by S. Burke
“Mike, any thoughts on the ‘family’ thing?” Nigel asked.
“Yeah, but my thoughts are all over the place. What inducement did Manson use? I mean he physically didn’t murder Sharon Tate. He used his power over the group as a whole, didn’t he? I am also thinking drugs may have a lot to do with this. What if Sheila was under the influence of drugs in the cell? That could have induced a psychotic event. Maybe she has nothing whatsoever to do with these murders.”
“I agree that it’s possible drugs may have induced a psychosis in Sheila, but I’ll stake my reputation on the fact she is our primary perpetrator. I may well be wrong, of course.”
“Gut instinct, Doc?”
“Yeah. Gut instinct. She is a sociopath; that came through for me even on such a short meeting.”
“So how can we forecast where she’ll hit next? These murders take in eleven different states so far. What makes her choose? These murders aren’t as random as they appear. The connection of them all being foundlings cannot be overlooked- I think that’s pivotal- although why at this stage completely eludes me. Maybe the fact that they left no-one behind to ask questions? Hell, man, I’m grasping at straws here.” Mike began pacing as he spoke.
Trish said, “So did she have them as followers? Did they become friends or lovers and then bore her into killing them? Were they each a part of the kill team themselves? That is something that has been playing on my mind. What if she induces them to join and participate in the ‘family’ murders, and then they become the victims. None of the pictures have the eyes concealed. Not one. So it’s obvious that the victims already know and can identify the perpetrators. I’m beginning to think that the eight day thing is all a hoax. I’m thinking they get murdered the same day the first shot is taken. Then the team moves on, sending the final shot when they are already a week away from the scene.”
“No, the infection on what was left of Stuart Alexon had been festering a few days at least. Wait a minute, the table- the table the heads are shown on. It’s the same in each case. We have assumed that the perpetrators use one killing field. What if that’s not the case? What if the table is taken after each death and moved to the next location? The background is always identical, but that could be a screen. A portable kill site. That would account for no one recognizing anything suspicious. They kill and move on quickly. There was NO table at the cabin! They pick isolated places before the kill. Places even the locals don’t know about, like this one. So how do they choose?” Mike asked.
“The internet.” Trish suggested.
“That’s the most plausible avenue.” Nigel agreed.
“Trish, get some people working on the net, look for isolated rentals in rural settings. Let’s move on the assumption that this is the way they operate.”
“Done deal, I’m on it. Good call, Mike.”
Chapter 14
Sheila was angry.
It had been two full days since she had been able to make contact. She was reluctant to call the boss; although she was tempted, she loved the sound of his voice. But her instructions were to observe caution and make contact through the go between.
She wondered angrily just where the hell he was, happy not to be in his shoes when Holliday found out he’d been out of touch. She packed her things and headed out on the long drive to the lodge. The tail had stuck with her while she kept to the highways, but would have been too obvious on these deserted back roads and had been called off. It mattered not, they knew about the lodge; she wished them luck trying to keep a close watch on her there.
Her housekeeper came out to meet her. “It’s good to have you home, Ma’am,” said Constance.
“Yeah, sure it is, Connie. See to my luggage, will you, and have Leonard bring Kaiser round front.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Sheila entered the building, looking around her with pleasure. The lodge was superbly decorated and the views out of all available windows were breathtaking. It would be months before it snowed. They could get isolated when that happened, but supplies were always ready for such an occasion.
Kaiser was her Arab stallion. She needed to take a ride and he would help her shed the anger. He was such a beautiful animal and so hard to handle that he offered her a challenge with every ride.
She walked over to the bar and mixed herself a dry martini, poured another from the shaker and wandered upstairs to dress for her ride.
Exiting the house, she walked over to the stallion, ignoring the man patiently holding the reigns. Kaiser snorted and nuzzled her. The horse had no need to fear her, as she lavished affection on him.
“Hello, my beauty. Have you missed me? Do you think he may have missed me, Leonard?”
“We all have, Ma’am.” Leonard gave her a huge smile. “Nice to have you home.”
“Thanks, Leonard, I almost believe you mean that.”
The man knew better than to say more; she was in that mood, so best to leave well enough alone.
She mounted the stallion and was soon racing over the open ground, letting him have his head as they both needed to let off pent up steam.
It was dark when they returned. The smell of roasting pork filtered from the house. Sheila was hungry. She handed Kaiser to the waiting stable hand. “Rub him down well and nothing to eat for him for at least an hour.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
She ran up the front steps and over to the bar, mixing herself a jug of martini and settled down on the sofa. “Connie?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“The new lot arrived yet?”
“Not for a couple of days yet, Ma’am.”
“Ah … good. I do like to meet and greet. Any celebrities of note in this bunch?”
“Oh, yes, Ma’am. Two.” She went on to name two famous members of the Hollywood ‘A’ list.
“Well, well. Mustn’t let their fans know they are travelling together. Hmm? It just wouldn’t do, and I doubt their wives would be pleased. Tsk, poor besotted women. If only they knew what we know, hey, Connie?”
