Hour Game

by David Baldacci

  who could be heard spouting endless theories. Nearly everyone was grabbing for their fifteen minutes of fame.

  Todd Williams was inundated by the journalistic deluge, as was Chip Bailey. Even King and Michelle failed to entirely escape the flood, watching in dismay as details of their previous high-profile investigative exploits were dredged up and made part of the current story.

  More law enforcement resources were called in, both federal and state, and King wondered if the additional manpower was helping or hurting the investigation. The latter seemed to be the case as everyone jockeyed for position.

  The letter finally came. It proclaimed that the killer of Junior Deaver was now imitating the clown prince of darkness, at least in serial killer circles: John Wayne Gacy. And you thought he only killed young men and boys, the message tauntingly read. Now you know he doesn’t mind knocking off big fat rednecks like Junior Deaver.

  They were all at another early morning task force meeting at the police station. The large conference room had been turned into a war room of sorts with banks of computers and telephones manned twenty-four/seven, charts, maps, stacks of files, highly specialized personnel running down all leads, tons of coffee and doughnuts and not one viable suspect anywhere in sight.

  “Gacy strangled many of his victims using that ligature technique,” explained Chip Bailey.

  “You certainly know your serial killers,” said Michelle.

  “I should. I’ve spent years tracking them down.”

  “And in prison the big, jolly fellow started doing paintings of clowns,” added King, “which accounts for the mask, just in case we couldn’t figure it out solely from the hangman’s tourniquet.”

  “And Junior’s watch was definitely set to five o’clock,” said Michelle. “So either our serial murderer can’t count or whoever killed Bobby Battle was a copycat.”

  “I think we can assume there are two killers out there,” conceded Bailey. “Although there’s an outside possibility that there’s only one killer and he’s messing with the numbers for some reason.”

  “What, he’s angling to be charged with five killings instead of six?” asked King. “I don’t know about other places, but in Virginia they only execute murderers once.”

  Williams groaned and reached for the Advil. “Damn, my head’s starting to hurt again.”

  “Have you seen Bobby Battle’s will?” asked Michelle.

  Williams swallowed the pills and nodded. “The vast bulk of his estate was left to Remmy.”

  “Did they hold the property by joint tenancy?” asked King.

  “No. A lot was in Bobby’s name only, including all his patents. The house went to Remmy automatically, and she had substantial property of her own.”

  “You said the vast bulk. Where did the remainder go?”

  “Some charities. A little bit to Eddie and Dorothea. Not nearly enough to kill for, though.”

  “How about Savannah?” asked King.

  “No, she got nothing. But she already had a big trust fund.”

  “But still, not to leave her anything, that was pretty callous.”

  “Maybe they weren’t all that close,” said Bailey.

  King looked at him. “How well do you know the family?”

  “Eddie and I see each other pretty regularly. We hunt together, and I’ve gone to some of his reenactments. He’s come down to Quantico and toured the FBI Academy. In fact, Remmy and Bobby came down for that, and Mason, the butler, too. I own a couple pieces of Eddie’s artwork. Dorothea helped me find my house in Charlottesville. I spent an afternoon with them after his father was killed. It shook him, I can tell you that. I actually think he was more concerned about the effect it had on his mother.”

  King nodded. “Well, he couldn’t have killed his father. He was with us.”

  “And he was away fighting at reenactments when Rhonda Tyler and Canney and Pembroke were killed,” said Bailey.

  “How about Dorothea?” asked Michelle.

  “We checked. She’s clean too.”

  “At the time Bobby Battle died too?” asked King.

  “Well, she said she was driving to Richmond for a meeting the next morning.”

  “Alone?”

  “Yes.”

  King said, “So she really doesn’t have an alibi either. Speaking of Dorothea, do you know her well?”

  “Like I said, she was my Realtor. But I don’t think she’s crying herself to sleep because Bobby’s dead.”

  “Happy marriage?” asked Michelle.

  “Eddie loves her, I know that. I’m not sure how much that’s reciprocated. Actually, between you and me, it wouldn’t surprise me if she was catching some action on the side.”

  “And Savannah said she was home when her father died. Was she?”

  “I asked the hired help about that, but they’d all gone to their house by that time, except for Mason, and he doesn’t remember seeing her. And she wasn’t exactly hitting on all cylinders when we talked to her. I’m going to have to question her again.”

  “So she’s still a suspect too. What about Bobby and Remmy?” asked King.

  “What about them?”

