An Evil Mind--A Suspense Novel (8 page)

1

Phillips looked as dejected as he had two weeks ago. This time it gave Mark no pleasure.

“I’m glad to see you, Mark.” Phillips tried to smile but managed only a grimace.

“You haven’t had many visitors, have you?” Mark said.

“It’s my birthday today. Did you know that?”

“No. Don’t tell the others.”

“Why?”

“They’ll beat the shit out of you.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.”

Staring at Phillips, Mark remembered that when he was a child, he had been very nervous every time he blew out his birthday candles: he had feared he would fail to blow them out in one breath and thus would prevent his wish from coming true. He had stopped believing in birthday wishes at the age of fifteen—but he kept making them nonetheless, just in case.

“Why did your parents stop visiting you?”

“I don’t know. You should ask them.”

“Do you keep in touch with them?”

Phillips shook his head.

“Why?” Mark asked.

“I guess we have nothing to talk about.” Phillips’s face remained emotionless; there was not a hint of sadness in it. He didn’t seem to miss his parents at all.

“Did you get my letter?”

“No.”

“I followed Sam last Saturday from six p.m. to midnight. I saw nothing strange.”

“Thank you, Mark. I really appreciate it. Did Curtis see you following him?”

“No.”

“Are you going to follow him again?”

“Maybe next week.”

“Thank you. You need to follow him every day. The only way to stop Sam is catch him in the act, and to do that, you need to follow him every day.”

“I understand that.”

“He might kill someone tonight.”

“I’ll follow him tonight if I have time.”

“Have there been any new cases similar to your daughter’s?”

“I don’t know. I’ll look into it. Have you heard what happened to your lawyer?”

“No. What happened to him?”

“He’s been murdered.”

Phillips’s eyes widened in surprise. Frowning, he asked, “Are you talking about Leonard?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“Last Monday.”

“How was he killed?”

“He was stabbed in the chest and his neck was cut open. He was in his car in the parking lot of his office building when it happened.”

Phillips put the phone on the counter and dropped his head to his chest. He was silent for a long time, then he picked up the receiver and said hoarsely, “Do they know who killed him?”

There were tears in the corners of his eyes. It wasn’t the first time Mark had seen Phillips cry. He had wept when the jury returned its guilty verdict and when the judge sentenced him to death.

“No. Who do you think did it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Just before he was killed, Leonard asked me to meet him. He said he wanted to tell me something about your case. Could his murder have anything to do with your case?”

“I don’t know.” Phillips wiped his eyes. “He was a good man. This is just terrible. Terrible.” 

“I’m very sorry.”

“He was a good man.” Phillips clenched his free hand into a fist.

“Did you tell Barlow about Sam Curtis?”

“Yes.”

“And what did he do about it?”

“Nothing. He said it was too expensive to hire a private detective to follow Curtis.”

“Did you ask him not to tell the police about Curtis?”

“Yes, I did.”

“I could help you find a new attorney. I know some good lawyers.”

“I can’t afford a private lawyer.”

“What about your mother?”

“My parents hate me. I already told you that.”

“You said your father hated you.”

“My mother hates me, too.”

“Who paid Barlow?”

“My parents paid Leonard some money when they hired him, but then they said they couldn’t afford to pay him anymore. Leonard agreed to keep working on my case, for free.”

The odds of Phillips winning the appeal had been slim when Barlow represented him, but they would be infinitesimal with a public defender.

Phillips must be in a very bad mood now.

“Detective Aguero told me he talked to you,” Mark said.

“Yes, we talked.”

“He asked you to help him catch Laura Sumner’s killer, and you said you didn’t know who killed her.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

“You didn’t tell him about Sam Curtis. Why?”

“You know why. As soon as Sam finds out he’s under suspicion, he’ll skip town, and the police will never find him.”

“Why would he skip town if there’s no evidence that he killed Laura Sumner?”

“Because he doesn’t like to take chances.”

Mark opened his mouth to say that Curtis couldn’t hide forever, but then he thought: the police are not going to look for Curtis because there’s no evidence linking him to Laura Sumner’s or Helen’s murder. Edward Phillips’s claim that Curtis had confessed to killing Helen would be disregarded: he was convicted of Helen’s murder and therefore had every reason to lie.

“Did you tell Aguero about Sam?” Phillips asked.

“No, I didn’t.”

“Was it you who told him about Helen?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him that Helen and Laura were killed by the same person?”

“I told him these murders could be connected.”

Phillips said nothing.

“Did Curtis tell you why it took him four weeks to post bail?” Mark asked.

“He said he didn’t have enough money.”

“What about his family?”

“His parents refused to help him because they wanted to teach him a lesson.”

“What about his friends?”

“He said that both of his best friends were in prison for selling weed.” Phillips switched the phone to his other ear. “Do you believe me, Mark? Do you believe what I said about Curtis?”

“I haven’t made up my mind yet. I know that you passed a lie detector test.”

“Yes, I did. I wouldn’t have passed it if I was Helen’s killer.”

