Beautiful Maids All in a Row (20 page)

“The element of surprise is paramount,” I said as I walked up the stairs into the Emerson Auditorium with Luke. “He knows we're investigating him, but we still have a chance to throw him off guard.”

As we entered, the roar of five thousand people echoed through the nearly empty lobby, where a few employees sat behind fold-out tables counting yellow tickets. We walked toward the employees, passing a life-size cutout of the esteemed Dr. Shepherd holding up his book like a priceless artifact mere mortals couldn't touch. I stopped to look at the enemy.

His artificial smile revealed a row of unnatural pearly white teeth. Caps, all caps. That smile cost tens of thousands of dollars and was worth every penny. His bright blue eyes, the color of a clear day, sparkled from the lights used in the photo session. For some reason I always expected sociopaths to have eyes like a shark: black, and without a trace of humanity. Not light and friendly like those of the man before me. His wavy sandy-blond hair was parted in the middle, without a strand out of place. He'd never seen the inside of a Supercuts before. The blue pinstriped suit looked tailored to perfection. I would have bet I could have bought a good used car for the price of just one of his suits. All in all, I couldn't help but be impressed. He reminded me of one of those cover models in
GQ,
who all men want to be and all women want to be with.

Luke sidled up beside me and stared at the cutout. “Why would a man with everything in life do something like this?”

“Because he can.”

I turned away from the enemy and walked toward the tables. The employees were so busy with their counting, they didn't see us approach. I stood in front of the nearest table to the door, where an overweight girl with glasses and frizzy hair sat. Luke cleared his throat and the girl finally looked up. “It's almost over,” she told us. “There are no refunds if you missed it.”

Luke pulled out his wallet and flashed his shield. “Special Agent Luke Hudson, FBI. I'm here to speak to Dr. Shepherd.”

The girl's face fell and her mouth opened into a large
O
. “Um, hold on a minute,” she said before running down the hallway and into a side door. All the other ticket takers glanced up from their stacks, eyes wide with wonder. On the other side of the door the crowd went wild, but this time the roar was followed by gregarious applause. He was doing something right in there.

A minute later, the girl returned, followed by a man with a scowl on his face. As the man walked toward us, his dark blue suit shifted, showing the handle of a gun sticking out of his belt. I could tell Luke saw it too, because his jaw tightened. The gunslinger was in his early forties with a solid build, like he'd spent many an hour in front of a punching bag. His dark brown hair was parted to the side with whiffs of gray all over. His jaw was square, with sharp right angles. His piercing brown eyes didn't move their gaze off Luke and me. This was not a man I would ever wish to meet alone in an alley.

“I'm Henry Mooney,” the man said in a deep baritone, “head of Dr. Shepherd's security detail.”

Luke flashed his badge again. “Special Agent Hudson, FBI. This is Dr. Iris Ballard. We wish to speak to Dr. Shepherd.”

“What is this regarding?”

“Just a few routine questions,” Luke said. “His name came up in one of our investigations.”

“Dr. Shepherd is a very busy man. You can contact his office and make an appointment.”

“We just came up from Washington and have to leave tonight,” I lied. “It'll only take a few minutes, I promise.”

Mooney's eyes moved to me, studying me up and down and not in a normal man way. His eyes narrowed. He was appraising me to gauge my threat level. I squared my shoulders and jutted my left foot out in a defensive pose to prove my toughness.

He quickly looked back to Luke. “Fine. Please follow me,” he said, spinning on his heels. Luke and I followed.

We entered a dark staircase and walked down two flights of narrow wood steps, our footfalls echoing around us. I could almost hear the Phantom of the Opera playing melancholy music in the walls. Maybe there
were
two monsters in the building, one onstage and another under it. You never knew.

Mooney opened a metal door, and we stepped into a dimly lit hallway. In the distance, I heard a man's voice but couldn't make out the words. The only thing I understood was the word
chance
. After that word, the audience cheered again, but this time it was much louder. The man's hearty laughter resounded down the hallway, louder than that of the audience. Someone was having fun.

