Razzamatazz (A Crime Novel)

by Sandra Scoppettone

  Although Bay View's police department was autonomous, technically they were under the authority of Seaville Township, and Colin could see that Webb was already thinking about dumping this mess into Hallock's lap.

  "What do you think, Chief?" Colin asked.

  "I dunno. Maybe a Ten-Three. She probably surprised him. The window in the back was open."

  Colin knew it was no Ten-Three. "Don't you think the A on her chest means it was something other than a burglary?" he asked gently, not wanting to offend.

  "All I got is you saying these cuts are an A. How the hell do I know what's what when I get no official word? A, he tells me." Webb walked away, watched the fingerprint men sprinkling powder on the window ledge.

  "Hey, Chief," Reeves said, "I couldn't get Hallock, but they said he's on his way."

  Webb snarled, "Chief Hallock."

  "Yeah, Chief Hallock," he repeated, not understanding.

  Colin walked into the other room, away from the body, to where a white-faced Russell Cooper was sitting. The man was in shock, Colin could tell—could remember. A good newspaperman would interview him; he would have before, but not now. He couldn't do it, intrude like that. Maybe he'd have to find some other work. Jesus, who thought there were going to be murders out here in the sticks? It was the whole point in coming, and now it was getting to be like some nightmare.

  Hallock and Charlie Copin arrived looking serious. When they saw the A they would know they had a serial murderer on their hands. Colin followed them to the back, keeping far enough away so he didn't have to see her again, saying nothing, listening.

  "Ed."

  "Waldo."

  "What've we got?"

  "A Ten-Five."

  "I know that. Lemme see." Hallock bent down, knees cracking. "Christ. Look at this, Charlie."

  Copin leaned over. "Same fucking thing."

  Webb asked, "What's that?"

  "An A. See." Hallock traced the line of the A in the air, above Ruth Cooper's chest.

  "Maybe," Ed said.

  Hallock said, "It's no maybe, Ed. That's an A, all right." He turned to Colin. "What did Griffing say the A might be?"

  "A for Adulteress."

  "I dunno," Hallock said, standing up. "What do you think, Charlie?"

  "Could mean anything, Chief. Well, one thing we know, he ain't gonna go through the alphabet." Charlie grinned.

  "Swell. Just twenty-six A’s, huh?"

  "I didn't think of that," Charlie admitted soberly.

  "Where the hell's the M.E.?" Hallock asked.

  Ed said, "We called him. Didn't you, Reeves?"

  "Who, me?"

  "Jesus fucking Christ! Get on that phone and call him now, you shit-for-brains moron!" Webb yelled.

  Reeves said defensively, "I got the I.B. boys here."

  "You want a medal?"

  "No, I just... ah, shit."

  Colin blinked as a flashbulb went off. He didn't know any of the men from the identification bureau and stayed out of their way. He wondered what more he could learn by hanging around, knew he didn't dare leave. But the smell of blood was getting to him. Making him think of Nancy. He wished he could recall the perfume she wore instead, but he never could. It was the smell of blood he would forever identify with her, not Je Reviens.

  Casually, he sat on the top step of three that went down to the back room. His head was throbbing; his eyes ached. He wrote some details in his notebook.

  Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Hubbard, the M.E., came in and went past Colin down to where the body was. Another fifteen minutes passed before he heard the ambulance pull up. When the men came in with the gurney, Colin got up from his spot on the steps, making room. It was awhile before they took her out, but when they did Russell Cooper spoke to Colin.

  "Should I go with them? Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

  Colin felt for him, put a hand on his arm. "No. They're taking her to the morgue. There'll be an autopsy."

  "Autopsy?"

  "Yeah." He knew that Cooper was wondering why. It was clear how she died. Colin remembered wondering that himself. "They have to. It's the law."

  Hallock came over to them. Copin behind him, stood to the side, his notebook and pencil ready.

  Hallock said, "I'd like to ask you a couple of questions, Russ."

  "Okay."

  "Have you or Ruth received any threatening letters or telephone calls in the last month or so?"

  Cooper ran his tongue over his dry lips. "No. Nothing like that."

