Deadly Visions (14 page)

“Ending with a reassuring message about how they should live their lives? You've never gone in for that kind of thing before.”

“It's what that woman's daughter said. I'm sorry if you thought she was being overly sentimental, but maybe you can discuss it with Nadia in fifty or sixty years.”

“It just sounded like the second-rate psychics who put up their shingles in Little Five Points.”

“I agree. But as much as I don't want to be lumped into that category, I'm not going to sit here and censor a ghost.” Suzanne quickly moved up the stairway. “I have to check out the damage. Come on, make yourself useful.”

They returned to the second-story sitting room, where Suzanne kicked at a few of the loose floor slats. “This has happened before. A little carpenter's glue and the floor will be fine.”

Joe gestured down.”May I?”

“Sure.”

He lifted the end of a loose panel, one that he'd seen curling into the air. There was no evidence of tampering, and its dark underside was smooth.

She smiled. “I'll bet you were just dying to bring your spirit kit in here.”

Her smile was simply radiant, Joe thought. She wasn't at all nervous about him inspecting the scene, especially impressive since his presence there had been a surprise. He shrugged. “I promised you that I wouldn't be wearing my Spirit Basher hat.”

“Yes, you were admirably restrained. Was this the fifth sÉance of mine you've seen?”

“Sixth. Plus three others that the university 'spook squad'videotaped.”

“They prefer to be called parapsychologists.”

“I'm sure they do.”

Suzanne glanced out the window. “Oh Lord. Help me get those screens inside.”

Joe threw open the window and grabbed one of the twisted screens. He ran his hand along the frame, feeling for a piece of wire or anything that may have pulled it down. Nothing. He laid it on the sitting-room floor and retrieved the other one. No signs of tampering there either.

Suzanne tried to straighten the frame, pressing it with the heels of her hands as she spoke.”Okay, Spirit Basher. If you were to duplicate this with trickery, how would you do it?”

Joe shrugged. “I'd brush the aluminum frame with a sodium hydroxide compound to soften it. I'd tie eight feet of heavy-duty clear fishing line to each of
the upper corners and let the ends hang down. After your guests were inside, I'd have someone on the street below tie the lines to metal rods. They'd pull the top of the screen away from the window, and the weakened frame would bend and twist pretty much any way they wanted it to.”

“Well, if you know where I can get any of that sodium hydroxide compound, I'd sure like to know. Maybe I could use it to bend these things back into shape. I'm going to lose money on this deal.”

“You're still charging for your sÉances?”

“As long as I try to make a living as a classical music composer, I'll probably be charging for this. This takes a lot of time and energy for me.”

“Not to mention all the time you spend visiting other spiritualists.”

“You know why I do that,” she said.

Yes, he knew. Suzanne claimed to be searching for another spiritualist who shared her unique gift. She'd been made to feel like a freak for most of her life, and she wanted to find someone else who could do the amazing things she did. She armed herself with an immense knowledge of paranormal fraud techniques, not to use them herself, she maintained, but to identify those who would try to deceive her.

Suzanne picked up the bent screens and leaned them against the wall. “I'll work on these later. So, why did you come here? Did that family ask you to drop in?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“Then, why? I don't hear from you in four months, and you come here now?”

“I'm sorry about that. I should've gotten in touch sooner.”

“You were under no obligation.”

“Sure I was. We were …involved. That meant something to me.”

“Funny way of showing it.”

“I know. I'm sorry.”

She straightened the chairs. “I always knew it was a risk. I'm the only spiritualist you've never been able to debunk, and I think that intrigued you at first. Later it just got frustrating and you couldn't handle it.”

“I couldn't handle it, but not for the reason you think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. You did change my perspective on things, Suzanne, but I don't want to go into it right now. I'm sorry if I hurt you.”

“Hey, don't worry about me. I think you overestimate the power of your charm. I have missed Nikki though.”

“She still talks about you.”

Suzanne looked away. “Why are you here, Joe? Did you come to apologize?”

“Yes. But I also need your help.”

“With what?”

“Have you heard about what happened to Monica Gaines?”

“Everybody has.”

