Last Words

by Mariah Stewart

  “Sure. Just give me a minute.”

  “I’ll be next door.”

  Mia packed her notes into her oversized leather shoulder bag and looked inside for her phone. She listened to several messages, one from her brother Andrew, and one from a friend from the office wanting to know when they could get together for dinner. She saved both to return later.

  “Do you mind if we walk?” Beck asked when Mia came into his office.

  “Not at all.”

  He glanced at her feet as he came around the desk, and Mia smiled.

  “It’s the shoes, isn’t it?” She was clearly amused. “You’re wondering how I can walk in them.”

  “It crossed my mind.”

  “Nothing to it.” She walked ahead of him into the hall. “You just put one foot in front of the other.”

  Beck laughed and tapped Garland on the shoulder as he passed by and held up his cell, to let him know he was leaving the building but had his phone. Garland nodded, never missing a beat in his conversation.

  “Damn, but it’s hot,” Beck said when they’d walked outside.

  “At least we’ll be in the shade most of the way.”

  They walked in silence for a moment, then both started to talk at the same time.

  “So what did you think-”

  “How do you suppose-”

  “Go on,” Beck said.

  “I was just wondering what you thought of Annie’s assessment of your killer.”

  “She said pretty much what you did. That the guy is a control freak, that the whole restraint and rape thing is acting out a fantasy. I didn’t hear anything that surprised me, but I think when we catch this guy, we’ll find him to be pretty much the way she described him.”

  “Your mayor didn’t appear to think so.”

  “Christina can be a hard-ass sometimes. I think she was looking for more of a portrait than a profile. Plus Dr. McCall may have struck a nerve. I hear her son was a handful when he was younger.”

  “Has he straightened out any?”

  “He better have. I think he’s got his eye on my sister.”

  Beck paused when they reached the corner. “What are you in the mood for?”

  “I eat just about everything,” she told him. “Where do you usually go?”

  “Lola’s. She has a nice variety, so chances are you’ll find something that suits you.”

  “Great. Lola’s it is. Which way?”

  “This way.” Beck started to the left, and Mia followed.

  Café Lola was a half block away in a centuries-old brick house that had two dining rooms facing Charles Street and a second, smaller room overlooking a narrow courtyard where several tables had been set up.

  “Inside where it’s cool, or outside in the shade?” the cheery hostess asked after greeting Beck.

  “Cool. Definitely.” Beck turned to Mia. “Unless you’d rather sit out in the courtyard?”

  “Inside. Please. If God wanted us to sit out back and sweat our butts off, He wouldn’t have invented air conditioning.”

  “A table inside would be fine, Hannah,” Beck told the hostess.

  “What’s good here?” Mia asked once they were seated and she’d scanned the menu.

  “Any seafood is good. The specials are usually great. Lola buys right off the boats when they come in early in the morning.”

  “There really is a Lola?” Mia folded her menu and placed it on the table.

  “Right over there in the doorway.” Beck nodded his head slightly to the left, and Mia turned in her seat.

  “The woman in the chef’s apron? Tall, thin, white hair?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not to be obnoxious, but she appears to be, oh, roughly, one hundred years old.”

  “Close. She’s ninety-one.”

  “Ninety-one! And she’s still running a restaurant?”

  “Says she’s not retiring for another four years. And then,” Beck said, grinning, “she’s going on a world cruise.”

  “I’m betting she makes it,” Mia said, a touch of awe in her voice.

  “Oh, she’ll make it, all right. She still walks down to the docks every day, waits for the boats to come in, looks over the catch, picks out what she wants. The old guys give her first pick. If she’s late, they wait for her. The other restaurants don’t like it, but there’s not much they can do about it.”

  The door opened and Mia looked up.

  “Isn’t that your sister?” she asked.

  Beck turned around.

  “Yeah. And speak of the devil…” he muttered.

  “The devil?” Mia frowned.

  “Hi, Beck.” Vanessa waved and headed in their direction, a dark-haired man following in her wake.

  “Hey, Ness. Who’s minding the store?” Beck greeted her, then turned to his sister’s companion and nodded. “Mickey.”

  “Cindy came in early today. Hello, Agent…Shields, was it?” Vanessa smiled at Mia.

  “Yes. It’s Mia. Nice to see you again.” Mia returned the smile.

  “This is Mickey Forbes.” Vanessa introduced Mia to the dark-haired man.

  “Good to meet you.” He showed a lot of very white teeth. “I heard the FBI was called in. Working with the chief here on that psycho killer we’ve got running around, right?”

  “Ahhh…yeah.”

  “So what’s the latest on that?” Mickey leaned toward Beck. “I heard you had a profiler looking over the case. Was that cool or what?”

  “Cool. Yes, indeed, it was cool.” Beck nodded slowly.

  “So what did she say? You get a bead on this guy?”

  “More or less,” Beck told him.

  “You have the coolest job, I always tell Ness, boy, if I could only be your brother-”

  “There’s always the police academy, Mick,” Beck said.

  “Yeah, I think about it, you know? But there’s child support and that sort of thing.” Mick shook his head side to side. “The timing isn’t good.”