  "Would any of the girls who worked for Ruth have anything against her? Maybe one of them wanted a raise, and Ruth wouldn't give it to her? Anything like that?"

  "I don't think so. Ruth would've mentioned it if there'd been any trouble. Wait a minute. Sondra Segal wanted to take her vacation the same time Jane Williams wanted to take hers. Ruth had approved Jane's time way back, so Sondra lost out."

  "Was she mad about that?"

  "Who?"

  Hallock turned to Copin. Copin consulted his notes. "Segal. Sondra Segal."

  Russ answered, "More annoyed than mad, I think."

  Hallock gave Copin a look as if to say, check her out anyway. "Anybody else besides those two work for your wife?"

  "No. That's all."

  "Okay. I understand Ruth always came to the store on Sundays, is that right?"

  "Right after church."

  "Who knew about that?"

  "Just about everybody, I guess. It wasn't a secret or anything," Russ explained.

  "You mean, everybody at your church knew?"

  "I guess. Other people, too. Other friends."

  "Could you make up a list of all the people who knew about Ruth coming to the store on Sundays, Russ?"

  He nodded, shoulders drooping as if even the thought of the task was too much for him.

  Copin asked, "You or your wife owe anybody money?"

  "We never borrowed. Ruthie doesn't—didn't—believe in buying things you couldn't pay for." He coughed, and passed a hand over his face trying to disguise his watery eyes.

  Hallock said, "Okay, that's all, thanks very much. Get that list to us soon as you can." He squeezed Cooper's shoulder. "Sorry about this, Russ."

  Hallock and Copin walked away, leaving Colin alone with Cooper.

  "What should I do now?" Russ asked Colin, tears springing to his eyes.

  "Why don't you go home, Mr. Cooper. Or to a friend's. Is there somebody I can call for you?"

  "I don't know." He rubbed his temples as if an answer would appear, like in a crystal ball. "Maybe Annie."

  "Annie?"

  "My minister. Yes, Annie. Could you call her?"

  Colin hesitated for only a moment. "Do you know her number?"

  After a few false starts, Cooper gave it to him. Colin told him to sit down, and went across the street to the public phone in the parking lot. It rang four times before she answered.

  Colin identified himself, then said, "This isn't a social call."

  "Okay," she said.

  "You know Ruth and Russell Cooper?"

  "Yes."

  He didn't know how to tell her gently. "Ruth's been murdered. In her store. He's there now and asked me to call you. I..."

  "I'll be right there." She hung up.

  Colin slowly walked back across the street. A few people were standing around rubbernecking. He'd been so intent on making his call to Annie Winters he hadn't noticed them before.

  A man stopped him. "What's going on, son?"

  "I can't help you. Sorry," Colin responded.

  Back inside, he went over to Cooper and told him Annie was on her way.

  Cooper said, "Why would anyone want to kill Ruthie?"

  Jesus, Colin wondered, did every survivor say the same thing about their murdered loved one? How many times had he heard it? He'd even said it himself. "I don't know, Mr. Cooper," he said, "The police will find out, though."

  "Will they?"

  "They'll try."

  "Was it a burglary?"

&n
bsp; "I don't know." Colin knew it wasn't. He tried desperately to think of something else to say to Cooper but couldn't. His mind was on Gloria Danowski and Ruth Cooper. What did they have in common? Gloria was thirty-one, Ruth must have been in her fifties. "How old was your wife?" he asked.

  "Fifty-six. Same as me. She just celebrated her birthday last week. I won't be fifty-six till Friday. I always kidded her, saying she robbed the cradle." His mouth twisted to the right and then he was sobbing, his face in his hands. Cooper's shoulders heaved and he let out a bellow. Colin couldn't help thinking he sounded like a wounded animal. He wondered if that was how he'd sounded. At a loss as to how to comfort Cooper, he decided to give him privacy. He went over to Hallock and Copin.

  "Got a statement, Chief?"

  "We don't want to panic the people, Maguire. You know what I mean?"

  "I do."

  "Good." He ran thumb and forefinger over his long nose. "Let's say it was a suspected burglary."

