The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery, page 24
So much for doctor confidentiality. Rip did believe Steve to be innocent, so he must have felt compelled to forewarn his assistant.
“Well, that’s good advice, I suppose. But he shouldn’t have upset you. Where are you?”
“I’m at a pay phone. I won’t talk long. I don’t want you to be able to trace this call.”
“You’ve been watching too much TV, Steve. Police officers don’t have tracing technology in their homes.”
“How could you think—”
“Steve, I don’t think you did it. But there is evidence, circumstantial evidence. You know what that means. You also know there is always circumstantial stuff pointing at different people, stuff that ends up meaning nothing.”
“I’m so ashamed,” he said. Maddie heard a muffled sob.
“I know this is hard, but you hang in there. And call your aunt or go home. She’s worried. So am I.”
“Doctor Knight had convinced me that life was worth it, but I don’t see it, Sergeant Richards. I just don’t. I …” his next words were left unfinished.
“Steve, trust me. I just lost one friend to the Beholder. I don’t want to lose another. Please trust me. I believe in you. Really, I do. It’s just, well, others in the police department knew about the circumstantial evidence. I had to act, but we held it to a warrant designating you as a person of interest. It’ll be all right. Just tell me where you are and—”
The phone went dead. Steve Gibbs had hung up on her. She hoped he hadn’t also hung up on life.
Maddie just sat there on the towel on the toilet, praying that Steve would not do anything crazy. After a while she shook it off and went through the motions of everything being okay. She checked the phone for messages. There were none. Jed wasn’t going to call for at least another hour. She thought about going for a jog, but decided she just didn’t have it in her. She forgot about the bath and went in to lie on her bed naked, staring at the ceiling, the phone cool against her stomach.
At eight-fifteen, after having spoken to Jed, and refusing to discuss the Beholder case with him, Maddie went back into the bathroom. She drained the inch of water from the tub and took a shower, letting the water pound her head and cascade over her face and down and around her back. She sat on the small tile bench seat, used a pumice stick to attack the dead skin on her heels, and thought about Lincoln Rogers. Wishing he was with her to scrub her back and … to just hold her.
After dressing, she called her son at his aunt’s house. “Have you finished reading The Secret of The Old Mill?”
“I left it there so we could finish reading it together after I come home. I brought another one to read.”
She smiled. No matter the tension she was under, Bradley somehow always reminded her of the simple joys of living. He told her about seeing the ocean, but that they hadn’t stopped.
“Grandma told me we could go to the beach tomorrow or Universal Studios. I have to tell her which one at breakfast. What do you think Mom?”
“Oh, I don’t know, either way you’ll get to do them both.”
“Which one would you do tomorrow?”
“Well, I’d probably let the weather decide for me. If it was cold or very windy I’d save the beach for another day. But that’s an adult’s way of thinking. Don’t fret over it. When you wake up in the morning, you’ll know.”
After they hung up, Maddie went in to tidy Brad’s room and saw the book he had left behind for them to finish together. She held the book with both hands and said, “I love you, son.” Then her thoughts turned to KC, and whatever semblance of normalcy she had mustered faded.
***
At nine-thirty, wearing her sleeping T-shirt and sandals, she considered following her mother’s routine and making a cup of chamomile tea, but ended up filling a blender with the makings for margaritas, using Cointreau instead of triple sec. She took the blender out to the patio with a sliced lime and a saucer of salt; she licked the rim of the glass so more salt would stick. She also took a bunch of seedless green grapes in a bowl.
She sat there sipping margaritas and going over her suspects and the reasons for each. Then she considered the holes she could easily punch into her feeble thinking, the holes that would be punched for her by defense attorneys. She had never before had a case that touched her family. That had followed her home. And she didn’t like the way it blurred the lines between work and family.
And through it all, anger for the possibility that the trauma brought by the car shadowing her home could be her ex-husband trying to buffer his claim that she was not a fit mother?
