Hangman

by Michael Slade

  “What do you know about her?”

  “Mary Konrad was a country girl from eastern Washington. A weak personality. No enemies. Left her first husband years ago to move to Seattle. Worked at office jobs. Still good-looking when she met and married Dag. Then, after the wedding, she got fat. You remember Dag? The world’s hairiest sexist. There’s a guy who needs a babe to show the world he’s a stud. Dag took to drinking and punching his wife as she ballooned up. An ugly divorce was under way when Mary got killed. The house in which she died was up for sale. Dag gets to keep everything now that Mary’s dead. He has a strong motive and a weak alibi. We have suspicion, but no proof.”

  “Could Dag have done it?”

  “To my mind,” Maddy replied. “The Reaper was seen approaching the house at five-thirty. No one answered when the neighbor knocked at six o’clock. The murder was called in around seven. We didn’t get to Dag’s apartment until after ten that night. His alibi is that between five and seven he was putting on his makeup. It took some time to do, what with all the Wolf Man hair, but no one backs up the time frame he offered us. What if he put on the makeup earlier that day, and covered it with the Scream mask and robes to go kill Mary? Halloween provided the perfect opportunity for him to approach her house in disguise, and to escape in costume after Mary was hanged.”

  “Forensic turn up anything?”

  “No, the scene was clean.”

  “Sex attack?”

  “Negative. Her clothes were on, as you saw, and swabs for semen didn’t analyze.”

  “What about the rope?”

  “As common as they come. So are the pulleys used to hoist her up and the hacksaw that cut off her leg. The cuffs used to pinion her wrists can be purchased in any bondage shop.”

  “The killer must have gone prepared for that specific victim. Choose a woman not overweight and he wouldn’t need the pulleys.”

  “That’s what makes me believe the Hangman is Dag,” replied Maddy. “He’s the only suspect with a specific motive. He slashed Mary’s tongue because his wife was a nag. The hanging and the severed leg are a blind, so that when we combine them with the hangman taunt, we’ll think a serial psycho is loose. What better way to hide a specific victim than in a random spree?”

  “And victim two?” said Zinc.

  “The Hangman could still be Dag. He knows he’s a prime suspect for his wife’s murder, so he goes after another woman far from home and does everything he can to link both crimes.”

  “Dag needs checking.”

  “That’s what I’m going to do.”

  “Send me what’s relevant from your file and we’ll check on him up here.”

  “You’ll have it tomorrow. Now what about your vic?”

  “That case your partner Ralph was helping me with in Seattle?”

  “You mean the juror who screwed Dr. Twist?”

  “Right. The case we discussed the night you picked me up.”

  “Don’t tell me!”

  “Uh-huh. She’s the victim.”

  “I’m all ears,” Maddy said. “Fill me in.”

  “Jayne Curry. Fiftyish. Unmarried. Lives alone. A ‘lonely heart’ type. She was working in her home when the Hangman lured her out. He slipped inside and waited for her to return. The noose was cinched around her neck in a surprise attack, then she was hoisted off her feet before she could react. No pulleys, just the rope looped up over a railing. No cuffs, so her arms were free to flail. Her tongue, as in your case, was severed with a blade, and after death both legs were cut off. They, too, were kicked across to the wall on which we found a hangman game drawn in blood.”

  “Both stick legs missing?”

  “Yes. Hangman played in reverse.”

  “How big’s the vic?”

  “Petite,” said Zinc.

  “No need for pulleys. Sex attack?”

  “The victim’s dressed in underwear, but that can be explained. Her outerwear got soaked when the Hangman lured her out into the rain. The pathologist doubts her panties were removed.”

  “Find a hacksaw?”

  “Not so far. We do have indistinct footprints outside.”

  “Good. We can compare the size of the prints with Dag’s shoes.”

  “The Hangman placed the Scream mask over the face of the victim, then, as in your case, left the front door open in a storm so she’d be found.”

  “Is Dr. Twist a suspect?”

