“No, I wasn’t involved,” I lied. “My detective was the one who figured it out and led the police to the people responsible for the murders.”
He said, “You hired the right person. I’m glad you’re no longer in danger.”
I wanted to bring up the ruby ring before he asked me about it. “I’ve given a lot of thought to what you suggested when you gave me the ring,” I began. “I’m sorry, but as much as I’d love to be with you, I still feel the same way I did the first time we said our good-byes. Eventually, you’d regret leaving your family and resent me.”
His long pause told me all I needed to know.
“I think you’re wrong about that, Gemma, but I understand. I can’t promise how I might feel in the future.” Of course, he would say that.
“Would you give me a chance to change your mind?” he asked.
“That’s not a good idea, Taylor, you know that. There’s a strong attraction between us and always will be, but we can’t act on it. Seeing each other now would just be painful for both of us.”
“If you’re sure, I’ll respect that. But I want you to keep the ring—to remember me by.”
Hot tears of regret stung my eyelids. “I am keeping the ring, Taylor, but not for that reason. I’m going to messenger a cashier’s check to you at your office that will cover what you paid for it. Please, don’t try to talk me out of it.”
A moment passed. His voice thick with emotion, he said, “Whatever makes you happy, my love.”
I whispered a final good-bye and ended the call.
TJ awoke, stirred into wakefulness by the scent of fresh coffee. She pulled on a robe and shuffled into the kitchen where Richard sat at the table wearing the same suit he had on the night before, a newspaper spread out in front of him.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
TJ grinned. “I know I look like crap.”
He pointed to the pig. “Quarter.”
“I keep tellin’ you, those words don’t count. Besides, JR isn’t even here.”
“And I keep telling you, they do count if you don’t want JR to repeat them.”
He turned and pulled her onto his lap. “I never asked you. How did your client happen to come to your rescue last night?” She had given him only the bare facts when she’d called him the night before. Partly because he knew she would want to know what happened, and also because he felt he should be there, Richard had gone to the Wauwatosa station to view the interrogation of the suspects.
TJ didn’t know how Gemma had known she needed help, but had her suspicions. She changed the subject. “How’d it go at the station? Who did the interrogations?”
“A guy named Lukaszewski—supposedly he’s the one heading the investigation. Haymaker wasn’t there, and his partner didn’t show up until I was leaving. You’ll love this—the perps weren’t talking.”
“They lawyered up?”
“No, they just weren’t talking. Not that it matters. There’s enough evidence to tie them to the murders. Mother Krause was there, screaming and threatening to bring in a big-gun attorney from Chicago. The preliminary DNA is a match to Lucian and Tabitha. And some of the fingerprints found at the Jackson murder and at Gemma’s house the night her ex-husband was attacked are theirs.”
“What about Drucilla? Any of her prints or DNA?”
“Yes, hers too. I think they’re still processing the scene at Martin’s house. It’s going to take a while to sort through the scene. Unless one of the others talks, you may never know how that one went down. At least it’s over now.”
TJ humphed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?” he asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”
“No. Just think there’s a lot of loose ends still danglin.’”
Richard frowned. “Like what?”
“Like no one’s found Victoria Braun yet, or who’s responsible for Teschler’s explosion. And I always thought the little sex band was being run by someone else.”
“If you’re right about that, it sure looks like that someone else must have been Martin Krause, doesn’t it?”
TJ kissed Richard and stood up. “Or that’s what the real leader of the pack wants us to believe.”
He reached out and took her hand. “Babe, sometimes it just is what it is. The medical examiner’s report will tell us a lot more.”
“But I’m bein’ paid to find out who killed Teschler. It looks like it had to be the Krauses, but I’d like to be able to give my client a for-sure.”
Richard stood and took her in his arms. “You do whatever you have to. You know I’ll support you.”
“Would that support include my working investigations?” TJ held her breath. This wasn’t how she had planned to broach the subject, but Richard had opened the door.
“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about that, TJ. You wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with if you weren’t doing what makes you happy. My concern, and yours too, if you remember, was really about JR when he was a baby. I have some money saved. We could buy another house on this street and rent it out to your sister. That way, she would be right here.”
TJ had been thinking about the future, too. “Yeah, good idea. Talking to Donna like you suggested is a good plan too.” She had to admit something. “But part of me misses the way things were for us before.”
“Before what, JR? We can never be those people again. We’re parents now, and granted the lifestyle we have now isn’t one we planned for, but I wouldn’t want to go back to the old one, seeing you only on weekends. I want us to be a family. I think you have to tell me just what it is you miss.”
What, exactly, did she miss? It was her independence, the feeling of never knowing what the next day would bring. Or was that just a juvenile desire to remain free of ties?
TJ loved her son more than she ever thought possible. And she had no doubt about her feelings for Richard. With the help of her sister or Donna Denison, life could be simpler and still give her time to do the job she loved.
Her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t miss anything as much as I love you and JR.”
Chapter 65
TJ put JR down for a nap and made a fresh pot of coffee. She carried a mug filled with the steamy liquid downstairs to the conference room with the baby monitor in the pocket of her sweater.
