[Sign Behind the Crime 01.0] Gemini

by Ronnie Allen

  “He’s a very picky eater.”

  John laughed.

  “Yes, his highness already told me the restrictions, and I shall abide.” She patted him on the shoulder. “Come around six.”

  He turned over. “Sure thing.” He didn’t want to be demonstrative and kiss her in front of his parents. “What do you want me to bring?”

  “Nothing. Just yourself. Nice to meet you.” She smiled and walked away.

  “Same here, sweetheart.”

  When she was out of hearing distance, John turned to his parents. “So?”

  “She seems like...a lovely girl.”

  “That’s a start.” He pretended to nap and listened to his parent’s conversation.

  Esther whispered to her husband, “She called him his highness. Only I can call him that.”

  “I think you may need to get used the fact that you’re not the only permanent woman in his life now.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Present Day:

  Clancy, clean-shaven and well dressed in ironed slacks and a light-green button-down shirt under a heavy fleece, pulled up in a rented dirty white van. He parked across the street from Barbara’s school at eight-fifteen in the morning on this clear and sunny, but brisk, day. He was lucky to find a parking spot, as most of the street space was for bus stops.

  The newspaper article and photos of Jeremiah’s rescue with a small photo of the principal in the lower right corner of the article lay on the passenger seat. He recognized Mrs. Bennett in the front yard eagerly waving lower-grade children onto the front steps and into the building, welcoming them to their school day.

  He grinned.

  Clancy approached behind Mrs. Bennett with a casual gait, not wanting to startle her. She turned around, giving him a warm smile. Other teachers and parents in the front yard ignored him as he blended in with the regulars.

  “Mrs. Bennett?”

  “May I help you, sir?”

  “Yes I hope so. I’m worried about my son, Roger Miller.”

  “Have you spoken with his teacher?”

  “It’s nothing she could help with.”

  She hesitated. “Please come into my office and we’ll talk.”

  He followed her up the steps with his fingers over his mouth to conceal his nefarious grin.

  ***

  Mrs. Bennett’s desk stood catty-cornered so she could see directly into the main office. Bookshelves, filled to capacity with current education journals and the teacher’s guides in every curriculum area for every grade, hugged the wall adjacent to her desk.

  A large conference table with chairs surrounding it accommodated most of the space in the center of the room. She sat behind her desk and motioned for him to take a chair opposite her. “I don’t believe we’ve met before, Mr. Miller. How may I help you?”

  “No. We haven’t met, Mrs. Bennett. Roger came to live with me, this past summer, after his mother re-married. You see, he’s one of Dr. Montgomery’s cases and he’s telling me that she hasn’t seen him in over a week.”

  “Yes, Dr. Montgomery is home ill.”

  “But she lives in my apartment complex. I haven’t seen her coming or going. Even her car is gone. Did she leave for good?”

  “No never. But tell me, Mr. Miller, how come your son is still attending here? Dr. Montgomery doesn’t live in this immediate vicinity.”

  His pale cheeks reddened. “I didn’t realize a change of address would make a change of schools mandatory. I’ve been driving him here.”

  “Yes, it would. Unless you get a variance from the district office and they are difficult to obtain. Now what class is he in? I’ll start the paperwork. It will be easier for you in the long run.”

  His jaw twitched. “Ah, thank you, Mrs. Bennett. As long as I am reassured that nothing is wrong.” He rushed out, sweating.

  Mrs. Bennett observed him from her desk, but let him go without further confrontation. In an instant, she called to her secretary. “Get me Barbara’s case file, please.”

  ***

  Tony and Sal entered Mrs. Bennett’s office after three p.m. With them was a sketch artist, Matt, a nerdy looking guy, in his thirties wearing thick, black-rimmed glasses.

  “Hello, Detectives. Please have a seat. I’ve checked all records. This parent and child do not exist in this school. He said he lived in Barbara’s complex. But that area is all Russian. Barbara is the only American living in that building.”

  “We’ll investigate this, Mrs. Bennett. We’re glad you called us. This could be a lead as to the hit on her home. Can you give Matt a composite?”

