The Perfect Murder, page 13
Kat made sure to arrive early.
She’d never been to the Western Regional Women’s Psychiatric Detention Center, or PDC, before and wasn’t sure what their visitor admission process was. But if she wanted to help Jessie, she didn’t have much choice but to find out.
Andy Robinson lived here, at least for the time being, and if Kat was going to keep it that way, she had no choice but to go to the woman herself. It was a long shot, but maybe she could get Andy to let something slip, some detail that could prove her involvement in these crimes and prevent her release.
She had considered telling Jessie what she was doing when they texted last night, but she didn’t want to get her friend’s hopes up. And knowing Jessie Hunt, she’d tell her not to come at all, because someone on Andy Robinson’s radar was someone at risk. She’d be right, but that was Kat’s risk to take.
After going through one security check at the entrance to the parking structure (which included a search of her car), and two more upon entering the building, she finally reached the reception desk at 8:24 a.m.
“I’m here to see Andrea Robinson,” she said.
“Residents aren’t permitted to meet with visitors until 9.a.m. but you can fill out the forms now. Does she know you’re coming?”
“No,” Kat said, “but when she finds out who it is, she’ll want to talk.”
“What’s your name?”
“Katherine Gentry.”
“There’s the sign-in list,” the receptionist said, already bored for the day. “Return your forms when you’re done.”
It took Kat nearly a half hour to complete all fourteen pages, including authorization to do a background check on her and a release indemnifying the PDC if something happened to her. By the time she got approval to go back, it was almost 9:30. A brawny, brown-haired man wearing white pants and a white shirt opened the door.
“Katherine Gentry?” he asked, and when she stood up, said, “Follow me.”
Once the reception door locked securely behind them, he led her down a long hallway painted a soft yellow. She noticed that attached to his thick waist belt was a can of pepper spray, a baton, and a stun gun.
“I thought that security here wasn’t as hardcore as at Twin Towers,” she said, pointing at the belt when he gave her a perplexed look.
“No,” he said defensively, “we’re just as secure. We’re just more modern and, in my view, more responsive. The philosophy here is that if we treat the residents with respect, we’re more likely to get acceptable behavior.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Kat asked before she could stop herself.
He looked at her sideways, unsure if she was sincere or messing with him.
“Depends on the day, I guess,” he finally answered. “But as long as we’re discussing security, let me fill you in on our policies for visitors. Don’t be misled by the lack of bars, glass, or restraints in the visitor center. Almost everyone is here because they committed a crime, many of them violent. Only those without outbursts of any kind in the last three months are even allowed visitors other than physicians, lawyers, and law enforcement.”
Kat wondered how she’d gotten in at all considering that she was none of those things and Andy Robinson hadn’t been here anywhere near three months. She glanced down at her authorization slip and noticed the name of the person who authorized her entry: R. Decker. It seemed that even though he couldn’t do anything overtly to countermand Chief Laird’s desire to release Andy, Captain Decker was still doing whatever he could to help Jessie, just on the down-low.
“Residents wear ankle bracelets that can deliver a debilitating shock,” the burly aide continued, “but sometimes it takes an aide a few moments to push the button. By then, the damage has often been done, so keep your distance. Stay on your side of the table. Don’t let any part of your body cross the red line in the middle of it. And especially with this patient, stay alert. We’ve never had a problem with her, but don’t let her appealing personality fool you. This woman murdered one woman and almost killed a second one. Don’t get too comfortable.”
Kat didn’t need any of those warnings. She knew what Andy was capable of, having heard it firsthand from the woman who was almost killed. But she appreciated the fact that not everyone around here seemed to be snowed by her charm offensive.
“Good to know,” she said as he led her to the door marked “Visitors.”
“After I swipe you in and you enter, this door locks behind you. There are as many psychiatric aides as residents inside so you won’t be alone in there. But if you start to feel threatened or need to leave for any reason, just raise your hand high above your head. Someone will immediately escort you out. Understood?”
“Yep,” she answered. He was about to swipe her in when a question occurred to her. “Wait, is she already in there?”
“Yes,” he said. “She’s sitting at table eight. So put your game face on now.”
That was smart advice. In fact, it was the very reason she’d asked. She didn’t want to walk in there looking clueless. Even though they’d never met, she knew that with someone like Andy Robinson, it was never a good idea to give her any advantage.
The door opened and she stepped in, trying to appear as bored as the receptionist out front had. She let her eyes wander around the visiting room, resisting the urge to immediately look for Andy.
It was less a room than a giant hall, which made sense when she saw the tables the aide had mentioned. They were big and circular, making it nearly impossible for visitors and residents to get close to each other. The tables were also placed far apart from each other, thus the need for the large space. There were only nine tables in total and each one had an aide standing nearby.
Based on the configuration of the tables closest to her, Kat could guess which one was number eight. Finally, after taking what she deemed to be an appropriately annoying amount of time, she looked in the direction of the table. Sure enough, Andy Robinson was leaning back in her chair, staring at her with a half-smile playing at her lips.