Two margaritas later, she heard a noise, a noise that didn’t belong. The noise had quieted the critters’ whose natural sounds largely went unnoticed until silenced. She listened without moving, nearly without breathing. She willed her ears to listen around the corner of the house. A moment later she heard the crunch of someone stepping on something hard.
The warm night suddenly turned cold, the way it would if a seam in time had allowed December to visit July. She waited and listened. Her arms wrapped as far around herself as she could. The sound occurred again, then twice more.
Her Smith & Wesson was inside. Damn. She always took it off at home. She knew that was foolish given this case had invaded her home. Her holster might not look fashionable with her sleeping shirt and sandals, but it would be reassuring.
Then the sound stopped, but the critters remained silent. Whatever the sound that didn’t belong in her world was, it also didn’t belong in theirs.
The gentle wind ambled across her patio. Under normal conditions it would have set a relaxing tone that would bring her closer to sleep. She wished for a loud wind. Raucous and ripping, threatening and foreboding, but instead the wind seemed to whisper: go to sleep precious one and I will protect you. Like a man wind lying to get what it wanted.
Then that sound came again. She considered rushing inside to get her gun. But her curiosity had been aroused, not to mention her dander. If the Beholder had chosen her, she wanted him to come, not scare him away. It was her job and she was ready to do it.
Come on, sucker. Mommy’s waiting.
She put down her glass next to the bowl of grapes, emptied the pitcher of margaritas into a little john bottle bush along the side of the house and kept a tight grip on the handle of the pitcher. Fortunately her blender was old enough to have one of the hard glass pitchers and not the wimpy plastic ones that had recently replaced the real deal. She held her breath. The hand gripping the pitcher pulled back enough to allow her first motion to be forward.
The desert’s critters again fell instinctively quiet. Like Maddie, they, too, were listening. The sound grew louder, or maybe just closer. It added a steady cadence. Her mind feverishly worked like a computer screening this sound against all known sounds. Then she found it. Someone was walking on the crushed rock along the side of her property, walking toward the back yard, toward her. Her visitor was coming up on the side to her left.
Her breathing went shallow. She waited, wanting to be invisible. But she wasn’t. She regripped the pitcher and stepped back into the alcove formed where Brad’s bedroom wall framed one side of the patio.
Then she heard a voice, a familiar voice. She stepped out past the corner of the house and saw the outline of Gary Packard’s body coming around the corner of the house. As he moved closer, she saw he was holding a sports bag in one hand with the fist of his other hand gathered around a beer bottle.
“I just got back from playing some night softball,” he said. “I saw your mother and Brad leave this morning with your ex–partner. I’d been watching your place since that car I told you about. Your house was dark, but I saw a small glow from your backyard and thought I’d better check it out. Is everything okay?”
Whether or not everything was okay would depend upon whether or not Gary was the Beholder. Maddie didn’t think so, but Jed felt he might be and Jed, despite his trouble-making pecker, was a solid detective.
“Everything’s fine,” she said. “Thank you.” She drank the last two swallows from her glass. “Where did you play?”
“Somewheres in Glendale.” He came closer. “One of the guys picked me up. Have you heard from your mother?”
“Yeah.” She said keeping her fingers wrapped around the thick handle of the blender.
“Mom had been offering to take Bradley to the beach and Sea World in San Diego all summer.” Maddie said, lying about where her family had gone.
“He’s at a great age for that,” Gary said. “He’ll have a blast. Now, how’s his mother doing with the cop business?”
“I can’t talk about the case.”
“I didn’t mean that you should.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s just that you have such a rough job. I know. In many ways you’re isolated. You have no one but your colleagues to turn to, and often not even them.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Every day, it gets in the blood. Listen, Maddie, are you going to be all right tonight? Do you want me to stay with you? I’m not coming onto you here. But the business about your friend, it’s all over the news. If you don’t want to be alone—”
“Thank you, but no. You want a margarita? I can make a fresh batch in a minute.”
