The Rainy Day Killer

by Michael J. McCann

  She opened the wicker bag and took out Karen’s clutch, which Karen had thought was still in her room but had obviously found its way into Lane’s hot little hands. Lane slipped the piece of paper into the clutch and gave Karen a toothy smile.

  “I’ve assembled your wedding day kit for you,” she said, removing things one at a time with a little flourish. “Mini-deodorant, breath mints, tissues, a package of safety pins, thread and needle, and a few other emergency items to make sure you get through the day without a scratch.”

  “Is there still room for my gun?”

  Lane’s smile brightened crisply. “I do love your sense of humor, dear. It absolutely brightens up everything.”

  She put the clutch back into the wicker handbag and took out two small boxes. “I have the rings, so don’t fret about them.” The boxes went back in the bag in exchange for another small box. “I’ve purchased your gifts for the wedding party. Swarovski brooches for the ladies, Rolex wrist watches for the gentlemen. Would you like to see them?”

  Karen shook her head. “I’m trusting you here, Lane. I know you’ll make me look good.”

  “You’ll look better than good, sweet. You’ll look fantastic.” The wicker handbag disappeared again beneath the table.

  “Sandy packed your getaway bag this morning,” Lane went on, “so that’s done. The manicurist will be here at two, so don’t forget. Your friend, Miss Archer, arrived in town an hour ago and got settled into her room at the hotel. Mr. Donaghue is expected to arrive here at three, and your brother Darryl telephoned to let me know he’ll meet us at the church at four. Brenda, of course, is in town. That’s everyone in the wedding party, so hopefully we’ll be able to start the rehearsal right on schedule. We’ve reserved the back room at Lee’s in town for the rehearsal dinner, so everything should fall into place nicely.”

  “Thank God,” Karen said.

  “One other thing.” Lane held out her hand. “I’ll take your cell phone now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your phone, dear. We don’t want you bothered by a lot of nuisance calls or texts or whatever people pester you with. I’ll keep it right with me, so it’ll be safe. Don’t worry about that.”

  Karen blinked. “Sorry, Lane. No can do.”

  “Of course you can.”

  “No, I can’t. I don’t stop being a cop just because I’m on vacation. The cell stays with me.”

  “It’s not a vacation, for heaven’s sake. It’s your wedding. The Most Special Day Of Your Life.”

  Karen stared at Lane’s outstretched hand and shook her head. “Sorry. I tell you what, though. Compromise. I’ll turn it over to you tomorrow before I walk into the church, as long as you promise to hand it back to me at the reception. Deal?”

  “After you throw your bouquet,” Lane offered.

  “After the photographs are taken.”

  “After the first dance.”

  “After dinner.”

  Lane sighed, withdrawing her hand. “After dinner.” She picked up her glass of wine and drained it, shaking her head. “I wonder if all Texan girls are like you.”

  “I severely doubt it.”

  “So do I.” Lane set down her empty glass. “Just one more thing.”

  “Uh oh.”

  “Try to relax, dear.”

  “Okay, Lane, I’ll try. I know you’ve got my six on this. I appreciate it.”

  “I’ve got your what?”

  Karen laughed, despite herself. “Never mind.”

  36

  Friday, May 31: afternoon

  “Welcome to the Alleghany Highlands,” Bill Alexander said, shaking their hands in the foyer of the craftsman colonial that served as the main house on the Alexander ranch. “This is my nephew, Stephen Walton. He’s helping us out this weekend. Don’t know what we’d do without him.”

  Hank shook hands with the shy-looking blond teenager who’d answered the door when they rang the bell. “Nice to meet you, Stephen. Beautiful place you have here, Mr. Alexander.”

  “Please, please, call me Bill. It’s Hank, right? And Ed? We don’t stand on ceremony, here. Except for the Big One tomorrow, of course.” He laughed. “Your luggage is still in the car? Good. Hank, you’ll be staying in the guest house, and Ed, we’ve reserved a room for you at the hotel in town. We’ve practically taken over the place. All at our expense, of course. Y’all are our guests this weekend. Stephen will run you in when you’re ready to go, but I was hoping you might have a few minutes for a drink first.”

