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Authors: Hilary Norman

Caged (26 page)

BOOK: Caged
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‘I’d like to see that sketch again.’
‘Why?’ Moore’s voice rose with frustration. ‘For God’s sake.’
‘I only saw it briefly,’ Riley said, ‘and Detective Becket never saw it at all.’
‘Do you have a particular objection to showing it to us?’ Sam asked.
‘No, of course not – but like I said before, it’s private.’ She looked around, lowered her voice again. ‘And frankly, it’s embarrassing as hell.’
‘Which seemed, I thought when I looked at your work,’ Riley said, ‘to be an interest of yours. Hell, I mean.’
‘Might we come to your home again – ’ Sam had noted her flush, had gone right on – ‘after work today?’
‘Just to look at the sketch,’ Riley said.
Moore shook her head, visibly sagging. ‘What can I say?’
‘You can refuse,’ Sam said.
‘I don’t refuse,’ Moore said.
‘Six o’clock?’ Riley asked.
‘I’ll be there,’ Moore said.
Sam and Riley walked out on to Collins, the traffic slow.
‘Why did you ask to see it again?’ Sam asked.
‘A sudden feeling,’ Riley said.
‘I’m all for those,’ Sam said.
They headed for the Saab.
‘It’s not the subject,’ Riley said. ‘More the background.’
‘Good,’ Sam said.
The afternoon meeting in the situation room yielded no positive progress.
Negatives on all Cutter’s remaining checks on the Christous. Anthony had called the office again this morning to make himself available and to ask if Karen might move back into the house on Prairie Avenue. And maybe they might turn out to be the craziest, boldest serial killers imaginable, but no one believed that.
Beatty and Moore seemed like the only glimmer of hope, though both were still being regarded as persons of interest rather than full-blown suspects.
Negativity all over. The great hope continuing that these
had
been pattern killings and that the spree would end at three. Six victims.
‘I’m not convinced there is a pattern,’ Sam said. ‘Not to the timing, at least.’
‘You have an alternative?’ Joe Duval asked.
‘One I hope to be wrong about.’ He looked around, saw the team waiting, wished he had something worth sharing with them. ‘Just the feeling we’re being played with. That our frustration, maybe even our ineptitude, is being relished every bit as much as the victims’ suffering.’
‘You think they’re enjoying making us wait for more,’ Duval said.
Sam was grim-faced. ‘We all know how addictive that kind of evil pleasure seems to be.’
‘Too addictive to give up,’ Riley said bleakly.
‘Someone please tell me I’m wrong,’ Sam said to the group.
No one could.
EIGHTY-ONE
A
t six on the nose, Sam and Riley were back at Moore’s apartment.
She did not invite them to sit this time, simply handed the photograph of the sketch to Riley.
‘You took it out of the album,’ Sam said.
‘I’m sorry,’ Moore said, ‘but wasn’t this the sketch you wanted to see again?’
Her belligerence was starting to show, Sam noted. Moving further away from the gentle, straightforward young woman she’d first displayed herself to be.
‘It is,’ Riley said. ‘Thank you.’
She moved beneath the overhead lamp – two screw-in bulbs connected to a ceiling fan – took a long look, then handed it to Sam.
Who saw it too.
‘All right?’ Moore asked.
‘We’re interested in the background,’ Sam said.
‘Background?’
Sam brought the photo back to her, keeping hold of it. ‘The subject, Mr Beatty, is in the foreground. There’s a column in the background.’
‘Yes,’ she said, her colour heightening.
‘It looks familiar to us,’ Sam said.
‘It’s just a column,’ Moore said. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. It isn’t a real place.’
‘Oh, that’s right,’ Riley said. ‘Because Mr Beatty didn’t pose for you. This was just a work of imagination.’
‘Yes,’ Moore said again. ‘It was.’
‘Yet Mr Beatty is a real person,’ Sam said. ‘So chances are, same goes for the background.’
‘That column sure does look familiar,’ Riley said.
‘You said,’ Moore said.
Sam and Riley exchanged looks.
Time marching on, time they could ill afford.
‘Looks like one of the columns in the Oates Gallery to me,’ Sam said.
‘Just like,’ Riley said.
Moore shrugged. ‘I guess that place might have influenced me.’
‘Because you spent so much time there,’ Sam said.
‘Not so much,’ she said, ‘but enough, I guess.’
‘Do you have a photocopier here, Ms Moore?’ asked Riley.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Sorry.’
