Undercurrents

by Ridley Pearson

  He handed her the blouse from behind and she fished her arms inside and pulled it around herself and he began buttoning it. “Listen, Lou, what I’m trying to say is that if it doesn’t work out with Elizabeth—and for your sake I hope it does—then there’s an understudy waiting in the wings.”

  He hadn’t finished buttoning her, but he took her in his arms from behind and hugged her tightly to him. She squirmed in his grasp and managed to turn to face him and pressed herself against him strongly. Held him tightly. She kissed his neck and along his cheek. “She’s a lucky woman,” she said.

  She leaned away from him, suddenly a different person. “Ready? Ready to go, Lou? I’m all set, aren’t I? Sure I am.”

  He stared into her eyes.

  “I have to finish buttoning you up.”

  “Yes.” She smiled. “Do that.” She turned around and straightened her spine. “Please finish it.”

  58

  As they came out of Daphne’s office, Lou Boldt had her by the elbow. They took two steps and were face-to-face with Elizabeth. She wore a black dress, dark stockings, and white pearl earrings and necklace. She looked tired and sad. Her face was expressionless.

  Lou Boldt didn’t see the face that Daphne made—a face she tried to keep from showing—but he recognized the sudden flicker in his wife’s eyes and he knew something had passed between the women.

  “Can we talk?” Elizabeth said.

  Daphne walked briskly past Boldt’s wife with her impeccable posture and finely tuned gait. Boldt stopped, facing Elizabeth. He glanced at his watch and then held up a finger. He rounded the corner and stepped into Kramer’s stall. The man was on the phone. He blushed and slammed the receiver down quickly.

  “What is it?” Kramer said nervously.

  “I need a few minutes of personal time. I wondered if you could organize everyone. Round them up, get them ready? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

  “Sure,” Kramer said, rising, the redness in his face subsiding.

  “No, not in there,” Elizabeth said, nodding toward interrogation room A. “Someplace else.”

  Boldt led her down the gray-carpet hallway and pushed open the door to the fire stairs. The building was old—much older than the recently remodeled offices indicated—and this stairway showed the age. He held the door at the last moment to keep it from latching, and then turned to face her.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot,” he said.

  “Me too.” She hung her head. “I’m sorry, Lou. It won’t happen again.”

  “Not about that,” he told her.

  She snapped her head up, expecting the worst. “If it’s what I think it is, don’t tell me now, okay? I don’t think I could handle it now.” She took a step toward the door, already resigned to what he had to say.

  He reached out and took her arms in his strong hands and stopped her. “About how I deserve everything I got.”

  “We lost touch. Wrong word,” she said quickly. “Lost… We lost each other, I think. We had some wonderful times, Lou. The best. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get those times back. Anything. Honest.”

  He swallowed deeply. “I’ve made it hard on both of us. I see that now.”

  “We both have.”

  “It goes back a long, long way, Elizabeth. It goes back to when you were first in school, I think.”

  She knew exactly what he was referring to and she nodded faintly. “Yes. That’s right. I think it does.”

  “Boldt!” Shoswitz’s voice interrupted from somewhere on the other side of the door.

  He lifted his hand and gently brushed her hair back from the side of her face. He exhaled heavily. “I’ve missed you, babe.”

  “I heard on the news you caught him,” she said. “Congratulations.”

  “That’s why you came.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I thought we might get some time together…. I mean… if you wanted to.”

  “I do,” he told her. “But it’s not over just yet. I wish it was. A man—someone in our own ranks—has been misleading us for months. Without his interference we might have caught the other much sooner.”

  “A copycat,” she said.

  “We’re pretty sure.”

  “Then you were right all along. You mentioned that to me back in June.”

  “A hunch was all. Back then it was only a hunch.” Only an instinct, he thought, wondering why he failed to trust his instincts.

  “You’re a good cop, Lou Boldt.”

  Shoswitz called his name again. Boldt leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

  “I won’t wash for a week,” she said in a whisper. He suddenly realized she was wearing little or no makeup.

  He touched a finger to her lips. “It took a lot of nerve to come down here. Thanks.”

  “Come home tonight. Please come home tonight.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Dinner? How about a home-cooked meal?”

  “Maybe dinner.”

  She kissed him briefly on the lips. He enjoyed it. She turned and opened the door.

  ***

  Shoswitz stopped Boldt at his car, handing him a small radio and earphone. “You should be able to hear everything said on this, Lou. You’ll be the closest to the scene. If it looks like it’s going bad… use your best judgment. We’ll have plenty of backup in the parking lot. We’ll be listening and taping from outside—waiting for word from you. No heroics, Lou.”

  “Lieutenant, shouldn’t we reconsider this whole thing? Let’s think it through.”

  “You said yourself that the copycat could leave town anytime now. We may not get this kind of chance at him, and we both agreed that some kind of confession is about the only thing that will hang him. He’s been pulling our chains for months, Lou. Don’t you want this guy?”