As Mooney led us toward the man's voice, I noticed the pictures of famous speakers who had graced the auditorium lining the walls. Shepherd was right next to Nelson Mandela. Between the pictures were closed doors, probably dressing rooms or offices. I passed the only open door and stopped dead.

Diana Hall, Shepherd's live-in girlfriend, sat in front of a long vanity mirror with a halo of lights above it, fluffing her blond hair. Light blue bruises wrapped around her wrists like bracelets. A familiar sight. The tight red dress she barely wore had a U neckline that cut way too low, almost to the center of her chest. I lingered in the hall a moment, watching her adjust her breasts to appear fuller. Hooker Barbie. When she was satisfied with her breasts, she gazed into the mirror again. It took a second, but when she saw my reflection, her mouth gaped open as a small gasp escaped. She knew me. She was scared of me.
Useful.
I gave her a smile and nod before catching up to Luke and Mooney, who had reached the short flight of stairs that led up to the stage.

Backstage was filled with stagehands spread out around the dark stage, waiting for their cue. Most looked bored out of their minds and a few yawned in unison. The only reason they weren't in the land of nod was because the light from the stage was so blinding it was as if we were outdoors. A singular man, the king of the auditorium, stood under the lights wearing the same blue suit and sky-blue silk tie he wore in the cutout, beads of sweat glimmering in the light. His hair was far from perfect now, with wisps plastered to his face. His attention was turned to the audience, a sea of heads at various heights. I couldn't see an empty seat, just person after person crammed side-by-side, all captivated by the man onstage.

“Say it with me now!” Shepherd commanded his minions. He could probably have told them all to go knock off a 7-11 and they'd do it.

“The past is in the past!” everyone said in unison. “I live in the here and now!”

Everyone, including the stagehands and Mooney, began to applaud. The audience rose to its feet, giving their guru a standing ovation. Shepherd smiled and nodded graciously at his audience as they cheered even louder. I even saw a woman in the first row wiping a tear from her cheek. I was gonna be sick.

“Thank you, thank you! You've been a wonderful audience! Good night!” Shepherd waved goodbye as a heavy red curtain closed. End of circus. Instantly the backstage lights came on above, startling me. A stocky stagehand ran out from the opposite wing and handed Shepherd a towel and a bottle of water.

Mooney took this as his cue to approach Shepherd. I took a few steps forward, but I stopped in the middle of the stage to get the perfect vantage of my quarry and him of me. Shepherd spoke to Mooney as he walked, but I couldn't hear over the banter of the stagehands. Mooney nodded in agreement, then leaned in to say something to Shepherd in private, his square jaw moving furiously as he whispered. He stepped away from Shepherd, who looked at his bodyguard and grinned. The bastard grinned like the Cheshire cat. That was all I needed. Any doubt in my mind flew away with that smile. Any normal man when told the FBI was there to talk to him would shit his pants, but that prick smiled.

Shepherd sauntered toward us with his lapdog in tow. Luke and I met him halfway. Up close, I could see fine lines beside his eyes and mouth, and his graying temples. “Special Agent Hudson, was it?” Shepherd asked, holding out his sweaty hand to Luke. “I'm Dr. Jeremy Shepherd.”

Luke actually shook his hand. “Yes, I know.”

“Of course,” he said gracefully. He turned to me, eyes lighting up. “And you're Dr. Ballard. I recognized you from your photo on the news.” He held out his hand for me, and I fought the urge to swat it away. That hand squeezed the life out of five women. I didn't want it anywhere near me. But I promised to be a professional, and a pro would smile and shake his hand. Which is exactly what I did.

“Nice to meet you.” I tried to pull my hand away from his grip, but he didn't let go. Instead, he puts the other hand on top of mine and squeezed. I looked into his eyes in the hope they'd tell me what he was up to. His eyes revealed nothing but comfort and understanding.

