Текст книги "She's Not There"
Автор книги: Marla Madison
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Текущая страница: 21 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
74
Two days later, TJ and Lisa met in Waukesha at a Chinese restaurant known for good food and a serene atmosphere. They chose a booth in the rear and ordered a pot of tea while they waited for their food.
Lisa asked, “Have you decided what you’re going to do with the insurance money?”
“Gonna put it in something safe—for now.”
“Makes sense.”
TJ said, “We gotta figure a way to handle this so we don’t hafta live like jailbirds in Eric’s house forever now we know we’re safe and they don’t.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, too. Like you said before, we could tell Eric and Shannon we were starting to suspect Wilson, but didn’t say anything since it was just that—only a suspicion.”
“Hunh.” TJ sighed. “All right. If this is gonna work, we have to have our stories straight. We’ll tell them I was starting to suspect Wilson. Then I got the background on him and felt sure in my own mind he was the one. And I just now told you—you didn’t know anything about it before he was killed. We can go from there. But I’ll do the talking, so by the time you have to say anything, you’ll be ready.”
The next time they all got together, TJ began spinning the tale of her suspicions of James Wilson. She avoided looking at Lisa while she followed the script they’d agreed on, concluding by bringing out Wilson’s “before” photo.
After Eric and Shannon’s shocked faces returned to normal, she explained why she’d been reluctant to tell them—there just wasn’t enough proof. When she’d finally confided in Lisa, she’d insisted they tell Shannon and Eric.
Lisa, as agreed, had stayed quiet during TJ’s discourse, letting the narrative play out. She’d been concerned about Eric’s reaction, and as expected, he was first to question the story’s content.
“How sure are you he’s the one? And who killed him?” Eric was angry. Lisa knew why; if he’d known, he’d have gone after Wilson himself.
TJ said, “I’m sure. Anybody coulda killed him. Somebody related to one of the women, a client, maybe even a relative of Bergman.”
“Bergman?”
“His boss at MPD. Right before Christmas she overdosed on sleeping pills after her husband left her. They ruled her death a suicide, but who knows? Everybody hated her guts.”
Eric stood and glared at her. “Now we won’t find any of those women’s bodies, and I’ll never be able to prove I didn’t kill Kayla.” He stood in front of TJ, his arms crossed. “You know, if I hadn’t sedated you myself, I’d think you killed him.”
TJ met his gaze without blinking, matching his dark look with one of her own. “I woulda’ done it if somebody hadn’t beaten me to it. But here’s the rub—if the cops find out he’s the killer, who do you think will be on the top of their suspect list?”
Shannon said, “Us? No, they couldn’t think we did it. We didn’t even know about him until now. And we were here that night.”
TJ faced them. “Wait—wait a minute! I just thought a’ somethin.’ If the women’s bodies turn up, and they find out Wilson did them, they won’t give a rat’s behind who knocked him off. We’d be home free.” Her blue eyes flashed. “We’ve gotta find the bodies.”
Richard called TJ, demanding they meet. With the temperature still below zero, she wasn’t eager to leave the comfort of Eric’s home. Since she’d told Eric about Wilson earlier, he was still agitated, shooting questions at her she couldn’t or didn’t want to answer.
She pulled on her coat and made a fast exit as soon as Eric left the room. Now she had another irate male to deal with. She could handle it, though; it was Lisa she’d been worried about. But Lisa had been great. No one would have suspected she had a secret.
One look at Richard’s face when he opened the door of his apartment confirmed she had another fire to put out. He had all the signs of suppressing his fury.
She threw her coat over a chair and took a stool at the kitchen counter. “What’s going on?”
He didn’t offer her a drink—another bad sign. Definitely pissed about something, he tossed a photo at her. “Guess who?”
Rommelfanger. TJ knew it wasn’t a question. He assumed she knew. Should she play dumb? She’d left behind an angry Eric. There was no need to exacerbate that—she couldn’t let on to Richard they knew about this. Not before discussing it with the others.
She looked up from the photo. “Ugly fucker. Think I’d remember that mug.” TJ, who prided herself on being an excellent liar, was sure she’d given nothing away.
“So that’s the way you’re going to play it?” Red-faced now, Richard steamed, the vein at his temple prominent.
