A Perfect Obsession

by Heather Graham

  Apparently not.

  But then again...

  Finding the killer’s murder hideaway in the city might mean the difference between a conviction and a killer going free.

  She hesitated, looking at her phone. Then she quickly put in a call to Dr. Fuller.

  He was anxious about her; she felt guilty, remembering that he’d been led out while she was still inside and, like Kevin, he’d had to go on the assurance of an unknown officer that she was all right.

  “Truly, I’m fine, just a little tired. I was wondering if I could take a few hours—”

  “Of course, Kieran. We may have nine-to-five official hours, but you know that our hours are anything but official. We all work many more than that, and besides, after last night, you really should take the day. I got a call from Richard Egan. I know they arrested Gleason. That will be a relief for so many people, but...”

  “But?”

  “I’d like to speak with the man. Find out what made him tick. According to Egan, he’s in complete denial. So much so that I’m wondering if there might be a case of split identities. And I can tell you this—they can find expert witnesses to speak for this man. Everything they have is circumstantial. Unless, of course, there’s a witness against him. Perhaps Sadie Miller will regain her memory.” He was silent for a minute. “I think we should go to see Ms. Miller. If Gleason has been arrested, I’m assuming they plan on letting Sadie go home.”

  “I’ll find out,” Kieran said.

  “Thank you. Call me right back. You have been through a great deal with this case. As I said, you are welcome to take the day. You don’t have any interviews scheduled that I know about.”

  Kieran didn’t need the day; in truth, she didn’t even need the hours. She just wanted them. There was a difference.

  “I’ll ask Craig about Sadie Miller and call you right back,” she told Fuller.

  “I can, of course, call Assistant Director Egan,” Dr. Fuller said.

  “Of course, that’s fine, if you prefer.”

  “I’ll do that. I’ll call you right back.”

  Kieran thanked Dr. Fuller, trying to make plans in her head. She hadn’t thought about Sadie Miller, though she knew that the police and the agents would. If Sadie Miller could identify Roger Gleason, it would make everything easier for everyone.

  Hurrying out to the living room, she found that Kevin was already up; he’d made coffee.

  “They arrested Roger Gleason,” she said.

  He’d been stirring cream into his coffee; he stopped dead, staring at her.

  “Gleason?”

  “Craig thinks it will be out in the news soon. There was...”

  Her voice trailed. She didn’t want to say the word blood to him. It wasn’t a stranger’s blood or a victim’s blood to him—it was Jeannette’s.

  “There was what?”

  “Evidence in Roger Gleason’s office.”

  “What kind of evidence?” Kevin asked.

  No choice.

  “Blood,” she said softly.

  He picked up his mug. Kieran thought the heavy ceramic was going to crush in his hands. “And I talked to that man. I shook his hand,” he said.

  “Oh, Kevin,” she murmured.

  He lowered his head. “At least, maybe, they’ll release her body. She can have a funeral.” He looked up at her. “Have a coffin all her own,” he said bitterly.

  “She’ll have justice, as will the other young women.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I’m sorry.”

  “Kevin...”

  She let it go. She knew her twin. He had to mourn in his own way. And, at the moment, he needed to be left alone.

  She poured herself coffee.

  “Need me to see you into work?” he asked her.

  She decided that, at the moment, she didn’t want to tell Kevin her intention for the day.

  She nodded toward the door. “The cop can take me in. Actually, I’m waiting to hear from Dr. Fuller. We can take you—”

  “I’d signed up for a workshop at nine,” Kevin said. “On Forty-Second Street.”

  “We’ll get you there. Then the officer can drive me wherever Dr. Fuller needs me,” she said. Of course, Dr. Fuller hadn’t said anything about needing her. But Sadie had known that Bobby O’Leary drank nothing but soda water with lime. Logically, Sadie’s next step might be remembering what happened next.