“It's really an honor to meet you,” he said. “I've heard a lot about you. They say you're the top in your field.”

Let the games begin.
“Thank you. Coming from such a distinguished man as yourself, you have no idea what that means to me.”

Shepherd smiled once again and released my hand. When I got back to the hotel, I was running scalding hot water over it. Even then, I wondered if it would ever feel clean again.

Shepherd, having finished with me, turned to Luke. “So, what can I do for you?”

“Your name came up in one of our investigations,” Luke advised him.

“The Woodsman?” Shepherd asked.

“How did you know that?” I asked.

Shepherd turned to me. “I do watch the news, Dr. Ballard. Your name is now synonymous with his.”

“Of course.”

“How exactly did my name come up?” Shepherd asked Luke.

“Each of the victims attended one of your book signings.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out the women's pictures, handing them to Shepherd. “Do any of these women look familiar to you?”

He gazed down at the pictures. I watched his expression as he flipped through. He seemed inquisitive but nothing more. He handed them back to me. “I'm afraid not. Hundreds of people attend the signings; all the people just meld into one.”

“Do you attend all of Dr. Shepherd's signings, Mr. Mooney?” Luke asked.

“Yes.” I handed Mooney the pictures and he went through them. “I don't recognize them either.”

“Dr. Shepherd, can you account for your whereabouts the night of May eighteenth?” I asked.

“I have no idea. I'd have to check my calendar.”

“What about from June third to June fourteenth?”

“I was at my retreat in the Catskills. We came back June fifteenth for a benefit.”

“Can anyone verify this?” Luke asked.

“I can,” Mooney said. “I was there with him.”

“As was Diana Hall,” Shepherd said.

“Did anyone else see you?” I asked.

“No, I'm afraid not. The only times I left the cabin were to go hiking or hunting. I never went into town.”

“Some groceries were charged to your credit card,” Luke said.

“Diana went shopping,” Shepherd said.

“We're going to need to speak to Ms. Hall to verify all of this,” Luke said.

“I'm afraid tonight's going to be impossible,” Shepherd said. “She and I are expected at Donald's penthouse, and we're already going to be late. Why don't you call my office and make an appointment? I'll make her available to you.”

“All right,” Luke said. He took out a business card. “Have her call me.”

“Of course,” Shepherd said. He turned back to me. “Dr. Ballard, I hope to meet you again under more pleasant circumstances. I'd love to pick your brain. Your area of expertise has always fascinated me.” I smiled and nodded.
Yeah, that'd happen.
“Good night to you both.”

Shepherd brushed past us, followed by Mooney. Luke and I watched as they disappeared down the stairs. When they were out of sight, I began to wipe the hand he shook on my pant leg, getting rid of the cooties. “That guy makes my skin crawl,” I said.

“A little full of himself, no?” Luke asked.

“Did you hear the way he talked about his girlfriend? ‘I'll make her available to you'? What an ass.”

“An ass with an alibi.”

“Yeah, his loyal bodyguard and faithful, airhead girlfriend,” I pointed out. “I bet neither would give a second thought to lying for him.”

“Think either will crack?”

I sighed. “Maybe the girlfriend. She's a fellow woman, might get us a little sympathy. Depends on how dependent she is on him, though.”

“We still don't have enough for a search warrant.” Luke sighed. “Was anything he said familiar to you?”

“No. He chose his words very carefully.” I groaned in frustration. “If this were anyone else we'd have a search warrant and an arrest. I hate all this ‘don't step on his toes' crap.”

“With Cyrus Beaton as his lawyer, we need him standing over a dead body with a bloody scalpel in his hand.”

“We need the hearts, and we can't get them without a search warrant, and they won't give us a search warrant without the fucking hearts!”

All the stagehands milling around stared at me. I quickly looked away.

“Calm down,” Luke said firmly. “We'll figure something out.”

“Well, we'd better, because there's no way in hell I'm letting this guy go. It's him—I know it.”