  “Big time,” said Zinc.

  The professional bunny suits were getting back to work. Alex, notebook in hand, wandered over to rejoin Zinc by the hall door. A path fit for contamination, cleared by Ident forensically and safe to walk through, was marked on the floor. As Zinc talked with Maddy, Alex scribbled notes.

  “Remember what I told you about our cause célèbre? Twist was charged with drugging a rich patient at his medical clinic, shortly after she bequeathed her entire estate to him. The allegation was he did the old lady in with a shot of potassium.”

  “There was a recent piece in the Seattle Star.”

  “Much of what we’re about to discuss hasn’t been released. Can I rely on you to keep it secret?” asked Zinc.

  “My lips are sealed,” said Maddy. “As yours were with our case.”

  “The doctor’s a lady-killer. He’s catnip to lonely women. Twist is handsome, charming, and funny. To visualize him, think of Cary Grant. We know at least two other widows died shortly after leaving him their money. Until that case, we didn’t have enough to charge him.”

  “The case on which he walked?”

  “Yes,” said Zinc. “The main witness for the Crown was a nurse Twist fired from his clinic. She testified that a needle mark the pathologist spotted on the body was made by a mysterious injection the doctor gave the deceased at midnight. The nurse chanced upon the event, which she wasn’t supposed to see. After she reported to us what she had witnessed, investigators searched records at the clinic. There was no mention of the midnight injection, and no drug had been dispensed from the clinic pharmacy for that patient.”

  “Why potassium?” Maddy asked.

  “It slips through detection at an autopsy because it’s found naturally in a human body.”

  “So it all came down to the nurse?”

  “Whom Twist had fired.”

  “A motive for revenge.”

  “The doctor took the stand in his own defense. He said he fired the nurse because he disagreed with her strong stance on euthanasia. He couldn’t have her working in his geriatric clinic. The clinic would be liable if she killed a patient.”

  “The firing was after she saw him give the injection?”

  “Yes,” said Zinc.

  “You think he knew the nurse saw him?”

  “Probably.”

  “So he set her up with a motive for injecting the old woman in case she ratted on him?”

  “He’s clever, Maddy. That’s why we haven’t been able to pin a conviction on him. Jayne Curry was on the jury trying the doctor for murder. Sheriffs began to notice something was amiss in court. It began with flirtatious glances between Curry and Twist. Seductive smiles from her. An eyebrow arched from him. Jurors filed into the courtroom in the same order each time. A dramatic pause occurred in the procession before Curry entered, then she would step into the jury box and lock eyes with Twist. The looks became more blatant as the trial continued, and they took on a hint of sexual conspiracy. The sheriffs brought it to the attention of the judge when Twist was seen talking with Curry at lunch on the steps near the law courts fountain.”

  “Was there a mistrial?”

  “No,” said Zinc. “In the jury’s absence, the judge warned Twist not to have contact with any jurors. But to avoid disrupting the jury, the judge didn’t raise the matter with them.”

  “Strange,” said Maddy.

  “Twist’s a lady-killer. The judge was a woman. He charmed her too.”

  Horns at the other end. Traffic was heavy.

  “The jury was out for days before it br
ought in a verdict acquitting the doctor of first-degree murder. That night, an off-duty cop spotted Twist and Curry walking arm in arm. We began surveillance of both of them, and obtained a court order to bug their homes. Two days later, the mike in her bedroom recorded them having sex. From conversation afterward, it could be inferred that they had done it before, and that they became lovers during the trial.”

  Maddy tsk-tsked. “Bedding a guy you’re trying for murder comes with a lot of baggage.”

  “What’s even more important is Twist’s story about the nurse. What he told Curry in bed—and probably had during the trial—was that his relationship with her was like Fatal Attraction. The nurse went weird on him after a one-night stand, and when he tried to break it off, she flipped out completely. It was the nurse who must have stuck the needle in the deceased, the night before the day Twist fired her. For revenge, she went to the police and framed him for murder.”

