Under Suspicion

by Lee, Rachel

  Anna was even beginning to invade his dreams at night, and that annoyed him no end. It wasn’t that he didn’t occasionally dream about his cases. Naturally he did. But he didn’t dream about them the way he was dreaming about Anna.

  Annoyed with himself, he picked up the phone and called Nancy back. She picked up as soon as it started ringing.

  “It’s Gil,” he said, recognizing her voice. “What’s up?”

  “It’s a back door,” Nancy said.

  “What? Someone’s at your back door?”

  “No, no.” She sighed. “Sorry, I’ve been thinking about it so much that I’m in the middle of my thoughts. Have you ever heard of back doors in software engineering?”

  “Uh… no.”

  “Well, programmers, and sometimes hardware designers, often leave them. Sometimes they have legitimate reasons for doing so, and sometimes it’s a just a proprietary feeling, a sense of getting away with something. Anyway, the purpose is to give them easy access to the system.”

  “So what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying someone could have used a back door to bypass the alarm system.”

  “Damn,” said Gil. The sluggish wheels in his brain began whirring up to top speed. “Why wouldn’t the security people mention the possibility?”

  “Maybe because they don’t know it’s there,” said Nancy. “Or maybe because they don’t want anyone else to know it’s there.”

  Dinah Hudson, Gil thought. She’d be in a prime position to know how to circumvent the system. They hadn’t really looked at her because she had a long track record with her company, and the track record was good. Besides, she was a paperwork designer, not an actual programmer or technician.

  But, he thought, she could have left a hole somewhere in the plans. Maybe. He couldn’t imagine that her work wasn’t reviewed. “How do we find it?” he asked Nancy.

  “Well, you could ask the security company but…”

  “But they might not want to find it.”

  “Or you could ask me,” she said. “I’m pretty damn good with this stuff. But we’ll need at least some cooperation from the security company.”

  “I’ll arrange it,” said Gil.

  “Great, but I won’t be able to get started before this evening,” said Nancy. “Anna’s having a security system installed here, too. I doubt they’ll be done before late afternoon.”

  “Well, I won’t be able to get anything set up that fast, I’m sure. I’ll give you a call.”

  * * *

  Tebbins’s reaction was different. “How convenient,” he said from his cell phone. The sounds of traffic could be heard. “Anna has a sister who can break into the security system, a sister who just manages to turn up unexpectedly within a few hours of the theft.”

  “I didn’t say Nancy could break into the system. All I said was she thinks she might be able to find a back door. Why in the hell would she offer if she was responsible for the break-in to begin with?”

  Tebbins chuckled. “Come off it, Garcia. Maybe she just wants to wow us. Some criminals need the applause.”

  Gil refrained from answering by clenching his jaw.

  “Okay, I’m up for it,” Tebbins said after a couple of moments. “Maybe she’ll trip herself up.”

  When Gil disconnected, he tried to tell himself that Tebbins’s attitude was a good check on his own. But that didn’t mean that he liked it.

  The security technicians finished installing the alarm system in Anna’s house by six-thirty. They ran a test, setting off the siren a couple of times. Anna was certain it could be heard all the way to the other end of the block. The cops watching the house were bored and curious, so they hung around watching the process.

  It wasn’t perfect, though. “It’s not completely foolproof,” the technician admitted as he explained the functioning. “Someone has to open a door or window to set off the alarm. Breaking a window won’t do it.”

  “We’d hear that anyway,” Anna said. “What about the phone line being cut?”

  “That’ll set it off. If you lose all voltage on your phone

  line, your system will go off and we’ll get an alarm on our end, too. We dispatch the police immediately, in that case.”

  Anna was satisfied. It was better than nothing. She wrote a large check that meant she was going to have to dip into her savings by the end of the month, and saw the men off.

  “Feel better?” Nancy asked.

  “No way.” Marching into the kitchen, Anna pulled Tebbins’s card off the phone and called his number, leaving a message for him. He was back to her in five minutes.

  “What’s going on?” he asked. “More daggers? Another prowler? Two sleeping cops out front?”

  “I’m in no mood for your warped sense of humor.”

  “Too bad.” He sighed. “I guess that means nothing major has happened. What’s up?”

  “I want to know exactly what’s going on with this case.”

  He hesitated, and Anna was acutely aware of it. He didn’t want to talk to her about it. The anger that had been simmering in her all day erupted again.

  “Look, Clarence,” she said.

  “Call me Tebbins. Call me Tebbie—which I hate—but absolutely do not call me Clarence.”

  Anna pulled back from the phone a little bit, wondering how this guy’s brain worked. “Fine. Tebbins. I want to know what’s happening. And I’m entitled to know because I’m the victim.”

  He sighed. “You’re also a prime suspect.”

  “I still have a right to know what you’re doing. And if you won’t tell me, I’m going to find someone who can make you tell me. I’m a prisoner in my own house, for God’s sake. I’ve had to install an alarm system. I’m in fear for my life. And if you had enough to arrest me, you would have already done so. So I want a report.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “Tell you what. I’m in the middle of making dinner. Hang on for an hour or so, and I’ll come over and talk with you.”

