The Last Cheerleader

by Meg O'Brien

  How on earth had he found that out? And who were the other family members he’d experimented on?

  His father? Was that why he was dying, too? It seemed there was no love lost between them, and maybe Roger wanted to be out from under his father’s thumb.

  Before I finished reading through the manuscript, I had to close my computer and take a shower, then get dressed. My hope was that the shower would clear my head and help me figure out what to do next. Once Dan read his copy, if he hadn’t already, he’d want to set the wheels in motion to arrest Roger on any number of counts: tax fraud, the murders of the homeless and the Middle Eastern people who had died after being injected with his defective drug…

  The possibilities were endless.

  And then there was Craig’s murder. The day Roger was hauled off to jail would be a red-letter day. I couldn’t wait.

  But if Dan didn’t move fast enough—if he got caught up in red tape—Roger might have time to get away. With Jade. He could disappear into a country where the U.S. didn’t have an extradition treaty. Once there, he might never be arrested, and Lindy might never see Jade again.

  If only she would call was my mantra in the shower.

  We must have been on the same wavelength, because the phone rang while I was still sending Lindy messages over the ether. When I got out and checked my machine, the message was from her.

  “I’m real sorry, Mary Beth, for acting the way I did when you came up here. Could you call me? Please? I really need you.”

  She left me a cell-phone number, and sounded desperate. I called her back immediately.

  “Oh, thank God,” she said when she answered. “I’ve been sitting here with the phone in my hand, and I didn’t dare hope you’d call me back, but I’m so glad you did.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “And where are you?”

  “I’m still in San Francisco, at a budget motel on Lombard,” she said. “It’s costing me seventy-five bucks a night and I’m just about broke, but it was the cheapest thing I could find without a reservation.”

  “I can help you with that when I get there,” I said. “I have what I think is good news.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “I don’t want to tell you over the phone.”

  “You’re coming here, then?” she asked.

  “Yes. And Lindy, I’ve learned some things about Roger and Courtland. You were absolutely right to want Jade out of that house, and I want you to be ready to carry out our plan this time.”

  “I’m ready now,” she said. “That’s why I called. I was afraid, at first, what would happen if we got caught. But when I saw Jade, she looked worse than ever. You were right, Mary Beth. I need to get her to a good doctor. And fast.”

  “Okay, then, listen. Hang up and go to a pay phone. Give me ten minutes, then call me at this number.” I opened my address book and gave her the number of a pay phone at Gladstone’s, one I’d often used on the way to work when I forgot my cell phone.

  “Why do we have to do that?” she asked.

  “Because I don’t trust my cell phone right now. Too many people could be listening.”

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m sure there’s a pay phone downstairs in the lobby.”

  “No! Don’t call me from there. Go to a restaurant, or some other public place. But don’t go too far. I want to talk to you as soon as possible.”

  “Okay,” she said again. “I’ll go to Mel’s Diner. Give me ten minutes, too.”

  It was more like fifteen when she called me back. I waited at the pay phone in Gladstone’s, listening to the everyday, ordinary sounds of people dining: women laughing, glasses tinkling, the pungent scent of fish and steak broiling in the kitchen.

  How many times had I been one of those diners, watching the sun set over the ocean, without a worry in the world? And now I was planning to kidnap a child.

  I just hoped it wouldn’t be called kidnapping if the child’s mother was along.

  The ringing phone jolted me out of my brief reverie. I grabbed it. “Lindy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, look. Get the nanny—Irene—to let you in again tomorrow. You can do that, can’t you? Even though you’ve already been there this week?”

  “I…I’ll try. As long as Roger’s not home, I think maybe she’ll let me in again. I can tell her I won’t be able to come next week.”

