a break."
      "We'll get one --- We've got to." The phone went dead.
      Another plain-clothes officer stuck his head in the door.
    "Robbery's here Tony."
    "Okay, I'll be right out."
    McCannless handed the phone to the closest uniformed officer and walked out into the
parking lot of the convenience store. At least a dozen patrol cars with lights flashing were on the scene. A young woman with two small children sat in the back seat of one of the patrol cars. She was sobbing. McCannless stopped short when he saw her.
    "Who's she?" he asked the closest uniform.
    "Wife of one of the victims." the officer answered.
    "Was she with him?"
    "No sir. She was home. Her husband had come out to get some milk for the kids, and when he didn't come back, she got worried about him ..., packed up the kids and came looking for him.  You want to talk to her?"
    "... No ..., no ..., just get her home. See if she has a relative she can call to come stay with her."
    "Yes sir." The uniform turned away.

    "Jesus Christ, What the hell is going on here McCannless? Have you got a psycho on your hands or what? I don't see how you homicide guys sleep at night ..., seeing this shit every day."
    McCannless turned to see the two best robbery detectives in the city; Greg Bennett and Larry Sheldon. He was glad to see them. He had worked with Greg many years ago, when they were both in uniform, and he was glad they had finally assigned him to the case. Bennett and Sheldon were pro's, and that was what McCannless needed right now. A lot of professionalism and a little luck, just a little and he would get this guy.           
    "Well I'll be damned ..., kick over a rock and you never know what might crawl out from under it."  McCannless reached out and clasped Bennett's hand warmly.
    "How've you been, Greg? How's Mary?"
    "Great, Mac, Just Great ..., what about Nancy and the girls?"
    "Couldn't be better. Melissa will be 16 next month ...., not looking forward to that one .., you know, driving and all ...., and little Cindy ..., smart as a whip ...., nine years old now."
    "Nine years old --- I remember when she was born. Oh, well .., time flies when you're having fun, huh?"
    "Yeah ...., or even if you're not."
    Bennett's face changed.
    "What about this? Got anything?"
    "Nothing. Nothing but bodies, and the count is growing. Two last week, and four the week before that, and not a clue."
    "What about the security camera?"
    "What's left of it, you mean? That's the first thing he does when he comes in the store ..., puts a hole in the security camera. They're checking the VCR now to see if it picked up anything before he trashed the camera."
    "He ...?" Bennett raised an eyebrow. "Sounds like reverse discrimination to me, huh, Larry."  Sheldon nodded in agreement.
      McCannless wasn't amused.
    "You know, it says something about our society that these kinds of crimes are almost always committed by men. There's something to be learned from that."
    Bennett nudged Sheldon with his elbow without taking his hand out of the pocket of his
overcoat.
    "I'd say that too if I lived in a house with three women, wouldn't you Larry."
    "Hell yeah ...., I'd know where my bread was buttered."
    But McCannless was serious. He had given a lot of thought to the subject. Women were much more advanced creatures than men. Finer, more exquisite. True works of art. If God created Adam first, and then Eve, it showed that he had had some practice.
    The inside of the store had taken on the sterile appearance of a crime scene. I.D. had shown up and had begun to dust everything in sight, and the coroner's office had finished taking pictures.
    "Were ready to move 'em if you are Lieutenant."
    McCannless turned to see a white-coated young man with a stethoscope around his neck standing next to one of the victims.
    "No ..., hang on a minute. I haven't checked the bodies."
    McCannless looked around the store. Somewhere, there in that room was the clue he needed.  But where?  He knelt and put his hand on the young female victim’s shoulder and pushed her gently over on her back. A single hole in the middle of her forehead told where the small caliber round had entered her body. She was pretty. Not much older than Melissa.  How could anyone do such a thing?  All his years in homicide, and still that question haunted him. Isolated acts of violence erupting from a moment of passion he could grasp, but this? --- This was cold blooded, calculated, deliberate murder.  And for what? --- A few dollars grabbed out of the cash drawer?  It just didn't make sense. McCannless put his hand on the girl’s brow and pulled back her eyelids. He stared into her eyes. Who did this to you, huh? --- Who did this?  Is he still there in your eyes?  Nothing.  Cold; lifeless; dead.  He checked the other two victims to see if it looked like they had been robbed or beaten, they hadn't been. Next to one of the victims, a carton of milk laid spilled out on the floor. On the back was a picture of a young girl. 'Have you seen me?' the caption read. McCannless picked up the milk carton and stared absentmindedly at the picture. 'Missing since 1989'. Jesus, that was over ten years ago. I wonder how long they run these things?  No ...., sorry honey, but I haven't seen you.  He turned and looked out the window and saw a uniformed female officer helping the victim’s wife out of the back of the patrol car. He was glad it was a female officer. At least she probably wouldn't say anything stupid to the poor woman, something like, 'Don't worry, ma'am, we're going to get the guy that did this,' and all that bullshit.
