Sugar & Spice (US edition)

by Saffina Desforges

  “That's not fair. Ceri's well cool.”

  Large eyed Danny with disdain. “Listen, son, when you've got a few masters beneath your belt and letters after your name... When you've been round the block a few times, come back and we'll discuss it, okay?”

  “We still need to talk to her,” Matt insisted.

  “Be my guest. If you can find her. You can tell her from me to get her pretty little backside into my lecture hall or she's finished. I can give you her address, Matt, but she's not there. I called round myself this morning.”

  “You called round? That's a lot of effort for a dead loss.”

  Large shifted in his seat. “Yeah, well I feel responsible. I should've given her a penalty when she handed in that damned profile, and put her back to work on the curriculum. She might have got a decent grade if it wasn't for all this nonsense.”

  “We're not convinced it's nonsense. Supposing Randall is innocent like she says. There are a lot of grey areas. There's nothing so far to link Randall with any of the other victims. Nothing at all. Social Services found nothing to suggest he'd abused his own kids. Two six year olds. Is it likely whoever killed all these kids could have two daughters himself and never have touched them?”

  Large considered the point while he grabbed an apple from his case. “It's possible. We were discussing this just the other day. You heard of the British killer they called The Yorkshire Ripper? Disemboweled his victims, but never harmed his own wife.”

  “Peter Sutcliffe,” Danny said.

  “Very good, son. Now if you don't mind, we're having a conversation.”

  Danny scowled. Matt winked at him. “Let me fill the professor in on what we've come up with so far, then you can annoy him some more.”

  Large listened with at first impatient amusement, then more serious mood. By the time Matt got to Ceri's voicemail, Large was intense.

  181

  Large said, “At the time I was semi-convinced about Ceri's theory. I must admit the child killed in Binghamton threw us all off the scent, though by the sound of it your lawyer friend has come up with a plausible explanation for that one. But again, that just builds the case against Randall.”

  “How?”

  “Given the pattern that has emerged it seems likely Uncle Tom was following this ordered procedure of date and place quite compulsively. By which I mean clinically compulsive. He has no more control over adhering to this pattern than a kleptomaniac does over stealing or an anorexic does over not eating. Now, Ceri identified a pattern whereby Uncle Tom made two attacks on successive days, on the same days of the month, right? So where was the other attack to accompany the White Plains victim?”

  “There wasn't one.”

  “Exactly. And why?”

  “Because there was no place anywhere beginning with the letter X.”

  “You've got it,” Large said. “That explains why the White Plains attack was different from all the others. I think he wanted to be caught, because his raison d’être, the series of assaults following the pattern, was suddenly brought to an end because there was no place beginning with an X to meet his clinical need. That is so painful for him that he lets himself be caught, to justify in his own warped mind why he can't continue the pattern.”

  “The suicide complex,” Danny said quietly.

  Large nodded grudging approval. “Very good, son. Think of it logically, Matt. A string of victims left forensically clean, with the taunting calling card, then suddenly all this new evidence that puts him bang in the frame. Sorry, Matt, but everything points to Randall.”

  “But what about Ceri's voicemail,” Danny objected.

  “Danny's right, Gavin,” Matt agreed. “She said Uncle Tom has killed twice since Randall's arrest. We know for sure there was an abduction in Yonkers.”

  “Even that's not for sure. Missing does not equal abducted. The kid might just have run away. It happens. Especially in a place like Yonkers. There's nothing to link it to the other homicides. And where's this latest victim super girl has apparently conjured up?”

  “We don't know. Listen to the voicemail, Gavin. Maybe it will mean something to you.”

  Large listened intently as Matt replayed the message. Afterwards he said nothing, deep in thought. He started on another apple. “New York City centre, right?”

  “That's what Ceri says, but there's no place anywhere in the country beginning with X, least of all New York.”

  “Why so certain?”

  “Computers, CD-Roms, the internet, you name it.”

  “Don’t suppose you have your laptop in that case of yours?”

  “No, but I have my i-pad,” Danny said. “We're not amateurs.”

  “I'm beginning to see that. May I?”

  “I told you, I’ve got everything. You're wasting your time.”

  Large was deep in thought as the ipad was retrieved. “Maybe you weren't looking for the right thing.”

  “Yeah, silly us. We were looking for a place beginning with an X.”

  Large smiled smugly. “Look at this.” He passed Matt's note book to Danny. “Read it out to me.”

  Danny pushed it away. “I can't read this shit! It's all in shorthand.”

  “Right. Which shorthand, Matt?”

  “Pitman 2000 originally, but I use my own version now. We all do.”

  Large nodded. “Ceri too. Her course notes are always wrapped up in some hieroglyphic or other.” His fingers inexpertly jabbed the screen as he spoke. “But what I'm thinking is much more basic. Everyday abbreviations. The type everyone uses. Even the kid here. X marks the spot, my friend. X marks the spot.”

  “You won't find anything,” Danny persisted. “I guarantee it.”

  “Maybe, maybe not. But I thought you had faith in the girl.”

  “I have.”

  Large watched the screen intently, munching on his apple, then suddenly, “Sweet Jesus!”