  “Okay. Say whatever you have to. Just get her to let you in. Now, I don’t think we should be seen together, so call me on my cell phone tonight, to let me know for sure what time you’ll be at the house.” I gave her the number of my other cell—one I seldom used and that the police wouldn’t be as likely to know about. “I’ll be somewhere in San Francisco, waiting to hear from you. Tomorrow, I’ll park near your motel, and when you drive to the house I’ll be right behind you. Make sure to leave the back door unlocked. Once I’m in the house, you can distract Irene. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t sound too sure, and I could only hope she’d remember all of that.

  “Distract her,” I said, “and I’ll go upstairs. Is there a room near Jade’s that Irene doesn’t go into?”

  “Just the bathroom. She always uses the one off her own room, but there’s one right across from Jade’s, in the hall.”

  “I’ll wait in there, then. You come up as if you’re having your usual visit with Jade. Get some clothes and toys together for her, but do it fast. As soon as you’re ready, come out into the hall and I’ll take Jade while you go back down and keep Irene out of the way. I’ll carry Jade out the front and put her in my car. You get out there as soon as you can without alerting Irene.”

  “Okay. Uh, Mary Beth?”

  “Yes?”

  “Hearing you say it that way, it feels sort of bad. Just grabbing Jade, I mean, and running off with her. I don’t know if we should be doing this.”

  I sighed. “Lindy, listen to me. Do you want your child to suffer her whole life because of what Roger’s doing to her now? For God’s sake, what if she dies?”

  I could hear her starting to cry. “But what if he really can make her well?” she said. “What if this is all wrong?”

  “She’s your child, Lindy. Do you really want to risk that?”

  “No,” she said softly, on a sob. “You’re right, of course. I can’t.”

  “We’ll find her the best medical care possible,” I said. “We’ll find out exactly what’s wrong with her. And Lindy? We’ll get Roger, his father and anyone else involved at Courtland arrested. That’s what I wanted to tell you. We’ve got proof now, of what Roger’s been doing. The police will make him tell the truth about what he’s done to Jade, too. Then we can get good doctors, good research scientists, working on a real cure.”

  She was sobbing quietly. “I know we have to do this. Just please, Mary Beth, don’t let anything happen to Jade.”

  “I won’t,” I said.

  “Promise.”

  “On my mother’s fake red hair,” I said. “Don’t worry about it, Lindy. I’ll take care of everything.”

  Dan called at noon and said he needed to come over. He didn’t say why, and I assumed it was to talk over the manuscript.

  “I haven’t had time to read it yet,” he said. “I’ve been kind of busy.”

  “Okay. Bring coffee beans,” I said.

  “Coffee beans?”

  “It’s a sign,” I said.

  “Of what?”

  “A giving heart,” I said, thinking of Tony. “Never mind. What about Tony and Arnold? Anything new there?”

  “The tox screens came back negative, and the official cause of death, in layman’s terms, is severe blows to the head. Which brings up the question, can you imagine Roger Van Court doing that? With ancient Chinese artifacts, anyway?”

  “Not personally. But if he sent someone to do the murders, and told them to make it look like gay crimes…”

  “Why would he do that? Did he even know Tony and Arnold?” Dan asked. “An
d why would he have killed them, too?”

  “You know, I’ve been thinking about that. What if the dildos had some other meaning to the killer?”

  “Like what?”

  “Well, Arnold was a toy designer. A failed one, but he kept trying.”

  “Go on.”

  “When we were married he came up with the idea of a seven-headed beast that he named GORP. The toy was too scary for kids, so it failed. He recently redesigned it and tried to sell it under the name Beast, but he had all kinds of problems. A Japanese toy company had already come out with a line of toys and a series of shows called Beast Wars 2. They fought his using the name Beast for his toy, and Arnold finally had to give up.”

  “Okay,” Dan said, sounding unimpressed. “I’m sure you’re going to tell me sometime today what that means to the murders.”

  “Well, it’s just a thought. But I remember Arnold telling me that one of the characters in the series was named Majinzarak. I take it he was a kind of robot, or Transformer. It was said that he wasn’t a controllable weapon, but a monster. And guess what Majinzarak’s weak point was? The thing that got him killed?”