  The question was rhetorical. Boldt didn’t dignify it with a response. He said instead, “What the hell’s got Kramer in such a snit?”

  “He always gets nervous in this kind of thing. You know Kramer. He always wants to be the big man. You’re the big man on this, Lou. It bends him all sideways. He’ll be fine.”

  “Keep him in his car.”

  “Will do.”

  A few minutes later Boldt was sitting with Doc Dixon, neither saying a word. Doc Dixon worked on his fingernails with the blade of a jeweler’s screwdriver. Finally his telephone’s intercom buzzed. Dixon answered it, nodded several times, and said, “Send her in.”

  It had been agreed that Daphne would go through all the proper procedures, in case Royce was keeping a careful eye out. She went into the office and both men stood.

  “All set,” she said strongly. She looked Boldt in the eye and quickly looked away. Elizabeth’s arrival at headquarters had tempered her mood.

  Boldt said, “In real life it would take you a few minutes to explain your case to Doc Dixon and then to get his permission to talk to Royce. Better stay in here for a few more minutes.” The three waited in awkward silence. Daphne watched the second hand on the large wall clock.

  “Okay,” she finally said. “Where do I find him?”

  Dixon gave her directions and she stepped toward the door.

  “Hold it,” Boldt said.

  She stopped.

  He switched on the receiver and stuck the earplug in his ear. “Say something,” he said.

  “What more is there to say?” she asked somewhat angrily now.

  He looked into her eyes. “Okay. It works,” he announced.

  “Does it?” she wondered, forcing a bewildered grin, and she left the office.

  Her arrival broke the ice. As the door shut Doc Dixon said, “Right here all along. The thing about it is, there was no way for me to know. I never would have suspected Royce. Royce of all people. Your theory’s good, Lou, but I still think you’ve got the wrong guy, despite that print.”

  Boldt held up a finger. “Here we go.”

  He listened.

  59

  Daphne was obviously standing quite close to Roy
ce, for the sound was exceptional. Boldt felt he was in the room with her, and he could almost picture every expression on her face, her change in posture, her rigid spine that indicated extreme concentration.

  “How can I help you?” Royce asked.

  “We’ve arrested and charged the Cross Killer—”

  “Yes, I heard. What a relief.”

  “…and I was told by Doctor Dixon that you performed the initial examination of many of the victims prior to autopsy.” She let the statement hang. Royce was obviously considering how to respond.

  “Part of my job is prepping the bodies for Doc Dixon, yes.”

  “As staff psychologist I’m trying to determine the why’s and why-not’s of some of our suspect’s actions. Motivation can go a long way toward explaining deeds.”

  “I’m sure that’s true. How can I help you? First, would you care for a cup of coffee or decaf?”

  “Me? How kind. No thank you. But if you would like—”

  “No, that’s all right. Continue.”

  “To be quite honest, Mr. Royce—”

  “James, please.”

  “…and I assume I can take you into our confidence.” She paused and Boldt could picture the handsome man nodding. “We—Homicide actually—suspect the involvement of a second killer. A copycat killer.”

  Royce hesitated and then said very convincingly, “My God.”

  “You haven’t heard anything about it?”

  “No. Nothing.” He paused. “They’re going to wheel a child’s body in here in about two minutes. Why don’t we move into here?” Boldt heard a door open. Daphne agreed, and when she spoke next her voice was filled with static. Boldt wondered how the reception was out in the van.

  “He’s moved her, Dixie. Moved her into another room. Said something about a child,” Boldt said anxiously.

  “That’s right. A road kill. He’s probably moved her into the smoking room.” Dixon cleaned his nails casually.

  Boldt heard her say, “I like this room better, even if the view is of the parking lot.”

  Boldt grinned. She was thinking like a cop. She had made sure that those listening in understood Royce had a view of the parking lot.

  Royce asked, “So how exactly can I help you?”

  “Like I said, it’s important for us to understand the psychology of our suspect so that we build as strong a case as possible.”

  “Naturally.”

  “There are certain aspects to the conditions of the victims that tend to indicate a split personality. That is, a man somewhat in control of himself, sometimes, and psychotic other times. That, in part, supports the copycat idea and well, quite frankly, that makes it an entirely different case for us.”

  “I’m sure it does.”

  “The other interesting point is that our suspect is more than willing to discuss several of his victims, but claims no responsibility for four of the women, Saviria, Jordan, Shufflebeam, and DeHavelin, thus further supporting our theory of a copycat. Doctor Dixon is scheduled to do some last-minute examinations for us—”

  “Concerning?”

  “Well, it’s interesting… James. One thing I wanted to ask you about”—Boldt could hear the tension rise in her voice, and he wondered if Royce had noticed it as well—“was the tape on the mouth. In cleaning the bodies up, did you notice any residue about the lips? We have reason to believe the copycat taped the victims’ mouths shut, whereas Lange did not. That could help me assemble a profile. We think he may have tortured them quite severely before killing them. The suspect we have in custody was less brutal. As it turns out, he raped them.”