  Her phone rang as she hurried back to the bedroom. Dr. Fuller informed her that Sadie was still in the hospital, there until Gleason was arraigned. “I’m going to go speak with Sadie. It would be great if you could come with me. She’s met you. I believe that your being there will be a good thing.”

  Kieran agreed. In the living room, she cautiously opened the door to the hallway. A young officer in uniform was there, seated on a small folding chair, reading the New York Times.

  “Good morning, Miss Finnegan.”

  “Good morning. Coffee?”

  “Can’t say I couldn’t use more!”

  When she brought him his coffee, she asked him if he’d mind dropping Kevin Midtown and then taking her to the hospital. He was happy to oblige.

  Kevin was quiet on the way. She knew that he was thinking about Jeannette. She didn’t try to draw him out. When they reached his destination, he kissed her on the cheek. “Old family pub tonight, sis? I feel the need for a little company.”

  “I’ll be there,” she promised.

  Twenty minutes later, the officer dropped her in front of the hospital. Kieran hurried to the entry. Dr. Fuller was already there.

  They headed up to Sadie Miller’s room. The young woman was there alone, packing up her things. She greeted Kieran with a hug and shook Dr. Fuller’s hand as they met.

  “I’m going home,” Sadie told them. “I’m excited and I’m scared. Mostly, I’m excited,” she said. “They told me that they caught the man who killed Jeannette, who took me and drugged me. They said that it was a man named Roger Gleason. The guy who owned the place where Jeannette Gilbert was found.”

  “Do you know Roger Gleason? Do you remember meeting him?” Kieran asked.

  “Ms. Miller, take your time,” Dr. Fuller said. “In fact, this might help. Sit down, and let me bring you back. You were heading out to meet someone. And you were excited. You went to Finnegan’s pub. You had a few drinks, just biding a little time. You were going somewhere.”

  She listened to the tone of his voice. Dr. Fuller could be so easy and relaxing. He wasn’t hypnotizing Sadie, but his words were so soft and gentle, he might have been doing so.

  “I guess I wanted to go to the club,” she said. “I mean, I’d heard about Le Club Vampyre. Everyone in the city was talking about it.”

  “Did you have a special in with someone? Did you, perhaps, meet Roger Gleason somewhere—and perhaps he asked to meet up with you?” Dr. Fuller asked. He pulled a notepad from his pocket and flipped through it, producing a four-by-seven picture of Roger Gleason. “Do you know him? Perhaps seeing him, you’ll remember. Was he the man you were to meet?”

  Sadie studied the picture. She looked at Dr. Fuller. “I know who he is. He’s Roger Gleason.”

  “So, you were going to meet him?” Dr. Fuller asked.

  “I’ve never met him—not that I know of,” Sadie said.

  “You said you recognized him,” Fuller said, disappointed.

  “Oh, yes, of course. His picture has been in the papers a zillion times. So, I guess it was him. I mean, the police arrested him, right?” Sadie asked.

  “But you don’t remember him?” Kieran asked softly. “You don’t remember him from that night?”

  Sadie shook her head. “I keep thinking that I remember you now,” she said softly. “But I don’t know if I remember you from that night, or beca
use I’ve seen you now. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, truly. So sorry!”

  Dr. Fuller set a hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. You were given Rohypnol and lorazepam. Part of the popularity of Rohypnol as a date rape drug is that no one remembers what happened to them—not that you were sexually assaulted. It’s not your fault at all, and there is no reason for you to be sorry in any way. In fact, you have been brave and wonderful and helpful.”

  Marie Livingston arrived as they were leaving. She was ecstatic that Sadie was allowed to go home and Roger Gleason had been arrested.

  “I hope they throw the entire book at him. I hope he rots forever. No, I hope they charge him with federal counts of murder and that he’s given the death penalty! If they connect him with the other women... I know that Virginia has the death penalty. I hope they kill him twice!” Marie said.

  “Marie, stop. We’ve got to move on,” Sadie told her.