Kat walked over, making sure to never break eye contact. Andy, like all the other inmates, wore a long-sleeved, baby blue shirt and gray, loose-fitting pants. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. Though she wasn’t quite pretty, even without makeup, she was striking. That was almost exclusively due to her eyes, which were bright, blazing blue, too intense to be called beautiful but impossible to ignore.
Kat pulled out the seat across the table and sat down. Andy looked content to wait her out and Kat was fine with that. She knew that she had to be the aggressor. This woman wasn’t going to volunteer anything incriminating without a push.
“Do you know who I am?’ she finally asked.
Andy continued to stare at her for several more seconds and Kat began to wonder if she intended to speak at all. She did.
“Of course,” she replied. “You’re Katherine Gentry, former Army Ranger, wounded in the service of her country while on a tour of duty in Afghanistan. You’re also the former security head of the Norwalk State Hospital’s Non-Rehabilitative Division, where you were released from your duties after a serial killer named Bolton Crutchfield killed a gaggle of your guards and escaped. You’re currently working as a private detective, spending most of your time taking photos of people in compromising positions, usually for the benefit of their justifiably suspicious spouses. Most importantly, you’re Jessie Hunt’s bestie, at least for the time being. Is that why you’re here? Was she too scared to come see me in person?”
“Wow,” Kat said, genuinely impressed. “That was a comprehensive, if loaded, description of my employment history. I didn’t think you had access to LinkedIn in places like this. And to answer your question—I came here on my own.”
“Now that’s exciting,” Andy replied, leaning in for the first time. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Well,” Kat answered, leaning back in her chair in response, “I hear this may be a big day for you. I thought this might be the only chance I’d get to talk with you before you were feted by the press and the folks down at LAPD headquarters.”
Andy smiled back warmly, and despite everything Kat knew about her, she could feel herself soften just a bit. The woman did have charisma.
“That’s not up to me, Katherine,” she replied. “The vagaries of the justice system are mysterious. I would never presume to predict what will happen.”
Kat decided it was time to ever so slightly poke her opponent for the first time.
“Based on everything you’ve done to help the authorities,” she said with faux earnestness, “it seems only fair that you get your due.”
Andy continued to smile, but out of the corner of her eye, Kat noticed a tiny twitch of the woman’s left pinkie finger. She wondered if that was Andy struggling ever so slightly to control herself. But then it was gone, leaving her unsure if she’d just imagined it.
“You don’t sound sincere, Katherine.” Her voice wasn’t cold exactly but it didn’t match the warmth of the smile either.
“To be honest, Andy, I was hoping you could persuade me that I should be. You obviously have a complicated history with my friend, Jessie. Cards on the table here—I’m concerned that if you’re released you might try to do her harm. So I’m here to be convinced otherwise. I thought if you could tell me about these cases you were involved in, you might prove that you’ve been genuine in your efforts to help, and that this isn’t just some really, long, elaborate con. I want to walk out of here with a sense of confidence that you really are rehabilitated.”
Andy nodded, seemingly glad that they had come to the true purpose of the visit.
“Here’s the thing though, Katherine,” she said quietly. “I don’t need to prove anything to you. Whether you believe I’m reformed or not doesn’t really matter one iota as to what happens.”
Kat smiled back at her. She was starting to get a sense of this woman.
“Are you too scared to tell me, Andy?” she asked, throwing the woman’s earlier question right back at her. “Worried you’ll slip up and reveal something that might threaten your impending freedom?”
Andy didn’t twitch this time. Whatever momentary weakness that had slipped through earlier was gone now.
“You’re a bold one, aren’t you?” she marveled. “Are you sure it’s wise to taunt a convicted murderer?”
“Why should I be worried? You’re reformed, right?”
Andy leaned back again and closed those startling, blue eyes. Kat wasn’t sure what to make of it. Was this conversation over? Then Andy opened them again.
“Shall we start with Livia Bucco or Eden Roth?”
“That’s up to you,” Kat said, doing her best to hide her surprise at this turn of events.
“I didn’t know her well, just that she’d had a troubled childhood. She once told me that kids use to make fun of her by calling her the Red Hulk simply because of her size and her unfortunate rosacea diagnosis. Can you imagine the cruelty? Somehow, I think you can, Katherine. I suspect that you already know everything I’m telling you.”
“Please, continue,” Kat said, offering nothing.
Andy smiled. She knew she had the upper hand now.
“What wasn’t in her file until I told Jessie about it,” she said, “was how, in a passing conversation, Livia mentioned her father gifting her a machete and how she planned to use it upon her release. Now, I must tell you, I heard a lot of things in that facility. One inmate said she was going to steal the nuclear codes and start World War Three. Another said she planned to assassinate John Lennon, who was still alive and secretly living in a barn in Maine. Both of those women were released while I remained incarcerated there, which is a discussion for another time, Katherine. But to the best of my knowledge, no nukes have been fired recently and John Lennon remains dead, so I didn’t think much of it. But the machete thing was different. When that poor law student was butchered, I felt it was my obligation to share what I ‘d heard with Jessie.”
