He reached for her and she slapped his hand away. “No! Just get the fuck out of here!” She opened the door and stood there with crossed arms and fury in her eyes as he found his pants and pulled them on.
“I was only trying to see if you had a calendar or date book.”
She snorted. “Bullshit.” She picked up his shirt, jacket, socks and shoes then tossed them outside. “You can finish dressing outside.”
“You’ve got to listen to me, Ellery. You might be in serious danger. I witnessed a murder a long time ago, but I didn’t go to the police. I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. You asked me why I looked at Jones so strangely. It’s because I only recently realized it’s his face, or rather, his brother’s, that I see when I’m asleep.
“I think Theodore Jones may have committed a number of gruesome murders, but I need to know where he was on certain dates to prove it. Ellie, please listen to me. It’s for your own good.”
He touched her cheek and she retaliated with a hard slap to his. “You bastard. You gave up the right to touch me the minute you went into my purse. You should have at least had a believable story ready to cover your ass. But really, the senator’s brother is a serial killer? How stupid do you think I am?”
He exhaled heavily. “I know you’re not stupid, and I didn’t just make that up. I’m sorry. I should have explained up front, but I didn’t know how loyal you were to the senator. Then I fell in love with you and—”
“That’s it! Out!” With a hard shove, she pushed him out the door and slammed it closed.
For several minutes she just stood there, leaning against the door with her eyes closed and her fists clenched. But when one tear, then another leaked out of her eyes, she turned her anger on herself.
She’d been warned repeatedly by Brevowski. Her intuition had told her he was trouble on a personal level as well. How dare he call her Ellie! She swiped the wetness off her cheeks.
She should have realized the first time he kissed her that she wouldn’t be able to enjoy him without getting emotionally attached. The feelings he aroused were exactly what she had avoided all these years.
After watching her mother make one mistake after another, she had sworn she would never end up dependent on a man for anything. Not for financial support. Not for protection. And especially not for love. How could she have known that someone would come along to test that oath? She had no way of preparing herself in advance, but she would never make that mistake again.
Fortunately, she discovered the real Luke Madigan tonight, before she admitted to him just how far he had already wormed his way into her heart.
Chapter 18
At six-thirty Saturday morning, he watched Detective Harris pull out of his driveway and head for work. At six forty-five, he pulled on a pair of latex gloves and covered those with heavy workman’s gloves. He then strategically scored the detective’s kitchen window with a glass cutter and adhered several large strips of electrical tape to it. A few hard taps with his fist, and he was able to quietly remove all the glass. He carefully bagged it up to take with him later. By seven, he was inside.
When asked, Frank Patterson had been happy to confirm what time the detective would be at his desk, so it was just a matter of working backward from there to figure out when the best time would be to arrive in Glendale. He had managed to get two hours’ sleep after arriving at Vivian’s parents’ house, which was more than enough to re-energize him.
The location of the officer’s home was in the AIDS fundraiser files, along with the address and phone number of every other guest who had attended the banquet.
He wasn’t terribly worried about nosy neighbors. If anyone happened to be up and about at that early hour, however, he was dressed in sweat clothes and sneakers, and wore a man’s brown wig and thin moustache. He looked like a typical sunrise jogger. He also counted on the change that had occurred in American neighborhoods over the years. Not only did few people mind each other’s business nowadays, they might not even know the names of the people next door.
Also, as he expected, the detective had no alarm system. Police officers, he had learned, tended to believe they were above that sort of thing.
Not knowing precisely which method would be most efficient until he got in the house, he had a variety of items, ranging from common tools to an incendiary device, all strapped to his body beneath the loose clothing.
Thanks to a very well-rounded, international education, both in and out of school, he was capable of doing things that would shock most people, if they ever found out… but they never did and they never would. That was his karma. The current situation had become a bit more complicated than usual, but that only meant a bit more clean-up than usual was required, beginning with the detective.
One of the wonderful things about the United States was that criminals of all types have always been permitted to write detailed descriptions of their special skills and illegal experiences, even while serving time in prison. And publishers happily distributed their “works of literature” to the public. With the advent of the internet, access to such information no longer even required a trip to the library. From con games to computer theft, from arson to bombs, it was all available with very little effort. Of course, he knew all about the FBI’s internet watchdogs, which is why he used a variety of public computers all over the country, always wearing different disguises, of course.
His first order of business in the detective’s home was to measure the broken window. As soon as he was certain all blinds and drapes were closed, he turned on a light and surveyed the premises. The detective was a neat man. He found the phone directories sensibly placed in the cabinet under the kitchen wall phone and looked up companies that repair glass. Of those that offered emergency service, he called the one with the smallest ad. He knew he’d selected well when a sleepy man answered the phone “Hello” rather than by company name. “Is this Clearview Glass Company?” he asked.