    McCannless set the half-empty milk carton on the checkout counter and began studying everything he saw. The security camera had been blown to pieces, but the VCR that recorded what it saw was kept locked in the small office in the back of the store; not that that would do any good. In the other two robberies at least, the camera had been destroyed before it saw anything that could be helpful. The tapes from the last several days’ business would be studied to see if there were any suspicious looking characters on them, but the odds were that this would be futile.     
    'Need a penny? Take a penny. Got a penny? Leave a penny.' the sign on the little tray next to the cash register read. McCannless thought it ironic. In some ways those little trays represented the best, and the worst of America to him. The best because it showed the true American spirit of charity, the spirit of giving a helping hand to those in need; the worst because they were usually empty. But not this one. This one had three, bright, shiny, pennies in it.
                                                                                                         ***
    McCannless slid into bed, his side was still warm. When the phone rang earlier, it had startled Nancy awake, and she had slept fitfully since, as she always did when he was called out like that in the middle of the night. But now, her body relaxed as her husband slid his arms around her and gently caressed her breasts. Without fully awakening, she held him in her arms and pressed him close to her. She thought she felt a tear on his cheek, but she didn't question him. Whatever it was he had seen was over with for now. He was in her arms, and for that moment, that was all that mattered. Tomorrow he would have to face it again, but for now, he could sleep, and be safe.       
                                                                                                       ***
    In a shabby part of town, in a second floor walk-up, a four year old girl sat in near darkness. Scattered about her were several rolls of pennies. She had been playing with the pennies, even though she knew that her daddy would be mad if he caught her. But it was all she had to play with, those rolls of pennies. She had learned to take the bright shiny pennies out of the rolls, then she would stack them up, make little bridges and houses out of them, even cars, then put them back in the rolls so her daddy wouldn't notice. After all, she had no toys. She used to have toys, but that was when ..., no ..., mustn't think about it. Daddy would really get mad if he caught her thinking about it.
    The locks on the door began to click, and she hurried to put the coins away. In the shadows, a man entered the room. He threw a paper sack on the table, then pulled a 22 cal. long barreled revolver from his belt. He flicked open the chamber and took four spent cartridges from the pistol and replaced them with four 22 caliber steel jacketed hollow points, then sat the weapon on the table next to the paper sack.   
    "Daddy's home ...," he said, his voice almost a whisper. He crossed the room and sat in the one chair that had come with the apartment. The arms of the big chair were torn, and the cushions were dented.
    "Come ...., come see me."
    She made the mistake of letting him here her whimper.
    "No daddy, please don't make me ...," 
    He was up like a shot. He grabbed the child and slammed her down in his lap.
    "I SAID COME SEE ME ...., " his voice raging.
    Then the whisper, as he slowly caressed the child's nipples.
    "Now ..., isn't that better."
    The child whimpered again. But this time she made sure he didn't hear her; made sure he couldn't hear her think about it.
                                                                                                     ***
    McCannless couldn't stay home. Almost two weeks had passed since the convenience store killer had struck. He was overdue. Maybe he had moved on; or maybe he was out there; waiting. Patrols had been stepped up, and the cabbies had been enlisted to help watch the stores considered vulnerable, but it wasn't enough. If the killer wanted to strike, there was still plenty of opportunity.
    Bennett and Sheldon had done a good job following up on things. They had checked all the surrounding states for any robberies with similar M.O.'s and had turned up some interesting information. There was a string of similar hold-ups from Dallas to St. Louis, and now it seemed that their little bird had landed, right there in Kansas City.
    The call came in at about 11:00. McCannless raced to the scene, lights flashing, siren blaring. One victim this time. A man. No witnesses. Single shot in the heart. Trademark by now.