“I’d have an easier time believing you if you explained how Helen’s blood got on your shoes and jeans.”

“I don’t know how it got there. Maybe someone sprinkled your daughter’s blood on my clothes to frame me.”

The pitch and tone of Phillips’s voice remained unchanged. Mark searched Phillips’s face for any sign that he was lying, and saw none.

“Who?”

“I don’t know. Cops, maybe. Sometimes cops plant evidence.”

“What about your fingerprint on Helen’s belt buckle? How did it get there?”

“I don’t know.”

“Cops didn’t put it there, that’s for sure.”

Phillips said nothing.

“Maybe you found my daughter’s body after she was killed?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“You have to come up with an explanation if you want me to believe you.”

“I’ll try.”

“Did Curtis tell you why he killed my daughter?”

“No.”

“I checked Curtis’s credit card records. He used his credit card at a gas station in Austin on the day of Laura Sumner’s murder.”

“You see. He did it. He killed Laura Sumner. And he’ll kill again. Please follow him every day, I’m begging you.”

Mark hesitated, then said, “Did you ask one of your friends to imitate Helen’s murder?”

Phillips raised his eyebrows slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I have a suspicion that Laura Sumner was killed by one of your friends at your request.”

It felt good to let Phillips know that Detective Mark Hinton was a hard man to deceive.

Phillips’s lips curved in a small smile. “I see. You think I’m some kind of mastermind. Do I look like a mastermind?”

“Did you ask one of your friends to imitate Helen’s murder?”

Phillips shook his head. “No, I didn’t.”

He seemed to be telling the truth.

“Sam Curtis killed Laura Sumner, and I didn’t ask him to do it,” Phillips said. “Sam Curtis killed your daughter. Please believe me, Mark.”

“By the way, I saw your father drinking with Curtis in a bar last Saturday.”

“Are you sure it was my father?”

“Yes.”

Phillips thought for a moment, then said, “Have you talked to Sam?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“If Sam finds out he’s under suspicion, he’ll disappear and you’ll never find him. You need to remember that.”

“I remember it.”

“Have you talked to my dad?”

“No. Is your father friends with Sam Curtis?”

“Did they look like they were friends?”

“Yes. They spent two hours together.”

“Then I guess they are friends.”

“Did you tell your father about Curtis’s confession?”

“Yes. I told him not to confront Sam.”

“Did he believe you?”

“No, he didn’t.”

His own father didn’t believe him, and I still think he might be telling the truth.

“Did you ask your father to become friends with Curtis?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Why would I lie?”

Mark had no answer.

“Why did your father become friends with Curtis?”

Maybe it was Sam Curtis who had initiated the friendship?

Mark could think of no reason for Curtis to do it. If he were Curtis, he would have stayed away from Edward Phillips’s family.

“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him since January.”

“Did you ask your father to spy on Curtis?”

“No.”

“I think your father became friends with Curtis to spy on him.”

“You may be right. Are you going to talk to him?”

“I might.”

“Don’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because my dad hates me.”

“Why does he hate you?”

“I dishonored my family.”

“I see. All right, I won’t talk to your father.”

Maybe Jeff Phillips had become Sam Curtis’s friend to manipulate him into imitating Helen’s murder? He might even have helped Curtis kill Laura Sumner.

“Do you think Sam Curtis had a motive to kill your lawyer?”

Phillips nodded. “Yes.”

“What is it?”

“He wants my appeal to fail.”

“That’s a weak motive.”

“I agree.”

On the other hand, if Curtis is a murderous psycho, he doesn’t need a good reason to kill, does he?

“When are you going to visit me again?” Phillips asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I really enjoy talking to you, Mark.”

“I could ask your parents to visit you.”

“Don’t do it. I don’t want to see them. They won’t come anyway.”

Mark hesitated, then said, “Last night my wife got a call from someone named Chuck. He said he had the knife used to kill my daughter, and he promised to send it to us. If I find Sam’s fingerprints on that knife, I’ll start following him every day.”

After a silence, Phillips said, “Do you know where that Chuck guy lives?”

“No.”

“Do you know his phone number?”

“He called from a pay phone.”

“It’s probably a prank.”

“We’ll see.”

Mark was inclined to believe that Chuck was not playing a prank. What was the fun in lying to the mother of a slain girl about the murder weapon?

“I hope you find Sam’s fingerprints on that knife.” There was no enthusiasm in Phillips’s voice. “If you catch Sam in the act, don’t kill him.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to find out why my dad made friends with Sam?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Read the text messages they’ve sent each other.”

It was a good idea. He might give it a try.

“Why don’t you just ask your father?”

“He doesn’t want to talk to me.”

“Maybe he changed his mind about you. Aren’t you curious why he made friends with Sam?”

“No, I’m not.”

“What if Sam kills your father?”

“Why would he do that?”

“For fun.”

“He’s not going to kill my father.”

Perhaps Phillips didn’t care if Sam Curtis killed his dad.