The Maze

by Catherine Coulter

  It was just past lunchtime in San Francisco when Lacey got through to Douglas Madigan at his law office.

  “Lacey, that really you? What’s happening? Are you all right? It was all over the TV on the early news about that guy being caught. You were in on it, weren’t you?”

  “Yes, I was, and yes, I’m fine, Douglas. We’ve got him. I’ve already spoken to him once. I’ll find out everything from him, Douglas, everything.”

  “But what more is there to know?”

  “I want to know why he killed Belinda. You know she never cursed all that much. She worshiped you, you told me that, so she wouldn’t have ever cursed you out in front of any strangers.”

  “That’s right, but so what?”

  She drew a deep breath. “The reason he picked each of the women is because he knew she cursed and bad-mouthed her husband or boyfriend. If that’s not true in Belinda’s case, then there has to be another reason. I just want to know, Douglas. I have to know.”

  “Were you the police decoy?”

  “Yes, but please don’t publicize it. I was the best one for the job. I know him better than anyone else.”

  “My God, that was nuts, Lacey.” It was his turn to calm down. She heard his breathing become slower. He was an excellent lawyer.

  “I’m going to call Dad.”

  “No, let me do it, although I bet he already knows about it and that you were involved. He’ll be relieved that you weren’t injured.”

  Her arm started throbbing. She needed another pain pill. “Oh no, I’m just fine. What have you done about Candice Addams?”

  “I married her last weekend. Funny thing was she got her period on our wedding night.”

  “She wasn’t pregnant?”

  “She told me that she had had a miscarriage just two days before but that she loved me so much she was afraid to tell me. She believed I wouldn’t have married her if I’d known there wasn’t a baby involved.”

  “Would you have?”

  “Married her? No, of course not. I don’t love her, you know that.”

  “What a mess, Douglas.” She was very thankful she was three thousand miles away at that moment. “What are you going to do?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “Do you think she really loves you?”

  “She claims she does. I don’t know. I wish you were here. I wish I could see you, touch you, kiss you. I miss you, Lacey. So do your father and your sweet mother. Both of them hoped we’d marry, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know. No one ever said a word to me about that. You were my sister’s husband, nothing could ever change that.”

  “No, maybe not.” He sighed. “Here’s my lovely wife, standing here in the open doorway of my office.” She heard him say to her, “How long have you been there, Candice?”

  She heard a woman’s voice but couldn’t make out what she said, but that voice was shrill and angry. Douglas came back on the line. “I’m sorry, Lacey. I’ve got to go now. Will you come home now that you’ve gotten rid of your nightmare?”

  “I don’t know, Douglas. I really don’t know.”

  Slowly, she placed the phone back into its cradle. She looked up to see Savich standing there, a cup of tea in each hand. How long had he been there? As long as she imagined Candice Addams Madigan had been standing in Douglas’s office?

  He handed her the cup. “Drink your tea. Then we’ll go to the hospital again. I want to get this wrapped up, Sherlock.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Call me by my name or I’ll tell Chico to wrap your karate belt around your neck.”

  “Yes, Dillon.”

  “Here’s to catching the String Killer and ridding you of all your baggage. Is your brother-in-law to be considered baggage?”

  She took a long drink of the hot tea. It was wonderful. She still needed another pain pill. She said finally, shrugging, “He’s just Douglas. I never really realized the way he felt, until he was here in Washington just a couple of weeks ago. But he’s remarried now.”

  “Lucky for you, I’d say. I can’t see that guy giving up all that easily.”

  “How would you know that?”

  “I know everything. I’m a Special Agent.”

  He probably did, she thought, and excused herself to take another pill.

  Rain splattered against the hospital window. The officer in the chair was sitting forward. Lacey leaned over the bed and said in a soft voice, “Hello, Marlin. Do you remember me? I’m the woman you bashed on the head, took to your little playhouse, and forced through your little house of horrors. But I really won and you lost big-time.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Lacey Sherlock.”