  "But it wasn't?"

  "No way. Nothing's gone, not even looked through. Ruth Cooper came here every Sunday after church, somebody knew that. This thing was planned. Got in through the window in back, probably waited for her in her office. Motive? Who the hell knows? Who the hell ever knows with a psycho?"

  "You think that's what he is, a psycho?"

  "Don't you?"

  "It looks that way. You know, Chief, it's one thing not to panic people and another to try and make them cautious."

  "You can do one without the other. We don't know enough yet to make any judgments about anything."

  "Don't you think you have a serial murderer on your hands?"

  Hallock said, "Two killings don't make a serial, Maguire."

  "What about the A?"

  "What about it?"

  "Any ideas?"

  "Frankly, no."

  "She wasn't raped, was she?" He'd noticed the lower half of Ruth Cooper's clothing hadn't seem disturbed.

  "Offhand I'd say no. We'll have to wait for the M.E.'s report to be definite on that."

  "What do you think about the M.O. being different?"

  "You mean the fact that Danowski was strangled and Cooper's throat was cut?"

  Colin nodded.

  "Don't know. Got to be the same perpetrator though. The A."

  "Could be a copycat killer," Colin offered.

  "Maybe. But I don't think so. Too early for that."

  The front door opened and Reeves stuck his head in. "Annie Winters is here, says Mister Cooper called her."

  "That's right," Colin responded.

  Reeves opened the door wider and Annie came in, went right to Cooper, and put an arm around him.

  "So you'll be careful what you say, Maguire, okay?" Hallock emphasized.

  "Don't worry." He was looking at Annie, watching her tending Cooper. He liked what he saw.

  Hallock and Copin left. Colin thought there was nothing more for him to do, but he wanted to speak to Annie. She was helping Cooper up, leading him toward the door. Colin got to it first and opened it for them.

  Annie glanced at him. "Thanks," she said.

  "Anything I can do?" he asked.

  "I don't think so. I'm taking Russ back to the parsonage with me now if anyone needs him."

  He watched them go across the street to Annie's Escort, waiting until they drove off before he got into his own car. What he should do now was to interview the Cooper neighbors, get a line on Mrs. Cooper. Maybe she was sleeping with somebody, too. Maybe the A was for Adulteress. Or maybe A stood for the killer's mother's name. Or his wife's. Or any goddamn thing. Hallock was right: When you were dealing with a psycho there was nothing logical to go after.

  But it was all absolutely logical to the murderer. Colin knew that whoever he was, cutting an A in his victim's chest made perfect sense to him. At this point the only thing they could rule out was that A stood for one. A. What else could it mean?

  And then a stupid ditty from grade school was running through his head. The girls bouncing a ball in time to the words: "A, my name is Alice, my husband's name is Al. We come from Alabama, and we sell apples." It was funny thinking of that after all these years. There was something sad about it, he observed, something making him feel terrible.

  He started his car knowing he wasn't going to interview the Coopers' neighbors or write his story; he was going up to the Sound, to sit and think.

  He took a left off Bay View's main street, drove up to the north road, and headed back to Seaville. There were several farms along the way. Most of them grew cauliflower and potatoes, he'd been told. The road was four lanes here, and you couldn't see the water until it narrowed. He noticed a barn set back from the highway. A sign for Antiques and Junque swung in the breeze at the entry road. He wondered if this was Jim Drew's place. It was funny he'd never taken it in before. He'd have to concentrate on improving his powers of observation.

  The north road became a double lane, and the houses more expensive. Some were old, turn of the century; others, big modern structures. Lilacs were abundant, their lavender blooms splashing color indiscriminately along the way. The purples, pinks, and whites of azalea bushes bordered paths and porches. Finally Colin left the greens of grass and hedges behind as sand became the front lawns of the beach houses.

  Flashes of blue caught his eye as the water became visible. Soon he passed the public beach, empty except for a lone fisherman. He crossed the invisible line between Bay View and Seaville, and the houses immediately became less opulent. A few minutes later, Colin slowed near Orlowski's, the big farm stand, and turned left onto Pointy Rock Road.

