Then the astonishment wore off enough that another piece clicked into place for me. “We’d better get to the storage unit! Mrs. Saldana might be in trouble.”
That old woman had devoted her life to helping down-and-out unnaturals. She had been tireless in her dedication, saving brain-addict zombies like Jerry, handing out charity blood packs to starving vampires, giving monsters a second chance when they needed it, despite all of her difficulties in keeping the mission open. As her benefactor, Irwyn Goodfellow had seemed a godsend, providing new hope for all lower-class unnaturals. Now, though, I feared we would find her dead, just like Maximilian Grubb.
We bolted out of the office, ran between the rows of storage units. I drew my .38 as we approached, and McGoo pulled his service piece—the one loaded with normal bullets, not the silver-jacketed ones. Irwyn Goodfellow was not a monster in the traditional sense, just a very, very bad man.
The roll-up door to the hearts-and-souls storage unit was open, and I heard rustling sounds inside, clinking jars. We knew what Goodfellow was capable of. I couldn’t forget his demonic expression in the crystal ball as he strangled Snazz, and the numerous wounds on the former former necromancer’s body made the point more clearly than words. “Robin, you’d better stay back where it’s safe,” I whispered.
Her eyes flared. “Are you kidding me?”
“Okay, silly suggestion.”
McGoo and I walked up to the open storage unit, guns drawn.
Under the light of the single naked bulb, Irwyn Goodfellow was grabbing Mason jars from the shelves, stuffing them into a black duffel bag, and packing dirty socks around the jars so the glass wouldn’t break. He picked up one jar that contained a brown and sluggishly beating heart surrounded by the aura of a contained soul.
When we yelled “Freeze!” it was like a moment in a cop show.
Goodfellow froze, as he was told. His face looked haggard; his big once-understanding eyes had more of an edge now. His thick flattop haircut looked like a bristly doormat used for scrubbing mud from the bottom of your shoes. He showed no sign of the smile he had worn during his many benevolent speeches.
Mrs. Saldana and Jerry lay on the floor inside the unit, both of them tied up with the bungee cords Goodfellow had detached from the shelves. Both had also been gagged with dirty socks stuffed into their mouths—which was disgusting in its own way.
Goodfellow held the jar in his hand, dangling it above the hard cement floor in a clear threat.
Jerry mumbled something through the wadded sock in his mouth. Even when his articulation was unimpeded, Jerry’s words were often incomprehensible, and I couldn’t understand a single syllable now. But the conclusion was obvious—Goodfellow was holding Jerry’s heart and soul hostage.
“Put the soul down, Goodfellow,” McGoo said. “Gently. No sudden moves.”
“I don’t think so. I’m very sorry, but I have to think of the benefit of the whole Unnatural Quarter. And since I’m doing so much good work here, it’s important that I stay out of jail.” Now the sincere, warm smile returned to his face. “You understand.”
He glanced at the old woman, who struggled against her stretchy bungee cords but made little progress. “Even Mrs. Saldana knows what I’m talking about. I feel very bad about having to kill her, because she’s such a nice lady who has her heart in the right place, but I need to cover my tracks.”
“We know what you did, Goodfellow,” I said. McGoo and I both kept our weapons aimed directly at him. “We’ve got crystal-ball security camera footage that proves you murdered Snazz the gremlin, and we know you killed Maximilian Grubb in the office.”
“Yes, I killed them, but it was for a good cause.” Goodfellow blinked at us, apparently baffled that we didn’t understand. “You aren’t seeing the forest for the trees here.”
I spoke for all of us. “I’m confused.”
Still ready to smash Jerry’s heart and soul on the cement, Goodfellow said, “The gremlin would have revealed that I’d bought all the hearts and souls if you tempted him enough. I couldn’t allow myself to be in that position. The whole Quarter would suffer if people stopped thinking of me as a good person. Do you believe altruism, benevolence, and philanthropy comes easy to a person? What kind of freak do you think I am?”
Mrs. Saldana squirmed and tried to shout something through the sock. Her face was screwed up in an expression of distaste, either from the sour foot sweat or from the revelations Irwyn Goodfellow was making.
“You have to understand,” he continued, “I’m really a rotten guy inside—bad blood, you might say—but I just didn’t like myself. After the falling piano almost killed me, I vowed to change. There’s no law against self-improvement. I should be commended.”
Considering the murders Goodfellow had already committed, I was glad I’d never met the unimproved version.
“But I masked my predilections by buying up other people’s hearts and souls, which gives me all the kindness and generosity I need. I’m an artificially good person, but a good person nevertheless.”
Robin was appalled. “You can’t just buy kindness and generosity from other people! That has to come from inside yourself.”
“That’s what the books say, but I didn’t have time for that. I’m a busy, important man. I needed a shortcut. After my epiphany, I knew I needed to do good works—I really did!—but altruism and good intentions weren’t enough. I needed to stack the deck.” He snickered. “Missy was so embarrassed, she convinced me to use her assistant Angela as a proxy, a buffer so that I wouldn’t put another white mark on our family name. And Angela didn’t mind the overtime.”
He gave us his warm-fuzzy smile. “After I bought the first heart-and-soul combo pack from the pawnshop, I felt so positive, so happy with a rush of kindness! I realized that was the key. And look at all the good I’ve done since then. I put in a standing order with Snazz and started buying all the hearts and souls I could get my hands on. That way, I truly felt the joy of giving.”
McGoo kept his revolver pointed at Goodfellow as he stepped into the storage unit. “Well, the joy’s over. You’re under arrest for the murder of Snazz the gremlin, the murder of Maximilian Grubb, and kidnapping—for starters.”
“I can come up with a lot more,” Robin said. “Give me a few minutes.”
Goodfellow let out an exasperated sigh, growing more impatient with how thickheaded we were. “But those other people didn’t deserve their hearts and souls. They pawned them—they were practically new, barely used!”
“Jerry pawned his heart and soul so that Mrs. Saldana could do good work,” I said. “And now he wants them back.”