  “Thank you,” Anna said with dignity, and hung up.

  “Whew,” Nancy said. “Are you sure you want to annoy that guy?”

  “He’s annoying me. And I have had enough. If this jackass can’t find the creep, I’m going to do it.”

  Nancy grinned. “Mm-mm, girl. Now you’re talking.”

  It was nearly dusk. The watcher, quite brilliantly he thought, was coming slowly down the sidewalk, wearing shorts and a tank top, and bouncing a basketball. He took his time about it, pretending to be involved in practicing various moves. It gave him a thrill to know he was approaching the police who were supposed to catch him.

  His palms grew a little sweaty, and he paused to wipe them on his shorts. Nobody was paying him any attention. But then they rarely did. They were going to be sorry for not having noticed him all these months.

  But as soon as he had the thought, he felt creepy. This wasn’t about him. This was about protecting himself from the curse.

  Feeling suddenly queasy, he sat down using the basketball for a seat. Pretending to tie his shoe, he bent over and fiddled with the laces.

  Like a piercing ray of light in the darkness of his mind, a question struck him: What the hell was he doing?

  The moment of clarity chilled him to his very bones, and left him feeling weak. His head sagged to his knees as he sought the strength to continue doing what he knew to be necessary.

  He had spent most of his childhood in Mexico, although he wasn’t Mexican. His father, an American, had worked in management for various petroleum enterprises and had made a good life for himself in Mexico. They had a gracious home, a maid, a gardener, and a cook who were locals. They were always a little apart… except for their son who, having grown up speaking colloquial Spanish even better than he spoke English, had naturally become steeped in local culture and belief, thus fitting in far more naturally.

  It had been a good time for the watcher. He had many friends whose mothers treated him as if he were another member o
f the family. He’d run freely on village streets, under the watchful eyes of neighbors, safer than he could possibly have realized.

  Until the discovery of Pocal’s tomb when he was twelve. Then the days had darkened with low-voiced conversations among the parents of his friends, conversations that he and the other boys were not supposed to hear.

  But he and his friends heard them and talked about them among themselves. The curse. The adults were afraid, and wondered what ill would befall the American consultants and the archaeologists who had desecrated the tomb. Talk centered around illnesses and even plagues, and the adults feared a plague might sicken them, too, even though they weren’t directly involved. They worried more that their children would suffer because the legend said the curse struck unto the second generation.

  These were people who went to Christian churches and celebrated Christian holidays in a way that harkened back to their Mayan roots, roots to which they clung closely. For many, the Christian god was just one of many gods.

  The boys’ heads filled with these tales, and the watcher was no different. In his heart he was as much Mayan as any of them. Fear darkened even the brightest summer days.

  Then the explosion. The watcher had been taking a bath in the luxurious tub with running water that was something of a marvel locally. It was a huge cast-iron tub with clawed feet, the likes of which he’d only seen in movies since.

  He had felt the rumbling, and had known it was an earthquake as he watched the water slosh wildly in the tub, nearly jumping out onto the asphalt-tiled floor. He heard his mother scream. Then came a huge rumble that turned the world topsy-turvy. The last thing he remembered was the feeling that he was flying.

  When they found him, he was under the overturned tub, dehydrated and scared almost witless. His home was gone, his parents were gone, and the entire village was burned to the ground. He wasn’t supposed to see as they carried him out, but he did. He saw the grotesquely twisted and burned bodies of the people who had been his friends and protectors.

  He had never forgotten, and even after he was shipped back to the States to live with an aunt and uncle, he had felt the curse hovering over him, waiting for the moment to strike.

  Then, like an answer from the jaguar god, he had learned that Anna’s father had been on the pipeline team that had found Pocal’s tomb. In an instant, it had become perfectly clear to him. He must offer her heart to appease the jaguar god.

  “Are you okay, buddy?”

  Startled, he lifted his head and found one of the cops who were watching Anna’s house staring down at him.

  For an instant he was rattled, almost panicked. Then, as if some blessing came down from on high, the answer was there.

  “I think I’m a little dehydrated. Tough game.”

  The cop nodded. “Want me to call an ambulance?”

  “I think I can make it home.” The watcher managed a shrug. “I forgot to take my Gatorade with me.”

  “Hang on a minute. I’ve got some bottled water in the car.”

  That sense of pleasant thrill came back to the watcher. It was a sign, he thought. A good sign. He was doing the right thing. And he was invincible.

  The cop gave him a liter bottle of water, chilled from an ice chest in the trunk. “Drink it before you try to go home,” he said to the watcher.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it.”

  “No problem, buddy.”

  Which was how the watcher came to be sitting in plain sight, with an unobstructed view of Anna’s house when Tebbins pulled up.

  Sipping his water, he watched as Tebbins approached the cops. They talked about him, he knew, because Tebbins and the cop both looked his way. But Tebbins apparently accepted the explanation and recrossed the street to go into Anna’s house.

  He put his head down quickly when Anna opened the door, not wanting her to notice and recognize him. Although she probably wouldn’t. He was one of those unmemorable people, which had always galled him, but now it was a great advantage. Out of context, she probably wouldn’t even think he was familiar.