  “If I told you we had information they’d had a knock-down-drag-out three or four years ago over Bobby’s sleeping around, would that surprise you?”

  “No. He had that reputation. Some people thought he was over it, but old dogs rarely change their spots.”

  “Which might be an awfully good motive for killing her husband,” said Michelle.

  “Possibly,” said Bailey.

  “How about Remmy?” asked King.

  “What, that she slept around?” King nodded. “No, never,” said Bailey emphatically.

  “Mason seems to really think a lot of Remmy,” King said.

  “I have no doubt he does, but he’s not in her league and never will be, if that’s what you’re implying.”

  King stared at Bailey for a few seconds, then decided to change the subject. He looked over at Williams. “Has Sylvia finished the post on Junior?”

  “Yep,” answered Williams, who’d recovered enough from his misery to devour a chocolate doughnut and two cups of coffee. “He died from ligature strangulation, although he’d been beaten over the head with a shovel and a piece of wood prior to that. Damn lot of blood.”

  “We know,” said King dryly.

  “Right,” said the chief. “Anyway, Sylvia thinks she might have some trace on the guy this time. And the tech team pulled up some fibers that didn’t match anything Junior had on. And we also got a partial tire track nearby. Might be the car he got away in.”

  “Better check those fibers against my clothes,” said King. “I… I had some contact with Junior when the shooting started.”

  “Speaking of shooting, you got the bullets from the tires?” asked Michelle.

  “They were forty-four calibers,” said Williams. “Nothing special. Hope we get a gun to match it against at some point.”

  “The guy had a laser aimer, that’s pretty specialized,” said King.

  “Junior’s belt buckle was also missing,” noted Williams.

  “Another trophy,” said Michelle.

  “Looks like Junior fought hard,” said Bailey. “Lots of defensive wounds on his hands and forearm. And a wall of studs was taken out, probably during the struggle.”

  “The guy’s clearly started to make some mistakes,” said Williams. “You two happening along when you did really put a wrench into the works for him.”

  “I don’t think we accomplished all that much,” said Michelle, “except let him get away.”

  King studied the copy of the letter again. “This is the first time he’s referred to a victim by name,” he said.

  “I noted that,” said Bailey.

  “Now, why would a killer do that?” wondered Williams.

  “He’s playing with us. He wants to jerk us around.”

  “For what purpose?” asked Michelle.

  “Because this is all part
of something a lot bigger that we’re not seeing right now,” replied King.

  “And what might that be?” asked Bailey in a skeptical tone.

  “When I figure it out, you’ll be the second to know,” said King, glancing significantly at Williams. “How did Lulu take it, Todd?” asked King in a softer tone.

  Williams leaned back and shrugged his shoulders. “Didn’t cry at all, but then, the kids were around. That mother of hers, though, damn lady went hysterical, screaming about how much she loved Junior, what in the world were they going to do without him. Lulu finally had to take her out of the room. Piece of work she is.”

  King and Michelle looked at each other and just shook their heads.

  “Now we come to an interesting point,” said Williams. “You told us that Remmy threatened Junior. That she wanted some things back and she didn’t want Junior showing them to anyone.”

  King nodded. “At least that’s what Lulu told us that Junior said. But it wasn’t Remmy Battle who beat Junior up before strangling him to death.”

  “But Lulu said Remmy told Junior that she knew people.”

  King shook his head. “I’m not sure why Remmy would want to kill him, at least not now. According to Lulu, she was going to give Junior some time to think it over. If he’s dead, he can’t very well tell her where the stuff is—not that he could anyway, since I don’t believe he took it in the first place.”

  “But if he’s dead,” said Bailey, “then he can’t show the stuff, whatever it is, to someone else.”

  King remained unconvinced. “But Remmy couldn’t be sure of that. He might have made arrangements in case something happened to him.”

  “You’ve got a point there,” said Williams. “But it’s still something we’ll have to check into. Not that I’m looking forward to going down that road with Remmy.”

  “Well,” said King, “we’ve got people to see and places to go.”

  “Where and who?” asked Bailey sharply.

  “Steve Canney’s father and Janice Pembroke’s parents.”

  “We already talked to them. And to everyone connected to Diane Hinson too.”

  “But you don’t mind another set of eyes,” said Michelle.

  “Go ahead,” said Williams. “You have full authority.”

  “Just report back to me if you find anything interesting,” said Bailey.

  “I’ll count the minutes,” muttered King.