“Don’t do it just on my account.”
“I’d like another myself.” She said, without mentioning she had thrown a half a pitcher full into the bushes. “Come on in while I make ‘em.”
“I’m pretty gamey. You’d be wise to keep me out here in the open air.”
Maddie felt both attraction and fear. She really didn’t want to be alone, and she did really want to find out if he was the Beholder. What the hell, she decided, it was time.
“Hey, I’m not exactly dressed for company either.” She looked down and smiled, raising one bare leg adored with a black sandal.
“The look reminds me of the day I saw you and Brad washing your car.”
“I’m dry, tonight.”
“I can get the hose.” They laughed.
“Come on in. You can jump in the shower while I whip up the margaritas. I’ll slice some cheese, too. I haven’t eaten anything all day except for these grapes. I didn’t realize I was hungry until these margaritas brought me down.”
“I do have a change of clothes in my bag, along with my glove and bat.”
“The bag doesn’t look long enough for a bat?”
“It’s a weighted short bat. I swing it in the on-deck circle to loosen up.” He leaned down and hoisted his bag by its strap.
Maddie felt the hairs on her neck bristle when she turned her back and walked in ahead of Gary. She remained alert for the sound if he unzipped his bag. That short bat could be the blunt instrument they hadn’t found at the murder scenes.
***
I’m not a serial killer. I’m merely a humble artist painting human emotion on the grand canvas of a city living in chaos. I’ve saved the star of my gallery for last. After her, I’ll lay low and revel in the panic that will wash over the city. For that time, I’ll be part of my own art, content in the knowledge I have outsmarted everyone. Then, someday, I’ll awaken the city from its slumber, with new victims, but the same M.O. And the next time the panic will come quicker and be even more intense.
Chapter 45
The next morning started with the alarm radio jabbering the national news like it did every morning. The repeating themes were continuing political scandals in the nation’s capital, and new insurrections or terrorist acts in the Middle East and elsewhere. But this morning, the national feed also included the Beholder case in Phoenix, Arizona, where a reporter had become the latest victim.
Before Maddie could leave her house, Sue Martin called.
“The hotline’s getting hotter; calls are pouring in. People are seeing bogeymen everywhere. Sergeant Brackett sends patrol cars when he thinks it’s necessary,” Sue added. “But the main reason I called was that Lieutenant Harrison wants you to get in touch with him right away. Or better still, come to his office. It sounded like he meant pronto. The man seems to have worked up a lather.”
When Maddie backed out of her driveway, she glanced at Gary’s house. The plantation shutters on the front window were closed. Last night she’d had the sense not to encourage him to stay. She enjoyed his company, but it had been a strain to remain cordial while watching him and, under the circumstances, she couldn’t get in the mood for what she knew he had on his mind. To his credit, he had been a gentleman and left after she said, “Gary, I’m exhausted. Can we pick this up some other night?” Truth was she found a lot right about the man and nothing wrong. Nothing except Jed’s suspicions and that had kept her clothed and cautious.
After turning the corner she dialed Lieutenant Harrison, wondering what had gotten the normally calm man so antsy. At least he had been a calm guy until Carmen Diaz was killed.
“Lieutenant, Maddie Richards. What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
“I just left home. To tell the truth, the whole thing sort of caught up with me last night, and I set my alarm a half hour later than usual. Officer Martin said you wanted to see me. Has anything happened?”
“No. I thought Martin would find you around the station so I told her I wanted you in my office. Chief Layton has asked me to bring him current. The reporters had waylaided the Mayor in his parking lot. He called the chief.”
“I’m on my way to the station,” she said.
“What’ve you got for me to give Chief Layton?”
“Nothing really, sir, the only thing that’s sort of solid is Steve Gibbs. He called me at home last night, but, so far, we’ve kept his name out of the media.”
“How’d he get your home number?”