  “No one’s named that. That’s stupid. That’s out of some dumb detective story. What’s your real name?”

  “It’s Sherlock, Marlin. Didn’t I track you down? Didn’t I bring you in? Wouldn’t you say I’ve earned the name?”

  “I don’t like you, Marty.”

  “It’s Lacey.”

  “I like you even less now than I did before.”

  “Do you mind if I turn on the tape recorder again, Marlin?”

  “No, go ahead. Turn it on. I like to hear myself talk. I’m a real good talker. Mr. Caine, he’s the guy who owns the Appletree Home Supplies and Mill Yard, he begged me to be his assistant manager. He knew I could sell anybody anything, and he knew that I was an expert on everything to do with building.”

  “Yeah, you’re really great, Marlin. But a question. Tell me why you refused to say a word to the police. Why?”

  “I just want to talk to you, Marty. I’m going to kill you one of these days, and I want to get to know you better.”

  “If it makes you feel good, you just keep holding on to that thought, Marlin. You want to talk? Tell me why you killed Hillary Ramsgate. She wasn’t married. All the other women you’ve killed were married.”

  “I knew her boyfriend, well I didn’t really know him, I just saw him a bunch of times. He told a group of guys that she was a ball buster and once he had her married, he was going to teach her a lesson.”

  “Where was this, Marlin?”

  “At a bar, the Glad Rags, in Newton Center. He was there a whole lot. He’d sleep with her, let her tell him what a jerk he was, then come to the bar and let it all out. I told him he should punish her, that she deserved it.”

  “Did you go into the Glad Rags a lot?”

  “Oh yeah. I wanted to see this Hillary woman. He brought her in one night. They had a big argument right there. She even threw a beer in his face. She cursed him up one side and down the other. She even called him a motherfucker. Most women, even bad ones like you, they don’t say that word. That’s a word for real bad guys. Well, all the other guys were laughing, but I wasn’t. I knew she had to be punished and that he wasn’t ever going to do it right. No, if anything, he’d just smack her around a little bit. You know that while she was tearing him down, that guy just laughed, he just took it. I would have sliced her up right there.”

  “Maybe her boyfriend liked exactly the way things were between them. Did you ever think of that?”

  “No, that’s impossible. She was bad. He was just weak and stupid.”

  “Did you go to lots of bars, Marlin?”

  “Oh yes. I like bars. You can sit there in the dark and watch people. No one hassles you. I saw lots of women who needed to be punished.”

  “How many different bars?”

  He shrugged, then winced, lightly touching his fingertips to his stomach. “About a half dozen, I guess. Lots more in San Francisco. You should have been sliced up too, Marty. But you don’t cuss, do you? Not really. I’ll bet you’re not married either. You’re just a cop. You just said all those bad words to trap me.”

  “I didn’t trap you, Marlin. I just gave you a woman you could relate to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  “I never should have believed you. You just fell into my lap. You’re still wearing the sling. I lik
e that.”

  “Yeah, but I’m not lying flat on my back with my gut burning through my back.”

  He tried to lurch up. The cop beside the bed was up in an instant, his hand on his gun. Lacey just smiled at him and shook her head. “Marlin doesn’t have a knife now, Officer Rambling. He’s like an old man without his teeth.”

  “I sure would like to kill you,” Marlin said and fell back against the pillow, breathing hard.

  “Not in this lifetime, Marlin. Now, you’re so good at talking, you like to do it so much, why don’t you tell me about the women you killed in San Francisco? I know each of them was married. Did you hear them all bad-mouthing their husbands?”

  “Why should I tell you anything? You don’t like me. You shot me in the belly. It still hurts real bad. I just might want a lawyer now.”

  “Fine. Do you have any money or shall I call the public defender?”

  “I can get the best and you know it. Those guys don’t care if I have a dime or not, they just want their faces in the news. Yeah, get me a phone book and let me pick out the highest-priced one of the lot.”