Now I just had to prove it.

Dr. Shepherd's office was bigger than my entire first apartment and far more elegant. A large mahogany desk with tiny roses carved in the wood sat by a window that looked out onto Central Park and the entire skyline of New York. Various magazines including
Time
and
People
hung in gold frames on the maroon walls, each with a smiling Shepherd on the cover. Above those hung the heads of various wild animals I'd only ever seen on
Animal Planet
. I never understood why men felt the need to decorate with the things they'd killed. It was too
Texas Chainsaw Massacre
for my taste. And that was how I felt for the ten minutes we'd been waiting. Creeped out. And fed up. We'd been waiting in that morgue for ten minutes.
Evil bastard.
My foot kept twitching spastically.

“Will you please stop that?” Luke finally asked.

My foot stopped, but my annoyance didn't. “I'll give him two minutes, then I'm going through this place room by room and dragging him in here by his ear.”

“That'll go over well.”

I looked up at the zebra head directly above me. “Those heads are really weirding me out.”

“Then stop looking at them.”

The double doors opened behind us. Shepherd strode in, a smile plastered on his golden-boy face. “I'm so sorry to make you wait,” he said, passing us on the way to his desk. “Crisis at one of the clinics in Queens. A patient attacked a nurse with a needle. She'll be okay, though.”

“We understand,” Luke assured him.

Shepherd took the seat directly across from us behind his $5,000 desk. “Diana had a hair appointment, but she's on her way. Can I get either of you some coffee?”

“We're fine,” I replied.

“So, I gather you have more questions for me.”

“Just a couple,” Luke said, pulling out paper and pen. I did the same. “The night of March ninth between nine thirty
P.M.
and one o'clock, where were you?”

Shepherd turned to the computer on his desk and typed. “Let's see…Diana and I were supposed to go to dinner at Le Cirque,” he turned back to us, “but if memory serves, we had to stay home because she had a headache. Henry Mooney can verify that.”

“What about April twentieth between midnight and four
A.M.
?” I asked.

“I was home, sleeping most likely.” He began typing again. “Yes, I had just finished the book tour three days prior. I kept my schedule clear for a week to recuperate.”

“And Diana can vouch for you?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“What about May eighteenth between eleven thirty and four
A.M.
?” Luke asked.

Shepherd typed it in. “Diana, Henry, and I went up to the cabin for a week. I needed a quiet place to begin my new book.”

“You certainly take a lot of time off for someone with so many responsibilities,” I said.

“When I work, I work very hard. I try to take at least one week off a month to collect my thoughts. Just as I did last week.”

“And only Ms. Hall and Mr. Mooney were with you?” Luke asked.

“Yes. Is that all?”

“Why haven't you asked us what all these questions are about?” I asked.

Shepherd turned his ice-blue eyes to me. “Well, I can only assume you consider me a suspect because all the victims attended my signings.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Does that worry you?”

“Seeing as I had nothing to do with their deaths, of course not. I'm happy to cooperate.”

“Do you own a Browning nine-millimeter?” Luke asked.

“Yes. Usually it's kept at the apartment, but sometimes I take it down to the cabin. I'm fairly sure I left it up there this time.”

“What if I told you we have a witness who identified you as being in Richmond on June thirteenth?” I asked.

Not missing a beat, he answered, “I'd say I was in my cabin a thousand miles away and couldn't possibly have been in Richmond then.”

“He picked you out of a photo array,” I said. “He was absolutely sure it was you.”

“He's wrong. I don't know what else to say,” he said with a shrug.

“Will you show us your shins?” I asked.

“Why?”

“To check for bruising.”

He chuckled at this. “I always insist on dinner at least before I show skin, Dr. Ballard.”

“Is that a no?”