“All our numbers are on file at the M.E.’s office so he likely took it before he went on the lam. Anyway, Rip had told Gibbs we suspected him. That’s what spooked him.”
“Where is he?”
“He wouldn’t tell me. He swears he’s not our guy.”
“Unless he called to confess, what else would he say?”
“If he’s the Beholder, his focus would be on running, escaping. Not claiming innocence, at least not until after we have him in custody.”
“You’re still not buying that Gibbs is our man, are you?”
“We all want this case solved, so we want him to be guilty. I’ve never thought he was.”
“How did you leave it with him?”
Maddie turned onto Central Avenue heading downtown.
“I told him the truth. We had to pursue him. He’s shaken. Ashamed. Humiliated. He felt he should have had credibility with the department. I tried to reassure him, but I didn’t get anywhere with that. Lieutenant, I’m concerned that he might do himself in, if he hasn’t already.”
“You did what you could. We’ve got surveillance on his known haunts. We’ll soon have enough to support an arrest warrant, and then we’ll find him and haul his ass in here.”
“He’s not our guy, Lieutenant.”
“But you have no other nominee, right Sergeant?”
“I can be at the station in another ten minutes if you still need to see me.”
“I don’t. You asked me to look into Brackett and Dinkins. I’ve done what I can until you get something that supports going to IA. Do you have that?”
“No sir. Those two may be nothing more than my attempt to put a face on my theory that the Beholder is somehow close to the department.”
“Gibbs is a second level insider. He can fit that theory of yours.”
“I’m telling you I’m all but certain it’s not Gibbs. Lieutenant, we need to talk more about my insider theory. If you’ll go along with that thinking for a moment, you’ll realize a big problem accompanies the insider theory: who in the department can we talk to? You tell the chief. He tells his brother-in-law and Dink knows we suspect an insider.”
“True, if Dink’s our man, Sergeant.”
“Even if he’s not our man, Dink tells another, then another is told and the information makes the departmental rounds. The Beholder learns we know he’s in our house and he’ll play his cards differently. You need to keep this theory close to your vest.”
“All right, Sergeant. We’ll keep this cockamamie theory between us for now.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now let me switch tracks, have you been able to look into the disappearance of Steve Gibbs’s mother?”
“An old missing person’s report, filed by Steve’s Aunt Cornelia Gibbs, is all we’ve got. Steve’s mother never turned up. As you know, these kinds of runaways usually pop up again or simply come home after they find the fantasy world they ran to wasn’t real. This one didn’t. So, a good guess says she’s dead.”
“And that leaves us where?” Maddie asked.
“Steve Gibbs remains front and center, whether you like it or not. And for now, like I said, we’ll keep your cop theory between us. But I remind you, results are needed. The pressure’s coming down, and I’m passing it on to you.”
“Pass completed, sir.”
Maddie knew that if results didn’t come fast, she would be the first scapegoat. The lieutenant himself would likely be next. The city was demanding results and the mayor had promised them. So, absent results, somebody’s carcass will soon be barbequed.
Chapter 46
“Thank you for agreeing to see me again, Dr. Knight. I know it upset you the last time.”
The sound of leather carried to Maddie’s ears when the psychiatrist sat in his high-back chair, facing her across his desk. “I shouldn’t take much of your time.”
“I do wish to help, Sergeant Richards. Naturally, I want my wife’s killer found.”
“Given the masculinity of your office decor, Doctor, I’d guess that most of your patients are men?”
“Not overwhelmingly, but, yes, mostly I’d guess. Is this going somewhere, Sergeant?”
“Why did you go out of your way to get Steve Gibbs his job at the M.E.’s office?”
“Dr. Ripley and I have known each other for decades. Steve washed out in med school. He couldn’t handle the burden of deciding treatments, but he loved medicine and wanted to stay in the medical field. He knew that for him that meant on the fringe. When the assistant job came up with Ripley, Steve seemed a natural. You and I have talked about this before. I don’t see what else I can tell you.”