  “I could connect you to the ocean bottom, if you like.”

  “That was funny, Marty. Lawyers and bottom feeders, yeah, that was pretty funny.”

  “Thanks. It’s Agent Sherlock. I’m with the FBI. You want to call a lawyer now, Marlin? Or would you like to answer just a few more of my questions?”

  “I’ll call a lawyer later. Sure, I can answer anything you ask. I can always take it back. I read all about the Toaster. He’ll get off because he’s crazy, and it won’t cost him a dime. I’ll get off too, you’ll see, and then I’ll come after you, Marty.”

  She felt a shock of rage, but no fear. She should have killed him right there in the warehouse to ensure there’d be justice. She was a fool to want all her questions answered. Besides, he could lie to her as easily as he could tell her the truth. Her face was flushed red with her fury. She’d been a fool. At that moment, she heard Dillon singing quietly from beside the door, “I always played it cool when I was young, always swam when I wanted to sink, always laughed when I wanted to cry, always held my cards tight when I wanted to fold . . .”

  He hadn’t said a single word until now. She jerked, then turned to look at him. His expression was unreadable. He was just singing those words. They weren’t great lyrics, but it worked. He winked at her. She grinned; she couldn’t help herself. Talk about finding words to fit the situation. She thought briefly of her classical music training. Mozart would have cast her out of the classical club if he knew she was smiling over some god-awful country-and-western music. Her rage fell away.

  “We’ll see about that,” she said, turning back to Marlin, calm as anything now. “Hey, you look as if you’re getting tired, Marlin. You’ll want to take a nap really soon now. Why don’t you just tell me why you killed seven women in San Francisco—not more, not less? Exactly seven, and then you stopped.”

  “Seven?” He fell silent. She watched him tick off his fingers. The psycho was counting on his fingers the number of women he’d butchered. She’d bet anything he remembered every name, every face. She wanted to kill him right that instant.

  “No,” Marlin said. “I didn’t kill no seven women in San Francisco.”

  So the number seven had no relevance whatsoever. Thank God for Savich’s brain. Dear God, how many more women had he butchered?

  “How many then?”

  “Six. I killed just six ladies. They all deserved it big-time. Then I was tired. I remember I slept for three days and then I was told to go to Las Vegas.”

  “Told? Who told you to go to Las Vegas?”

  “Why the voices, of course. The Devil, sometimes his buddies. Sometimes a black cat if I see one.”

  “You’re making that up. You’re just practicing on me so the judge will find you nuts and you won’t have to stand trial.”

  “Yeah. I’m good, don’t you think? But I am crazy, Marty, real crazy.”

  “Just six women? You’re certain? Not seven?”

  “You think I’m stupid as well as crazy?” Then he proceeded to count them off again on his fingers, this time with their names. Lauren O’Shay, Patricia Mullens, Danielle Potts, Ann Patrini, Donna Gabrielle, and Constance Black.

  When he finished, he looked over at her and smiled.

  She felt like Lot’s wife: nothing more than a pillar of salt, unmoving.

  He hadn’t said Belinda’s name.

  Why? Just a simple omission. He’d killed seven women. He was lying. The little bastard was lying.

  She stood up, wanting to strangle him. He flinched, seeing the rage in her eyes. “You’re stupid, Marlin. You can’t even count right. Either that or you’re a liar. That’s what you are, a liar. I’ll bet my next paycheck on that.”

  He was whimpering, holding himself so stiff against the backboard of the hospital bed, he looked frozen. “You want to kill me, don’t you, Marty?”

  “Oh yes, Marlin. When the time comes, I’d like to throw the switch on you and watch you fry.”

  She heard his voice from behind her, singing softly, “Take me back to my old fat mammy. She loves me better than she loved her apple pie.”

  She felt his hand on her good arm, his blunt fingers lightly stroking her skin. “Let’s go, Sherlock. I’ll make you a deal, you can talk to him one last time. Tomorrow, all right?”