  Kieran and Dr. Fuller bid them goodbye. Fuller told Kieran he was going down to have a discourse with Roger Gleason. He was hopeful that the FBI, Gleason and Gleason’s attorney would allow it.

  Kieran wished she could get into the crypt below Le Club Vampyre. She didn’t know if the forensic team had finished down there. Nor did she know if the historical crew had been allowed back in to work.

  It was frustrating. She was convinced that there was an entrance and exit to the place that no one had discovered yet.

  Maybe going at it from the other direction was the best approach—something she’d thought more and more about as she had been reading through the night.

  If John Shaw, Aldous Digby and Henry Willoughby were hoping to get back in, they just might be at Finnegan’s, close enough to the FBI building that she and Dr. Fuller might share a cab.

  She arrived just at lunchtime.

  None of the historians was seated at their usual tables; the pub, however, was crowded.

  She headed to the bar where her brother Declan was moving like lightning. “Kieran! What’s up? Everything all right? They arrested Gleason. Why aren’t you at work?”

  “I just left Dr. Fuller. I—”

  “Man, you came to help out? Thank God! Mary Kathleen has been going crazy. She’ll give you a section. Thank you!” Declan said, beaming as he looked at her.

  “Ah...sure!” she said.

  Lunch at Finnegan’s was insane, of course.

  All the wide-screen TVs that usually showed soccer matches and sporting events were turned to the news.

  The image of Roger Gleason being walked out of the club in handcuffs showed over and over again. Every station had a news team discussing the events with different specialists in various fields of criminology.

  Not one of them seemed in the least surprised that a man like Gleason—sophisticated, a player, a billionaire—might be guilty.

  Everyone was talking.

  “I knew it had to be that slimeball!” one woman was saying as Kieran delivered fish and chips. “I knew it from the moment they found Jeannette Gilbert in that place. That guy thought he could buy just about anything. Who would suspect him? Imagine! And they saved that one girl, Sadie What’s-Her-Name. He could have killed and killed and filled his own crypt!”

  Finally, it all died down. Kieran set her serving tray on the bar, worn-out.

  The day hadn’t gone at all as she had planned.

  And it was almost over. Looking at the clock above the bar, she saw that it was after three.

  She found Mary Kathleen, who thanked her profusely, and then she found Declan, who thanked her, as well.

  “I’m going to head out for a bit. I’ll be back, though. I think Kevin is heading here, and he wants to be with his family,” she told Declan.

  “See you later, then. And, really, you couldn’t have come to help at a better time!” he told her.

  She smiled. He was so happy. There was no reason to tell him that she’d come by without the least intention of helping out.

  She got her handbag and checked her phone; Craig hadn’t called yet. He was probably still sleeping. The night had been very long for him.

  She headed to the door. As she did so, John Shaw walked in.

  “Kieran!” he said, smiling broadly.

  “John. How’s it going?” she asked.

  He beamed at her. “I think all is going well. They arrested Gleason! My God, I never figured it!” He shuddered. “We worked with that man every day. Every day. He was so polite. We all knew that he was a businessman, and yet he was willing to let the work go on. Can’t figure him, really. Unless it all had to do with whatever sickness plagued him.”

  “Ego,” Kieran murmured, thinking clinically. “Sometimes, men with egos have to have their work seen and appreciated.”

  “Work...such as murder?” Shaw asked.

  She nodded. “I believe he was arraigned this morning. Of course, they have yet to prove his guilt in court.”

  Shaw waved a hand in the air. “As long as they keep him locked up for now! We get to go back in, Kieran. Willoughby spoke with the mayor, the mayor spoke with the FBI and the police and the forensic units, and we’re back in! It’s going to be such a mess, of course. There’ll be the disaster left by the forensic team. We’ll have to sift through everything with a fine-tooth comb and try to restore what was, but at least we’re going back in. It’ll just be a few hours. I’m waiting for the final call.”