TJ stood up. “I didn’t come out tonight and freeze my ass off just to play guessing games. You want to tell me what’s going on? Then fine, we can talk. If not, I’m outta here.” She picked up her coat, aware of him scrutinizing her. Clearly he was torn between stopping her from leaving or letting her walk out.
Until the door clicked shut behind her, she’d been certain he’d ask her to stay.
75
The next night at seven, Richard and Justin, his partner, stood on Eric Schindler’s doorstep. Eric, dressed casually in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, greeted them at the door. “You have news for us?”
“We need to talk to you. All four of you.”
“Sure. Come on in. You’re just in time for dinner. We can set two more places.”
“Thanks, but we can’t stay long. Just a few questions and you folks can get on with your meal.”
They accepted coffee while Lisa and Shannon put the finishing touches on the table setting.
Lisa knew Richard watched the reactions of all four of them. “We’ve come across something that could possibly throw suspicion on James Wilson as the person responsible for the missing women. If he were your killer, it would also implicate him in the Ventura murder and Denison’s dubious suicide. We thought maybe Marian Bergman, too, but we haven’t uncovered anything proving her death wasn’t a suicide.”
Richard scrutinized their faces. “There’s nothing really conclusive; the only thread is this.” Richard tossed a photo of Ronnie Rommelfanger’s face onto the counter. “This is James before plastic surgery. He grew up as Ronald Rommelfanger. He looked like this before having his face destroyed in an accident and a plastic surgeon turned him into a good-looking guy. Makes him fit the profile Orth came up with—the killer having some kind of handicap, now or in the past, giving him a serious grudge against women. James wouldn’t have had any problem attracting women, and tracking down abused women would have been a cakewalk.”
They gathered round the island. Lisa said, “He would have been bullied mercilessly as a child.”
Richard waited patiently until they’d finished discussing Wilson’s former appearance. “Whether he’s a murderer or not, we have to investigate his death. That said, I have to ask all of you where you were when he was shot. The autopsy report narrows the time of death to roughly from 4:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. the night Jeff Denison died.”
TJ crossed her arms over her chest. “You know where we were that night—we were all here. None of us knew about this Rommelfanger thing.”
Justin said, “Sorry, we’re going to need details.”
Eric volunteered, “TJ and I left Jeff’s townhouse together sometime around two, after you arrived on the scene. I drove her to her apartment so she could pick up some of her things and we came back out here. I gave her a strong sedative and she slept until morning. We believed Jeff had been murdered, so I increased security again and asked Lisa and Shannon to move back in here until this guy is caught. We all spent the night here
“If you want further confirmation, Maggie Petersen stopped in later that night, and so did Jon Engel.”
Richard frowned. “So TJ was down for the count, and the rest of you were here all night?”
Shannon stood up, irate. “We explained that already. Somebody killed Jeff and who knows which of us would be next? You’re treating us like suspects and all we’ve ever tried to do is find a murderer for you.”
Visibly surprised at Shannon’s outburst, Richard had no comeback.
“I’m the only one without an alibi,” Lisa offered. She took a sip of wine. “I was with TJ at Jeff’s until about two when I left to do some errands before going to Eric’s. I developed a migraine. When I got home the pain was so bad I had to lie down for a while. I fell asleep and didn’t get out here until sometime around ten.”
Richard and Justin exchanged a look.
Shannon shifted in her chair. “Uh, there’s something I have to tell you. Well, tell Lisa actually.”
The room went quiet as the morning after a ten-inch snowstorm.
“After it stopped snowing that night, I went out to pick up a prescription. Sorry Lisa, but I didn’t want you to think I was checking up on you, so I never said anything about this. I stopped at your house to be sure you were all right. I was worried about you and wanted to ask you if you needed me to drive you over here. I let myself in. You were really out of it and didn’t even wake up when Phanny barked. I figured you needed the rest, so I left. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d think I was being overprotective.”
Lisa explained, “I took something to make me sleep. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear you. I had an alarm set for nine.”
Lisa sighed, relieved when Conlin and his partner left, but realistically she knew it wasn’t over. But if the worst happened and she ended up behind bars, it would have been worth it.
When Lisa went up to bed carrying a pot of tea, Shannon, who was staying with Lisa in the second bedroom of the apartment above the garage, said hopefully, “Hope you brought me a cup.”