  “Yes, of course, and I’m so glad you apprised me of what happened to her apartment so I knew who to call. I was more aware of irregularities than usual. But, in all honesty--now please don’t take offense--I expected you here earlier.”

  Matt readied his pad and charcoals.

  She caught the we’ve-been-nailed look that Tony and Sal shot each other.

  “We were waiting for crime scene results to put this together,” Sal said.

  Mrs. Bennett read them well. “I hope you’re giving this case the appropriate attention.” She had their number, and her brazen tone conveyed that. “Ready, Matt?” He nodded. “Caucasian,” she continued. “Clean shaven. Bald on top, longish blond hair from the back of his head to over his collar. Bleached blond and a poor job at that. Too much peroxide. Dark brown roots with some gray, about a two-inch growth.”

  Sal grinned.

  “It’s something a woman would notice,” she explained. “Dark brown eyes, oval shaped, but not almond. His eyelids had folds. He has an intense look but full of anguish. Very dark looking soul.”

  Matt worked diligently at composing the primary sketch.

  “Dark pupils, oh, and a squared jaw,” she added. “Wrinkles on his forehead. Ruddy cheeks, very pale complexion. Needs to get out into the sun more.”

  “That’s very observant, Mrs. Bennett. You don’t even need any prompting.”

  “It’s my job to be observant, Matt.”

  Tony smiled while nodding in agreement.

  “Irish, but didn’t speak with much of a brogue. Wrinkles on his face, too, deep ones, like he’s a smoker. About mid-forties, small straight nose, medium build. High cheekbones. And dark brown eyebrows, thick, bushy, with a very small arch. Like his eyebrows couldn’t hike, even if he tried.”

  Tony scribbled notes. “Any scars or distinguishing marks?”

  “None that I could see. He was dressed in slacks and a fleece, bundled up. His hands had brown spots though, but he was too young for age spots. Maybe it was a chemical burn.”

  “I’m very impressed, Mrs. Bennett.” Sal pursed his lips. “Chemical burn? What makes you say that?”

  “My niece studies photography and once she didn’t wear the protective gloves. Something she was working with, I don’t even know for sure what, got on her hand and left her with a brown spot. Sort of looked like that.”

  Matt showed her the composite. “Close, Mrs. Bennett?”

  “Oh my, young man. That is him. A little narrower on the nose, and eyes closer set, though. If you ever need to change jobs, we can sure use an art teacher.”

  “Sorry, we’re not letting him go.” Sal handed her his card. “Thank you very much Mrs. Bennett. If you think of anything else, please call us.”

  “Yes I will. Thank you, Detectives, Matt.”

  They got up to leave, nodding a sincere thank you.

  “Matt, get that into the database, ASAP,” Sal ordered.

  ***

  Carlson slouched at his desk frowning, as Tony and Sal entered with Matt’s composite of the suspect.

  “We got it, Loo,” Tony said. “Mrs. Bennett nailed it to a T. Real name is Clancy Davis. DUI arrest ten years ago put him into the system. Cinematographer. Real big ten to fifteen years ago. Get this. Even won an Oscar. The photography shit would explain what Montgomery was complaining about.”

  John barged in, interrupting them. His intense presenc
e forced them to stop mid-conversation.

  “Wait a minute. What he’s got tops even this.” Carlson turned his attention to John. “And what makes you think I care enough about this to want to be bothered by a phone call at three a.m.?”

  “Nice to see you too, Paul. Glad I’m appreciated.” John tossed his jacket onto a couch and then extracted the medical files from his attaché.

  “What’s going on?” Sal asked.

  “This medical genius here now thinks Montgomery is a murderer,” Carlson explained.

  Sal straightened his posture. “Yeah?”

  “Before you start,” Carlson warned. “Don’t give us fucking psychobabble or medical jargon, and don’t tell me parts of the brain I don’t even know I have. Just give me the behavior and what she did, and no psychic crap.”