  “Raped them! That’s impossible,” Royce shouted emphatically.

  She paused. Boldt could hear her breathing. He thought if he could turn the machine up higher he might hear her heart pounding. He could picture right where that microphone was….

  Daphne said, “Doctor Dixon confirmed it. What threw us off was that he used condoms. There was no semen. He considered the women dirty and raped them with condoms. Most unusual. I’m sure no one will hold it against you that you missed that.”

  It was her first direct challenge. Boldt felt a spike of heat run up his spine. “Easy,” he said under his breath. Doc Dixon looked at him oddly.

  “Missed it?” Royce said in a strange tone.

  “He punished them,” she said dryly. “He tied them to the bed, facedown—that’s another place the copycat made a mistake—and then raped them while he forced them to watch porno movies. He worked in a video store, James. That’s how he chose his subjects. You see, the only link to the four other women is membership at different health clubs. The copycat picked his victims at health clubs.”

  “I could have cleaned the tape residue off by accident. That’s possible,” he said. “Just what exactly is Doctor Dixon checking for?”

  “Doctor Dixon?” she asked as if she had forgotten. “Oh, he can run some more thorough tests to check for evidence of rape. We’re certain he won’t find any sign of rape on DeHavelin. The copycat killer did a poor job with DeHavelin.”

  “Poor?”

  “Yes. I mean the thing is, this guy thought he could do a perfect job. Can you imagine that?”

  “But I saw all the victims. As far as I could tell they had all been killed by the same person. Now, granted I’m no Doctor Dixon—”

  “Don’t go underestimating yourself. Doctor Dixon speaks very highly of you. Still this copycat did a less-than-perfect job.”

  “It looked perfect to me,” he said.

  “Oh, he did well on the Cross Killings, all right. Pretty well, except that he missed the rape evidence. Of course you missed it, too.” She paused, leaving a heavy space. “So did Doctor Dixon. It was on the other that the killer did such a poor job. A horrible job, really.”

  “The other?”

  “Jane Doe.”

  “Jane Doe?”

  “Judith Fuller,” she said bluntly and paused. Boldt could picture her staring into Royce’s eyes. Try and resist that stare, Boldt thought. He was proud of her. She was doing well.

  “Fuller?” he questioned.

  “We know who Jane Doe is. Her name is Judith Fuller. We thought it was Betsy Norvak at first. Norvak belonged to your health club. Did you know that?”

  There was a long hesitation, and Boldt feared she was trying for too much, too quickly. He mentally urged her to back off and take it more slowly. But he could tell by her tone of voice she was enjoying this. She was beginning to bat him around, like a proud cat with a dulled, senseless mouse. She would draw him into her confidence and then hit him with a complete surprise. Only Royce wasn’t senseless.

  “Betsy? Yes. I knew of Betsy.”

  “What amazing coincidence life deals out, isn’t it true? To think she belonged to the same club you did. You might have been able to save her life.”

  “Was there something else, Miss Matthews?”

  “Aren’t you interested? I’m sorry. How rude of me. I just assumed you would be interested. You of all people.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, since you were the first one to handle the victims. You and Doctor Dixon were the first ones to deal with the victims.”

  “That’s true.”

  “The thing about Jane Doe is… the way I see it, as a professional, is that here we have a man who can duplicate the Cross Killings almost to the letter, if you discount the raping and a few other minor things, but when it comes to Jane Doe—to Fuller—he has nothing to copy from and, left to his own devices, he makes a mess of the job. Second-rate stuff, actually.” She waited for him to say something, and when he didn’t she immediately continued.

  Boldt fidgeted nervously in his chair. Dixon asked what was going on and Boldt used hand signals to quiet him. The static was making it difficult to hear.

  Daphne said, “Did you know that Judith Fuller was a reporter?”

  “Me? How would I know that? I didn’t know Fuller.”

  She spoke quickly li
ke a gossipy female. “Oh, right. Well, she was a free-lance reporter on assignment for The Los Angeles Times. She had pieced together a fascinating story about a copycat killer in Tucson and Denver and had followed him here. Here to Seattle. The Cross Killings, you know. That’s what attracted her.”

  “You said second-rate. What did you mean by that?”

  “This guy has no creativity, James. None whatsoever. He’s really not very bright. He made a lot of mistakes.”

  “Explain that,” he said harshly.

  “The thing about it is: he did such a good job copying the Cross Killings. You said so yourself. Didn’t you think he did a good job?”

  “Perfect,” Royce said softly and in a voice that frightened Boldt.

  “No, not perfect. But good,” she corrected. “He taped the mouths of his victims because he wanted to torture them, James.”

  “Just what exactly did you want to ask me, Miss Matthews? I had better get back to work.”

  “Daphne,” she said.

  “Anything else?”

  “How would you describe the condition of the victims? Did you notice anything different at all about them? I need to try and understand the copycat.”