  CHAPTER

  44

  KING AND MICHELLE

  drove to their office to do some work before heading out to see Pembroke’s and Canney’s parents. The silver Volvo station wagon and BMW Eight Series were parked in front of their office.

  “Eddie and Dorothea,” said Michelle as she got out of the Whale. As if on cue the doors opened on each of the vehicles and the pair got out.

  “Driving separate cars,” commented Michelle in a low voice.

  “And maybe going in separate directions.”

  Eddie was dressed in gray dress slacks, white shirt and a blue blazer and carried a leather briefcase. With his deep tan and strong, weathered features, plus the nice clothes, he looked very handsome, Michelle noted appreciatively.

  Dorothea was dressed all in black, which seemed appropriate under the circumstances, but King knew it had nothing to do with mourning the loss of the family patriarch: the fishnet stockings, stiletto heels and very visible cleavage were the giveaways.

  King unlocked the door to the office building, and they all went inside.

  When they were all settled, King said, “We’re really sorry about your father, Eddie.” He glanced at Dorothea but said nothing because the woman’s look invited no such condolences.

  “I still can’t believe it,” said Eddie. “Mom was there at ten, and at ten-thirty he’s dead.”

  “Remmy told us she saw no one when she was leaving,” said Michelle.

  “Well, it’s not like the person would’ve been jumping up and down in front of Remmy yelling, ‘I’m going in to kill your husband now,’ ” said Dorothea irritably.

  Eddie said, “Thanks for pointing that out, Dorothea. If you have nothing helpful to contribute, why don’t you just sit there and continue sulking?”

  Good for you, Eddie Battle, thought Michelle.

  Dorothea looked like she was about to fire back with something suitably nasty, but she managed to restrain herself. She just sat there with her arms folded, scowling at the floor.

  “What can we do for you, Eddie?” asked King.

  Eddie pulled a newspaper out of the briefcase and pointed to a front-page article. King took the paper and scanned the story while Michelle read over his shoulder.

  When he finished, King looked very upset. “How the hell did the account of Remmy’s threatening Junior get leaked to the press?”

  “Maybe Lulu,” suggested Michelle. “Or her mother, Priscilla. Sounds like something she might do.”

  “Regardless,” said Eddie, “now the whole town thinks Mom had Junior killed.”

  “But the Gazette also reported that Junior’s death has been linked to the serial killings,” pointed out Michelle.

  Eddie slumped down in a chair. “That doesn’t matter. People will think she paid someone to make it look that way.”

  “So how’s Remmy taking it?”

  “It’s killing her.”

  “But she’s not denying she threatened Junior?” asked King.

  Eddie now looked wary. “I don’t want to play semantics with you, Sean, but even if she threatened him, she had nothing to do with the man’s death.”

  “I can’t control what people think.”

  “I know that, but I just thought, well…”

  “What do you want us to do, Eddie?” asked Michelle gently.

  “Yes, it would be nice if you came to the point,” said Dorothea. “I have two homes to show this morning.”

  Eddie ignored her and said, “Can you go and speak to Mom again? I know you came by the other day with Chip, and she sort of cut you off. But if you came by again, I know she’d see you. She needs someone to talk to right now.”

  “What exactly would she tell us?” asked King.

  “I’m not totally sure,” admitted Eddie. “But at least you can get her side of things instead of just this trash in the paper.”

  “I’m sure Chip and his men will do that.”

  “But she’d be more comfortable with you. Between you, me and the wall, Chip and Mom don’t really get along all that well.”

  “Even though he saved your life?”

  “I don’t know how to explain it. I only know it’s true.”

  “He speaks very highly of her.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t clear. Mom doesn’t really care for him all that much.”

  “All right, we’ll speak to her. But, again, that won’t stop people from gossiping.”

  Dorothea broke in. “Since Eddie keeps beating around the bush, let me say it straight out. There’s no way in the world that Remmy had anything to do with that man’s death. But if you find whoever did kill Junior, that would stop all the talk.”

  “Right,” said Eddie. “And then maybe you’ll find who murdered Dad too.”

  “So you think it might be the same person?” asked King.

  “It just seems very coincidental that Junior was charged with burglarizing my parents’ home, and then in quick succession he and my father are killed.”

  “That was actually my idea,” said Dorothea proudly. “And the reason I’m here. I got to thinking about this last night. What if somebody is using this string of murders to hide the killings of Bobby and Junior? And if so, it must be connected to what was stolen.”

  “That’s actually something we’re considering,” admitted King.