She wondered if Shannon would bring up the lie Lisa told. Shannon had either been there, seen Lisa was gone, and decided to cover for her, or not gone at all and told the lie. Either way, she was sheltering Lisa.
Shannon put down the book she’d been reading. “I was upset they actually thought we might have killed somebody. I did go out for a bit that night—but I didn’t go to check up on you.”
Lisa exhaled—it worked out better if Shannon didn’t know she’d been gone.
“I thought about it, but I was afraid Phanny would bark like she does when someone comes in and wake you up. I hope they’ll leave us alone now.”
“They’ll probably be back sooner or later.”
“It felt weird to lie to a cop, but I knew you were there. They might have made a big deal of it otherwise. Then where would we be?”
76
With Wilson dead, the group had decided it might look suspicious if they all returned to their respective homes, although TJ had started spending time at her apartment. Their determination to locate the bodies came to a stalemate when everyone balked at another visit to Geo Turner, TJ’s computer guru. That’s the only way TJ thought they’d find out if Wilson owned property where he might have buried the missing women. If they rested on the bottom of Lake Winnebago, they might never be found.
TJ didn’t work at the bank on Fridays and took advantage of her time to breathe some life back into her business. When her cell phone buzzed, seeing Richard’s number surprised her. She hadn’t heard from him since he’d questioned them at Eric’s. She opened the phone. “Hey, what’s shakin?”
“I haven’t talked to you in a while and thought I’d see how you’re doing.”
Yeah, right. Richard never called without a reason. “So, how’s the case coming? Find out who killed the asshole yet?”
Richard laughed. “Is that any way to speak of the dead? Nah, the damn thing is going cold on me. The county guys don’t have jack, and I think the chief is losing interest. He’s assigning us other cases.”
“Hunh! What a shame no more taxpayer money’s gonna be spent finding out who killed the killer. Guy should get a medal. Hey! Maybe it was Charles Bronson.”
“Funny. I didn’t say I’d given up on it, did I? In fact I’m driving up to Fond du Lac again to question a witness once more. A kid.”
The witness might be the person Lisa saw. “What kid?”
“A kid who lives near the snowmobile trail saw Wilson drive by the day he got shot. That’s how we pinned down the time of death. We questioned him a couple times. The second time he admitted he’d seen Wilson go by, but I still have the feeling he’s holding something back. I have the day off, so I’m going to drive up there, pull him out of class. Shake him up a little.”
Should she be concerned that the kid might have seen Lisa’s truck? If he did, it might point the investigation their way. “What were your partner’s thoughts on the kid?”
“Justin thought he was just being a kid. He said all kids have something they’d like to keep from the cops.”
“Probably right.”
“Yeah, but I’ll give it one more shot. Not anything else to go on. Cops up there haven’t found a damn thing. Thought I’d see if you wanted to ride along.”
TJ’s mind raced. Was he expecting her to react? She couldn’t pass up an opportunity like this; her other work would have to wait.
“Sure, what time?”
“I’m leaving from my desk so I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”
Richard thought she looked good, definitely better than the last couple times he’d seen her. Gaunt and weary, she hadn’t looked like the TJ he knew. Denison’s death must have hit her hard. Jealousy needled at him before he reminded himself the guy was dead. It might not be too late for him and TJ, although he doubted things could ever be the same.
When they got to the school, an assistant principal put them in a small, cluttered conference room to wait while she found Tommy Rennicke. Richard hated the atmosphere in schools. The stale smell of food, sweat, and too many bodies in too small a space reminded him of his own days in school—which he’d hated.
When Tommy entered the room, Richard noticed the kid looked edgy. It had been a smart move to pull him out of his comfort zone.
“Have a seat, Tommy. Good to see you again.”
Tommy placed his arms on the table, trying to look cool. Richard wasn’t fooled. The kid was nervous.
“Thought I’d come to see you, try to pick your brain a little more—you know, see if you’d remembered anything.”
“No. I told you everything.”
“Sure about that? You look a little nervous.”
Tommy didn’t reply, just sighed and folded his arms across his chest. Might be a wasted trip, but coming here with TJ could be a start to mending things between them. Richard felt his cell phone vibrating and took it out. Justin.
“Sorry, I have to take this.” Richard stepped out into the hall.
The kid was acting like any teenager, given the circumstances, his gaze nervous, on everything in the room except on her.