  “What?”

  Large sat back, mopping his brow. “Seventh avenue, New York. That girl is incredible. My star student.”

  “Gavin?”

  “You can bet your last penny there's a child missing from seventh avenue. Right outside number 871.”

  Matt and Danny craned their necks to see image of a New York shop on the screen.

  As one they read it out loud.

  “Christmas Cottage.”

  182

  Matt extracted a sheaf of papers from his case and handed them to Danny.

  “Time to show the professor what you're made of, partner.”

  Danny spoke in confident tone, Large listening intently, the bickering history.

  “Remember what Ceri told Matt on the voicemail? That Rebecca wasn't the first. Just the first to die. We searched the archives for non-fatal assaults pre-dating Rebecca, and came up with a list going back over six months. It's incredible how assaults on kids just get a few lines tucked away somewhere, as if they're not important.”

  “Journalists have a lot to answer for,” Matt said.

  “We narrowed it down to a smaller number of attacks corresponding to the pattern, and came up with a list covering most of the letters through from A to O, just before Rebecca's abduction in Pittsford. The O, Oswega, was the day before. July first.”

  Large slowly digested the information. “And these were all sexual assaults on young girls?”

  Matt nodded. “So they weren't given anywhere near the same priority as a murder case. Especially as there was no obvious connection between them. At the time they were just viewed as isolated cases.”

  “But surely so many sex-assaults would have set alarm bells ringing sooner.”

  “Minor assaults, and often across county borders,” Matt said. “Danny?”

  “The day before Rebecca's abduction it was Oswega. Before that the assaults were in Newark and Morrisville. We can trace examples right back to Aurora and Brewerton.”

  Large shook his head in disbelief. “A perfect match?”

  “A few isolated gaps,” Matt sa
id, “but we figure maybe the parents chose not to report it, or the girl was too frightened or embarrassed to let on what happened.”

  “Have you told the cops all this?”

  “Not after last time,” said Danny. “We need something more concrete to hand them.”

  Large looked at Danny with a bemused expression on his face. “Young man, you seem to have a remarkable grasp of what's going on here. I'm impressed.”

  Danny had the good grace to look just slightly embarrassed. “Thanks.”

  “You’ve got paper maps, you said, right?”

  Danny nodded, patting his bag.

  “ New York state?”

  “Of course.”

  Large held out his hand for it. “Bring it out, son. I think you're almost there.”

  Danny spread the map across the table. Large took a marker pen. “Now read off that list of assaults again, from A to O.”

  As Danny read them out Large boldly marked them on the map.

  “Not such a huge area now, is it? Come on boy wonder, you've done great so far.” He handed Danny the pen. “Now follow it through to its logical conclusion.”

  Danny looked blank.

  Large said, “Professor Canter? The circle hypothesis?”

  Danny's face was a picture. “Wowsers! Matt, Uncle Tom must be based right here within this circle!” He drew a loose oval. “This is where we'll find him!”

  “Jesus,” Matt said.

  “I bet Ceri's already worked this out,” said Danny. “I bet she knows it all! Everything!”

  “I just hope to God she's not out there trying to track this maniac down herself,” Large said.

  Danny shook his head. “She's not stupid, Professor.”

  Large grinned. “I'm well aware of that, Danny. She's my star student.”

  “Gavin, we need to find her,” Matt said. “Today.”

  “Agreed. I'll give you her address, Matt, and you can speak to her landlady directly. Though I don't see that you'll get anything out of her. I couldn't.”

  Danny grinned at Large. “Maybe you weren't asking the right questions, Professor.”

  183

  “We're very worried about her, Mrs Epstein,” Matt said in a feeble attempt at a West coast accent. “As soon as we heard she was missing classes we drove right over.”

  “What, from Los Angeles?

  “Sort of.”

  “I used to live in LA when I was a little girl.” She stared into the distance. “Is that diner still there?”

  “Still where?”

  “In Los Angeles? Harry’s Diner, on thirty-eighth?”

  Matt had never been to California in his life. “Yes, we always eat there.”

  Mrs Epstein glared at him. “The worst food I’ve ever tasted.”

  Matt looked bewildered. “It’s under new management.”

  Mrs Epstein was studying their faces with a puzzled expression. “And you're her brother, you say?” She peered at Danny closely. “You don't look much alike.”

  “Half-brother,” Danny said quickly.

  The old lady considered the possibility. “Ceri never mentioned you.”

  “She wouldn't have,” Danny said. “She prefers her real sister to me.”

  “I see.” She still didn't look convinced.

  “Mrs Epstein, you're absolutely sure Ceri never gave any indication where she might have gone? You can imagine how worried her mother is right now.”

  “I'm sorry, dear, but as I explained to that nice Professor Big this morning, I really haven't the foggiest. Her rent's overdue, you know.”

  “Mrs Epstein, would you have a spare key to her room. If we could just take a quick look around. There may be a clue where she might have gone.”

  “Mr Jones, I make it a strict policy never to let anyone into a guest's room without permission. I'm sorry.”

  “But I'm her father. Surely...”

  “You say you're her father, but you could be anyone. You're not the first strange man to turn up wanting to see her recently.”