  “Of course,” Ed said. “I’d love to. I imagine Hank would love a bourbon after that drive, but I’ll stick to something non-alcoholic, if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure enough! We’ve got everything here, don’t worry about that.” He led them down the hall and into the great room. “Twenty-two-foot ceiling,” he said, waving a hand, “floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace, wrought-iron chandelier hand-forged up in Warm Springs a hundred and fifty years ago, dark oak floors. Built by my great-great-grandfather before the Civil War, during which it miraculously survived an attempt by the Yankees to burn it to the ground.” He grinned at them. “My apologies. I was in real estate a lifetime ago, before I retired and became the humble gentleman farmer you see before you.”

  When they’d been fixed up with drinks and had chosen seats in the great room around the spectacular fireplace, Alexander leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. “Either of you smoke? I forgot to ask. I’m an occasional smoker, myself, but I’m not allowed to smoke in the house. We can sit outside on the patio, if you like.”

  “Just the odd cigar,” Hank said. “Maybe later.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Ed?”

  “Caffeine’s my only vice,” Griffin said, holding up his glass of Coke. “I’m all set.”

  “That’s fine. How do you fellows like this little part of heaven?”

  “It’s beautiful,” Griffin replied. “How high up are we?”

  “This little hollow’s thirteen hundred and sixty feet above sea level. Pleasant Mountain, which I expect you saw to the northwest of us, is two thousand feet. Our ranch is a forty-acre parcel that’s been in the Alexander family for five generations now. When he inherits it, Sandy will be the sixth.”

  “It’s still an operating ranch?”

  “We keep a few horses, and the rest of the acreage is in clover, timothy, and a few other grasses. Our main cash crop is honey. We have a big apiary on the property. I hired a good man to look after it for me, and we supply honey as far east as Staunton and all the way down to Roanoke. As Lane likes to say, we’re very sweet around here.”

  “Fascinating,” Griffin said, sipping his Coke.

  “If you gentlemen are interested in local history, there’s plenty to see. That cemetery you passed when you turned off Jackson River Road? That’s the Pleasant Mountain United Methodist Cemetery. I’m the administrator, mostly because no one else has the time or interest to take on the responsibility, but all my family’s buried there, including Robert Alexander, who built this house, and his wife Marietta. Most of the tombstones are lost, but Robert’s, thankfully, is still there. Has a very touching inscription: ‘Beyond the sunset’s radiant glow, there is a brighter world, I know. Beyond the sunset we shall spend, delightful days that never end.’ I memorized it when I was a young man. It was my job to cut the grass back in those days. Now I hire a man from Covington to do it. A townie.”

  Hank’s cell phone, which he’d unplugged from the car before coming in, vibrated in his pocket. He slipped it out and looked at the call display.

  “If that’s something you need to take, Hank,” Alexander said, “go right ahead. Business is business.”

  “Sorry,” Hank said, standing up.

  “Don’t apologize. Ed and I are just getting warmed up.”

  Hank walked out into the empty hallway and stood at the bottom of the staircase. “Donaghue.”

  “Lieutenant, it’s Mickey. I hate to tell you this, but we found a listening device in your
office. In the overhead lights. It’s a wireless Infinity that operates on a SIM card. The way it works, the guy calls the device from a cell phone, the SIM card answers, and then he can hear everything in the office.”

  “And?”

  “It traced back to a throwaway, Lieutenant. Dead end. Sorry.”

  “Okay, Mick. Thanks.”

  Hank disconnected and speed-dialed Jim Horvath.

  “Hey, Hank. Are you there yet?”

  “Yeah, Griffin and I are at the Alexander ranch. How’s it going?”

  “Right now I’m having a cup of coffee in a great little place called Ellen’s Diner, on Market Street. What’s up?”

  “I want you to think back for a minute. Do you remember the day we got the Theresa Olsen package?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “You came in with some reports from Byrne and we went out into the bullpen to talk because some guy was changing the overhead lights in my office. Do you remember?”