    McCannless studied the scene; trying to memorize every detail, compare it in his mind to the other scenes. What was the same? What was different? The cash register drawer was still open, and on the counter sat all the usual items. Beef sticks, Bic lighters, individually wrapped chocolate covered cherries, and the ever present 'Need a penny / Take a penny' tray. In it was one bright, shiny penny.
      "Rope this place off. No one goes in without my authorization ..., I'll be home if anyone needs me."
      "Yes sir ...," the uniformed officer at the door replied.
                                                                                                     ***
    The Captain was on the phone early the next morning.
    "Have you seen the papers. 'Convenience Killer Strikes Again, Police Baffled'. We've got to do something, Mac. The Mayor's all over me this morning. I've got to see him at ten, and I'd like to have something positive to say to him."
    McCannless felt the anger rising, but quickly checked it.
    "Tell him we're working with other states, trying to make a positive ID."
    "He's not going to fall for that bullshit. He wants results. Give him a name, a picture, something to show on television and he'll be happy, but nothing else is going to work. I'm telling you, Mac, if we don't crack this thing soon, the Mayor's going to be out for some blood of his own, if you get my drift."
    The phone went dead. McCannless held the phone at arm length and spoke to the receiver.
    "Good-bye, Captain. Nice talking to you too."
    He hung the receiver up, then pulled a file from his desk drawer and began pouring over the pages of notes and stacks of pictures. He read the report from the Dallas police. Two had been killed in Dallas. A man and a woman. $212.00 was missing from the store; $201.00 in small bills and $11.00 in pennies. Pennies? That was weird. He read on in the report. Seemed the storekeeper liked to collect new pennies. He kept rolls of them under the counter.  The saga continued: Dallas, Tulsa, St. Louis, Kansas City.
    The pictures of the first scene in Kansas City were gruesome. Four bodies. Two men and two women. Everything else was familiar. The opened cash drawer, the beef sticks, the penny tray.  Bet this one's empty.  But it wasn't. It looked like there were four pennies in it. He pulled a magnifying glass from his desk drawer and studied the photograph with it. Yep, four pennies.  That was funny.  He pulled the pictures of the second hold-up out of the file and shuffled through them until he found a good picture of the checkout counter.
    "Well I'll be damned." he said.
    He picked up the phone and dialed four numbers.
    "I.D. ...," the female voice on the other end said.
    "McCannless here ..., have an I.D. wagon meet me at the convenience store on 112th in thirty minutes."
    McCannless hung up the phone, then grabbed his hat and coat and ran out of the office. 
    Could it be? Never in a thousand years, still, it wouldn't hurt to check.
    The I.D. wagon reached the scene at about the same time as McCannless.
    "Can you get a print off of a penny?" McCannless asked.
    The I.D. officer looked skeptical. "I don't know, Lieutenant. maybe ...., why, you think you got something?"
    "Probably not. Just a hunch. Longshot .., you know. We gotta' get lucky somewhere. See what you can do, will you?"
    "Sure, Lieutenant, no problem."
    The I.D. officer picked the penny up with tweezers and placed it on a clean white piece of paper. He dusted it lightly with a brush full of metal shavings, then brushed and blew on it until a small smudge appeared.
    "I'm getting something here, Lieutenant."
    The I.D. Officer continued working on the penny until a print began to appear. After a minute or two, he took a small piece of white paper and pressed it firmly against the penny. When he removed the paper, there was a picture of Abraham Lincoln on it, and he had a fingerprint right in the middle of his face.
    "It looks like a child's print, Lieutenant."
    "A child's?" McCannless felt as if someone had kicked him in the guts. He had really thought he had something.
    "Well ..., run it anyway ...., maybe it's a small man."         
Back at the station, McCannless sat at his desk and stared blankly at the file still laying open in front of him. He knew it would take at least 24 hours to get a response on the print from the FBI, even on a priority run. But he also knew that if I.D. thought it was a child, they were probably right.
    The phone rang.
    "McCannless ....," he said as he put the receiver to his ear.
    "Tony .....?"
    It was Nancy. What a relief it was to here her voice.
    "Hi, honey ..., what's up?" 
    "I just wanted to remind you about tonight."
    "Tonight ...?"
    "Yes, Tony, tonight. It's Cindy's Christmas play, remember. The proceeds are going to the missing children's fund."