  “Doesn’t appear to be,” Beck replied. He turned to Vanessa. “I think Hannah has your table ready.”

  Vanessa looked over her shoulder. “Oh. Right.” She turned back to Mia and said, “Don’t forget to stop in sometime. I’ll give you a great price on that bag I saw you eyeing in the window.”

  “I might do that. Thanks.”

  “See you later, Beck. Mia.” Mickey followed Vanessa to their table on the opposite side of the room.

  “You don’t care for him much, do you?” Mia asked when they’d gotten out of hearing range.

  “No. Didn’t like him before he started going out with my sister, don’t like him any more now that he is.”

  “Any particular reason?”

  “I think he’s a hothead and a lady’s man. He’s been separated from his wife for less than a year, and he acts as if he was never married. Vanessa needs a guy like him like she needs a hole in her head.” Beck crossed his arm over his chest. “And believe me, that’s the last thing she needs.”

  “She seems pretty steady to me, not at all like an airhead.”

  “Airhead might be too strong,” he conceded. “Let’s just say she doesn’t have very sound judgment when it comes to men. Her track record isn’t too good.”

  “Well, we’ve all made mistakes in that area at one time or another.”

  “Two disastrous marriages by the time she was twenty-two is one mistake too many in my book.”

  “Two? Ouch.”

  “Yeah. Big ouch.”

  “Guess you didn’t think much of either of them.”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t have, had I met them.”

  “You never met your sister’s husbands?”

  “I didn’t even know I had a sister until about two years ago.”

  “How could you not know?” Mia frowned as an elderly waiter stopped by their table to take their orders.

  “What’s the catch of the day, Jim?” Beck asked.

  “Best blue-claws this side of the bay. Lola says she’s rea
dy to steam up a bunch of ’em just for you, Chief.”

  “That’s a tough offer to resist, but I have a meeting in about an hour, and every time I eat crabs, I end up making a mess.”

  “Well, I guess we can’t take you anywhere, can we?” The waiter chuckled.

  “I’m afraid you’re right. Lola can save me some of those steamers for later, though.” Beck smiled.

  “We can do that, and right now we can send out a big plate of crabs and spaghetti for you and your friend.”

  “That sounds wonderful. I’m in,” Mia told him.

  “Chief?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “You want a cold glass of beer with that?” Jim asked.

  “Now, James, you know I’m working. What would people say if they saw the chief of police sitting here drinking in the middle of the day?”

  “You have that big plate of spaghetti in front of you, they’ll say, Jimmy, bring me some of what he’s got.”

  Beck laughed and handed over the menus.

  “I’ll bring over some iced teas then, if that’s all right.”

  “That’s fine for me.” Beck looked at Mia, and she nodded.

  “Now, is he a contemporary of Miss Lola’s?” Mia asked after Jimmy disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Nah. He’s just a young pup. Barely eighty.”

  “Sounds as if someone in St. Dennis has discovered the secret to longevity.”

  “Unfortunately, some life spans have been shorter than others,” he reminded her.

  “How do you suppose Mickey found out about Annie being here this morning? I know some towns have a great grapevine, but that’s pretty fast even for a small town like this one.”

  “I’m guessing his mother told him,” Beck said dryly.

  “His…” Mia’s eyes widened. “You mean Mayor Pratt?”

  “Right.”

  “Different last name,” she said. “Divorce, remarriage?”

  “You’re pretty quick for a fed.” He leaned back while their drinks were served. “Sorry. No offense intended.”

  “None taken.” Mia looked across the room to where Vanessa was engaged in an animated conversation with Mickey Forbes. “Did you notice she was taking notes this morning?”

  “Was she?”

  “How discreet is she? I mean, is she the type who’d leave her notebook on the kitchen table for anyone to pick up?”

  “I hope not. I’ll remind her, though.”

  “Why is she so involved in this investigation?” Mia frowned. “I don’t remember the last time I saw an elected official sit in on a case conference.”

  “Under our town charter, the mayor is in charge of public safety, which means the police department. Technically, we answer to her. Fortunately, she stays out of my way for the most part, but she does feel her position gives her the right to know what’s going on with any case at any time. I have no grounds to argue with her, so generally, I don’t. I think she’s more involved with this case because it’s caused such a firestorm and she’s gotten a lot of calls from residents. I guess they feel if the killer can get that close to the chief of police, no one is safe. And they’d be right.”

  “What does he do for a living?” She watched Mickey Forbes from across the room. “And please don’t tell me he’s in real estate.”

  “No, he’s not-he sells luxury cars and owns a sporting goods store-but his father is in real estate.”

  Mia raised an eyebrow.

  “Commercial real estate. He owns a lot of rentals here in town and built a few of those strip malls you passed on the way into town.”

  “Do you think Mickey fits the profile?”

  “Good Lord, don’t even put that idea in my head. The last thing I want to think about is my little sister dating a serial killer.” Beck rested both forearms on the table and stared at Mickey Forbes from across the room for a long time. Finally, he said, “Jesus, I guess just about anyone in this room fits it in some way.”