  “Yeah, sort of. The fluorescent tubes. Right. We were talking when the mail clerk came along with the package. Then all hell broke loose.”

  “That’s right. Do you remember the guy who was changing the light bulbs?”

  “Not really. Why?”

  “He had a visitor’s badge. He kept calling me chief. The Public Works guy came along and asked him where the other guy was.”

  “I remember. He said the other guy was upstairs, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah. Do you remember what the guy looked like? Not the DPW guy, the guy in my office changing the light bulbs?”

  “Not really, Hank. Caucasian. Small to medium build, clean-shaven. Ball cap, I think. Overalls or something. That’s about it.”

  “Think you’d recognize him again if you saw him?”

  “Nope. Why? What’s this all about?”

  “I’m having trouble remembering him, myself,” Hank said, “and it’s really important. Mickey just found a bug in the overhead lights in my office. I think that guy may have put it there.”

  “No shit. What the hell for?”

  “For one thing, to insert himself into the investigation. For another, I think he wanted to be there when the package arrived. To witness all the commotion.”

  “The package? I’m not tracking you, Hank.”

  “The Rainy Day Killer, Jim. I think it was him.”

  37

  Friday, May 31: afternoon

  When Hank returned to the great room, Bill Alexander was describing to Griffin the importance of the railroad in the history of the Alleghany Highlands. He broke off when he saw the look on Hank’s face.

  “Is there a problem?”

  “Ed and I should have a word together.”

  Alexander stood up quickly, holding up his glass. “I need another drink.” He walked over to Hank’s chair and picked up his glass. “Refresh yours?”

  “Thanks.”

  “Bear in mind, Hank, that although Sandy doesn’t come home very often, when he is here, he’s always taking calls on his cell phone. I’ve developed selective deafness when it comes to you law enforcement types. I’ll just be over here.” He headed for the bar in the corner of the room.

  Griffin stood up. They moved to the opposite corner of the room. “What’s up?”

  “You were right when you said that the Rainy Day Killer must have some kind of surveillance on us. We just found an Infinity wireless listening device in the overhead lights in my office, the kind you access with a throwaway cell phone. He may have been listening when Karen was talking to me about her wedding plans here.”

  “If he’s followed us,” Griffin said, “we need to distribute copies of the composite right away. We should contact the sheriff and get him on board. The task force has jurisdiction down here, as far as Roanoke, anyway. Maybe they’ll extend their parameters.”

  Hank glanced across the room. “We need to bring Mr. Alexander in on this. We’ll need his help to make sure everyone’s aware and watching, just in case.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  Hank caught Alexander’s eye and beckoned him over. “SSA Griffin and I are concerned that some unfinished business may have followed us from Maryland. A possible threat to Karen. We need your help to spread the word quietly and arrange some kind of security procedures.”

  “Who’s the sheriff?” Griffin asked. “We’ll need to make contact and bring him up to speed.”

  “His name’s Crull. Dan Crull.”

  Griffin raised an eyebrow at his tone. “You don’t seem too enamored of him.”

  “He and I are on opposite sides of the political fence,” Alexander said uncomfortably. “I’ve been pretty noisy about supporting his opponents in the last two elections. I don’t expect he’d be willing to suddenly leap into action on our account.”

  “Okay, well, we still have to make him aware of our concerns and brief him on the case. I take it he’s in town?”

  Alexander nodded.

  “Fine.” Griffin looked at Hank. “We should go there now, right away. I’ve got the composite and some other stuff with me. Maybe they’ll take care of the printing and distribution for us this afternoon.”

  “Uh,” Alexander said, “Hank, don’t forget you have to be at the church in a few minutes for the rehearsal. You’ve got just enough time to drop your bag off at the guest house before Stephen runs you down to Clearwater Falls.”

  “You go ahead,” Griffin told Hank. “Fulfill your ceremonial obligations.” He looked at Alexander. “Could your nephew take me on into town after dropping him off at the church?”

  “Of course. What’s this all about, anyway?”

