“Sure,” Ava said.
She squinted because the man was someone she’d not met. She looked at Bob, and he shrugged.
“Does O’Malley remember you from that time?” the man asked.
“No. Beth and I met him twice, I think,” Ava said. “And, before you ask, I didn’t tell him right away.”
“What was he like then?” the man asked.
“That’s two questions,” Captain Ferguson said, sternly.
“Sir,” the man nodded.
“I don’t mind,” Ava said. “What was Seth like at this trial? He was cool. But he’s like that now. He was friendly and funny; polite, I guess. But mostly he was cool. He and Mitch were so handsome and smart. They were like movie stars of old. People swooned around them. I mean, Ferg can tell you — Seth is cool. He knows all of these people. Wears those suits. Everywhere he goes, someone stops to shake his hand or slap him on the back. He was like that then; he’s like that now.
“If we weren’t sequestered, he’d insist that we all come over for at least one dinner,” Ava said. “His housekeeper, Maresol, would feed us amazing food, and we’d laugh and laugh. He’d say . . .” Ava slipped into an imitation of Seth’s slightly New York accent, “ . . .‘Anything you need. The work is important. Let’s make sure you’re not suffering too much.’ He’d have massage therapists here to treat us and cater in lunch. He’d take care of us because he believes that what we do makes a difference. It’s important.”
Ava shot Forensic Team leader Special Agent Stan A. Lithus a dark look, and he laughed.
“Okay, let’s get back to the case,” Ava said. “Do you have questions?”
“I have one,” Special Agent Curtis said.
Ava nodded toward him.
“Do you or Seth have any idea why Seurat has launched this investigation?” Special Agent Curtis asked.
“I should say, that when I told Seth, he was stunned that this was happening,” Ava said. “Seurat confessed to multiple murders and led the detectives to where more victims were buried. Every conversation was videotaped. Nothing happened that wasn’t recorded — from him stalking Victims One and Two at the gas station to every conversation. The Denver Librarians went through all of the videotape they put together the piece on Seth. It’s all in great condition. You can hear and see everything. That’s because Seth and Mitch would not met with Seurat unless it was documented with audio and videotape.”
“What’s your guess then?” Special Agent Curtis asked.
“I have three theories,” Ava said. “The first is that an old associate of Seth’s held some evidence that kept Seurat from appealing the case. This evidence has been turned over to the New York Forensic Investigations Unit. They are following up on the leads.
“My second guess is that he’s dying,” Ava said. “He wants one more go in the spotlight, one more chance to be the center of attention. Seth says it in Denver Library interview — the case was the focus of a lot of people’s time and efforts, and certainly garnered national attention. We’ve been able to confirm that he’s had some medical procedures. If he’s dying, this is his real chance to be in the spotlight.”
Ava nodded and stopped talking.
“A third, Ms. O’Malley?” Special Agent Curtis asked.
“I guess the third piggybacks on the second,” Ava said. “He wants to torture me and Seth — a man and a woman — before killing us. He asked for me by name. Even had a picture of me from the trial. He can torture us from afar and get his thrill. I mean, imagine the press — ‘Cigarette Killer kills famous detective and wife.’”
Ava raised her eyebrows and nodded.
“On last hurrah before he dies,” Special Agent Curtis said.
He nodded his thanks to Ava. She turned back to the audience.
“Now’s a good time to ask your questions,” Ava said.
Almost everyone in the room raised their hands. There were so many questions that Bob and the coroner came up to help. Ava, Captain Ferguson, the coroner, and Bob answered questions for an hour before Special Agent Stan A. Lithus declared the meeting over. People asked questions of Ava and Bob all the way back to Ava’s room, even as she stood in her open doorway. She finally told them that she had to take a break. She closed the door and slid against the back.
“Phew?” Bob asked.
A knock at the door revealed Nelson, Fran, and Leslie. Not one to stand on formality, Nelson asked the question that was on all of their minds. Leslie plopped down on the couch. Fran sat down in the armchair.