Still determined to unravel the truth, she stood at the whiteboards and erased points that had become irrelevant. A few phone calls revealed that the church of The New Followers of Christ performed green burials. Those were burials in which the deceased was not embalmed and was placed in a wooden box. Over time, it provided a return to the earth for the decedents, a genuine ashes-to-ashes ending. The county the church’s cemetery was in still had an archaic law on the books that made green burials illegal, and they refused to give the church a cemetery license. There were a lot of those old laws on state and county books that were seldom enforced but legally were expensive to challenge.
TJ stared at the boards and wondered if Norman Teschler and Victoria Braun were the only remaining mysteries. Had Martin been the ringleader, or was the evidence pointing to him too convenient? She had always thought him a little smarmy for a religious person, and he certainly was in a position to have an influence on the young minds he worked with. Abendoth had told her the Krause cousin, fifteen-year-old Tabitha Niemiwicz, had been in the youth group headed by Martin.
So what was still troubling her?
It was all too neat. She had taken time to read the rest of Lilly Diermeyer’s diary, and it pretty much summed up what she had suspected. Lilly had been a reluctant participant in the swinging until the first night she spent with Arthur Krause, Martin’s father. Arthur, always a little enamored of the fair-haired Lilly, made tender love to her the first night they were paired. Her husband, Sam Diermeyer, always took her with rough hands and abandon whenever the mood struck him, reg
ardless of her feelings.
A soft knock on the door to her office interrupted TJ’s musings. Detective Tasha Wade stood on the step. TJ invited her in and took her upstairs to the kitchen where the coffee waited.
“So, what’s happening?” TJ asked. “Richard told me a little about it, the Krauses dummying up and all.”
“Yeah, they still aren’t talking. That is one freaking weird family. The mother is hanging out at the station, ragging on anyone who’ll listen.”
“She bring in the hotshot attorney?”
“Not yet.”
The last time TJ saw Tasha, the woman was hospitalized. “How about you? Are you feelin’ okay?”
“I’m good. They gave some pain pills that make me feel like all is right with my world. It’s no wonder people get addicted to the darn things.”
“Had a knife wound myself, once,” TJ said. “Hurt like hell.”
“I’m going to need a doctor’s note to go back on active. They have me on desk duty for the time being.”
“That sucks.”
Tasha’s eyes brightened. “Yeah, but I was thinking we might be able to talk to Lucian. Lukaszewski took all the credit for the bust, did the press interview, and then he turned in his retirement papers. I think he wants to go out in a blaze of glory. It’s pretty disgusting, but if we want to try to do some follow-up now, there won’t be anyone standing in our way. There are a couple of public defenders lined up for Lucian and Tabitha so we can get the arraignments out of the way and ship them to the county jail.”
“Think they’ll plead not guilty?” TJ asked.
“That’s always their prerogative, but what would be the point? There’s too much evidence against them. I think the only contention will be whether Lucian gets to be tried as a juvenile. With this being a case of multiple homicides and attempted homicide, it won’t be hard to get a judicial waiver to put him in the adult system.”
TJ hadn’t thought of that. “Don’t be too sure they won’t want a trial. I’m thinking they’ll try to say Martin made ‘em do it. ’Specially if they get a good lawyer.”
Tasha chuckled. “That didn’t work too well for Manson’s followers, did it?”
TJ didn’t laugh.
“What’s wrong? That was supposed to be funny.”
“Couple things are still botherin’ me. I’m being paid to find who killed Norman Teschler, and the only thing I’m certain of is the explosion wasn’t any accident. And even that’s just a gut feeling.”
“If I can get us in to talk to Lucian, maybe he’ll give us a clue, or better yet, admit he did it.”
TJ tried not to reveal how much being included fired her up. “Yeah, can’t hurt to try,” she said and added, “See if you can find out if Martin Krause had any souvenirs of the murders in his house.”
“If he did, will that finally convince you he’s the one behind it all?”
TJ had already told Tasha it all seemed too neat. She snorted. “No way. That would make me sure he was bein’ set up by who was really pullin’ the strings.”
TJ sipped her coffee and wondered if there was a cop house in the country that actually served the good stuff. She sat next to Tasha at a table in an interview room, waiting for Lucian to be brought in. The room had the worn look typical to every one of its kind, and the odors, also typical, of sweat, stale coffee, fear, and frustration.
Tasha leaned in closer to TJ. “Heard something from a friend of mine who was on Intake when they brought Lucian in. Not that it means anything, but apparently where Mother Nature shortchanged this guy in the looks department, she was extra generous to him in another. Get my drift?”
TJ got it, all right. It explained, at least in her mind, what had made Sondra Jackson have sex with the three intruders. And possibly why his sister invited him to her bed. The creeper group had been all about sex—at least initially—until it became about murder.
They were interrupted when the door opened. Detective Haymaker motioned to them to come out. As they entered in the hallway, Lucian was escorted into the interview room with one arm in a sling that attached it to his waist and the other hand chained to his left ankle.