  “A case we’ve been working on in Glendale,” Hank answered. “Someone murdered two young women bearing a general physical resemblance to Karen. We believe the same individual’s responsible for other murders in several other states. There’s a task force pursuing him right now in Maryland, but SSA Griffin and I are concerned that this individual may have followed Karen here. We need to make sure we’re ready for any contingency.”

  “You think a mass murderer is here? Right here? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Please stay calm, Mr. Alexander.” Griffin said. “If he’s followed her here, he’s made a major mistake, wouldn’t you say? Just count the number of FBI agents and police officers in the wedding party and on the guest list. We just need everyone alert and aware, and we need the sheriff’s office involved on an official basis, in case they need to coordinate with the task force and make an arrest if he shows up.”

  “Does Sandy know about this?”

  “Sandy’s been involved in the case, yes,” Griffin replied, “and he’s aware of the possibility, but we haven’t talked to him yet about our present concerns. We just got here.”

  “If you stir up everyone and turn this into some kind of police circus, Lane will blow a gasket. Can’t you do this discreetly? So she doesn’t hear about it? She’s trying very hard to like Karen, but, well, frankly, the girl’s quite a bit outside Lane’s normal comfort zone, if you know what I mean.”

  “We’ll do everything we can to minimize the disruption to the wedding,” Hank said. “We may be wrong and nothing will happen. We hope that will be the case. But we can’t take a chance. You understand, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I understand,” Alexander said. “We are a law enforcement family after all, in a manner of speaking, with a son in the FBI. It’s just that, up to now, it’s all been at arm’s length, something to brag about, and Sandy’s always assured us he spends most of his time doing paperwork and attending courses. I know he downplays it for his mother’s sake, since he is a field agent and all, but...”

  “I know your son quite well,” Griffin said. “He’s been a participant in several courses I’ve taught, and we talk on the phone. He’s the local coordinator who deals with us analyst types at Quantico. He’s always got a thousand questions, and not one of them dumb. I’ve spoken to his boss about him, Special Agent in Charge Roubidoux. I don�
�t know if you’ve ever met her? Sharp woman. Speaks very highly of Sandy, but I’ve told her, and I’m telling you now, I feel very strongly his future’s at Quantico, in the Behavioral Analysis Unit, at some point down the road. He’s got the smarts, he’s got the drive, and he’s getting the necessary field experience right now, at this point in his career, that will make him a complete analyst. Why am I telling you all this? Because, when Sandy understands the situation and our present concerns, we’ll be relying on him to be our inside man, so to speak. To make sure your wife and the rest of your family and the wedding party aren’t unduly upset. Can you let him take care of that, while you keep the rest of us on schedule?”

  “Sure, yeah. I guess so. Of course.”

  Griffin patted him on the arm. “Fine. That’s the spirit. Now where’s that nephew of yours? We need to get our tails in gear.”

  38

  Friday, May 31: late afternoon

  The sheriff’s office was a typical brick building on a typical street in a typical Virginia town. Thankfully, it was within walking distance of the hotel, so Griffin was able to check in and dump his bag in his room before showing up at the front desk, portfolio under his arm. An administrative assistant wearing a black polo shirt with the crest of the sheriff’s office embroidered on it took his name and politely asked him to take a seat along the wall until someone was available to speak to him.

  The only other person with him in the waiting area was a young, uncomfortable-looking woman wearing a flowered blouse, dark-colored jeans and toeless shoes. She was overweight, her fingernails and toenails were painted blood red, and the white purse she held on her lap was scuffed and worn. She kept her eyes down, avoiding eye contact.

  The administrative assistant chatted behind the counter with another woman in an identical black polo shirt. After a moment, the second woman lifted the flap on the counter, pushed through the little swinging cattle door, and walked out into the waiting area. She was short, in her mid-forties, with short, brown hair and a sober expression on her face.

  Griffin looked at her expectantly, but she walked past him and held out a hand to the young woman in the other chair. “Are you Natalie? I’m Susan Raymond, nine-one-one coordinator. Sorry to keep you waiting.”