“Did Maresol send any gifts back with you?” Nelson asked.
“Of course,” Ava said. “Enchiladas and fixings for tacos. Enough for a crowd, of course.”
Nelson started toward her sideboard.
“But first,” Ava said. “Maresol has letters from Seurat.”
Everyone stopped moving.
“What are you saying, Amelie?” Bob asked finally.
“Seurat sent letters to Seth,” Ava said. “One a week, every week for more than a year. Seth was drinking hard at the time, so Maresol never gave them to him. The last one came last week.”
No one said anything.
“No one’s read them,” Ava said. “Maresol didn’t open them and, according to her, Seth’s never seen them.”
Without saying another word, Leslie and Fran got up from their seats. Nelson grabbed the red bowling bag, and the team left Ava’s room and went back to their lab. On the way, Bob called Special Agent Lithus and Special Agent Curtis. The men were waiting for them with two evidence clerks when they arrived. Ava followed her team into the lab.
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Seventeen
Claire held up the phone number she’d written down on a post-it. Seth felt for his reading glasses in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. Not finding them, Seth started looking through his other pockets. When Claire “tsked” at him, he looked up at her. She held out his reading glasses to him.
“Thanks,” Seth said mildly.
Claire couldn’t help but laugh. Seth shrugged his eyebrows in his own amusement. Taking the glasses, he put them on and read the number on the post-it. He used Claire’s landline to dial the number.
“Yes, I was asked to return this call by a . . . uh . . .” Seth looked at Claire. She pointed to a name on the piece of paper. “ . . .Special Agent Curtis and Spammy.”
The woman on the other end pointedly cleared her throat.
“Oh, yes, I do mean Forensic Team leader Special Agent Stan A. Lithus,” Seth enunciated. “I misread the name.”
“Who may I say is calling?” the woman asked.
“O’Malley. Seth. Seth O’Malley.”
“Please hold,” the woman said.
“Well?” Claire asked.
They were standing in the middle of her living room, with the phone table between them. Claire was waiting for Seth when he got home from running through the movie score. Seth looked around for his cat, but Claire shook her head.
“She’s still at the vet,” Claire said in a low tone. “They will have to keep her today. How was the run-through?”
Seth nodded.
“I’ll connect you,” the woman on the phone said.
Seth pointed to the phone. The phone rang twice before someone picked it up.
“You’re on speaker,” Special Agent Lithus said. “I’m here with Special Agent Curtis . . .”
“Hey, Squishy! How’s it going?” Seth asked.
“I apologize, but we’re calling on official business,” Special Agent Lithus officiously. “We need an official statement.”
Seth rolled his eyes.
“We have a court reporter here,” Special Agent Lithus said. “I’m going to read you your Miranda rights.”
“If you like,” Seth said.
Special Agent Lithus took a breath and rattled off his rights.
“Do you understand these rights as I have laid them out for you?” Special Agent Lithus asked.
/> “I do,” Seth said. “What’s going on?”
“Ms. O’Malley returned to your home to retrieve her research information about the Cigarette Killer, as well as her friend Dr. Beth Baker’s research and papers,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“It does happen to be her home too,” Seth said.
“Do I need to declare you a hostile witness?” Special Agent Lithus asked.
“No,” Seth said, keeping his voice vague. “But you are going to get to the point where this has something more to do with me than my wife went to our home?”
In the background, Seth heard Special Agent Curtis choke on a laugh.
“While at your home, Ms. O’Malley retrieved a bowling ball bag, leather, red,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“I think it was my brother Saul’s,” Seth said. “He liked bowling. I’ve never played. Why? Would you like a donation for a charity tournament coming up?”
“I’m not calling about the bag, O’Malley,” Special Agent Lithus said, irritably. “I’m calling about what was inside the bag?”
“I give,” Seth said. “What was in it?”
“One hundred and eleven letters from Hamnet Seurat,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“Really?” Seth asked, not bothering to hide the surprise in his voice. “Letters? From . . .”