‘I thought,’ Sam said, ‘I saw a fax machine in your studio last time we came.’
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Yes.’
‘Would you have any objection to our taking a copy of your photograph, ma’am?’ Riley asked.
‘I’m not sure if the photo would fit in the machine,’ Moore said.
‘I think it would,’ Sam said.
Moore smiled. ‘I don’t suppose it would sit well if I did object.’
‘It’s your right to refuse,’ Sam said.
‘At this time,’ Riley added.
Allison Moore dipped her head, resentment and resignation about equal.
‘Be my guests,’ she said.
EIGHTY-TWO
S
aul and Cathy were in their kitchen at the apartment, heating up pizza and planning their strategy for the surprise.
‘Mildred says she only has one patient Thursday morning,’ Saul said. ‘Nine thirty. So as long as Grace doesn’t make any more appointments, we can get her out of the house by eleven so you can pack.’
‘How am I going to know what to pack?’ Cathy opened the refrigerator, pulled out a bag of romaine lettuce and some cherry tomatoes.
‘You’re a woman,’ Saul said. ‘You’ll work it out.’
‘Don’t be sexist,’ Cathy said. ‘I’m a waitress and an amateur runner. Grace is a sophisticated psychologist and a beautiful woman. Not all women are the same, Saul, in case you hadn’t noticed.’
‘We all know what she likes wearing,’ Saul said, sticking to the point. ‘Just pack everything you see that you think she might need. And don’t forget stuff like make-up and perfume and jewellery.’
‘You don’t say,’ Cathy said. ‘What if she does schedule more appointments?’
‘Mildred’s going to do her best to make sure that doesn’t happen.’ Saul opened the oven door, took a look at the pizza, the aroma of day-old pepperoni and onion flowing into the kitchen. ‘My job’s the tough part – getting Grace out of the house.’
‘You’ll have to have an emergency.’ Cathy ran the tomatoes under the faucet, then dried them with a piece of paper towel.
‘It’ll have to be something that only Grace could fix.’
‘She’s hardly Mrs Fix-it,’ Cathy said. ‘All she really knows how to fix is people.’
‘Oh, man,’ Saul said.
EIGHTY-THREE
‘
W
hat do they do at witches’ covens?’ Sam asked Riley back in the office just before seven.
‘How the hell should I know?’
‘You’re the one who brought up witches,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking about the blood in the gallery. And the cocaine. Do witches do drugs, do we know?’
‘I’ll call Joe Duval,’ Riley said. ‘See if he can ask his office to locate any covens in Miami-Dade.’
‘Tell him not to bother with the official Wiccan churches,’ Sam said. ‘They seem pretty respectable.’
‘Jesus,’ Riley said. ‘Less than a week ago I’m not sure I’d even heard of Wicca.’
‘Tell Duval we need an ear to the ground,’ Sam said, ‘listening out for something a little smaller, more secretive.’
‘And maybe a whole lot nastier,’ Riley said.
Sam listened to his messages, smiled.
‘What’s up?’ Riley asked.
‘Martinez is out of the CCU,’ Sam said.
‘Thank God,’ Riley said.
‘Yeah,’ Sam said, abruptly drained by relief.
She picked up her phone. ‘I’ll call Duval. You go see Martinez.’
‘I can see him later.’
‘If we get anything fast,’ Riley said, ‘you can come back.’
‘You sure?’ Sam said.
‘It’ll do you good to see him out of that place,’ Riley said.
Sam wasn’t arguing. ‘I’ll call you from there.’
Martinez was in a regular room four floors up from the CCU, a pretty room with blue drapes at the window and a framed print of a South Beach scene that Sam thought was probably identical to the one they’d seen in the gardener’s room eight days earlier.
Jess was sitting in the armchair as Sam came in.
‘Hi,’ she said, flushing, looking embarrassed as hell.
As she ought, Sam thought, then pulled his mind sharply off the incident.
In the past, he hoped, his friend’s recovery all that mattered now.
For
now.
‘Hey,’ he said to Martinez. ‘Look at you.’
‘Hey,’ Martinez said back. ‘So how’s it going?’
It was the first time Sam had heard Martinez speak coherently in days, though his voice was weak.
‘We’re all good.’ Sam held his friend’s hand for a moment, almost hoping he would object, be fully himself again, but instead, Martinez shut his eyes for an instant, and Sam knew he’d been aware of his own mortality. ‘All missing you,’ he added.