“I'm afraid I draw the line at nudity, even partial.” His mouth twitched into a smile. “Of course if you'd agree to that dinner, I might be persuaded—”

The door swung open before he could finish his indecent proposal. Diana Hall strode into the office like a model on the runway, blond hair swishing in unison with her tiny hips. The black leather skirt with matching coat and boots hugged her perfectly toned body like a lover. Shepherd rose from his desk and went over to her, giving her a chaste peck on the cheek. His hand rested protectively on her back. She looked at us with almost black eyes. Luke nodded and smiled at this gorgeous creature, but my eyes jumped down to her wrists. All remnants of the bruises had vanished overnight. She must have bought concealer by the bulk.

“Diana, this is Special Agent Hudson with the FBI,” Shepherd said. “And his colleague Dr. Iris Ballard.”

“Hello,” Diana said in a small, unsure voice.

“We have a few questions for you, Ms. Hall,” Luke explained in his official FBI voice.

Diana quickly glanced at Shepherd, then down to the floor. “Okay.”

“The night of March ninth, where were you?” Luke asked.

“Home,” she confirmed almost immediately. “I had a headache.”

“How can you remember that far back?” I asked suspiciously. “I can barely remember where I was three nights ago, let alone three months.”

“My birthday was the next day. Jeremy was going to take to me to Le Cirque for a celebration, but I was sick.”

Luke seemed satisfied with this answer. “What about April twentieth?”

“I don't know. Jeremy?”

“It was three days after the book tour,” he told her as he rubbed her back up and down. It reminded me of a ventriloquist and his dummy, which was exactly what they were. He might as well have been speaking for her.

“Then we were home. Jeremy was exhausted. We didn't leave the apartment for days.”

Luke jotted that down. “May eighteenth?”

“I think we were at the cabin, but I can't be sure.” She turned her head to glance back at Shepherd, who just smiled reassuringly.

“June sixth through thirteenth?”

“The cabin. That I know.”

Luke wrote this final bit of information down before closing his pad. He stood up, and I followed suit. “Thank you for your time,” Luke said to them both.

“Whatever we can do to help,” Shepherd said. “Hope you catch the guy.”

“Oh, don't worry,” I said, meeting his eyes, “we will.”

His self-assured smile faltered for a moment but jumped right back on. “Well, good luck.”

I just nodded. Luke and I left the room and stepped out into the lobby of Shepherd Inc. It wasn't until the doors closed on the empty elevator that I sighed with relief. “My skin won't stop crawling. Did you believe a word out of her mouth?” I asked Luke.

“Nope,” he answered. “He coached her.”

“She had bruises on her wrists last night,” I told him. “They're gone now. He probably told her to wear concealer to hide them.” I paused. “When she saw me last night, she looked absolutely petrified. She
has
to know. I mean, how can she not?”

“Maybe she's in denial.”

“Well, as a psychologist it is my moral duty to shake her out of it.” Luke raised an eyebrow. “What? I'm a giver.”

“Miss Hall?” I called to the familiar blonde stepping out of a taxi.

Diana's wide eyes looked up at me as she exited the cab. Her mouth dropped open as she gulped air into her lungs, letting out a little gasp.

I pretended not to notice and walked up to the curb next to the taxi. I could see her body tense up as I approached. “I'm sorry, did I startle you?”

“No,” she answered too quickly.

“We just have a few more questions for you.”

She glanced over at Luke, who waited by the entrance of the apartment building. “I thought I answered all your questions,” she said. “He was with me those nights.”

“We just have a few follow-up questions,” I said as sweet as molasses. “May we come up?”

“Jeremy wouldn't like that. He doesn't like people in the apartment,” she said in a childish voice.

“We can always go to our office and ask you there.”

“Um…” she gulped. Her eyes grew even wider, as if a car were barreling toward her and she couldn't jump out of the way. Indecision gripped her. Independent thought must have been a new concept to her. “Come up, I-I guess.”

We followed her into the building, through the art deco lobby, and into a tiny elevator surrounded by mirrors that barely held the three of us comfortably. Diana pressed herself against the mirrored wall to get as far away from us as possible. Her nervousness bounced all around the walls, practically hitting me in waves. In the mirrored door in front of me, I could see her glancing at me with apprehension all the way up to the penthouse.