“I was assigned to accompany her to the crime scenes when she was in town.”

“I'm sure she loved that.”

Joe brought Suzanne up to speed on Monica's eerie
impressions, the strange voices, and the fiery attack at her hotel.

Suzanne's eyes narrowed.”Any theories yet?”

“I'm working on the combustion, but I'm especially interested in the voices right now.”

Suzanne studied Joe's expression. “You're wound pretty tight. Are you all right?”

He let out a long breath. “I heard a voice last night. It sounded exactly like Angela.”

Are you serious?”

“Yes. Nikki told me she heard it a couple nights ago.”

Suzanne considered this.”Amplification?”

“None that I could find. No trace of speakers or magnetic coil.”

“Ductwork?”

“One vent, and it was behind me. No way it came from there.”

“Jesus. No wonder you're shaken up.”

“Yeah, it's kind of knocked me for a loop.”

“And Nikki?”

“Very upset. She thinks that Angela is trying to warn me.”

“Warn you of what?”

“Of the supposed evil spirits, I guess. And then there's the redecorating.”

“What?”

Joe filled her in on the rearrangement of his apartment. As he spoke, it seemed even more inconceivable. Suzanne briefly quizzed him, asking the same questions he'd been asking himself. Who would be so intimately familiar with the apartment's previous
layout? Who would have a reason to do something like that? He still didn't have the answers.

“That's just bizarre,” she finally said.

“Tell me about it. I was going to go crazy unless I could talk to somebody.” He sighed. “Not just somebody. You.”

Suzanne was quiet for a moment.”I've never heard of a ghost giving a warning.”

“Look, I'm not here for you to play ghost psychologist. I just need your help in figuring out how this could have happened. You're an expert at this kind of fakery.”

“So are you.”

“I need an objective eye. Where Angela's concerned, it's hard for me to be objective.”

“I'd be worried if you
could
be.”

“I've talked to Sam about audio tricks, but it's really not his field. You're pretty current on a lot of this stuff. Any ideas?”

“Slow down. I still haven't said I'd help you. I'm not through being pissed.”

He nodded.”I don't blame you. I wish I wasn't asking you for help. But it's not just about me, it's Nikki.”

“I know. And if someone really is faking this, it's the lowest of the low. It's like the charlatans I see all the time.”

“Do you still go to sÉances every week?”

“The more I see, the better chance I have of finding someone who isn't bullshitting me. Sometimes it takes two or three visits, but I always find out how they do it. Of course, you still probably think I'm doing it to pick up methods for my own use.”

“I'm trying to keep an open mind. Whatever your
reasons, it makes you the person I need right now.” He paused.”Please.”

She bit her lip. “I have an idea. Will you be home tonight?”

Joe caught up with Carla and Howe in the squad room shortly after one P.M. They were studying the medical examiner's report for victim number three, who had been electrocuted by his garage door.

Joe threw his jacket over his chair back. “Does the report tell you anything you didn't already know?”

Carla shook her head.”Just that about twenty thousand volts went through him.”

“Hell of a spike,” Howe said. “We already figured that whoever did it must have tapped into the power transformer.”

“Can the power company back that up?”

Carla shook her head. “They can't even get my bill right. What makes you think they can help us with something like that?”

Howe nodded.”I checked with the company, but if it's not on a meter, they're pretty useless. There are surges all the time.”

“Gotcha.”

Carla leaned close to Joe. “How are you holding up? It must have shaken you up to come home and find your place like that.”

“Yeah.”Joe paused.

“Spill it.”

“Spill what?”

“Whatever's on your mind. You're among friends here.”

Joe smiled. Carla was one of the sweetest and most perceptive people he knew. Another reason why she always got the guys.

Joe took a deep breath and told them about hear-ingAngela's voice in his room the night before. To his surprise, they didn't look at him as if he were totally crazy.

“Are you sure you weren't dreaming?” Howe asked. “I mean, after what you'd been through, you were already thinking about her.”

“You're talking to me the same way I talked to my daughter the other night. It wasn't a dream. I stood up and turned on the light. The voice was still there, and it sounded like Angela's. I'm sure that's what Nikki heard.”