“What are you doing?” Brian asked, obviously annoyed.
“We’re going to interview him,” Tasha said.
“Why are you bringing her in?” He nodded at TJ. “You think the two of you can get him to talk?”
“What do you care? You aren’t even supposed to be here.” Haymaker was supposed to be out on sick leave.
TJ tuned them out as they bickered and looked in at Lucian through the two-way mirror. This was the first time she had seen his face without the hoodie draped over it. Billie Jean had told her that Lucian’s cherubism had stabilized, which might allow surgery to give him normal looks. But that face? It didn’t seem possible.
His eyes angled upward, evidently given their Asian appearance by cheekbones protruding outward as if pushed from within. A jaw line at least three inches lower than normal gave his face an elongated look as if it were being reflected in a funhouse mirror. His face was lumpy, like a batch of homemade bread that hadn’t risen properly. He could have starred in the sideshow of a traveling carnival. TJ hoped Tasha wouldn’t shrink from the sight of him when they went in, but she had to trust that the other woman would remain stoic despite the sight of Lucian’s hideous face.
The face turned toward TJ, gazing into the two-way mirror. Fuck—the mirror. Before her brain could make the connection between that moment and the fact that the Krause home had no mirrors, Lucian rose from the table. Amazingly fast considering his chains, he propelled his body, head first, into the mirror.
TJ ran into the room, the two detectives at her heels. Lucian lay crumpled on the floor. Above him, a spider web of tiny cracks lined the mirror, and below him, the same design spread from the top of his scalp in tiny rivulets of blood.
Chapter 66
Last night I slept better than I had in a long time. This morning, eager to get back to work, I caught up on some unfinished cover projects and contacted a few new clients. Clyde, still happy to be back home, regaled me with his entire beatific vocabulary. I made myself a complete breakfast, an omelet filled with cheese and bacon accompanied by a fruit compote and raisin toast.
I took a few minutes to talk to Dr. Bernstein and let him know I would be quitting the group after one more meeting. He wished me well and sounded relieved when I assured him I would still be seeing Lisa. I tried calling Jorge, but when he didn’t pick up, I left a message telling him I was coming to group tomorrow night. I kept working, so productive for the first time in weeks that I barely heard the doorbell ring.
Carter stood on the stoop, a bouquet of flowers tucked under one arm. I opened the door to him and noticed someone waiting for him in the car. He stepped inside and handed me the flowers.
I took them and gave him a friendly hug. “You look wonderful. I hope you’re feeling as well as you look.”
“I do. But it’s time for me to get back to Singapore. Barb’s taking me to the airport.”
Barb. That would be Barbara Carmona, the new director of Cityscapes here in town. This wasn’t the time to tell Carter I wouldn’t be working there again. “Thank you for the flowers. I feel like I should be giving you something. I’m the one who nearly got you killed.”
“Don’t ever think that, Gemma. If I hadn’t been there, you might not be here, and I couldn’t have lived with that.”
We embraced, said our good-byes, and I watched him leave.
By the time TJ arrived at four, I had accomplished a lot. I had two covers ready for their authors’ approval, had said good-bye to Carter, and had settled things with Taylor. I had been second-guessing myself about the effect of my decisions on the future, but for now, I basked in accomplishment.
For once, I had some news for TJ. But the minute she walked in, Clyde began to
serenade her with offers of coffee and snippets of the Rosary. She walked over to his cage, giving it back at him with her witticisms. She looked rested. Her short, dark curls gleamed in the beams of sun from the window, and her dark blue eyes glistened with good humor. I had wondered about her ethnicity, but never felt I knew her well enough to ask. She definitely was part African American, but the rest? It was hard to tell. She could be Hispanic, Asian, Middle Eastern, anything.
After Clyde simmered down, I handed her a mug of coffee and sat across from her at the kitchen table.
“Wish I had better news for you,” she said.
“What do you mean? Lucian and his cousin Tabitha were arrested for the murders, weren’t they? I imagine Norman found out something. Something they didn’t want coming out.”
“Yeah, I could tell you that’s probably what happened, but I gotta be honest with you. My gut’s tellin’ me Lucian didn’t do the explosion. Coulda’ been Martin Krause, I guess. I can’t really say why, but somethin’ just doesn’t smell right.”
“But what about Lucian? Can’t he tell the police what happened?”
“Lucian’s in a coma from bashing his head into a mirror. The docs think he might never come out of it. The cousin’s our only chance of getting answers, and so far, she’s not talkin’.”
I had to give TJ credit. She could easily have convinced me Norman’s death was all wrapped up.
“I have something for you,” I said. “Norman’s computer guy called. After we talked last time, he kept looking for an online trail to Norman’s book. He found a site for writers that Norman belonged to. Writers can post their work on it and get feedback from other writers and from readers. There were some chapters of Norman’s book posted on the site and a synopsis too. I printed it all out for you.” I handed TJ a thick sheaf of papers.
“The only problem is, Norman says in his author’s comments that the book is based on a true story, but is fictional. So we can’t be sure what really happened and which parts Norman created to make the story more interesting.”
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