Peggy grabbed ahold of Dean's hand. “There's something eerie about this place. Feel it?"
Dean felt something, but he wasn't sure what—not just yet, anyway.
They had to proceed single-file down a hall off which stood several equally unused bedrooms. The kitchen at the very end had a door going to the empty, silent back yard. Except for a few crumbs and palmetto bugs rolling, the kitchen, too, was clean and in order—no dust, but looking as if it were never used. Nothing was out of its place save for a step stool.
"Something's strange,” said Dyer.
"What's that?” asked Staubb.
"Where's that smoke coming from, outside?"
"Don't see it coming from in here,” said Dean.
"There was a fireplace in the kitchen and in one of the bedrooms,” said Staubb.
"But no fire in either one,” said Peggy.
"Hell, it's got to be here somewhere,” said Staubb.
"Start looking for a false wall, gentlemen,” instructed Dean. Peggy joined in the search, snatching a flashlight from her belt. The silence that descended on the house as they shuffled about was complete and utterly disquieting to the soul. Dean felt entombed, as if they were on the brink of some discovery he'd rather not find. But he was so certain that Hamel was their man, and seeing him pull off in a Mercedes only added to that belief. He couldn't believe he'd been so blind to the truth for so long.
Peggy had wandered off in another direction, and Dean, determining that he'd entered the wrong room, turned to see her standing in the doorway, shaking.
"Someone's ... something outside, Dean,” she whispered. “I heard a noise. I think he's come back."
Dean went toward the front with her, his flashlight off. In the dark, with the others searching the house, Peggy might've imagined the noise, but there was no sense taking any chances. Dean slipped quietly past her and went toward the doorway. Then he heard it, the footsteps of someone on the creaky old porch.
Dean whipped out the .38 he didn't like to carry and preferred never to use, indicating to Peggy that she was to remain silent and to warn the others. She tiptoed toward the back of the house to do so when suddenly the front door creaked open.
Dean leveled his gun at the man's head and cocked it, freezing the figure in the dark before it said, “Jesus, Dean, is that you?"
"Shit, Sid, why're you lurking around?"
"I saw the cars outside, but it was so quiet in here, I thought he'd gotten you all."
"Do you have the warrant?"
"Yes, right here."
"Great."
"Doesn't look like much here anyway."
"Back here!” shouted Dyer, apparently before Peggy could warn him of the supposed intruder.
Dean and Sid rushed to join the others. In the larger bedroom, along a wall where a chimney stood, Dyer had touched the chimney to find the stones warm. “There's two sides to this chimney. We've got to go through the wall here."
"Where's Staubb, where's Staubb?” asked Dean, looking around in the dark, not seeing him.
Staubb half-stumbled into the room. “I ... I found it ... God, think I'm going to be sick."
Staubb rushed for the rear of the house and emptied his stomach, retching several times before he could straighten up and return. Peggy guided the others to where she had seen Staubb earlier, and they found the open closet door and the false wall. It opened inward on a dingy little room that looked like a cave. Peggy's flash went ahead of them, and in its glow Dean caught snatches of what it was that made the big sergeant gag. The walls were lined with hair patches and scalps, some strung together. A dwarfed set of furniture gave the room an unreal appearance, and over the embers of the fire, in a large black kettle, something smouldered and lightly bubbled. Dean somehow knew that Staubb, his flashlight in hand, had entered and looked too closely at what was circling about that kettle. It made Dean's stomach churn, made his mind race back to a whirlpool in Chicago where an old woman and an old man had been drowned for the sake of a pervert's idea of glory. It didn't take Dean's imagination to know what was in the bubbling water. He held Peggy back from the room, telling her to remain outside.
"Dyer and I'll take it from here. Sid, I left my valise outside on the porch ... will you, please...?"
Sid, shaken, staring into the bowels of the lair, didn't readily answer. Instead, he repeatedly said, “We were right about Hamel, Dean ... right ... right."
Staubb heard the request for the bag and went for it.
"Jesus,” said Dyer, “we got enough here to hang Hamel ten times over."
"But he won't hang,” said Peggy.
Dyer and Dean looked at her.
"She's right,” said Sid.
"He'll be declared mentally incompetent. He'll be put in a mental hospital for the criminally insane."
"He is insane,” said Dean firmly. “Our job is to prove him guilty, and get him off the streets, put him and—"
"Look at this, Dean,” said Dyer, who had begun to dig around in the little room and light candles that sat about the tables. Dean stared at a baggy but tiny set of clothes hanging from a hanger. “The dwarf,” Dyer said.
"Looks like a little kid's clothes."
"Then there really are two of them,” said Dyer.
"I told you it was a dwarf,” said Peggy.
"The brother,” said Dean suddenly, a flash of insight hitting him.
"The what?” asked Dyer.
"Hamel's brother?” asked Sid.
"Bennimin had a twin brother, Sid."
"Yes, but he died at birth, remember?"
"One thing you can't count on, Sid, is old medical records made out in little hamlets. Suppose the dwarf is the brother that was supposed to have died?"
"But they were twins."
"All the more reason for this warped and perverted idea they have, and how they work so much ... in concert."
"But twins?"
"Yes. One was deformed at birth, his growth stunted, his existence kept a secret from the world at large, apparently, since the authorities, after the death of the parents took only one boy into custody."
"Sounds crazy..."
"Yeah, just crazy enough to be true,” said Dean, still mulling over the possibilities.
"Where the hell's the dwarf now?"
"With his brother, and if they're together, they're on a hunt. We've got to find and stop them!"
"I'm gonna call in some more units down here,” said Staubb, “in case he decides to come back."
"Do that, and Sid,” said Dean, “pack all this evidence up neat and proper."
"Whoa, where are you going, Dean?"
"Dyer and me are going to Mercy Hospital. Dyer told me that Dr. Hamel's been on call at the hospital for several years. He may be on his way back there to lure another woman into that alley for his brother."
"For his brother? Dean, Hamel's the killer here, Hamel."
"Look at this place, Sid,” said Dean, pointing to the dwarf's quarters. “Everything about this house tells us one thing—the bloody dwarf's in charge here, not the brother. The dwarf is the strong personality, and Hamel, or Bennimin, is the weaker personality, led to his actions by this—this.” Again Dean opened his palm to the stench-filled room.
Peggy Carson stopped Dean and Dyer at the door. “I want in on this, to see it through."
"To kill Hamel, that's what you want, Peggy,” said Dean.
"Is that so awful?"
"He's a sick man, Peggy."
"He should be put out of his misery, then."
"Along with this dwarf-brother,” agreed Dyer.
Dean stared at the two cops, seeing they were determined. “We've got to do this by the book, if we possibly can. You see that, don't you."