Howe frowned. “Each of the victims heard voices in the days before their deaths.”

“This is different,” Carla said. “Those weren't specific to anyone that they knew. Joe knew this voice.” She turned back to face him. “Did you go over the room with your spirit kit?”

“Yeah. I couldn't find anything.”

“I don't like this,” Carla said. “If you're convinced that it's not your wife—”

Joe interrupted her. “
If
I'm convinced? Surely you don't believe—”

“I don't know what to believe, Joe, but someone could be doing a number on you. It could be the same person who's killing these people, and he was actually in your
home.
”

“Believe me, I've thought of that. The fingerprint guys have already been out to my place. There's nothing more anyone can do right now.”

carla pursed her lips. “Have you told Nikki?”

“No, not about hearing Angela's voice. I want to keep this from her as long as I can.”

“I don't like this, Bailey. If you notice anything else, let us know right away.”

“Don't worry.”

Two uniformed officers entered the squad room with a young man with dark shoulder-length hair. “Detectives?”

Howe stepped forward.”What's up?”

“We picked this man up on a trespassing charge. Some neighbors called it in. He was poking around Thomas Coyle's residence.”

AKA victim number four, Joe remembered. The man who was dragged behind his car.

“So?” Carla asked. “The crime scene has been broken down. Did he take a swing at you or something?”

“He was unresponsive,” the officer said. “He said he'd talk to only one of you.”

Joe looked at the man. There was something familiar about him.

“Okay,” Howe said. “You have our attention. But first, why don't you give us an idea who the hell you are?”

The man flashed a smile that was unnaturally bright.”Of course. My name is—”

“Barry Roth,” Joe finished for him.

Roth looked flattered.”Yes.”

“You know this guy?” Carla asked.

Joe nodded. “You would too if you had an eleven-year-old daughter. He's another psychic. He has a call-in show on the music video channel.”

“I flew here from New York to help you,” Roth
said. “You really should listen to me, Detectives. I've helped several police departments.”

Howe nodded. “And I'm sure you have a stack of testimonials from small-town sheriff's deputies, right?”

“Yeah. Small towns like New York, San Francisco, and Chicago. I helped them, and I can help you.”

“And help yourself too,” Howe said caustically. “Hey, we'd all win.”

“That's why you were at Coyle's place?” Carla asked.

Roth nodded. “I've been trying to arrange a more formal meeting with your department, but no one has been interested in returning my calls.”

“Look, we're really not interested in seeing this case played out between Snoop Dogg videos,” Joe said.

“This isn't for my show,” Roth said. “I play to the Clearasil set. They want to know if their boyfriends are going to ask them to the prom or if their parents are going to give them cars for graduation. Trivial things like life and death have little appeal for my audience.”

“So why are you here?” Joe said.

Roth pulled a felt-tip pen from his pocket, uncapped it, and wrote something in the palm of his left hand.

“I've had enough,” Howe said. “Carla, we have an appointment with the medical examiner to discuss this report. Why don't we just—”

Joe grabbed Howe's arm.”Wait a second.”

Roth held up his hand and showed them a circle
with two intersecting lines, much like the ones they had found on Monica and the murder victims.

“Aw, shit,” Howe said. “Now we gotta talk to this son of a bitch.”

“I'll do it,”Joe said. “This is my thing.” He motioned to Roth.”Follow me. You just bought yourself a ticket to the Cave.”

“What?”

Joe led Roth to Interrogation Room A, known in the squad as the Cave due to its lack of windows and drab pencil-lead color scheme. The hue had been suggested by a high-priced behavioral psychologist, who maintained that it would throw criminals off kilter and elicit faster confessions. As far as Joe could tell, the Cave only threw the cops off kilter.

He pulled Roth's arm across the table, raised his digital camera, and snapped a picture of the circular symbol. He inspected the picture in the camera's LCD screen. “Okay, tell me how you knew about this marking.”

“I saw it in a dream. I'm not sure what it means, but I think it's related to these killings.”

“You know that this could make you a suspect, right? We've withheld any mention of this to the media.”