He asked, “So, are you a cop too?”
TJ considered how to play him. “Nah, I’m a PI. I’m working the case for the family.” The lie came easily and the kid looked relieved. “So you didn’t see anything?”
“Just saw the guy drive by before he got shot. He was speeding. That’s about it.”
TJ read the kid as lying: no eye contact, fidgeting with his bracelet and the zipper of his jacket. She’d have to move fast; Richard would be back soon. She handed him one of her business cards. “You know, if something comes to you, you can call me. I’m not a cop, so anything you tell me can be just between us.”
He didn’t look her in the eye, but took the card and stuck it in his pocket.
Over lunch, Richard asked if Tommy had said anything to her.
She went with the necessary lie. “Nah, but I think you’re right, he’s got something on his mind. Have to agree with Justin, though—it’s probably just a kid thing.”
“I suppose. Which leaves me with nothing. I’m tempted to go to the chief with my suspicions about Wilson. At least we’d have a shot at finding the bodies if he is the killer.” He observed her closely. Part of his intent in bringing her along was to see if he could detect anything hidden in her manner. Not surprisingly, he hadn’t.
“Opens a big can of worms for the chief, doesn’t it? He could kill the messenger.”
Richard sighed. “Yeah, but you know that’s never stopped me. And don’t forget he’s retiring pretty soon. He may be long gone before we find the bodies—if we do—then it’ll be on someone else’s watch.”
TJ waited for Lisa to get back to Eric’s and confronted her in the garage. “You’ll never guess who I spent the day with. Richard.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He called me. Brought me with him to talk to a witness–a kid. Pulled him out of his class at high school.”
“That’s surprising. Sure he didn’t have an ulterior motive?”
TJ chuckled. “Course he had one. Knew it at the get-go. Didn’t do him any good, though. I was stone, pure stone. Didn’t give him squat.”
“Then what happened to make you drive all the way out here to tell me about it?”
“First of all, the kid didn’t have nothin’. Just saw Wilson drive by. But on the way home, Richard let somethin’ slip.”
“Tell me.”
“Kinda wanted to drag out the suspense a little.”
Lisa tossed a paper clip at her. “Spill it.”
“Claire Thornton inherits everything–Wilson’s whole estate.”
“That is big. But what can we do with it?”
TJ said, “What do we do with it? Got it all figured out. You go talk to her all shrink-like, get her to trust you, and find out if the prick had any property we don’t know about. Then we find the bodies.”
77
Claire’s home sat on a street bordered by tall oak trees, lined with lovely old homes built early in the twentieth century, many inhabited by academics from the nearby campus. A broad porch aproned the front of the dark brick house.
Lisa couldn’t imagine anything she wanted to do less than interrogate Claire Thornton, the police chief’s daughter, but TJ had been convincing.
She arrived at the scheduled time, wearing a tailored pantsuit with her tawny hair pulled back into a demure twist; TJ had ”suggested” a professional look and conversational manner.
Claire answered the door sans makeup or styled hair, but still as lovely as she’d been in formal dress on New Year’s Eve. “Come in.”
Dressed informally in jeans and a white sweater, she led Lisa to a room on the left of the entry decorated in pleasing shades of green, with a shiny wood floor and shaggy, off-white throw rugs. An aria played softly in the background—Madame Butterfly. The poignant notes suited Claire and the room they graced.
Lisa took a seat on one end of a long sofa. “Claire, I’m not here because anyone from the police sent me.”
“I suspected as much. My father’s kept me sheltered from the investigation.”
Lisa had planned her opening words. “I’m not sure if you know about this, but along with some friends, I’ve been working on a case of abused women gone missing. I consulted James about it a few months ago.”
Claire nodded. “I knew about the statistics. James told me they didn’t believe there was any cause for alarm.”
Lisa watched Claire for signs of a closed mind, but she merely looked curious. She took a deep breath and told Claire everything that had happened in their search to find evidence of a crime.
She concluded, “We’ve come across something about James I wanted to discuss with you.” Lisa reached into her briefcase and handed Claire the picture of Rommelfanger.
She looked at it sadly. “This is James as a young man.”
Taken aback, Lisa said, “You knew?”
“My father felt I should. He told me about the facial reconstruction James had after the accident, but he didn’t show me this. What could this have to do with his murder?”