“Hamnet Seurat,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“Okay, I’ll bite,” Seth said. “Who are they addressed to?”
“Detective Seth O’Malley,” Special Agent Lithus said. “Know him?”
“Name rings a bell,” Seth said.
Seth’s scowl was suddenly so dark that Claire put her hand on his arm. He shook his head to indicate that he was okay.
“What can you tell me about these letters?” Special Agent Lithus asked.
“What can I tell you about letters from Hamnet Seurat to me?” Seth’s head buzzed with sudden exhaustion. “Nothing. I don’t know anything about them.”
“This matchs with the testimony of Maresol Tafoya,” Special Agent Lithus said. “I believe she’s your housekeeper.”
“Among other things,” Seth said. “What did Maresol tell you?”
“We have taken the liberty of interviewing Ms. Tafoya in your home,” Special Agent Lithus said. “You would know this if you answered your God-damned telephone.”
“I was working,” Seth said. His headache was becoming more pronounced. “Somethings cannot be interrupted. Would you like me to hang up and call her or will you get around to telling me what Maresol said?”
“The letters started to arrive at the home on Montview right after Seurat was sentenced,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“I wasn’t living there then,” Seth said.
“Ms. Tafoya confirmed that you were not living there,” Special Agent Lithus said. “She originally set them out for you . . . uh . . . in your mail tray? When you didn’t come by . . . I guess there’s something here about your father being an asshole?”
“O’Malley?” Seth asked. “He wasn’t my father, and he was a supreme asshole. I avoided going there for a long time.”
“Ms. Tafoya stated that she started stashing the letters in a box and then eventually in the red bowling bag,” Special Agent Lithus said. “She was aware that you would never look inside a bowling bag. Ms. Tafoya states that she had originally planned to give the letters to you, but she said you were in an addiction cycle. Is that correct?”
“Sure,” Seth said. “It’s no secret that I’m an addict and an alcoholic.”
“Yes, well, Ms. Tafoya said that the case took a toll on you and Detective Delgado,” Special Agent Lithus said. “She wanted to let you get on with your lives.”
“Is Maresol in trouble?” Seth asked.
“Should she be?” Special Agent Lithus asked.
“No,” Seth said in a terse voice into the phone. “She is my caretaker. She was taking care of me. That’s what she’s done most of my life.”
“This is about Maresol?” Claire asked.
Seth nodded to her. Special Agent Lithus said something Seth could not hear through the phone.
“I didn’t hear that,” Seth said. “I was speaking to my New York caretaker.”
“Can’t take care of yourself, O’Malley?” Special Agent Lithus asked, with a derisive snort.
“Nope. I sure can’t,” Seth said. “I’ve seen your suits, Spammy. Seems like you could use a little help yourself.”
Someone in the room laughed. Special Agent Lithus cleared his throat.
“Let’s continue,” Special Agent Lithus said.
“I don’t have anything to tell you,” Seth said. “I can’t know what I don’t know. If Maresol thought these letters would upset me, she would hide them. That makes sense to me, so I’m not sure what the problem is.”
There was whispering on the other end of the phone.
“What do the letters say?” Seth asked.
No one responded. There was just more whispering.
“We’ll get back to you,” Special Agent Lithus said.
The line went dead. Seth looked at the receiver and set it down in on the phone cradle.
“What was that?” Claire asked.
“Seurat sent me letters,” Seth said.
He quickly updated her on the weird phone conversation. As he spoke, Bernice came out from the second bedroom. As if by magic, R.J. appeared on the couch. Seth rubbed his head.
“We were waiting for you,” Bernice said, as if to answer his question as to why they appeared.
“Oh?” Seth asked.
“You remember Di?” Bernice asked.
Seth nodded.
“Did you ever go into her kitchen?” Bernice asked.
“Sure,” Seth said. He gestured to Claire and himself. “We had an arrangement. If we brought groceries, she would cook.”
“She was amazing,” Claire said.