We stepped into a small, bland reception area, which led into the oddest apartment I had ever set foot in. The walls, furniture, ceiling, and even the carpet were the brightest shade of white I had ever seen. There wasn't a splash of color anywhere. Everything felt so sanitary it put hospitals to shame. I couldn't tell where the floor ended and the furniture began. Even the coffee table was white. This was a blank room. Antarctica was warmer.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Diana asked.

“We're fine,” Luke said.

The corners of Diana's mouth fell. “Okay, um, I'll be right back.”

Diana made an immediate right down the equally white hallway and disappeared out of sight. When she was out of earshot, I turned to Luke. “This place is unreal.”

“Not the homiest place. What do you make of it?”

“Well, white symbolizes purity. He wants to make this place pure, away from the filth and pain of the real world.” I scanned the room again. “Or he could just like the color white.” Diana came back down the hall sans boots and leather jacket. The woman must have been a masochist to wear black leather in June. “You have a lovely place here,” I said. “Very…clean.”

“Thank you,” she said in barely a whisper.

Diana sat across from us on an immense sofa the color of milk. I tried to meet her eyes, but they stayed on the floor, purposely avoiding my gaze. Her back was as straight as a stick but her shoulders were hunched like an old lady's. She sat with her thin hands in her lap like a good little girl. She looked like a five-year-old at her parents' boring party whose job it was to show what good parents she had.

I opened my bag and pulled out my tape recorder. “Do you mind the recorder?” She shook her head no. I clicked it on.

“Miss Hall, how long have you and Dr. Shepherd lived together?” Luke asked.

“Two years,” she answered, eyes still to the ground.

“What kind of man is he?” I asked.

“He's the most brilliant, kind, considerate, wonderful man on the planet,” she said with little conviction.

“How's that?” I asked.

She looked up from the floor but refused to meet my eyes. “Well, all the money he makes on the books goes to his clinics and various other charities,” she began, giving the stock speech. “He's revolutionized the field of self-help single-handedly and helped millions of people in the process. Almost every hour of every day is spent in his pursuit to help others.”

“All those good deeds, do they leave any time for you?” I asked.

“We have a wonderful relationship,” she insisted.

“He's almost twenty years older than you,” I pointed out.

“He has more energy than a man of twenty.”

“Has this energy waned at all in the past three months?”

“No,” she answered snidely.

“Has he become increasingly aggressive or violent?” Luke asked.

“Of course not. He's never raised a hand to me.”

“What about those bruises on your wrists?” I pressed. “How'd you get those?”

She covered her right wrist with her left hand. “I don't have bruises.”

“You did last night. I saw them, and you know I did.”

Her mouth gaped open to protest, but she thought better of it. She looked back down at the carpet, turning bright red from the embarrassment of the memory. “It's none of your business.”

I glanced over at Luke, who cleared his throat. He rose from the chair. “I'm sorry, may I use your bathroom?”

“Down the hall, third door on the right.”

Luke walked past the couch and out of the living room, leaving me alone with the frightened woman. It was time to work my magic. I rose from the chair and moved over to the couch. Diana glanced up at me, her eyes stretched to the brink as if the Devil himself were approaching her. She scooted down the couch, but I could still hear her ragged breathing.

“I know what he makes you do,” I said, lowering my voice. “I see it not only on your wrists but in your eyes, your face, your whole body. I've seen women like you a hundred times before. I know he ties you up and tells you to struggle like you're being raped. Or sometimes pretending isn't enough. Do you know why he makes you do that? Because he only gets turned on by pain and violence, Diana. There is no love in him, not for you and not for anyone but himself. He's using you.”

“No, he's not! He loves me.”

“Diana, there are people in this world who are incapable of love. It's nobody's fault. There's just something wrong with their minds. They can only think about their own desires, and they use people to fulfill them. Jeremy has this problem.”