  “Good for you.”

  “Join me for a drink?” he asked Kieran.

  “Sure,” she told him.

  “Take me back to my lite beer,” he told her. “Got to keep my senses sharp.”

  “Okay.”

  She walked back to the bar.

  “You didn’t leave,” Kevin noted, pulling clean glasses from the sanitizer. He’d arrived when she was talking with the professor.

  “I’m leaving now. I’m just going to grab a drink with John Shaw. He’s back to lite beer. And just give me a soda water, lime, please.”

  “You got it,” Kevin said. “You want anything else?” he asked, inclining his head toward the side tables. “The Ghoul Crew seems to be moving back in.”

  Kieran turned. Willoughby had arrived along with the grad students. Professor Digby was just coming in the front door.

  “I’ll see what they want,” Kieran said.

  She hurried over and asked them what they’d like.

  “A celebration!” Digby said. “A killer has been arrested—and once again, our find is back in our hands. Hallelujah and Hail Mary! This time, we should be really on our way!”

  “And what would you like to celebrate with?” Kieran asked. “On the house.”

  “On the house?” Allie Benoit asked. She laughed. “We should have Long Island ice teas—get in the free booze while we can.”

  “Children!” Henry Willoughby protested. “You must drink responsibly.”

  “Champagne?” Kieran suggested.

  “Lovely,” Digby said.

  She hurried back to the bar and got glasses and a cooler, and a couple of bottles of decent but not too expensive champagne and brought them to the table.

  She poured, and they all raised a glass in a toast.

  Kieran wasn’t interested in drinking, however. She set her glass down. Willoughby noticed, and handed the champagne back to her, quietly saying, “It’s bad luck not to drink after a toast, you know.” She smiled and took a quick sip, and then she turned to draw the men into conversation about the past—and the buildings on their block.

  “Next to old Saint Augustine’s—Le Club Vampyre, or whatever it will become now,” Digby said thoughtfully, “is the Auburn Building. Circa 1848.”

  “Now it’s offices,” Kieran said.

  “Retail on the first floor, offices above.”

  “What abo
ut the basement?” she asked.

  “Storage, of course. It’s a basement,” Digby said. “Beautiful old building. It has gargoyles and nice moldings and all kinds of architectural detail. Maybe the builder thought he needed to go medieval, being next to a Gothic church and all.”

  “The other side is an office building, too. But modern. Well, more modern. There was a residence there for years, and then a tenement building. Now it’s the Lamont Building, circa 1930—legal and medical offices. I think you can even have your outpatient oral surgery there,” Willoughby said. “Anyway, the old place was torn down when it was condemned. Once upon a time, right after the church was built, it was a rectory.”

  “They have a basement, too?” Kieran asked. “Of course, foundations. All buildings like that pretty much have to have them, I assume. I mean, I’m not an engineer.”

  “There’s a food court down there,” John Shaw said. “I’ve eaten there—not as charming as this place, but great when you need a quick meal when you’re working.”

  “Nice,” Kieran said. She smiled at the group. “I think I’ll take a walk down there.”

  “Kieran, trust me—the food is better here,” Joshua Harding told her.

  “What are you looking for?” John Shaw asked her. “It’s obvious you’re looking for something.”

  “I don’t even know,” she said.

  Henry Willoughby sighed and stood up. “I’ll walk you over. John, call me the second you hear that we’ve got the go-ahead.”

  “Will do,” John promised.

  “Okay, Kieran, let’s go. I’ll tell you what I know about the place on the way.”

  He started to the door. Kieran waved to the others. As she left, she turned back. Mary Kathleen had come to the table to pick up. She looked at Kieran and pointed to her glass. Kieran hadn’t taken more than a sip of her champagne.

  Kieran shook her head; she didn’t want anything to drink.

  She wanted to concentrate on what she was doing—whatever that was. She couldn’t go into a food court and demand to know if there were secret tunnels somewhere in the building.