Beautiful Maids All in a Row

by Jennifer Harlow

  “Are you sure?” Beaton asked Shepherd. “Because I strongly, strongly recommend you rethink this.”

  “I know what I’m doing, Cyrus,” he said. “Anyway I’m sure these fine agents will let you stand on the other side of the mirror with them. You can always come in and rescue me if I need it.”

  “What the hell are they talking about?” I asked Shaw.

  “We’ll see if we can find her,” Luke said as he stood from the table.

  “I saw her entering the ladies’ room,” Shepherd told him. “You might start there.”

  What the hell was going on?

  Both Beaton and Clarkson also stood. All three men shuffled out of the room, leaving a pleased Shepherd all alone. A second later Beaton and Luke stepped into the observation room, looking far less upbeat. Clarkson must have been on his way to the ladies’ room.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  “My client insists you be the one to question him,” Beaton answered, his eyes narrowing with each word. As if it were my fault. Okay, so it was.

  “He’ll answer your questions without a lawyer in the room,” Luke added.

  I couldn’t help it. A smug smile crossed my face. He’d taken the bait again. Iris Ballard, master manipulator.

  “Is there something about you and my client I should know about?” Beaton asked.

  “Just the fact that he calls me in the middle of the night and sends me flowers charged to a dead woman’s credit card.”

  “You can’t prove any of that,” Beaton snapped. “Where’s the proof that these conversations ever took place?”

  Luke and I exchanged a knowing glance.

  “Let’s try our cases in court, counselor,” Shaw said.

  “We’re wasting time here,” I said, tucking an earpiece into my right ear.

  Luke leaned into the microphone on the wall, and I pressed my hand up to my ear. “Check one, check two,” Luke said.

  “I can hear you,” I said.

  I took a step toward the door, but Beaton grabbed my upper arm to stop me. “The second you step out of line I end this, got it?”

  I looked down at his chubby hand around my arm. “Take your hand off me or I’ll have you arrested for battery.”

  He dropped my arm. I raised an eyebrow and walked into the hallway, stopping in front of the interrogation room door. I took a moment to focus. Two years. It had been two years since I sat across from a monster and engaged in a game of mental chess, and Shepherd was a master. Except in this game the stakes were life or death. One wrong word or look and the game was over. “You can do this,” I whispered to myself. I could. I smoothed my hair, stuck my chin out, and opened the door.

  Welcome to Thunderdome.

  I took my seat in the cold room without looking at Shepherd. He watched me intently, almost as if he were studying me. His eyes scanned me up and down, stopping on my chest. He was trying to make me uncomfortable. It worked. The temperature change gave my body a jolt, and my nipples stuck out like two pencil erasers under my white cotton shirt, something Shepherd seemed to relish. I folded my arms across my chest.

  He gazed into my eyes. “I just realized what an attractive woman you are,” he said with a grin. “You have a kind of natural beauty rare in women.”

  “You called me in here to hit on me?”

  “Just paying you a compliment.”

  “Save the flattery for someone who can’t see right through you,” I said. “This is Dr. Iris Ballard, consulting forensic psychologist with the FBI. I am interviewing Dr. Jeremy Arthur Shepherd at the FBI field office in New York City. The date is June the nineteenth, the time is twelve twenty-one P.M. Have you been read your rights?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Do you wish to have your attorney present at this questioning?”

  “Not at the moment.”

  “Very well then. Dr. Shepherd, where were you the night of June thirteenth of this year?”

  “At my cabin in the Catskills, with Miss Diana Hall and my chief of security, Henry Mooney.”

  “Have you ever heard the names Audrey Burke or Justine Romy before?”

  “No, not until the news reports of their deaths.”

  A stack of files sat to my left, and I opened the top two, taking out pictures of Audrey and Justine just before their deaths. I handed them to Shepherd. “Are either of these women familiar to you?”

  He glanced at the pictures. “As I said, I recognize them from the news.”