  He exhaled and took a long drink of water.

  “The guy in the yellow shirt over there at the bar? Carl Jackson? He’s the town Realtor. Last I heard, he was renting properties over in the beach communities. The guy next to him? He lost custody of his kids to his ex-wife after he was brought in on domestic abuse charges.” Beck seemed to know everyone in the place. “The guy in the plaid pants? He still lives with his mother over on St. Mary’s Place. Never married. Momma never liked any of the girls he brought home. He turned fifty-one last week and Momma is still buying his clothes.”

  He looked across the table at Mia. “If that isn’t control, I don’t know what is.”

  “You checking them out?”

  “Sure. Jackson, however, as you may notice, weighs about three hundred pounds and he’s pushing fifty. He’s on crutches a lot because his knees are taking a pounding. You think he’s capable of carrying anyone anywhere?”

  “Well, there is the real-estate connection, maybe someone in his office…”

  “Only person he employs is his wife. And frankly, we both know the condo, the beach house, were most likely bait. Those places might not even exist.”

  “True. If you’re planning on killing someone, lying about owning a condo at the beach probably isn’t a real issue.”

  “The truth is, you start breaking down a group, you’re going to find a number of men who can fit the profile. So you tell me, how do you start to eliminate some and focus on the others?” he asked. “How do you cull from that herd?”

  “Actually, the herd will start to cull itself,” she told him. “Like Annie says, sooner or later, he’ll lead you to him.”

  “How many more women are going to die between now and then, Agent Shields?” His face hardened.

  “I can’t answer that,” she told him, “and it’s Mia, please.”

  “All right, Mia. How do we get him to identify himself?”

  “You’ve scheduled your meeting for tonight, right?”

  He nodded.

  “Let’s see who shows up. Let’s see who shows the most interest. Open the meeting to Q and A, see who asks the most questions, who makes suggestions. Maybe we can start to make a list of people to take a closer look at.”

  “You really think that’s going to work?”

  “You have a better idea?”

  “In the absence of any physical evidence, I guess not.”

  “By the way, we have agents assigned to track down and interview the victims of those beach assaults from two, three years ago. I’ll let you know as soon as we have something on them.”

  “Terrific. Would love to get a description out of them.”

  “Be honest. You’re hoping the descriptions of the rapists in all three cases match up, and you’re hoping to get a name out of it.”

  “Yeah, but I’m also hoping to win the lottery next week. That probably won’t happen, either.”

  Beck’s phone rang, and he answered it immediately. He said little, then finally, “Thanks. Thanks for staying on it.”

  He placed the phone on the table and told Mia, “That was Lisa. She received the dental records on Holly Sheridan and drove them out to Dr. Reilly. She waited to see what Viv would have to say, and she didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out. Holly Sheridan apparently had extensive reconstructive work done after a riding accident when she was fourteen. All of her teeth on the left side, top and bottom, had crowns. All Viv had to do was open the girl’s mouth and look.”

  “Crowns?”

  “Capped north and south.”

  “Well, at least we know for certain.”

  “Yeah, and so should Holly’s family.” Beck stared at the mountain of pasta in front of him. “Look, if you wouldn’t mind, I think I need to get back up to the office.”

  “I don’t mind,” she told him.

  “Sorry to bail on you…”

  “Don’t apologize. I understand completely. Go on. I’ll finish up and meet you back there.”

  He started to signal for the check, bu
t Mia stopped him.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got it. Just go. Do what you have to do.”

  “Thanks.” Beck stood and pocketed his phone. “I’ll see you back at the station.”

  Mia nodded and watched him leave the restaurant, his face darkening with every step he took.

  He’s thinking about what he’s going to tell the Sheridans, she thought. What could be worse than calling a mother and father to let them know their child has been positively identified as a murder victim? Mia shivered. It was a call she’d had to make several times herself, and she knew just how hard the next half hour or so was going to be for Beck.

  She picked at the food on the plate in front of her, her appetite gone, but not wanting to leave the restaurant to head back to the municipal building. She was pushing a chunk of crabmeat around with her fork when a shadow crossed her table.

  She looked up to see Daniel Sinclair approaching.

  “Agent Shields, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, Mr. Sinclair. Nice to see you again.”

  “Ah, I see Jimmy talked you into the crabs and spaghetti.”

  “He did. And they definitely live up to their reputation.”

  “I’ve been trying forever to talk Jimmy into leaving Lola and coming to work for me, but he’ll have none of it.” Dan Sinclair paused and added, “Actually, I’ve tried to talk Lola into coming and cooking for me when she retires, but she keeps putting off giving me an answer.”

  “Word is that Lola’s planning on a long cruise when she retires,” Mia repeated what Beck had told her.

  “Oh, I meant after the cruise.” Sinclair smiled.

  “Well, good luck with that.”

  “There’s talk of a meeting at the community center tonight,” he said. “Do you know anything about that?”

  “Yes, I think Beck mentioned seven thirty, but you might want to check with the station. And I think they’re going to give the information to the local news stations so that as many people as possible hear about it. I suspect there will be some information on the early local news.”