  At the end of the street, he parked his car. Sarah Griffing had shown him Snapper Cove a few days after he'd arrived in Seaville. She'd taken him to various spots, driving her own car with Colin following in his. It was amazing how understanding she was about his problem. But women were like that. It was men who couldn't deal with it, didn't want to talk about it. Like Mark. "No need to go into a bunch of details," he'd said when Colin tried to explain, then looked away as if he might catch something if his eyes met Colin's.

  Snapper Cove was in East Haven, the town on the other side of Seaville. Nobody lived on the cove, it was just a high point on the Fork where you could park and look at the view. Looking down at the big boulders on the pebbly beach gave him the feeling he was gazing at the Mediterranean. The water had a greenish cast to it, and the wind created small waves.

  There were no other cars today. Sarah had told him that he'd never be alone there or anywhere else once the season started. More than twenty thousand people swelled the Fork from Memorial Day to Labor Day. Colin didn't look forward to it.

  "A, my name is Annie..." The child's ditty started again. "A, my name is Annie, my husband's name is..." He'd meant to ask Mark what her status was, but had forgotten. The sadness he'd felt earlier pushed up into his chest. What was it? And then he remembered.

  The schoolyard of Our Lady of Sorrows, and Sister Mary Agnes grabbing him by the collar, pulling him away from Patti Ellen Fagan, whom he'd been teasing mercilessly because she couldn't get past "A, my name is Audrey, my husband's name is Arthur." She couldn't think of a place starting with A because Patti Ellen Fagan wasn't your brightest and all the kids knew it.

  "All right, Colin Maguire, that's enough now. You leave Patti Ellen alone."

  "I was just foolin', Sister."

  "You were just a fool, is what you mean. Oh, Colin, I don't know what's gonna become of you. Someday if I read in the paper that you've been arrested for murder I won't be surprised."

  Jesus, he thought, what a thing to say to a kid. He remembered feeling terrible when she'd said that to him, and he felt terrible now. Funny how you could feel the same thing twenty-seven years later, just from recalling a ditty, not even knowing the connection right away.

  But he knew it wasn't childhood rhymes, or Patti Ellen Fagan, or demented nuns that were bothering him. It was the murders, ugly and unsolved. He was wondering again.

  What i
f someone here, other than the Griffings, found out? What would happen then? But no one was going to rake up the whole thing and bring it to the attention of the people in Seaville. As long as he kept his cool, didn't pass out every time a body turned up, he'd be all right. No one would ever have to know that his wife and two children had been murdered and their killer never found. No one ever had to know that.

  TEN

  Colin was twenty-six when he met Nancy Michelle. She was twenty- four and studying for her Ph.D. in mathematics at the University of Chicago. Colin had been on the crime beat for a year. At first, each of them had thought the other was just another date. He had always been attracted to tall, slim blondes, and Nancy was short and dark. But he liked her and asked her out again.

  They dated for over a year before they realized that they were in love. Another year passed before they married. By then Nancy was teaching at the university, and their combined salaries made them feel rich. And then Todd was born and Nancy left her job. Money got a little tighter, but they managed. Nancy wanted to be at home with her child and said she would go back to work when Todd went to school. But Alicia was born two years later, and Colin and Nancy could see that it would be another five years before she'd be working again. It was rough, money-wise. Still, they loved each other and the children, had a good life—most of the time.

  The fights about money were frequent. It was almost impossible for Nancy to budget. She'd grown up in a wealthy family and worrying about money was new to her. She tried, but if she wanted steak for dinner she'd buy it, or a new sweater, or some trinket for the kids, a book for Colin. She'd forget that these things weren't on the budget and give in to impulse.

  It had been one of those impulses that had started the fight that last night.

  Colin said, "Jesus Christ, Nan, you just don't get it, do you?"

  "I thought you'd like it," she said, hurt.

  "Like it or not liking it is beside the point. We can't afford it."

  "Well, why don't you ask for a raise, then?"

  This pissed him off. He knew asking for a raise was a matter of timing and the time was not right. "I'll ask for a raise when I think it's right."

  "Oh, the hell you will."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "Nothing."