“Indeed, Ma’am.”
“Well, our reputation is good. Nothing leaks from here, ever. Does it, Connie?”
“No, never, Ma’am.”
“And we like it that way, don’t we?”
“Oh … yes. Only that way, always, Ma’am.”
“Good answer. How long before dinner?”
“Whenever you are ready, Ma’am.’
“Good, I’ll shower first. Have my friends been here in the last couple of days?”
“No. Not since you left.”
“Fine.” She drank another martini and headed off for her shower.
The housekeeper followed her with a look of fear. The reminder was always there. Always. One slip and her family in Mexico would receive no more money and she would be handed over to immigration. All the staff were paid exceedingly well.
The work wasn’t hard, and they were housed and treated reasonably well. Ms Harrington was a moody bitch. The goings on were strange and the sounds coming from the outer cabin carried at times. Nothing was ever said. The staff kept themselves to themselves, never trusting outsiders and at times not even each other. That was exactly the way the boss wanted it. She always got what she wanted.
Always.
Chapter 15
“Nigel?” The voice came from a tall good-looking guy wearing jeans and a black tee-shirt.
“Craig, what the …? What are you doing here? I thought you were in Columbia.”
“Been back a few days. How are you, buddy?” the man asked as he grabbed Nigel in a quick bear hug. “Long time, my friend!”
“I’m okay. You look well.”
“Yeah, it was an easy assignment.”
“Easy? I find that hard to believe.” He looked at his friend and laughed at the expression on his face. Craig Lombardi would say climbing Everest was easy. Nothing ever seemed to faze him.
“Well, there could only be one reason they’d send you here. You going in undercover?”
&
nbsp; “Uh-huh, I’ve only had about six hours down time since the debriefing. So you’ll need to bring me up to speed on this case. What have we got to drink around here?”
“Beer and Southern Comfort.” Mike’s voice came from behind him. “The Director just called and let me know you were on your way here. You made good time. I’m Mike Matheson.” He offered his hand and they shook. “You want a cold beer?”
“Nyah, Southern Comfort double shot straight up, thanks. I’m not on duty till day after tomorrow.”
“How did they organize it? Are you replacing a guest?” Nigel asked.
“No, I’m just a millionaire with time to kill, and deer to shoot. They liked the idea of me being happy to pay top dollar, over and above what the going rate is. Apparently someone there is skimming from the pot. I wouldn’t like to be in their shoes if she finds out.”
“Could get messy,” said Nigel.
“Mess is okay. Mess I’m good at.” Craig laughed.
“You haven’t lost your touch then?”
“Not a chance, buddy.”
Mike Matheson was clearly intrigued, “You two know each other? Where from? Are you a shrink as well, Lombardi?”
“Nothing as interesting as that, Mike. We grew up together.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s nice for both of you, isn’t it?”
“It is as you say, nice for both of us.”
“Settle yourself in and have a drink, then I’ll introduce you to the rest of the team.”
“Thanks. That would be good. I need to pick your collective brains on this before I go in. Reading about Little Mary Sunshine doesn’t do it for me. I like more one-on-one opinions, you know.”
Mike visibly relaxed and even raised a laugh at the man’s description of the women they thought had killed all these folks. Little Mary Sunshine indeed.
“Excellent, perhaps we can all work this through over some drinks. The team is wound tight, too tight. We need to get a different perspective on this. This town doesn’t sell pizza, do you believe that? The sheriff said they don’t go much on foreign food.” They all laughed heartily at that comment. “They have a chicken place and it’s not at all bad. I’ll organize a couple of buckets, what do you say?”
“Sounds like a plan, Mike. I gotta meet this sheriff, I haven’t used my native Italian for a while, could be a fun conversation.”
“I think I’m gonna like you, Lombardi.”
“Don’t get too attached, Mike. I’m already spoken for.”
The big man roared with laughter and headed off to get the rest of the team who weren’t down by the lake.
“Man, you are like a breath of fresh air. The tension around here is bad, buddy. Real bad,” said Nigel.
“Do you think he bought the crap about us growing up together?”
“Not for a second.”
“What’s your read on him, Nigel?”
“He’s good people. This case is his baby, but he’s too close, he needs to be able to distance himself and he can’t. The whole task force are the same. Utterly dedicated and totally burned out.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“So, Nigel, ol’ buddy, how long before the boss puts someone else in charge?”
“She already has.”
“You?”
“Yeah, but I’m telling nobody, unless I have to pull rank. These guys are just beginning to trust me in my capacity as a psychologist. The rest need never come out. Unless I want it to.”
“They may be inadvertently putting other lives at risk.”
“No, they’re a damned fine team, and they work well together, they just needed a few clear and concise directions. They responded to my suggestions. I don’t want to make them orders. This way is best.”
“The big guy is not gonna be happy when he finds out, Nigel.”
“I’m hoping he never has to.”
“Good luck with that. Now where the hell is that Southern Comfort?”
