“But why choose Mr. Elliot?” Melendez asked. He wanted to keep the pressure on.
“Because he was the only one who could’ve seen the connections.”
He turned to Gantry.
“Mr. Elliot, you lived with and wrote about all these rock stars. You knew them like no other person, outside their families. With your encyclopedic knowledge of the era you would see what had happened—with my help. And you did. You brought it to the point where the authorities are now engaged.”
“You must have known that we would find you,” Melendez interrupted.
“Yes, eventually. But, I thought it would be after it was safe for me,” Hislop said.
He stood up.
“Gentlemen, please. I can’t get involved any further on this. This was a long time ago, and I have a new life. I have probably gone too far as it is. You don’t know what you are dealing with, but I do. And I am afraid that your coming here today may have placed me in real danger.”
Melendez stood up and walked to the windows. Then he turned and looked again at Hislop with an intense expression Gantry had not seen before.
“Mr. Hislop, based on how you describe your former boss, I think you may be right, but if you are in danger, you’re much better off letting us place you in protective custody until all this is behind us. But I can’t help you if you don’t cooperate.”
“Oh yes, that’s a great idea. Can you see me going from my beautiful home to some obscure flat on a street somewhere near Hobart, Indiana, hiding for the rest of my life? He would find me in no time. You don’t know what kind of people you’re dealing with? ”
“You started this for a reason. Perhaps it was your conscience, maybe you just want to see justice done. We certainly do. I don’t know what your motives are, but you took this train out of the station and got it up to speed, and one way or another it’s going to keep barreling along with or without you.” Melendez made a sweeping gesture with his hands.
“You know it’s highly probable that you are an accomplice. Tax avoidance, mail fraud, maybe even murder?” Melendez slowly articulated each possible offense.
Hislop stared at Melendez. His eyebrows furrowed down slightly, though his body language gave no other clues.
“I’ll tell you what. Give me a couple of days to think about all this. I have your card, and I will call you. I promise I’ll do that.”
“All right,” Melendez said. “Twenty-four hours. If I were you, I would stay put and not venture out. Do you understand me? You will have no protection.”
“Yes, of course.”
Melendez and Gantry didn’t speak until they were a few blocks from Hislop’s home.
Melendez immediately dialed up Tanner. “Get New York to set round-the-clock on Hislop. Don’t let him out of our sight.”
“Gantry, I’m going to drop you off and head back to Quantico tonight. I think I can make it back before midnight,” Melendez said.
Gantry thought for a moment.
“Raphael, why don’t you just stay at my place, then leave early tomorrow and beat the traffic? I have some fifteen-year-old Bookers in the cabinet. We can order some Thai.”
Melendez smiled.
“Now, that’s not a bad idea. Less wear and tear. I think I’ll take you up on that offer. One problem, though—you still have that bug in your place,” Melendez pointed out. “I’ll disable it when we get there.”
“So what’s your take on this guy?” Gantry asked as they cruised down the Merritt.
“Well, he’s been in Westport quite a while, is well-established, and has ties to the community. I can’t think he’s going anywhere anytime soon. But he’s unpredictable right now. I can’t arrest him because he’s right—everything we have is circumstantial.
“He clearly knows a lot more than he let on, but he’s scared, that’s for sure, which makes it even more important to figure it all out as quickly as possible.
We still have to talk to San Francisco and the LAPD. There’s a lot of work to do. But I’m going to call in to Quantico and have a unit maintain an eye on him. I’m not completely convinced he won’t run.”
As he finished what he was saying, his cell phone rang.
“Yes, Tanner what now?”
Melendez listened intently as his ace analyst described what had just been uncovered in the Brian Jones investigation.
“No shit. That’s unbelievable! I will send a text to Bruce and have him set up a call first thing. Send me the synopsis. Good work,” he said, disconnecting.
He pulled off to the shoulder of the expressway and told Gantry what Tanner had said. He then sent a text to Bruce suggesting they have a call with the entire team first thing in the morning to talk about Jones. The information on Hislop would have to wait; he wanted to share that with Bruce privately before bringing it to the team. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to get as much sleep as he thought.
Elliot Gantry’s Apartment, New York
Once in Manhattan, Gantry navigated Melendez through the narrow SoHo streets to his favorite Thai restaurant, where they picked up dinner. Upon arriving at Gantry’s apartment, Melendez went directly to the electrical outlet and quickly disabled the bug.
“There, now we can talk freely,” he said. “Where’s that Bookers?”
Pointing to Gantry’s massive record collection, Melendez added, “Have any Grateful Dead?”
Gantry laughed. “As my good friend Dennis would say, ‘Is the Pope Catholic?’”
“Who’s Dennis?”
Gantry explained as he put American Beauty on the turntable. The sweet melody of “Box of Rain” filled the room. “Dennis is one of my best friends, originally from London, he owns a collectibles record store not far from here. He’s almost as much a rock and roll nut as me.”
Gantry held his glass up and toasted Melendez.
“Here’s to solving the case of the century!”
“Amen!”
Gantry laid out their take-out to the table and they began to eat.