  John contemplated for a moment, thinking how he could water this down for a layman. “All right. There’s excessive damage in the parts of her brain that control impulses, rational thinking, deception, acting on right and wrong, and inhibiting aggression. She has chemical imbalances and toxins in her blood that combine with this and trigger her aggression and impulse to kill without remorse. There are impulse murderers, like serial killers, and predatory murderers that go after a target for a goal. Do I need to name who they are specifically?” Carlson glared at him. “Didn’t think so,” John continued. “She’s the latter. Simple enough?”

  “And you know this how?”

  “Sal, studies have been conducted after murderers have been incarcerated, both impulse and predator types, and their brain and blood profiles have been compared. These are the common elements. Since Montgomery didn’t tell me anything truthful, I had to examine her more thoroughly than I would have had to with a cooperative patient. She has the same profile.”

  “Can’t someone who’s not a murderer have the same brain dysfunctions?” Sal asked.

  “Yes and no. It’s still inconclusive. But with these abnormalities, she’s incapable of making sane choices. It’s all in sync with an abusive childhood. The abusive childhood added into the mix makes it plausible. She’s a psychopath. She can be sane and functioning, when she wants to be, and a killer when it suits her. A killer without remorse, who kills anyone who gets in her way. The psychopathic personality fits her. Superficial charm, absence of nervousness, specific loss of insight, lack of remorse or shame, no empathy, sex life impersonal and--”

  “How do you know about her sex life, bro?” Tony interrupted. “Don’t tell me you--”

  “No way! Through energy work. She’s blocked. No warm and fuzzy feelings in her.”

  “Now, hotshot, who did she fucking murder?” Carlson demanded.

  “That’s for you to investigate. But I think it has to do with money. That’s her objective and this Morgan character gave her a huge donation to cover the salaries of her staff at her clinic. She even coped with a panic attack going through the tunnel to meet with him. Most people would avoid it, but she didn’t, so I know the objective of getting the funds was stronger. Right now, I only have today to keep her in observation. Tomorrow I have to move her to a less-restrictive environment, even though she’s in protective custody. I’m not telling her about what I concluded, but I want to move her to Manhattan Psych.”

  “You bet, you’re not,” Carlson argued. “‘Oh by the way, Dr. Montgomery, I discovered you’re a murderer so I’m moving you to be with the criminally insane.’ That will open us up for a major lawsuit. And I’m in charge, so I’ll get the heat.”

  “Give me a break. She belongs in Manhattan.”

  “That’s not less restrictive!” Carlson exploded.

  “She’ll have some more freedom to roam around but she won’t be able to escape. She’ll be watched by armed guards 24/7. Hey, you two know what it’s like going through security there. Just last week a female rookie got detained for two hours. She couldn’t pass through the metal detector. She had to endure a strip and cavity search because she was unaware she couldn’t wear a bra with an underwire. At Manhattan Psych, Barbara will be away from TV, cell phone, and computer access. If I keep her at Sheepshead, which is minimum security, and has volunteer admissions, with people coming and going all day, she’ll find a way to make contact with the outside.”

  “He’s right, Loo. John, take a look at this.” Tony deposited the photo of Clancy in front of him. “Mrs. Bennett got a visit from him inquiring about Montgomery. A photographer.”

  John connected the dots. “Okay, is he her predator or accomplice? And where does Reynolds fit in? Talk to him yet?”

  Carlson balked. “No. We didn’t talk to him, yet.”

  “Damn it, Paul! Why are you dragging your feet on this? Even if you think this is nonsense, a woman’s home was hit. That’s a crime.”

  “Yes, a fucking crime against her. Why do you say accomplice?”

  “Only her living room, one room, was destroyed. Everything is easily replaceable. Ever hear of someone setting themselves up as a victim, so they can take the onus off them as a suspect when they commit the major criminal act?”

  “It happens all the time, John, but in this case it doesn’t distance her from the investigation. It brings her fucking into it.”

  “Well, I don’t think she considered the possibility of you incarcerating her.” John paused to think. “Exactly. This fits. That’s why I need to keep a hold on her in a secure location. I need to move her.”

  “Absolutely not. We’ll need her for questioning, and I’m not sending my guys to make a fucking trek into Manhattan, when she’s five fucking minutes away now.”

  “Tony, knock some sense into him.”