  “Yes, all right. Thank you. See you mañana, Marlin. Don’t choke on your soup, will you?”

  “I’ll have my big-time lawyer here tomorrow, Marty. We’ll just see what he has to say to a dumb cop like you. Hey, I like that guy with you. He’s got a real good voice. Do you happen to know that song, “Sing Me Home Again Before I Die”?

  17

  “YES, I’LL be home for a few days, Father, when I can get away. I want to see both you and Mother.”

  “You’re satisfied now, Lacey?” The sarcasm was deep and rich in his voice. She felt the familiar churning in her stomach. She had caught the man who’d killed Belinda. Why wasn’t he pleased?

  Be calm, be calm. The training academy taught you that. “Yes. I truly never dreamed that I would ever catch him. I’ve even interviewed him twice now. But there is one thing that bothers me.”

  “What is that?”

  “He claims he only killed six women here in San Francisco.”

  “He’s a crazy little psychopath. They’re liars all the way to their genes. I know, I’ve sentenced enough of them.”

  “Yes, I agree. I don’t know why I mentioned it, really. But it’s curious—he listed the names of the women he killed. He left out Belinda.”

  “So he forgot her name.”

  “Possibly. But why didn’t he forget one of the others? You know I’ll be doing all sorts of checking now to make certain he did kill Belinda.” She realized what she’d just said but had no time to apologize. Her father said in his low, controlled voice, “What are you saying, young lady? You think it’s possible some other man killed Belinda? Someone who copycatted this Jones guy? Who, for God’s sake?”

  “I didn’t mean that, Dad. I know Marlin Jones killed her, that he’s just playing some sort of twisted game with me. But what game? Why leave out her name specifically? Why not one of the others? It doesn’t make any sense at all.”

  “Enough of this bullshit, Lacey. And that’s all it is, just plain bullshit. He could have left out any name. Who cares? Will you come home this weekend?”

  “I’ll try, but I want to speak to Marlin Jones at least one more time. But, Dad, when I come home, it will just be for a few days.” She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “I’m going to stay in the FBI. I want to keep doing what I’m doing. I can make a real difference.”

  There was silence. Lacey didn’t like herself for it, but she couldn’t help it. She started fidgeting. Finally, her father said, “Douglas has made a stupid error.”

  He was letting it go, at least for now. “Well, he’s married, if that’s what
you mean.”

  “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. The woman went after him, then lied about being pregnant. Douglas has always been very careful about taking precautions. I tried to tell him to have blood tests, get positive proof that the child was his, but he said there was no reason for her to lie. He was wrong, of course. The bitch got him. He told me he wanted a kid, that it was time. She wasn’t even pregnant. Douglas was a fool.”

  “Didn’t Douglas want kids with Belinda?”

  Her father gave a hoarse laugh. He didn’t laugh often. It sounded strange and rusty, and a bit frightening. Her fingers tightened around the phone. “Remember who her mother is, Lacey. Naturally he wouldn’t want to take the risk of any child being as crazy as Belinda’s mother.”

  “I can’t believe he told you that.”

  “He didn’t, but I’m not stupid.”

  She hated this. Usually he was sly in his insults to his wife, but not now. “She’s my mother as well.”

  “Yes, well, that’s different. I am your father. There’s nothing crazy in you.”

  Hadn’t he told her not two weeks before that her obsession reminded him of her mother’s early illness? She shook her head, wanting to hang up, and knowing she wouldn’t. “I never met Belinda’s father.”

  Her father said coolly, “That’s because we’ve never mentioned him to you, there was no need. Indeed, Belinda didn’t even know what happened to him. Again, there was no reason to be cruel about it.”

  “Is he still alive? Who is he?”

  “His name’s Conal Francis. I can’t see that it matters now if you know the truth. He’s in San Quentin, at least he was the last time I heard.”

  “He’s in prison?” Lacey couldn’t believe it. Neither he nor her mother had ever said a thing about Belinda’s father being in jail.

  “What did he do?”