  “So you never met them before?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  I reached under the table for the box placed next to my chair. I pulled out two of the books and tossed them across the table. I threw one so hard it went sliding to Shepherd, who caught it.

  “Two books, each signed by you. One belonged to Audrey Burke and the other to Justine Romy. I also have two more books, each signed by you, that were in the possession of Amanda Denker and Patricia Curtis, both killed by the Woodsman.”

  “My book is very popular, and I do many book signings around the world. I don’t doubt these women attended one of them, but I don’t remember any of them. Sorry.”

  “You have to admit it’s a pretty big coincidence.”

  “Am I going to be a suspect every time someone dies in the possession of one of my books?”

  “These women lived in separate states. They never met, and had pretty much nothing in common. The only thing in common they had was you.”

  “They must have something else in common,” he said, “because I had nothing whatsoever to do with their deaths.”

  I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “You have a history of abuse toward women. You were arrested for raping a woman in college.”

  “She dropped the charges.”

  “After you paid her fifty thousand dollars to go away.”

  “You can’t prove that,” he said. “She had a boyfriend back home and felt guilty after our tryst. That was her way of shifting responsibility off herself for cheating.”

  “She killed herself six months later,” I told him. “Did you know that?”

  “No, I didn’t. How terrible. She was a nice girl,” he said pleasantly.

  “And you ruined her.”

  He scoffed. “I told you what happened.” He opened his mouth and yawned.

  “Tired?” I asked with a half smile.

  “Yes, actually. I’m a very busy man. Sleep is a luxury I’m not often afforded.”

  “I’m tired too. Last night someone called me after one o’clock in the morning. It was the same man who phoned me a couple of nights ago.”

  With a glint in his eye, he asked, “Who was it?”

  “He sounded a hell of a lot like you.”

  Shepherd scoffed. “I didn’t even know you until two days ago, and even still, I did not call you.”

  “Do I have to play the tape?”

  His eyes widened a little. “Tape?”

  “You didn’t hear that little ‘click’ in the background last night? Your hearing must be going in your old age.” I reached into the box and pulled out my recorder.

  “I want to help others live good and happy lives,” Shepherd said on the recorder.

  “Tell that to the six people you killed.”

  “I don’t want to talk about them. I want to talk about you and me.”

  “There is no ‘you and me.’ We are not in any way, shape, or form together. You are just a psychopath I’m putting in prison, nothing more.”

  “We both know that’s not true. I’m more than just another criminal for you to catch. I’m your salvation, your redemption.”

  I shut off the recorder. All amusement drained from his face. His mouth was razor straight, and his eyes were focused intently on me. “You’re going to deny that was you?”

  “It wasn’t.”

  I shrugged. “Sounded like you.”

  “It sounded like a lot of men,” he said. “Besides, I know a little about the law. Taping conversations wi
thout a warrant or consent from the other party is illegal. Even if it was me, you wouldn’t be able to use it in court.”

  “Then why deny it?”

  “Because it wasn’t me,” he said with a shrug.

  “He’s not going for it, Iris,” Luke said into my earpiece.

  Tell me something I didn’t know. I placed the recorder back in the box and suppressed a sigh. He had an answer for everything. I missed the days when only stupid people committed crimes. Time for a calculated gamble. The last one got us alone in this room. I sat up again, folding my arms on the table. “Let’s just cut through the bullshit, okay?”

  “If you wish,” he replied with a smile.

  “I know you did this, and you know you did this. And I know you will never in a million years admit it, no matter what I say in here. You’re a very smart man; I’m sure you’ve taken every precaution. But we have this time together, mano a mano, live in the flesh for the first time. So let’s use it. Know thine enemy, right? So let’s get to know each other. Nothing is taboo, total honesty. What do you say?”

  “Iris, what the hell are you doing?” Luke asked into my earpiece. I pulled the tiny receiver out and set it on the table.

  Shepherd smiled. “I think your partner is against the idea.”

  “Are you?”