    "Oh ..., yeah. Glad you called. I would've forgotten all about it. I've had a lot on my mind."
    "I've noticed. But tonight your presence is requested ...., get my drift."
    "You sound like the Captain."
    "Yeah ..., well right now I am your captain. 7:30 sharp. Be there."
    "Yes ma'am.  What's this little charity event costing us, anyway?"
    "Oh, not much. Second born child, and a hundred dollars, that's all."
    "A hundred bucks? Can we afford that?"
    "It's the Scotsman in ya' McCannless. You'd pinch a penny 'till it screamed if I'd let you."
    "Okay ..., Okay, I'll see you tonight."
    ~.... I love you, Tony."
    "I love you too, honey. I'm glad you called."   
    McCannless hung up the phone. The conversation had renewed him; strengthened his resolve. What if Nancy had been in one of those stores? He looked at his desk top, and saw a picture from the third hold-up. Sitting on the checkout counter was the milk carton he had sat there that night, with the picture of the missing girl on the back. A hundred bucks, huh? Well if it would help bring some poor missing child home, it would be worth it, even if these kids were usually snatched by one of their parents. If one of his children turned up missing, no matter what the circumstances, he would go nuts, and besides, he was not tight with a penny.
    He looked back at the photograph. Next to the milk carton was the penny tray. Slowly, he turned the facts over in his mind. Could it have been coincidence? In the Kansas City hold-ups at least, there had been one new penny in the tray for each body; and the rolls of pennies stolen in the Dallas hold-up?  He picked up the phone and called I.D..
    "Anything from the FBI yet?"
    "No sir. I wouldn't expect anything until sometime tomorrow."
    "You still think it was a child's print?"
    "Looks like it, Lieutenant. I'd be real surprised if it wasn't."
    "Isn't there some kind of network that keeps missing children's prints on file?  You know, like the milk carton people."
    "Yes sir, there is. I'm not sure who they are right now, but I can find out."
    "Have them run that print, just for grins. See if they turn anything up on it."
    "Will do, Lieutenant."   
                                                                                                            ***
    McCannless's beeper went off at 8:15 that night, just as the angel's were hovering over Rudy Laskey's baby brother, and the wise men were bestowing their gifts upon him. McCannless grabbed his beeper and punched the button as fast as he could, but it was too late, most of the audience was already looking around to see who had 'beeped'. Nancy gave him a crossways look as he tried to leave as inconspicuously as possible. In the light of the lobby, he fumbled for a quarter, then dialed the squad room. Bennett answered.
    "I don't know how you did it buddy boy, but we've got something. That fingerprint turned out to belong to a child named Janie Monroe. Lived in Fortworth. Missing for eight months. The mother filed sexual abuse charges against the father, one Charles Alan Monroe, about a year ago. A few months later, the mother and her boyfriend were found shot to death ....., and listen to this, she had a bullet in her head, and the boyfriend had one in his heart. A 22-caliber steel jacketed hollow point. Fortworth police believe the father to be responsible.  All the local stations will be running his picture within the next half-hour. Thought you'd wanna' be in on it."
    McCannless returned to his seat just in time to applaud all the little angels and shepherds and Mary and Joseph and Rudy Laskey's little baby brother.

    Two hours later, he stood in a dark hallway outside the door to a second floor walk-up. The landlord had been watching television and had recognized the man in the picture. There had been some discussion about watching the apartment all night and nabbing the suspected murderer when he came out the next morning, but McCannless had nixed that. If he had the child in there with him, and he was prone to sexual abuse, McCannless wanted her out of there now. They hit the door hard and fast, guns drawn, bellowing the traditional warning ....,
"POLICE ...., FREEZE ....,"  and it was over.
    A female officer bundled up the child and took her down to a waiting ambulance. McCannless picked up a roll of pennies that lay on a shelf in the corner of the room and opened it. He dropped a few pennies in his hand and walked over to Charles Alan Monroe. He opened his hand and showed Monroe the pennies.
    "Need a penny?  Take a penny ..."
    Monroe stood with his hands cuffed behind his back, a uniformed officer firmly holding each arm. He glared at McCannless; eyes dark; glossy; then a low laugh, and a whispery voice ...,
    "Need a life?  Take a Life ..."
   
                                                                                                                        ***