  The water was gone, and he no longer had an excuse to linger. Standing, he picked up the ball and continued his walk down the street. This time he didn’t dribble the ball or pretend to practice any fancy moves. As he passed the cops, he nodded to the guy who’d given him the water. “Thanks a bunch,” he called out.

  The cop waved, then went back to his conversation with the other officer.

  Invisible. He was invisible. A fierce joy began to fill him, along with a sense of power.

  Too bad he was going to have to kill Anna. He liked her. He admired her. But that was part of the price he would have to pay.

  He was just rounding the corner, escaping the gaze of the cops, when it struck him that maybe he wasn’t worrying enough about Tebbins and the St. Pete cop. He’d figured that Anna would be one of their top suspects by now, but maybe she wasn’t. Because if she was, what was Garcia doing having dinner with her, and what was Tebbins doing visiting her on a Friday evening?

  A prickle of fear filled him. He might have to do something about those cops, too.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Tebbins always had a sense of disorientation upon first sight of the Lundgren sisters. They were so much alike at a glance that it always threw him. After a few minutes he could tell who was who by their differences in voice and expression, but it always baffled him at first. He’d known identical twins before, but none so alike that he wasn’t able to fix on some landscape feature, such as a small mole, to tell them apart.

  Anna and Nancy didn’t have any such helpful markings. It had been easy the first day, when their taste in clothing had set them clearly apart, but sitting here now in identical khaki shorts and matching royal blue halter tops, they might have been duplicate photocopies.

  Until he realized that Anna was looking irritably at him, and Nancy was looking eagerly at him, sort of like a wolf eyeing a juicy piece of meat. Neither of their expressions made him any more comfortable.

  “Do you two always dress alike?” he asked.

  Nancy answered. “Only this week. I’m trying to make it harder for a killer to identify my sister—which I wouldn’t have to do if you were doing your job.”

  “I am doing my job.”

  “No, you’re not,” Anna said firmly. “Your mind is already made up. You think I did it. Or that Nancy did it. Or that we both did it together. What you don’t think is that someone else is doing this.”

  He gave her a grumpy look and tugged hard on his moustache. “Now you claim to read minds?”

  “It’s not hard. You’ve stopped doing any investigating at the museum, you’re not checking out the security system any further. Therefore, you think you already know who, and all you have to do is wait until you catch me red-handed somehow and I’ll explain the how of it. But you’re wrong, Tebbins. I didn’t do it. So why the hell aren’t you checking out the hows anymore?”

  “We are.”

  “Yeah, right.” She settled back in her chair and regarded him disapprovingly. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what you’re doing?”

  “I can’t. It would compromise an ongoing investigation.”

  “Sure.” She compressed her lips. “Let me guess. You’re doing background checks galore, which won’t tell you a damn thing except who took a joyride in high school and who has a shoplifting record. Unless, of course, you stumble on someone who’s been charged with robbing a museum before.”

  “That’s routine…”

  “Right. Routine. What I’m concerned about is the non-routine things you’re not doing.”

  “I can’t discuss that. Except, of course, we’re going to give Nancy a chance to look for this back door she told Garcia about.”

  “Cool beans,” Nancy said. “When?”

  “Sunday. The security company needs that long to set it up with the techs.”

  Nancy frowned. “And maybe hide the evidence.”

  “Trust me,” Tebbins said, “we’r
e making sure they don’t have access to the system.”

  “Except over the phone line.” Nancy slapped her hand on the arm of the sofa. “Brilliant, Watson.”

  Tebbins sighed. “Holmes never said that, you know.”

  “Really?” Nancy rolled her eyes.

  Tebbins twisted one end of his moustache around a finger. “There’s a lot to be done in a case like this. We can’t do it all at once. Nor can we afford to rush ahead in ways that might cost us important information. You ladies will just have to be patient.”

  Anna spoke. “Have you even reviewed the surveillance tapes from the night of the robbery?”

  “Certainly we have. And we haven’t discovered any anomalies. Unfortunately, there are some gaps.”

  “Gaps?” Anna leaned forward.

  “As I’m sure you know, there is no surveillance in any of the offices, bathrooms, or the break room, and none in the hallways in the office areas.”

  “Major oversight,” Nancy muttered.

  “Actually not,” Anna answered, turning to her sister. “It was explained when we put in the system. People refuse to work in places where they feel they’re being constantly watched, and they won’t eat in the presence of cameras. So…”

  “Cripes,” Nancy sighed.

  “Exactly,” Tebbins said. “So we have the problem of the guard disappearing a number of times during his shift. We also have the problem of the surveillance cameras in the exhibit showing that no one entered all night.”

  Anna threw up a hand. “Then obviously they were doctored.”

  “Obviously,” Tebbins said drily. “Another so-called impossibility. We’re still trying to figure out how it was done. Maybe Nancy can show us.”

  Nancy looked at her sister. “I don’t like the way he said that.”

  “Me neither.”

  Tebbins shrugged. “Right now everyone is suspect.”

  “But mostly me,” Anna said. “And I’m supposed to feel safe because you have two cars parked in front of my house. It didn’t make me safe last night, did it?”