Andy told a similar tale about Eden, all the while emphasizing how it would be irresponsible for her to have access to life-saving information and do nothing. She explained how helping prevent the future deaths of people she would likely never meet gave her a new insight into what kind of person she could be if she really committed herself to putting others before herself.
Kat listened to all of it impassively. But in her bones, from almost the first few words Andy spoke, she knew it was a lie. There were too many lucky coincidences, too many fortuitously shared personal revelations, for everything to have happened as she claimed. But more than that, it was clear that Andy wasn’t really trying to convince her at all. She was showboating, enjoying weaving her tale for a new listener. It felt less like a heartfelt explanation than a dress rehearsal for the parole hearing later today.
The problem was that as she recounted her heroics, Andy didn’t make any obvious mistakes. Nothing she said was inconsistent with her prior statements. She never shared anything that only a person who was involved in planning the crimes could have known. There was no misstep that might prove she was in league with these women. For that, Kat would need to ask some specific questions.
“Thanks for all that,” she replied. “It definitely offers some perspective. Now I’d like to follow up on a few things you said. First, tell me—.”
“I’m afraid not,” Andy said, cutting her off. “I’ve told you my truth. I’m not interested in answering any more questions.”
“But you didn’t actually answer any questions,” Kat pointed out. “You just monologued for five minutes. Is there some reason you’re reluctant to provide specific responses to a few questions?”
Andy raised her hand above her head. The nearby aide moved toward her.
“It was wonderful to meet you, Katherine,” Andy said smiling, pushing back her chair and standing up. “I hope we can do it again sometime.”
The aide motioned for Andy to leave. Realizing she was out of time, Kat decided to ask the one question she’d been holding back, the one she hoped would elicit a genuine reaction.
“Are you the Principal, Andy?” she asked simply.
The woman opposite her gave no overt sign that the term meant anything to her. The smile remained affixed to her face. But for the briefest of moments, Kat thought she saw Andy’s blue eyes burn with even greater intensity than before.
Then she turned and left without offering a reply. Kat sat there, watching as she walked away, never looking back. Only when Andy had left the room did she allow her frustration to bubble to the surface, gritting her teeth and pressing her palms hard into the table. Finally she got up and headed for the exit.
Each step reminded her that she was leaving with nothing tangible. She’d gotten no accidental revelations, no leads to follow, and no clear way to stop the parole hearing. It was always a long shot but now there was no shot.
She had failed her friend.
*
Andy returned to her room silently, glad that her back was to the aide walking behind her so he couldn’t see her face. She was seething.
She knew that Kat was Jessie’s best friend and she had made it her business to learn everything about the woman. But meeting her in person for the first time was something different.
Katherine Gentry wasn’t what she’d expected. Even aware of her personal history, Andy was surprised at how casual and self-assured the woman was. After all, she was sitting mere feet away from a notorious killer, one who’d almost killed her friend, and she never seemed rattled. In fact, she almost appeared to be enjoying herself.
That was what had briefly thrown Andy. That’s why she wasn’t prepared to stop her intermittent finger twitch. She was sure Kat had made note of it and it killed her that this confident bitch had gotten a peek into her small reservoir of self-doubt. She’d managed to control it afterward, especially when Kat threw the “Principal” curveball question at her, but that brief slip-up still gnawed at her.
She could see why Jessie was drawn to Kat, who was an ocean of calm. That must have been very comforting to someone whose life was so regularly consumed by chaos. It was infuriating to see the dynamic at work and not be able to undermine it.
Just as bad, Jessie had sent this person in her stead. It was hurtful. Not only had she not come to visit, she sent a proxy, as if she couldn’t be bothered to make an appearance. Andy was supposed to be playing the role of the BFF who steps in when the going gets rough. It’s the role she was born to play. Instead this understudy, this scarred usurper, was doing it.
When Andy got out of here, and she was certain that she would get out, she’d have to do something about that.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
Jessie stepped outside.
They’d already been back at Powell Library, going at it for over an hour, when she decided to get some air and call Hannah.
As she opened the library doors to the still-cool morning, she tried to let her frustration go. Despite their best efforts so far, they’d found nothing to support her alternate theory that Tobias’s murder was a pre-meditated attack borne out of jealousy or greed.
Jamil and Beth had reviewed Tobias’s financials again and came up empty. There were no red flags. And other than the retracted grievance from Monica Littleton, who had an airtight alibi, there was no evidence of conflict with other professors. The lack of paperwork didn’t mean animosity didn’t exist, just that they couldn’t track it, especially with everyone so closed-mouthed.
Jessie took a deep breath, and then exhaled, trying to push all thoughts of the case out of her head. She didn’t want to bring any of that anxiety to her call with Hannah, nor did she want her sister to pick up on the exhaustion she was already starting to feel due to her recent nightmares. This time the receptionist put her straight through.
“You’re actually there!” she said when her sister came on the line.
“Oh yeah—Dr. Lemmon said you’d been trying to reach me.”
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