  “Was that his evidence in court?”

  “No,” said Zinc. “Not a word about having sex with the nurse. The reason he gave Curry was that it would make him look guilty. The Crown alleged he was a lady-killer who used his charm on women, so how could he tell the jury he slept with an employee, then fired her when she fell for him?”

  “Even though it gave the nurse a stronger motive to frame him?”

  “The trouble was, Maddy, the nurse is a lesbian.”

  “So he didn’t have sex with her?”

  “It was a lie. A lie Jayne Curry probably took into the jury room. And that gave us reason to go after her for obstruction of justice. Canadian law makes it illegal for jurors to discuss what went on in their jury room. Except when questioned by police investigating jury tampering, or when testifying in court in an obstruction case. The bug in Curry’s bedroom gave us cause to question all Twist’s jurors.”

  Another siren passed Maddy at the far end of the phone.

  “From the first straw vote taken by the jury, Curry steadfastly maintained Twist was innocent. She theorized it was the nurse who killed the old lady. The vote was two undecided, eight for conviction, two for acquittal. Curry became a belligerent advocate for the accused, and as deliberations progressed, she turned difficult. Agree with her and she was stable. Challenge her and she threw a nasty tantrum.

  “Curry did everything she could to undermine the convictors. One buckled when it became clear that nothing logical said for conviction would sway her. Either you voted with Curry or the jury hung. More collapsed when she falsely warned them they would have to reveal how they voted in court if the verdict was a deadlock. They didn’t want a killer on bail singling them out. Arguing and acrimony wore others down. Mental numbness set in and they no longer spoke up. The last day was rife with emotion. The jury room was a hothouse. Curry accused a man of trying to railroad the doctor because of his intelligence and good looks. Comments got more and more personal, until those arguing for conviction finally gave up. The holdouts seemed to change their minds all at once. One juror described Curry’s effect like this: ‘Had she been different, so might the verdict.’”

  “A soap opera,” Maddy said. “A Harlequin heroine standing by her man.”

  “Eve and the forbidden fruit in the Garden of Eden,” said Zinc. “Her attraction to the deadly doctor was intoxicating. She fell in love with a fantasy man who didn’t exist. Twist saw his chance to have a juror in his pocket. Every time Curry turned around, there he was, smiling at her like Rhett Butler. She saw the doc as a victim only she could save, falling into romantic escapism from her lonely life. Reality hit when we charged her with obstruction of justice. That’s when she met the Mr. Hyde hiding in Dr. Twist.”

  “He dumped her?”

  “And the lovestruck juror woke up.”

  “You went after her to get another crack at him?”

  “The Crown filed a notice of appeal to quash the jury verdict acquitting Dr. Twist of murder. The main ground for seeking a new trial was ‘improper communications and contact between juror Jayne Curry and the accused whom she was trying prior to the delivery of a verdict in court.’ The court of appeal would be hard pressed not to order a new trial if there was sufficient proof the verdict was affected by matters other than evidence heard in court. A conviction for obstruction would prove Curry was not an impartial juror, so a guilty verdict in her case would result in a retrial of Twist for murder.”

  “I smell motive,” said Maddy.

  “Curry was privy to information the other eleven didn’t have, and it compelled her to influence them to acquit her secret lover. No way could she find the accused guilty and send him to jail. The trial wasn’t fair, so justice was obstructed.”

  “You had her,” said Maddy.

  “Imagine you’re Jayne Curry. A lonely heart all your life. Facing years in jail for saving the skin of a cad who played you for a fool. How betrayed you feel is evident from notes you made to launch a site on the Internet to sway public opinion. ‘I didn’t obstruct justice. I merely fell in love. I’m the victim of a deceptive lover, vengeful police, and a justice system run amok. What I did wasn’t a crime. No one told me not to have contact with Dr. Twist. The verdict I rendered was just. The Crown’s case was weak. Why must I suffer for love?’”

  “Offer me a deal,” said Maddy, “and I’ll rat on Dr. Twist.”