“Claire, what if I told you there might be something about James no one knew, not even your father?”
Her eyes widened, her face animated for the first time since Lisa walked into the room. She leaned forward, eager. “I knew there had to be something from his past that he kept to himself—I never did discover what it was. And something . . . something tortured him. When my father told me about his face, it did answer some questions I had, but part of me knew there had to be more.”
Lisa knew what she had to say wouldn’t be easy for Claire. The woman perceived James’ hidden background as something painful, not evil. If she loved him she’d be shattered. Based on TJ’s reports, though, their relationship had evolved into something other than a love match. She had to tell her their suspicion about Wilson and let Claire decide its plausibility.
She asked, “Did James tell you we hired a profiler and he and Richard Conlin were there when he gave his report?”
Claire shifted her weight on the chair, looking wary of what Lisa would say next. “No.”
“Based on everything we’d found, the profiler believed there was someone abducting abused women—a man with a grudge against women—a man women were attracted to, but who had a hidden defect, or possibly had something in his past which would make him turn on them. Something that would have made them reject him.”
Claire’s fresh-scrubbed complexion paled.
“We think it’s possible James could be the one responsible for the missing women. And not just because of what he used to look like–there are other indications.”
Claire leaned her head on the back of her chair. As if sensing her pain, a longhaired tabby-cat leapt into her lap.
“Claire, I’m sorry I had to tell you this. Our theory about him needs to be either validated or disproved. We’d like you to help us—you’re the only one who really knew James.”
“What does it even matter anymore if you’re right about him? He’s dead.”
Claire’s manner implied she wasn’t shocked. Something about Wilson had her wondering about him. Sexual proclivities? Maybe. But Lisa could hardly ask her about their sex life. She waited, hoping Claire would open up to her.
Claire buried her face in the cat’s soft fur. The cat, appearing unnerved by the intimate gesture, quickly jumped down and left the room.
“When James and I first met, we just clicked. I believed I’d found my soul mate. We got engaged only a few months after we met; I couldn’t wait to marry him.”
“Did something happen to change things?”
“It was all my fault really.” She reached over to a side table covered with silver-framed photos and handed one to Lisa, a picture of Claire with James. They were laughing and had their arms around each other. Then Lisa noticed Claire’s face. In the photo, a long, rather hooked nose dominated her face, but she’d still been an attractive woman. She looked at Claire, now every bit as beautiful as a model on the cover of Vogue.
Claire said, “I went through a phase in college when my looks plagued me, but the surgery I needed to change my face frightened me. So over time, I accepted my looks and became comfortable in my own skin.”
“Did James encourage you to have the surgery?”
“No, not at all. I mentioned it once and he said he loved me just as I was.”
“Then why did you decide to do it?”
Claire sighed. “For all the wrong reasons. James was such a handsome man and women were intrigued with him. I suppose I wanted to be his equal in that way. I had it done in New York when I went there to visit a friend, and I made the mistake of not telling him until I came back.”
“What happened when you returned?”
“I was excited about surprising him. I surprised him all right, but not in a good way. He didn’t say anything really, but nothing was ever the same again. Finally, we agreed to take a break from our relationship.”
“But you started seeing him again.”
“I did. I’m not sure why. Nothing had changed. There was still a void between us.”
“That must have been painful for you. Did you try to get him to talk to you about it?”
Claire smiled mirthlessly. “Many times. He refused to discuss it.” She turned to Lisa. “What are you hoping I can tell you?”
“The women’s families deserve to have closure. If James is responsible for the disappearances, it’s possible he owned land under another name, in a remote area where he could have hidden the women’s bodies. As his sole inheritor and executor, you’re the only one who can help us. We need to find out if it exists.”
Claire wiped her face with her hands. “It exists. I don’t know exactly where—somewhere in the northern part of the state, close to Lake Superior. I can’t tell you any more; everything is still with the attorneys.” A tear trickled from the corner of Claire’s eye. “James told me about it. He said he went up there when he needed to be alone and clear his head.”
Lisa’s pulse quickened.
Claire asked, “Does my father need to know about this?”
“He’ll have to, eventually, I suppose. This is really just speculation on our part at this point.”
Claire took a deep breath and looked into Lisa’s eyes. “I’m afraid it isn’t just speculation. It explains everything.”