Heaven’s Gate Lodge
Sheila awoke late in the morning with a hangover. It set her mood for the remainder of the day. The staff avoided her whenever possible; she was hell when she was unhappy.
“Connie? Connie? Where are you, woman?”
“Coming, Ma’am. I was just …”
“I don’t give a shit what you were just! I want coffee strong and lots of it, now!”
“But, Ma’am …”
“Did you say ‘but’ to me, Connie? Surely not?”
“Ma’am, three of the guests have arrived early. The cabin’s not yet ready. They booked the Executive Cabin with the spa. I’ll have it ready soon.”
“No, you won’t. You will make me coffee and see to my needs. Where are the cabin staff?”
“Gone for supplies. You sent them, Ma’am.”
“Oh. Yes I did. Fucking inconsiderate tourists. Who are they, should I care?”
“Oh, yes, Ma’am. One of them is a return visitor, Mr Max … he’ll be at the ball on Friday night, in your party.”
“Shit! Okay, make me a coffee, and go and attend to the cabin. Show them into the library, I’ll keep them entertained till the cabin’s done. Make it fast, Connie.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Oh, best tell the cook to make up a plate of her savouries and send them in.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Mike, can I run something by you?” Trish Clayton was pale, and had dark circles under her eyes. The boy’s murder had shaken her, badly. She had been up all night doing comparisons on the computer and searching the internet for anything that could tie the victims together. Mike looked up from what he was doing long enough to register that she looked ill.
“Yeah, Trish, pull up a chair. Can I get you a coffee? Anything?”
The shocked look on her face made him feel ashamed that she obviously was unused to him being solicitous.
“You are definitely sickening for something, Mike.”
“Just tell me how you like your coffee.”
“Nine years, and you still don’t know? That’s the Mike I’m familiar with. Cream, three sugars. Thanks.”
The man was too tall and wide for such a small kitchen area. It made her smile as he fumbled his way around, but the coffee when he handed it to her was hot and perfect. “Thanks, Mike.”
He nodded, and then sat facing her. “So, what have you got?”
“Okay, let me just bounce something off you first?”
“Shoot.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He laughed. “Go ahead. With the bouncing thing, that is.”
“Mike, our initial check on these victims showed no passports, and in most cases no drivers licenses, right?”
“Yes, so?”
“I went back into the files trying to find any possible link to the new victim … sorry, I mean Stuart Alexon. God, I’ve even stopped thinking of them as people. Anyway, I found passports with travel details, not just for him, but for most of them!”
“Sweet Jesus, how in the name of all that’s holy did we miss something so obvious? The passports were checked, I know they were. We couldn’t possibly have missed that.”
“This information was only loaded in the past three days. I’m still checking time downloads. We are somehow being fed new information and we are being fed it from a source that has access to our files. I need to know if it’s accurate. The information was clearly held back, by someone who had enough information to access the passport details on each of the victims and delete it before we started the investigation, then replace it years later? I don’t know what to think anymore. This smells bad, Mike. It smells really bad.”
“Sweet Jesus! Trish, all these years. What the fuck is goin’ on here? I’ll call the Director. Something is very wrong.”
“Mike, wait a while, see what else we find. Maybe this goes way up the food chain.”
“Fuck. Paranoia is not a good way to run an investigation, you know
that.”
“Mike, please. My instincts are screaming on this one. Please.”
“Okay, you and I. Need to know basis only.”
“I’m on it. Thanks. Do we bring Cantrell in on this?”
“Yes, but only Cantrell. I’ll deal with that. Oh, have you met our inside contact yet?”
“No. Anyone we know?”
“Well, I don’t know him, but Cantrell apparently grew up with the guy.”
“Apparently?”
“Nothing, just … well, in light of what you’ve just uncovered, everything is gonna look odd, isn’t it?”
Trish gave him a look and chose not to respond to the comment. “I’ll start the contacts going now. With the latest victim first.”
“Do it. I’ll go and see the doc.” He hurried across the open car lot and down a block to the camper.
Mike knocked and entered at Cantrell’s “Come.”
“’Sup, Mike?”
“Need to see you outside, Doc.”
“Craig’s one of us, Mike.”
“No offence, Craig. This is a personal matter, Doc.”
“Okay, put the coffee on, I’ll be back,” Nigel called over his shoulder as he and Mike left the room.
“That was fucking rude, this had better be good, Mike. Craig is a totally dedicated agent. I trust him with my life. He sa … I trust him.”
“Listen up, Doc. Whether you like it or not, I’m in charge of the team. I will decide who and who not to include in my briefings. Understood?”
Nigel looked about to say something on the matter, then thought better of it. “Fill me in, what’s going on?”
Mike paced restlessly back and forward as he filled Nigel in on all that Trish had uncovered. He finished and waited for a response.
“Fuck! What the hell? Are you seriously telling me the files had been tampered with as far back as the first victim? We would have looked in so many other directions if that information was known. This is looking like some sort of fucking conspiracy. But who? And more importantly, why?”