  “That was in the works.”

  “Bye, bye, false lover.”

  “Now imagine you’re Dr. Twist. A jury has acquitted you of first-degree murder. What stands between you and freedom is Jayne Curry. If she is convicted of obstruction, you will be tried again. If she cuts a deal with the Crown, your jury tampering also means a retrial. Without Curry, you’re scot-free. There is no admissible evidence to overturn your acquittal. Just weak inference and a bugging order with technical flaws. You’re a cold psychopath who has killed before. What would you do?”

  “I’d snuff Curry.”

  “Surely her death would point to you?”

  “Not if the crime was committed by a genuine serial killer. A killer who hanged a woman in Seattle a week ago. A killer who left clues known only to him and the cops at both murder scenes.”

  “The tongue cut out is a nice ‘twist,’ eh? Does it mean ‘Now you won’t talk’?”

  “Dr. Twist struck first in Seattle because he wasn’t known here. His trial made him a cause célèbre in Vancouver.”

  “Fat Mary Konrad was his kind of victim.”

  “The Lady-Killer stalked her?”

  “That’s his style,” said Zinc.

  “Which explains why he came prepared with pulleys and such.”

  “With a random victim hanged to establish the Hangman, the cunning doctor then went after Jayne Curry.”

  “Twist needs checking.”

  “That’s being done.”

  “Send me what’s relevant from your file and we’ll check on him down here.”

  “We need a joint task force.”

  “Yeah,” said Maddy. “If the Hangman isn’t Dag Konrad or Dr. Twist, we’re looking for a cross-border nut hunting randomly. Or a psycho stalking women linked by some hidden motive.”

  “I’ll be in Seattle on Friday.”

  “What for, Zinc?”

  “You’ll laugh if I tell you.”

  “I could use a laugh. Traffic is at a standstill. The sirens you heard were responding to a pileup on the I-5.”

  “My girlfriend’s a writer.”

  Alex looked up from her notes.

  “The Northwest Writers’ Festival has come up with a unique idea for a fund-raiser. An event restricted to cops, lawyers, forensic techs, private eyes, and crime scribblers.”

  “Homicide got invited. The party on the boat?”

  “My girlfriend roped me into going along. Amtrak to Seattle, sail to Vancouver, and those from Seattle Amtrak home.”

  “Where’d they get the boat?”

  “It’s a cruise line. Training trip for the crew. A comp for the festival.”

  “A booze-schmooze
cruise.”

  “Undoubtedly. With all night to kill. Come along, and we’ll kill some time comparing files.”

  “Maybe,” said Maddy. “So what’s your guess?”

  “The word game?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll follow your lead. The first two words need vowels. In tomorrow’s papers, let’s guess E.”

  * * *

  “So,” said Alex once Zinc finished the call, “that was Maddy?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “The same Maddy at whose abode you slept when you were in Seattle?”

  “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”

  “Of course not, Zinc. The same way it wouldn’t irk you if I met some stranger at a book event and shacked up with him for the night.”

  “I slept on the couch.”

  “Did she sleep on the couch too?”

  “Really, Alex. You know me better than that.”

  “How’d you miss your flight?”

  “I got caught up in the case.”

  “In Maddy’s case?”

  “Yes.”

  “So you slept at Maddy’s house?”

  “It wasn’t a house. It was an apartment.”

  “Oh! Pardon me. That makes a big difference.”

  “I see her as a cop. I don’t see her as a woman.”

  “Even in her baby dolls?”

  “She wasn’t wearing baby dolls.”

  “Oh! Was she in the nude?”

  “Stop it, Alex. You know you’re the only woman for me. You have no cause to be jealous.”

  “I’m not jealous.”

  “Yes, you are.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  “The only person fooling you is Maddy, Zinc.”

  “She’s a cop.”

  “Not a woman?”

  “Not to me.”

  “What does she look like?”

  “Well, like a cop.”

  “A female cop?”

  “Of course.”

  “Is she good-looking?”