“So…are you a Redskins fan?” Gantry asked trying to make some small talk.
“Of course,” Melendez laughed. “There weren’t any NFL teams in Mexico, and it’s the only team in the DC area. And you? I suppose you’re a Giants fan?”
“Hell, no. Are you kidding? Born and raised on America’s team, the Cowboys,” Gantry responded. “Thank god they’re a decent team again.”
“Amen, brother. The Skins…”
“Don’t get me started…”
After finishing dinner, Melendez excused himself to go take a shower. Gantry saw that there was a message on his answering machine and walked over to the desk and pushed the play button, recognizing Dennis’ voice immediately. He called him back.
“Hey, mate. Where the hell have you been?” Dennis asked, somewhat impatiently.
“Been wrapped up in this case, man. You wouldn’t believe what’s going on. It’s a real morass. I wouldn’t even know where to begin. We need to catch up, but I can’t today. Long, long story. What’s up with you? Is all okay?”
“Not really…It’s pretty damned ominous.”
“Dennis? What is it?”
“Remember me telling you about that little dolly I dated in London?”
“Yep. I remember. Something come up with her?”
“Something came up all right. It was me, and now baby makes three.”
“What? Are you fucking kidding me?” Gantry said.
“Would I joke about a thing like that? Come on, mate, she’s had a child.”
“When? Are you sure it’s yours? I mean, you haven’t seen her in what—two, three years?” Gantry asked.
“Well, I can’t be absolutely sure, but that’s what she claims. Shit, man, I can’t be having a kid at my age. I should be having grandkids!”
“Okay, wait a second. Settle down. What did you tell her? What does she want?” Gantry asked.
“I was speechless, and I didn’t know what to say, it was all so out of left field. She called
me a few days ago and woke me up. Basically, she wants me to come back to London and meet the little lass. That was about it.”
“How old is this woman?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Jesus, Dennis.”
“I know, I know. I have a proclivity, as you would say, for the young ones.”
“So what did she say? Does she want to get married, want money, what?”
“She didn’t say. She just said, come back home and meet little Mindy. She’s two years old.”
“So…why has she kept all this from you this long? Why now?”
“Goddamn it, mate, if I knew that, I wouldn’t be callin’ you. I have to go through and sort this out. There’s no getting out of it. I know you’re all wrapped up that case and all, but I need you to come with me. I can’t do it alone.”
“Shit, Dennis. Let me think.”
“Well? Can you come?”
“When?”
“As soon as we can do it—couple of days? I won’t be able to sleep until I figure this out. I’ll pay for the tickets. I’ll pay for everything. I just need your support.”
Gantry thought for a few seconds. Maybe this trip could fit in with the case. He needed to check with Melendez, who’d mentioned earlier that they would probably have to go to London at some point. The Hendrix case was sure to heat up, and Dennis had all those boxes with Hendrix’s belongings in them.
“Yeah, I think I can go, but I can’t do it in a couple of days. Let me see how this all unfolds, and I’ll get back to you. She’s waited this long, she can wait a little longer.”
“You’re right. Sounds like you have a full plate. Give me a teaser. Where are you with it all?”
“Okay, here’s the ten-second synopsis. We know the guy who sent all those clues. He’s a former accountant for the record companies. Can’t tell you any more than that on him for now. Melendez, the agent, put together an entire team of guys in London and Paris to work on the case, and they’ve reopened the Peter Ham case as a live murder investigation.”
“Jesus, this is for real, then?”
“Yep. There’s a lot more, but I have to go. Talk to you soon.”
As Gantry hung up, Melendez came walking into the living room in a borrowed bathrobe. Gantry was trying to get his mind around Dennis’s call and wondering how a trip to London might work into the investigation.
After complaining about how bored and irrelevant he had become, now he had things exploding all around him. I’ll never complain again. Never. He said to himself.
Quantico, VA
Bruce had scheduled the urgent team call at Melendez’s request for 5:30 a.m. EST. Melendez had been up since four forty-five, been briefed by Tanner, and was ready to drive back to Quantico as soon as the call ended. He sat on Gantry’s oversize leather chair with a large cup of coffee and dialed into the conference number.
“Gentlemen,” Melendez began, “I apologize for the short notice, but I wanted to pass on these surprising early findings on Brian Jones immediately, because we think it might have implications for how each of us approaches the other cases.
“The unidentified amphetamine-like substance in the original report has proven to be PMMA, an ingredient now found in the drug Ecstasy, a compound rarely heard of or used at that time. In high doses it spikes the body temperature acutely and can cause cardiac arrest. The forensic techniques in 1969 would not have been able to identify this chemical, ergo the inconclusive original analysis.
“There was no evidence to suggest that the drug was injected. We believed that a massive instant dosage would have to have been taken in liquid form. However, our testing of the glasses and alcohol residue from the crime scene proved negative on that.
“We then tested the two inhalers as possible vehicles. The one from Jones’s bedroom tested normal as an asthma medication. The one at poolside was filled with a liquid form of PMMA in an extremely lethal concentration. If inhaled, it would have immediately entered the bloodstream, causing his body temperature to rise quickly and shortly thereafter cause cardiac arrest.