The man cleared his throat. “Yes. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. This is Detective Harris of the Los Angeles Sheriff’s Department. Someone broke into my house during the night—it’s okay, I caught him—but he broke my kitchen window. I have to leave for work by noon and I can’t leave the house with it like this.”
“Not a problem. I can be there within the hour.”
As soon as he hung up, he made a room-by-room search. It would have been most convenient if he found some evidence of a drug habit or an actual medical problem that could be utilized, but he had a number of options in mind if nothing simple turned up.
What he found in a drawer in the master bedroom swiftly narrowed his choices of action down to one.
The arrival of the glass repairman postponed his scrutiny of the contents of the expansion file he’d discovered, but seeing the words “The Eye Doctor” assured his return to that task as soon as possible.
Before answering the door, he removed the latex gloves and hid them inside his sweatshirt pocket. Next, he donned a pair of non-prescription glasses with wide, tortoise-shell frames, and checked the position of the wig and moustache in the mirror. As soon as he had the repairman set to work, he went back upstairs.
He was not an excitable man under most circumstances, but discovering that Detective Harris had a file on The Eye Doctor covering over twenty years got him quite agitated. He had already given the man the death sentence for having the audacity to raise the question of where the good senator was at the time of a gruesome murder. That was unforgivable. But to find this…
He calmed down considerably as soon as he realized that finding it here suggested it was a private obsession. All he had to do was take the file and burn it after he left. He found nothing else like that, but just to be certain, he concluded that the only guarantee would be a fire, one great enough to burn every piece of paper that might be hidden in the house before the fire department arrived.
Once he had a plan, he perused the file. It was amusing to note how many of the earlier
ritual killings were missing and, of course, none of the “clean-up” jobs had been connected with the cases—except for the kid who’d witnessed the one in East L.A., and even that one was only a suspicion in Harris’ mind.
At the back of all the subject folders was a cardboard post office mailer. The recent Sacramento postmark made him curious enough to pull it out and examine it more closely. Inside he was shocked to find an artistically altered press photo that was actually quite attractive. Someone had stumbled upon a truth and was trying to convince the detective of their conclusion.
So it was not some anonymous crackpot who happened to leave Harris a note on his door. Whoever sent this knew the detective well enough to know that he’d been following the case for over two decades. The note was signed only with the drawing of a winged insect with a long stinger, like a wasp or hornet. What was most important, though, was that the artist was in Sacramento this past week, apparently for the secret purpose of discrediting Abraham Lincoln Jones before the whole world… before he was named a vice presidential candidate.
Who had recently entered the inner circle?
Ellery. He eliminated her as the sender of this slander since he thought he knew the reason she had come on the scene. Besides that, she was not the doodler type, nor did she seem daring enough to be hunting down a dangerous killer. Beautiful, intelligent, sophisticated, efficient and perhaps overly idealistic, but not daring. She had too many imaginary fears to confront anything physically threatening.
Diane Oliver. A curious female, to say the least. Vivian had thought so too. But she knew her stuff and she had come with Mother’s recommendation.
Brandon Ross. Although he was incredibly eager to be “part of the team”, one conversation with the television star had been enough to know how limited that man’s attention span was. Besides, his fate had already been determined… for the good of the cause.
Only one other possible suspicious character was left—Lucas Madigan. He reviewed all the facts and questions added up about the man and deduced that he had to be the sender of the package.
The clean-up on this matter just got more extensive than originally determined.
“Detective Harris?” the repairman called from downstairs. “I’m all done.”
He went down, admired the man’s work and paid him. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet. There was plenty of time left to do everything that had to be done.
After checking the refrigerator and cabinets, he knew that Harris used his microwave oven more often than his stove. It would take some delicate adjustments, but the end result would be determined an accident caused by a combination of faulty wiring and a scrap of aluminum foil inside the microwave. All Harris had to do was push the power button.
As soon as everything was set, he scrutinized the area around the window and on the counter beneath it to make sure there was no evidence that it had been broken or replaced. He had no doubt that everything was exactly as it had been before he’d arrived. Harris would never know he’d had a visitor that day.
He trusted the gods not to let the detective discover that his folder on The Eye Doctor was missing. There was simply too great a chance that some vile scrap of paper might escape total destruction in the fire. No, he needed to personally watch every last piece burn to ash, and there was plenty of time to take care of that after he was finished here.
Using the extra set of keys he found, he locked the front door when he left, completely unnoticed, as expected.
* * *
Ellery read the same page of the environmental report for the third time and still had no idea what it said. Her mind was too distracted by the scenes from last night that kept replaying over and over again. If she had any control over it, she would at least erase the ones of dancing and laughing, and especially the ones where kissing was involved. But those wouldn’t go away any more than the one where she saw him drop her office keys.
Like a scratched recording, she kept hearing his feeble attempts to explain away his subterfuge. Her gaze drifted to the manila envelope on the table. More nonsense.