“Bernice thinks that she remembers that Di had a hiding place in that kitchen,” R.J. said.
Seth raised his eyebrows with interest. He looked at Claire, and she blushed.
“Claire remembers that there was something,” Bernice said. “But she’s not sure where it was.”
“Why do we care?” Seth asked.
“The apartment that Di and Bud lived in is still there at Bethune Towers,” Bernice said.
“Okay,” Seth said.
“You remember how we’d go to see them?” Claire asked. “You’d go play with Bud, and I’d go with Di and Susan. We’d hang out in the kitchen. I’d see you at lunch but not until the day was almost over and Mom wanted us home.”
“Sure,” Seth said with a nod.
“Di and Susan, well, they talked to me about things — boys, men,” Claire said. “I had that boyfriend . . .”
“Fred, Frank, Fran . . .” Seth said.
“Fred,” Claire said. “And I wanted to . . . you know.”
“Listen,” Bernice said. “I’ll tell it. Claire wanted to have sex with this boy.”
“Okay,” Seth shrugged. “I knew that.”
“Di and Susan talked to her about how to have sex,” Bernice said. “How to do the act well, birth control — they even showed her a kind of manual that Di had written for her girls.”
“And?” Seth asked.
Claire laughed.
“You knew that?” Claire asked.
“Of course, I did,” Seth said. “You’re not a secretive person.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” Claire asked.
“What was I going to say?” Seth asked. “I’ve never thought that sexual intercourse between two consenting people was any big deal. Certainly not shameful. If you wanted to have sex with Fred, then . . .”
Seth shrugged.
“I suppose I was glad that you had Di and Susan to help you with the transition to womanhood,” Seth said and shrugged again. “Why? What should I have thought?”
Shaking her head, Claire simply laughed.
“We think that book is still in Di�
�s apartment,” R.J. said.
“Oh,” Seth said. “That’s what you’re asking. Do I remember Di’s hiding place?”
“Do you remember what was in it?” Claire asked.
Seth thought for a moment and rubbed his head.
“Sorry. I have a headache,” Seth said.
Unless he was drinking, taking drugs, or both, he had near perfect recall of every moment of his life. He bit his lip and walked into Claire’s kitchen. R.J., Bernice, and Claire followed him into the kitchen.
“This kitchen is not much different from Di’s, right?” Seth asked. “I mean, you set up this kitchen to match hers.”
Claire looked around the kitchen.
“Not intentionally, but yes,” Claire said, “I probably did set this up like Di’s kitchen. I was so happy there.”
“Makes sense,” Seth said with a nod.
Seth closed his eyes for a moment and then opened them. He spun around the room and then walked to the window. He looked down at his feet. He looked at Claire’s feet and then at R.J.’s.
“Bernice?” Seth asked. “Would you mind taking off your shoes and coming over here?”
“Happy to,” Bernice said, sliding off her pumps.
Seth lined her up with her rear against the window sill.
“Take five steps,” Seth said.
Bernice took five steps.
“I’m sorry,” Seth said. “I meant toe-to-heel. Sorry.”
“No problem,” Bernice said.
Bernice walked back to the window and turned around so her rear was against the sill. She took five wobbly toe-to-heel steps. When she arrived, she looked at Seth.
“Turn left,” Seth said.
Bernice turned left.
“One step forward,” Seth said, “and stop.”
They went to look at where Bernice was standing. Like in Di’s kitchen all those years ago, Claire had placed a wooden stool just to the side of a tall cabinet. Bernice was standing about ten inches from the stool.
“It was in the floorboards, next to the molding there,” Seth said. “The area went underneath. Gosh, I guess it was under the wall.”
Seth shrugged.
“What was in it?” Claire asked.
“She had a book. About yay high.” Seth held his hands about six inches across. “And . . .” He held his hands about five inches across. “Thinking about it now, it was a kind of Filofax, although I can’t imagine that they would have been able to afford such a thing. It was leather. Stuffed with papers. Held together with a rubber band.”
The Cigarette Killer Page 13