‘I’m talking about the case,’ Martinez said. ‘Not my popularity.’
Sam felt warm relief. ‘You really are feeling better.’
‘Come on, man,’ his friend said. ‘I need details.’
‘You need rest,’ Sam told him.
‘Are you retiring me?’ Martinez said.
‘You’ll outwork me,’ Sam said.
‘You’re just out of the CCU, Al,’ Jess said.
‘I know where I’ve been,’ he told her, a little abruptly.
‘I know you do,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
Martinez shook his head, his dark hair sleek against his head from days and nights of fever and no showers. ‘No, I’m sorry, Jessie,’ he said. ‘I just want to feel normal again, like
me
, you know?’
‘Of course she knows,’ Sam said. ‘We all do.’
‘So give me something, man.’
‘I wish I had something to give,’ Sam said.
‘Nothing?’ Martinez looked incredulous, as if he’d been in bed for a year rather than four days. ‘No arrests? No suspects?’
‘None worth talking about.’
Jess got up. ‘It’s because I’m here.’
Sam shook his head. ‘It’s because I don’t have anything worth telling, and because this guy has to get well, which means he has to rest like any other patient who nearly died from rat bite fever.’
‘I kept telling them,’ Martinez said, ‘I never got bitten by any rat.’
‘They told you it doesn’t have to get you like that,’ Jess reminded him.
Martinez shuddered. ‘Makes me nauseous just thinking about it. I hate fucking rats.’
‘Then don’t think about it,’ Jess told him.
‘Listen to your fiancée,’ Sam said.
Martinez shut his eyes again. ‘Jeez, I’m tired.’
‘So get some sleep,’ Sam said. ‘I’m going home.’
His partner opened his eyes again. ‘Grace doin’ OK?’
‘She’s doing great,’ Sam told him. ‘And it looks like we’re going to make the trip.’
‘That’s good.’ Martinez mustered a smile.
‘Alvarez won’t let me call it off,’ Sam said. ‘Can you believe that guy?’
‘What’s this trip?’ Jess asked.
‘It’s a surprise for Grace,’ Martinez told her sleepily. ‘For her birthday.’
‘That’s so nice,’ Jess said.
Sam looked at her, saw apparent sincerity.
‘He’s taking her on a cruise,’ Martinez told her.
Sam wished instantly that he had not.
‘Oh, I’m so jealous,’ Jess said, then flushed again. ‘I mean, it’s something I’d love for us to do someday, Al.’
‘Maybe we will, baby,’ he said.
He shut his eyes again, and this time he slept.
Sam called Riley from the car, told her about Martinez, then asked if she’d gotten anything usable from Duval’s office.
‘Nothing yet,’ she said. ‘But he’s on it.’
A surge of impatience swept through Sam. ‘We have to bring in Beatty and Moore. At the very least, I’m betting they were there, in that house, some time close to what went down – maybe even that night.’
‘We have no proof of that,’ Riley said.
‘I know it,’ Sam said. ‘But if there’s even a chance I’m right, we can’t afford to waste another minute.’
‘So just questioning, right?’ Riley said. ‘If they agree to come in.’
‘We don’t want to arrest them, that’s for sure,’ Sam said.
‘I’m up for it,’ she said, ‘if the Captain agrees.’
‘I’m hoping Alvarez will be on side.’ Sam pulled out of the parking lot on to Biscayne Boulevard.
‘So Martinez is really on the up?’ Riley asked.
‘Knock on wood,’ Sam said.
‘No big plans on my birthday this year, please,’ Grace said later, in bed. ‘You have enough pressure on you, and I don’t need anything but you.’ She stroked his cheek, kissed his temple. ‘I mean it, Sam. You don’t have time.’
‘I always have time for you, Gracie,’ he said.
‘You always
want
to have time for me,’ she said. ‘That’s different. Better.’
‘We’ll see,’ Sam said.
‘Just please don’t start feeling you need to organize anything,’ she persisted. ‘I’ll tell the others not to expect even a dinner, unless it’s a last-minute sit around the kitchen table.’
‘OK.’ Sam kissed her on the mouth. ‘You’re amazing.’
‘I just hope I have my priorities straight,’ Grace said. ‘No big deal.’
‘You’re the biggest deal I know,’ he said.
EIGHTY-FOUR
February 25
W
ith no more than the usual cautions from Tom Kennedy, Sam and Riley issued separate ‘invitations’ to Beatty and Moore to come in to answer a few questions.
BOOK: Caged
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