Luke had lied to her, goaded and heartlessly seduced her. He had made incredibly passionate love to her. All of it had been nothing more than steps in his premeditated plan to use her to get information. He was a pig. He was worse than a pig—he was a slug that lived in a pig’s mud.
Four hours after she had thrown him out, he’d returned with that envelope. When she refused to let him in again, he talked to her through the door, even though she had given him no indication that she was within hearing range.
His last words were still echoing around her apartment. “I wasn’t lying about my feelings, Ellery. It wasn’t part of my plan to fall in love with you, but I did. I’ve never told another woman that I loved her before, and I didn’t have to say it to you. Hell, you even warned me not to talk serious. It doesn’t make any sense for me to lie about that. Okay. I’ll go away, but I’m leaving an envelope outside your door. Please take a good look at what’s inside no matter what you think of me.”
She had waited thirty minutes before opening the door, but it hadn’t mattered. He was still out there, standing to the side so she couldn’t see him through the peephole. Handing her the envelope, he had tried again to get her to listen. She had quickly closed and locked the door, but not before the believably pitiful expression on his face was engraved in her mind.
For the past hour she had managed to fight her curiosity by forcing her attention onto the environmental reports, but it was useless. Finally, she gave up and looked at what was inside the envelope. As much as she hated to acknowledge it, the contents seemed to bear testimony to his explanation.
Obviously expecting her to deny him entry, Luke had written a long cover letter explaining all the enclosures. The story about what he saw when he was fifteen and how his friend was probably killed was so extreme and emotional, it almost had to be true. And he had told her about his nightmares.
The details and statistics he had collected—assuming they were valid—were enough to convince her that he had finally told the truth about why he was in Sacramento. She could accept the idea that his mission was a self-appointed one that had nothing to do with politics.
The doctored photo and police sketches had similarities, as he pointed out. Similar enough to raise questions… unless they pointed a finger at a popular politician or his family.
Luke actually believed Teddy was a murderer. No, worse than that, a psychopathic killer who had been mutilating people and getting away with it for twenty-six years. It was completely preposterous! She didn’t know who was crazier, the real “Eye Doctor” or Luke for coming to the conclusion that he had.
Or her, for giving it even the slightest consideration.
He wanted to know the senator’s travel schedule to match up dates and, whenever possible, verify that Teddy was with him. He knew she could access the schedule information easily. Whether Teddy accompanied him was much harder to verify, but it was common knowledge that he rarely traveled without both his wife and brother.
Her reluctance to ignore the whole absurd theory was that she already had one piece of information he was asking for, because she had been working for the senator by then.
On the afternoon of Thursday, May 16, the Jones trio drove to Los Angeles, where the senator was to give a luncheon speech to the Sierra Club the next day. She had understood that he intended to drive back to his residence in Sausalito immediately afterward.
But she didn’t know that as absolute fact. She wondered if anyone, besides Teddy and Vivian, knew for certain exactly when they left Los Angeles. However, that didn’t mean Teddy was a cold-blooded killer.
On the other hand, her mother had believed there was something strange about the senator and his wife. Then she had died following an incident in his home. Alternatively, she had never mentioned a word about Teddy one way or the other.
Brevowski believed there was some secret that Audrey had uncovered, something serious enough to
scratch him as a vice presidential candidate. Should she tell him about Luke’s supposition, as outlandish as it was?
Suddenly she remembered the peculiar way the senator had touched her face and head, and a cold shiver ran through her. What had he really been thinking when he was complimenting her eyes?
Was it possible that Abraham Lincoln Jones—rather than Teddy—was The Eye Doctor?
Despite all the questions and her mother’s suggestions, the bottom line was that it was nearly impossible to believe either man could have gotten away with murder all these years.
She should let it go. Forget about checking the other dates. Forget she ever saw this collection of nonsense. That way, she would never have to speak to Lucas Madigan again.
She didn’t like admitting it, but she was actually more afraid of that than finding out whether or not one of the Jones brothers could possibly be a psychotic killer.
She wanted to hate him and damn him to eternal hell. She also wanted to turn back the clock and rewrite the end of their story, but neither was possible.
Unable to put any of it out of her mind, she decided to do the one thing that was possible. She got dressed and headed for her office to check on a few dates while no one else would be around.
* * *
He was momentarily frustrated when he heard Brandon Ross’ answering machine pick up instead of the man himself. He quickly hung up the pay phone and considered his options. After deciding it would be safe enough to leave a vague message with a promise to try him again in an hour, he dialed the number again. “Brandon, this is Senator Jones. Miss Winters told me you might be interested in assisting us, and I was wondering—”
“Hello?” Brandon said breathlessly. “I was in the tub.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to disturb you. Would you rather I call you back later?”
Brandon held a finger to his lips to hush the two giggling girls in the bubble bath. “No, no. What can I do for you, sir?”
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