  Shepherd fell back in his chair. “No. But just for the record, I had nothing to do with the deaths of those five women or that man.”

  “If you say so.”

  “You want to start or should I?” he asked.

  “Be my guest,” I insisted.

  “Okay.” He put his hands behind his head, fingers laced. “What was your husband like?”

  He went straight for the jugular the first chance he got. Me and my bright ideas. I tightened my jaw. “The first word that comes to mind when I think of him is…nice. He was the kindest, gentlest soul I ever met. He was calm almost all of the time. Nothing frazzled him. The world could be ending and he’d just sit back in his favorite chair listening to jazz. His idea of heaven was driving for hours down to North Carolina in a convertible with the top down, singing along to the radio at the top of his lungs.” I chuckled to myself. “Lord, he liked to have fun. He’d actually request Halloween off so he could stay home and dress like Dracula to hand out candy to kids. We always had to carve pumpkins. I don’t know, I…” I shook my head.

  “He sounds wonderful,” Shepherd said. “Why do you blame yourself for his death?”

  “I wasn’t smart, quick, or brave enough to save him. When he needed me I was locked in a bathroom, thinking of ways to save my own skin. It was my job to protect the citizens of America from men like his attacker, and I failed the one person I should have put above all. That’s unforgivable.”

  “Is that why you quit the FBI?”

  I looked at the dark blue circle hanging on the wall above the mirror. The seal of the top law enforcement agency in the world. “See that seal? Written on it are three words, which tell the characteristics of a good agent. Fidelity, bravery, and integrity. I wasn’t faithful to my husband, but I don’t mean just the affair. I put my career ahead of my husband more times than I can count. I chose my job over him. I could only be faithful to one of them, and I chose my needs and myself. My ambition over his love. As to bravery…” I looked down at my hands and noticed I was twisting my wedding ring again. I stopped. “I was locked in my bathroom when Meriwether ambushed my husband.”

  “You were stabbed, Iris.”

  “True, but I wasn’t in pain because I was in shock. I was thinking clearly. He gave me two warnings to get out, and I ignored them both. When I finally did…step out there, I didn’t charge at him. I had a knife hidden in my robe; I could have done it. If I had, he would have just fired at me, and Hayden might have gotten away. But I just stood at that door and watched as he shot my husband in the head with my gun. I didn’t do a damn thing to stop him. I had a split second to decide between my life and his, and I chose me over him yet again because I didn’t want to die. And that intense feeling of guilt from failing the person you love robs you of any integrity you have left.”

  “Yet you came back,” he pointed out.

  “Yes.”

  “Do you feel that by catching this killer, you can atone for your past sins?”

  “Maybe I can begin to.”

  “I heard you had a breakdown. You look well now, though. Better than well. Has this pursuit brought you out of your self-imposed hell?”

  “I haven’t had a single drink or pill since I started this case. Hell, I’m even on the patch for the cigarettes. Do I feel like throwing myself in the Hudson River? No, not today. But who knows what’s going to happen when we put you away, and I go home. I might slip back into old vices.”

  “This case has given you a sense of purpose,” he said. “You won’t lose that when you catch this man. I have faith. You’re a remarkable woman, Iris.”

  I leaned forward. “Anything else you want to know?”

  He thought for a second. “Not right now.”

  “Then it’s my turn.” I paused to meet his eyes. They glimmered with amusement. “Tell me about your mother.”

  He flinched and quickly looked away. “What do you want to know?”

  “What kind of woman was she? Your…mother?” I asked, arching my eyebrows.

  He crossed his legs the second the word escaped my mouth, a reflex to the image she conjured in his mind. He didn’t want to be emasculated by her again. “She was a remarkable woman. I loved her dearly.”

  “It was just you and her, right? After your father’s suicide?”

  “My father didn’t commit suicide,” Shepherd insisted. “He wasn’t a strong swimmer.”