  Carlson didn’t give Tony a chance to respond. “No, John. Not happening. Get us a lead to show that she murdered someone in her past or she plans to murder someone in the future and we’ll investigate that. And what you saw or heard from your fucking imaginary friend Max in la-la land won’t cut it. We will bring in this Clancy guy, though, and see where it goes.”

  “Who’s Max?”

  “Never mind that, Sal. When you spoke to Mrs. Bennett, what did she tell you about Barbara?”

  “We didn’t ask her about Montgomery.”

  “Why the hell not?” John’s frustration level mounted. “What exactly did you tell Mrs. Bennett about the situation?”

  “Nothing to alarm her.” Tony trod carefully. “We told her we had to place Dr. Montgomery into police custody because she reported someone stalking her, and a couple days later her apartment was ransacked. That’s all. Nothing about her mental state or observation.”

  “All right. Good. At least I’ll know what direction to take. So tell me, am I all alone here? Is that it? Paul, I mean it. This one will come back to bite you in the ass.”

  “John, you’re not alone,” Tony said. “What do you need me to do?”

  “I fucking don’t like you sucking Tony in,” Carlson snarled. “But, then again, I know damn well he’s your best friend.”

  “Thanks,” John said to Tony, ignoring Carlson. “Here’s what I need. I need to know everything about her educational background, degrees, schooling, and adoption at birth if that’s the truth, her entire pedigree. Start with the last three years at this school. And I don’t care if you have to hack into the Department of Education’s personnel files to do it.” He deliberately didn’t mention her Gemini obsession. They already thought he was nuts, so that one he’d tackle on this own.

  “What are you going to do now?” Sal asked.

  “First, I’m telling her we didn’t get enough info from her for her assault case, so I’m not releasing her, which is sort of the truth. Because she was uncooperative, I can legally delay her release and keep her housed here, instead of moving her to an actual safe house. So that will give me more time to prove my theories. I’ll show her the picture of Clancy Davis and see what I get, and then I’ll speak with Mrs. Bennett. And you guys pay a visit to Reynolds. His address is in the Yellow Pages, if you don’t want to bother finding it online.�
�� He didn’t mistake Carlson’s glare. “Then prove to me you don’t need to be spoon-fed on this one. Call me when you get what I need.”

  John prepared to leave and compiled all of the paperwork he’d brought in, without saying another word, but his annoyance with Carlson had reached an intolerable level. As he looked at him, with Carlson avoiding direct eye contact, John perceived that something else was going on which Carlson was hiding. That added another level of inconvenience to this case. Carlson had never been so lax or disagreeable before, or hesitant to investigate.

  John’s only ally in this was Tony, but would he go against his lieutenant or behind his back? John’s gut churned with nervousness about what he might have to uncover, not only with Barbara. That was his job. Now his friend was involved. Carlson knew Reynolds for sure. John’s instincts told him that. But how? John’s motive for finding out the truth was now clouded, and his unconscious sent him confusing messages that he didn’t know whether to accept or repress. What was Carlson into that he was afraid John would find out? Max would be working overtime on this one, helping him sort out all of the inconsistencies. John departed without even saying goodbye.

  ***

  Barbara napped out of sheer boredom. She tossed, turned, and moaned while having a nightmare...

  Nineteen-seventy-nine. Kellie, aka Barbara, was four years old wearing a white dress with pink and lime-green dots throughout, with the cutest white sandals on her feet. She was holding her daddy’s hand. But Daddy didn’t say a word. Her blue eyes sparkled and her warm light brown hair flowed down her back. She was happy here with the semblance of a normal childhood.

  Her father Ralph Wilson--late-thirties, stocky, wearing a cheap polyester suit--walked his adorable Kellie down a poorly lit basement corridor in a city hospital. He concealed the tears in his eyes from her with sniffles. He dreaded what was to come and what he’d have to do. They strode down the long empty hallway to a room with the door closed. He winced at the odors of formaldehyde and disinfectants. Kellie didn’t notice. Ralph picked up Kellie, seated her on a wooden bench outside the door, and motioned for her to stay there.