  “Someone else was asking about Ceri?”

  “Oh, this was a very refined gentleman, not any old rabble.” She looked the pair up and down, making sure they knew who she meant. “And so very well-spoken.”

  Matt produced his wallet. “Mrs Epstein, would it help if I offered to pay Ceri's rent for her? Would that be proof enough I'm her father? I mean, a complete stranger is not going to pay someone else's rent now, is he?”

  The old lady's embattled features softened at the sight of the hundred-dollar bills. “Well, no. I suppose you have a point, dear. Would it be asking too much to collect two months, seeing as you're here. I'm sure Ceri would appreciate it.”

  “Two?”

  “Go on, Dad,” Danny said, nudging his arm. “You know she's worth it.”

  “Could I have a receipt?” Maybe he could claim it back off McIntyre as expenses. “How much was it again?”

  “For two months?” Mrs Epstein looked them up and down as if the figure was an arbitrary one dependant on how much she thought they could afford. “Eight hundred.”

  “Bucks? For a student shack?”

  “Cash, of course.”

  “Of course.” Fortunately in Matt's line of work a wad of bills was a tool of the trade. “The things I do for that girl.”

  Mrs Epstein's hand shot out at a pace that belied her frail appearance. “You're too kind, dear. Too kind. One moment, I'll get the spare key.”

  Matt and Danny were whispering together when she returned. Large had given them the address, but not the room number.

  “Here you are, dears. Be sure to lock everything up before you go. Just slip the key under my door here. I think I need to lie down.”

  Plan B came into action.

  “What was the number again, son? Room Five?”

  “I don't think so, Dad. I'm sure Ceri said Room Six.”

  “No, no, dears. Room Nine. Right at the top.”

  “Nine. See, Dad. I told you it wasn't five.”

  “It wasn't six, either, son,” said Matt, enjoying the subterfuge.

  “I was close, though,” said Danny. “Six is like nine, only upside down.”

  “A bit less lip, son.” Matt turned to Mrs Epstein. “I do hope Ceri doesn't answer you back like this one.”

  184

  “You're in no fit state to drive, that's for sure. Asthma you say? Are you sure an ambulance wouldn't have been more appropriate?”

  “I’m fine now. Can we get going, Lieutenant? Please?”

  “Claire, you sound terrible. I just hope this is worth the upset you're causing yourself.” Pitman indicated and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. “You were lucky I was off duty. There’s no way the RPD can justify my being out of the county. And you’ve already driven from, where was it, Poughkeepsie? I think some explanations are in order. If you’re feeling up to it.”

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant,” Claire’s voice rasped. “The asthma came on while I was on the I-88. There was no way I could continue driving. But I have to get to Syracuse.”

  “With me in attendance.”

  “They might take me seriously if you’re there.”

  “No doubt. But should I be taking you seriously, that’s the question. I’m not going knocking on anyone’s door without very good reason.”

  “You’ll have every reason, Lieutenant, once I can speak properly. Just drive, please.”

  As Claire's stressed breathing eased, she summarized what they had learned so far. Pitman listened politely, occasionally shaking his head in disbelief.

  “And now this girl, Ceri, she's missing too, you say?”

  “Matt's there now, trying to find her. We think she may have panicked. We're all worried sick.”

  “Well, there’s one thing you can be sure of. Uncle Tom attacks little children, not grown women. And if Matt's there with her, I'm sure she's in safe hands.”

  185

  The building was quiet, most of the resident students either in
class or skipping lectures around town. Mrs Epstein's kettle jug could be heard faintly whistling downstairs.

  Matt knocked on the door out of courtesy, but waited only a few seconds before slipping the key in the lock.

  He put a tentative step over the threshold, feeling like a trespasser. Suddenly things were serious again. He felt Danny behind him, urging him in.

  “Don't touch anything unless you have to. Look for any written notes, press cuttings, maps, that sort of thing. Anything that might give us a clue where she might have gone.”

  Danny scanned the room with a look of disdain. It was a joint living-room come bedroom with what looked like a small kitchenette beyond. “And I thought I was untidy.”

  “Students have more important things to worry about,” said Matt. “Just like journalists. Expect to find a week's worth of dishes in the sink.”

  “You won't be stopping for coffee, then?” Okay, so Ceri was no domestic goddess. Danny wouldn't hold it against her.

  “Let's just look round and get out of here. Supposing she walks in now and finds us here?” He was almost praying she would.

  Matt methodically worked his way down one side of the room while Danny picked up and discarded things at random. Any newspaper, notebook or jotting received their attention. Nothing. He search seemed futile.

  From the kitchenette Matt heard a noise.

  A stifled cry.

  Then silence.

  “Danny?”

  No response.

  “Danny, are you okay?”

  Matt was heading towards the door when Danny backed into him, shoulders slumped, an arm raised, a quivering finger pointing into the room before him.

  Matt leapt across the coffee table and burst into the kitchenette.

  He stopped in his tracks, paralyzed for several seconds before his knees weakened and he slumped down, clutching at the door for support.

  Ceri's stripped body was barely recognizable, the face and neck contorted by ligature strangulation.