  “His name?” Dan said wryly.

  “No, silly. It was his third eye.”

  There was a small silence. Finally Dan said, “Third eye?”

  “The seat of the soul. It’s said to be an area in the middle of the brain linking the physical world to the spiritual world. People who are trying to develop their psychic and spiritual powers meditate on the third eye, focusing their attention on the center of their foreheads. That’s how they cross over from this plane to a better one. At least, that’s the way it’s supposed to work.”

  “Holy sh—” Dan started to say. “I see what you mean. All three men were bashed with those dildos in the middle of their foreheads—right over the third eye.”

  “Exactly,” I said.

  “The question is, why?”

  “Well, let’s take it step by step. Assuming the third eye is thought to be the doorway to the soul, whoever attacked them may have been attacking each person’s soul. Or maybe he was making some sort of statement.”

  “Again, like what?”

  “That Tony, Arnold and Craig didn’t have souls.”

  “Or didn’t deserve them,” Dan said.

  “That’s possible.”

  Dan sighed. “This all may turn out to be helpful down the line, but right now I don’t see the connection to Roger Van Court. I need to come out and talk to you. It’s important.”

  “Okay, but don’t you want to tell me what it’s about now?”

  “What I have to say won’t take long,” he said. “But I’d rather do it in person.”

  “And why doesn’t that sound good?”

  “I’ll see you in twenty,” he said, hanging up.

  Dan arrived an hour later, and he was having trouble meeting my eyes.

  “I’ve got good news and bad news,” he said without preamble. “Which do you want?”

  “Might as well hit me with the bad news first,” I said lightly, though I had a feeling of dread.

  “Okay.” He leaned against the breakfast bar, facing me as I stood in the living room. “You might want to sit down.”

  “No, I’m fine. Just say it.” He was dumping me. I knew it.

  Dan rubbed his face and sighed. “When I got in this morning there was a message from Davies. The ESPD wants the cooperation of the LAPD on Dinsmore’s murder case, since it and the other two murders seem to be linked.”

  “I see. That’s the bad news?”

  “Not quite. The bad news is that I met with Davies at the El Segundo PD right after the call. I thought it was a routine meeting, and all I was supposed to do was bring Davies up to speed on Craig Dinsmore’s case.”

  “And?”

  His expression was so miserable, he might have just been told that his dog had died.

  “Mary Beth…look, I hate like hell to tell you this, but I can’t not tell you. From what I heard there today, I’m afraid they’re getting close to arresting you.”

  My mouth went dry. Until this minute, I hadn’t really considered that seriously. I thought for sure they’d come up with the real murderer before that could happen, or that Dan and I might nail Roger for it. Especially with the new evidence from Craig’s book.

  “When?” I asked.

  “In the morning. I just wanted to give you a heads up, but please don’t tell anyone I told you, or—”

  “You could lose your badge,” I said shortly. “I know.”

  I sat on the couch, as my legs had gone weak. “They can’t have any evidence. I didn’t do it. Did you tell them about Craig’s book and Courtland Pharmaceuticals?”

  “Not yet. You asked me not to, and I said I wouldn’t without talking to you first. Besides, I’m not even supposed to know they’re arresting you.”

  “Then how—”

  “My friend Kevin. He was going off his shift, and there was just enough time for him to tell me they were going to pick you up tomorrow morning. Then Davies stuck his head out of his office and called me in.”

  I felt dazed. “I don’t understand,” I said. “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Why do you think?” he said, looking at me intently.

  “I don’t know,” I answered, looking away. “Maybe you’re just a good guy.”

  “And maybe I’d like to help you. If you’d let me.”

  “Well, thanks,” I said. “I guess. But wait a minute. What’s the good news?”