  “He wasn’t a strong anything from what I hear. He worked under your mother, for her really. His only real accomplishment was you. He gave your mother a son and heir to the family empire. His job was done the second you popped out. He knew it and decided to bow out gracefully. Do you blame him for leaving you alone with her?”

  He leaned in, matching my pose. “Let’s talk about your father, Iris,” he said, “if he can even be called that. Won’t even acknowledge you’re his own flesh and blood.”

  “We already did me,” I said, “it’s your turn now. Do you blame him for leaving you alone and unprotected?”

  “Unprotected? What did I need protection from?”

  I scoffed and leaned back in my chair. “Fine. You want to do this the hard way, we will.” I paused, trying to figure out how to phrase the next one. “It was just you and your mother when you were growing up, right? Your grandparents were dead, and your uncle had his own family. Correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “But your mother was a very busy woman. She had a multimillion-dollar business to run. So your time with her was limited.”

  “She always made time for me.”

  “What did you do in this time?”

  “Little boy things. We’d go to the park, a ball game sometimes. Things like that.”

  “Anything else?”

  “She’d read to me,” he answered hurriedly. “What is the point of these questions?”

  “I’m trying to understand your relationship with your mother. So, in your opinion, she was a perfect mother?”

  He rubbed his nose. “As perfect as anyone can be.”

  “What would she do when you misbehaved?” I asked, meeting his eyes.

  He avoided my eyes, glancing up at the ceiling. “She’d sit me down and explain to me why that behavior was unacceptable.”

  “She never lost her temper with you? She never hit you or belittled you in public or private?”

  “No,” he stated emphatically.

  I tsked. “Thought you were going to say that.” I bent down and began rooting around in my box of tricks. I found the folder and set it on the table. Shepherd’s face remained neutral. I pulled out my reading glasses. “Do you remember a woman named Shirley Parker?”

  “No.”

&nbs
p; I opened the folder. “Her husband, Scott, was vice president of Marketing at Crowe Inc. for twenty years. He worked directly for your mother.”

  “I don’t remember him.”

  “Well, his wife remembers you. One event in particular stuck out in her mind. It occurred when you were seven years old at a Christmas party your mother threw. Shirley remembers you creeping down the stairs and hiding under the buffet table. Remember yet?”

  “No.”

  “Apparently you got thirsty and decided to sneak some eggnog. You peeked your little eyes out to make sure the coast was clear and served yourself. Unfortunately, one of the waiters wasn’t watching where he was going and bumped into you. Champagne and eggnog went flying right onto your mother’s white carpet. Your mother was, and I quote Mrs. Parker here, ‘as red as a beet. I’ve never seen a woman in a dress and heels move as fast as Louisa did that night. She grabbed that little boy’s arm and tugged him into the kitchen. The entire party could hear that boy’s screams as his mother paddled him. I heard plates crashing, too. Louisa was shouting like a wild woman, saying words that I couldn’t repeat. It must have gone on for five whole minutes.

  “ ‘Then she came out of that kitchen as if nothing happened. Didn’t have a hair out of place. When she had her back to me I slipped into the kitchen. What a mess! White shards from the plates covered the whole floor. Poor Jeremy was huddled in a corner, rocking back and forth. Most of the plates had been shattered around him. His legs were welted and bleeding. He had a cut on his head, too. A big gash. I was pretty sure she had thrown the plates at him, poor thing. I tried to comfort him, but he just pulled away, whimpering like an animal. My husband finally came in and told me to leave him alone. There wasn’t anything I could do for him, so I left. That was the worst, but I saw her strike him quite a few times, especially when he’d stutter. That drove her crazy. That poor, poor boy.’ ”

  His poker face had resurfaced. I lowered the file and removed my glasses. “While Agent Hudson and I were interviewing you yesterday, we sent out some of our people to talk to your and your mother’s acquaintances. Care to hear some more horror stories? We’ve got quite a few. Your mother made a lasting impression on several people. Her temper and ruthlessness are legendary. She still Mother Fucking Teresa?”