“It is improbable that Jones would have done this on purpose, and there was no evidence or history of PMMA elsewhere. His allergies and asthma had been acting up in the days leading to his death. The inhaler from his bedroom was almost two months old and nearly empty. The one found poolside was brand new and dated July third, the day he died.
“Gentlemen, our analysis suggests that Brian Jones did not die from ‘misadventure’ as originally concluded, but from a lethal dose of PMMA administered via his asthma inhaler. The contents had apparently been substituted—transformed into a sophisticated and undetectable murder weapon,” Melendez concluded.
For a moment, there was no response from the team. They all knew what this meant and realized that they were dealing with an extremely cunning and sophisticated killer. One who used the eagerness of the authorities to quickly close these cases and cite the most obvious causes of death, and in doing so created the perfect cover—time would do the rest.
Somewhat anticlimactically, Bruce announced, “Based on this startling new insight, I am now compelled to also reopen the Brian Jones case as a homicide.”
The whole team’s adrenaline rose. As experienced as these assembled experts were, this was unlike anything any of them had seen before. Each knew that he would need to bring their best to these cases.
Melendez dreaded it, but he would now need to sit down with Mayflower, and possibly the Director, to lay out the full extent of what seemed to be unfolding. This had implications for the Agency and would instantly go high-profile when word leaked. He also thought it would be prudent to ask Bruce to arrange another conference call with London to emphasize their mutual interest. They would need the full profiling and analytical expertise of the BAU and Scotland Yard to find this serial killer. No more back-channeling and improvising.
There was more at stake than just solving the case and looking ahead to possible new ones: Morrison, Joplin, and McKernan. It was early spring, and his “use by” date was December 30. He and Lucia had already put a down payment on a home in Palm Desert, California. He’d miss the bureau, but not the weather.
And Melendez was getting tired. He never let Gantry know, but while his heart, not in the best of shape, still raced at the thought of a hot cold case, even the best of careers can lose their luster and intrigue after too many years of redundancy. He didn’t want to start a new career, but he had always hoped to write his memoirs. That is where he would set the record straight and share some of the most intriguing cases he’d ever solved.
Melendez saw this case as the coup de grace, a fitting and proper way for him to go out with a bang and a story so unbelievable that there would be no way he could top it. He would smile at his retirement party, raise a glass and say “Fuck you” to Mayflower in front of the entire room. His exact words would be, “Fuck you and the Mayflower you claim your family sailed in on.” He laughed thinking about it.
Gantry was just getting up as the call finished. Melendez filled him in on the latest news, and then hastily said goodbye and thanks.
“I will let you know the next steps, including London,” he said.
He stopped short of the front door, just as he was about to leave. He slowly walked back up to the poster and squinted at the longhorn charm bracelet on Joplin’s ankle. “Gantry, look at this. Isn’t this the same bracelet that came in the package?” Gantry didn’t turn to look.
“That’s the symbol of the University of Texas, isn’t it?” Gantry nodded his head.
“You knew that…didn’t you?” Melendez asked. Gantry nodded.
“Did you give her this bracelet?” Gantry nodded again.
“Jesus fuck, Gantry, why didn’t you say something. What else aren’t you telling me?” Melendez yelled at him.
Gantry’s heart was almost busting out of his chest as his adrenaline pumped in overdrive…his head spinning.
It had been almost fifty years, but Gantry had recognized it i
mmediately on the call. Janis had kept the bracelet and had reached out to Gantry over the years. The summer she died, she had been in constant communication with him about her health, her career, and her future. For her, Gantry was one of the only people she felt she could trust. He had been the only one who could settle her down after Jimi died, when she became paranoid.
“What else aren’t you telling me, Gantry? Goddamn it, what for Christsakes?” he yelled again.
“Raphael, she and I didn’t just have a fling. We kept seeing each other right up until she died,” Gantry explained in a calm voice. Melendez stared at him still angry.
“Do you know anything about her death?” a more settled Melendez asked.
“I know she was scared for her life after Hendrix died. She thought she might be next.”
“Why was she scared?”
Gantry shook his head. “I don’t know. I always found it so hard to believe that she overdosed. She had been trying to clean up her act for the past year. Didn’t make any sense. I never believed it.”
Melendez put his arm around Gantry.
“Raphael, this wasn’t a clue like the others. Hislop knew I gave it to her. We have to get this guy!”
Gantry poured himself a cup a coffee and was getting ready to get in the shower when his cell phone rang. He didn’t recognize the number.
“Hello, this is Gantry Elliot.”
“Gantry, it’s Angus Hislop.”
Gantry was surprised, but before he could respond, Hislop began talking a mile a minute.
“I’m not ready yet to talk; I need to think this through. I’m going to take a short trip to tend to some business. I know Agent Melendez told me not to leave, but it’s too dangerous and I’m too vulnerable remaining here and—”
“Mr. Hislop, I understand how you feel, but that’s why he offered to put you into protective custody,” Gantry patiently explained.
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