  “It’s only good if you see it that way, and I hope you will. I thought I’d pick you up in the morning before they get a chance to, and let you turn yourself in. I’d be right there with you when they book you.”

  My smile must have been cynical, because my words were. “Are you kidding? You want me to turn myself in for something I didn’t do? Or maybe you think I did, now. Just how many gold stars do the boys in blue get for bringing in a murderer?”

  “Dammit, Mary Beth! I’m willing to drive you there, that’s all. I thought you might want somebody to lean on.”

  “Lean on.” I laughed. “And would you be using handcuffs in the car? I might put up a fight, you know. Jump out along the way.”

  He threw up his hands. “You are such an aggravating woman. I thought it would be easier for you that way. And no, you wouldn’t be wearing cuffs if you turned yourself in.” He glared at me. “You will be if somebody has to come and arrest you, though.”

  I was silent, and he shoved his hands into his pockets and walked out on the deck. I saw him take his ball cap off three times and put it back on, in what I’d learned was an angry gesture.

  He came back inside a few moments later, and seemed to have cooled off. “Sorry. I guess I read you wrong. Maybe I should have just kept quiet about it and let them pick you up at your office in the morning.”

  I tried to picture that: sitting at my desk on the phone, and all of a sudden the cops bust in. The print and television media pour in after them like a tidal wave, shouting over and over, “Why did you kill them, Mary Beth? What have you got to say?” It’d be on ET, Access Hollywood, and in all the gossip rags. Hell, it’d almost surely be on Fox News.

  But what about Craig’s book? Once the police knew about it, they wouldn’t want me, would they? Not only did it tell about Roger’s sales of defective drugs, but it gave him a motive for killing Craig. With the author dead, the book would never be published. The witnesses could be bought off. At least, that’s the way Roger would think.

  I realized, then, that he must have been looking for the manuscript in my office that day. And at my house that night. Maybe he didn’t know I was home, or even that Lindy was there. He was just looking for the manuscript.

  Still, there was nothing in Craig’s book to connect Roger to Tony and Arnold. No reason at all for him to have killed them the same way Craig had been killed.

  Damn Ockham’s razor. There was no “simple” answer.

  “I guess
you’re right,” I said to Dan. “I should turn myself in, and then do whatever I have to do to prove Roger is guilty. Sorry if I sounded ungrateful. I’m just a bit rattled.”

  “That’s okay. This whole thing is rotten, but I thought knowing ahead might give you time to do whatever you need to do first. Contact a lawyer, make arrangements for Nia to cover the office…whatever.”

  “That’s very nice of you,” I said. “I do have some things to take care of.”

  “Do you have a good lawyer?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “He can probably get you out on bail,” Dan said. “You shouldn’t have to spend more than a day or so there.”

  “Bail?” I looked at him skeptically. “For triple murders?”

  He looked away, and I knew he’d only been trying to make me feel better. But I’d called it right. If the El Segundo PD and the LAPD combined forces, they would arrest me for all three murders. I’d be in jail till my bones turned dry.

  I was visibly shaking, and Dan noticed it. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine,” I said.

  “Can I get you something?”

  “No.”

  I got up and began to pace, thinking that only a few days ago I was worried about whether or not I’d go broke and have to sell this place. Now I wondered if I’d ever see it again after tomorrow. I started to memorize the conch shell on the glass coffee table, the white, weathered woodwork, and the filmy turquoise curtains lifting in the ocean breeze. Every piece of furniture, every picture, every ornament, purchased so carefully weekend after weekend, at flea markets and garage sales. I hadn’t had enough money after buying this house to furnish it with “good” stuff, but it had come to look good to me. I loved every inch of this house.

  Dan startled me, saying, “I’m sorry, Mary Beth. I’m so sorry.”

  I folded my arms and stared out the window at the beach, the bright sun and the kids playing on the sand. I’ll never have another child, either.

  “Are we all right?” Dan asked from behind me.

  “Yes. We’re all right.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning?”