Deadly Visions (31 page)
Authors: Roy Johansen
Joe displayed another slide.”These are fingerprints lifted from the scene. They appeared to be Angela's, but when the crime lab analyzed the skin oils for possible DNA extraction, they discovered it wasn't skin oil at all. It was cocoa butter.” Joe nodded to forensics specialist Graham Martin, who stood near Henderson at the front of the room.
“With a trace of pineapple “Martin added.
“We determined that Roth probably used an engraving press to create the prints. I wondered where he could have gotten copies of her fingerprints, but I knew there are certain professions that require a complete set to be taken. One of those professions, I discovered, happens to be the real estate industry. Angela was a leasing agent in Florida before I met her, and in that state, fingerprints of all agents are kept on file with the licensing authority. Roth most likely bribed a temp or someone else there for a copy. There's a light scratch on her right thumbprint that matches a scratch on her print in Florida. Roth scanned her prints into the press and engraved them on thin pieces of vinyl. He lightly oiled the vinyl and left her prints on my dining room table.”
A CNN reporter stood up.”Did he own an engraving press? I assume that most people don't have these things lying around.”
“No, but his employer did. The internal publications department at his music video network had one, and he would have had easy access after hours. Plus, our friends at the New York City Police Department found vinyl sample sheets in his apartment. He
may have been contemplating an especially bad redecorating project, but this is more likely.”
A barrage of questions erupted from the journalists, but Joe shook his head.”I'm sorry, but I can't take any more questions right now. I hope this has been helpful.” The questions continued as he gathered his notes and quickly headed for the door. He knew he'd be fielding calls from these reporters for the next several days, but that didn't matter. There was somewhere he had to be.
Joe drove to the Charlie Brown airport and parked his car. He hoped he wasn't too late.
He walked past several small charter planes until he spotted an ambulance parked next to a Gulf-stream jet. It had to be her. He strode to the ambulance's rear doors, where two attendants pulled out a gurney and extended the wheels.
Monica Gaines looked up at Joe from the gurney.”I thought the mayor might come to see me off. Oh, well. I suppose you'll do.”
Joe smiled. “Hello, Monica. You look much better than you did the last time I saw you.”
“Considering that I was at death's door, it's not much of a compliment.”
“I just got back from the press conference. You could have appeared there too, you know.”
She smiled. “Too many unpleasant questions. I'll have one of my own when I feel better and can put the correct perspective on things.”
“I'm sure you will.” Joe spoke to the attendants. “Will you excuse us for a minute, guys?”
The attendants hesitated but stepped away after Monica waved them off.
Joe leaned close to her. “The feds cracked that Russian agent's laptop. It was very enlightening.”
She looked away with apparent disinterest.”Is that right?”
“Yes. The agent had all of you test subjects under close observation. He knew Roth was a killer, but he didn't care. With Haddenfield's program, he thought he had the Holy Grail of psychic powers. You and Haddenfield led him to believe that, didn't you?”
Monica sighed.”Do I need my lawyers present, Detective? Because if I do, we should—”
“Not necessary.” Joe leaned closer. “Haddenfield had a psychic 'dream team'there at the Crate. He conspired with you and a few others to convince Haddenfield that the program was a success. He even got the agent to grease the wheels—by bribing Councilman Talman—for you to come here and impress him with your patented serial killer investigation routine. The 'paranormal killer'angle was guaranteed to get you big headlines, wasn't it? It worked for Arthur Lan-ska in Poland in the sixties, andTricia Dere in Holland in the seventies. Plus, it fit in with the fact that the victims heard eerie voices in the days before their deaths. You make headlines with your 'spirit killer'readings, and then, if the killer is found, you just say that the spirit was working through a human instrument. That's what the other psychics did. Is that how it was supposed to go?”
Monica smiled.”Utter nonsense.”
“Roth may not have not thought so. Did you ever see him at the Crate?”
“A few times last year. Our test sessions hadn't coincided recently.”
“Well, it's possible he thought you were hitting too close to his Rakkan killings, patterned after a supernatural being wandering the countryside. He may have thought you
were
real, and it scared him. So he made you his next victim.”
“Maybe he had good reason to be afraid of me.”
Joe shrugged.”In any case, tell your producer to be more careful who she spends time with. This Russian agent knew Roth was the killer, and he used your producer to find out where he was staying locally. He blackmailed Roth into admitting that Haddenfield was cooking his results.”
Monica nodded. “The FBI told us that. But how did he know that Roth was the killer?”
“During the course of the study, his agency had you all under close observation. It was a big deal to them. That's how they happened to find out that Roth was our serial murderer.”
“This is all very interesting, but I've already given the FBI my full cooperation.”
“Without telling them much of anything. Don't worry, Monica. They want to keep the Defense Department study classified, so they're not going to make a big fuss about this. They didn't even want me to discuss it at the press conference.”
“That must have been torture for you.”
“Not really. We stopped a killer, and that's what matters.” He smiled. “I'm glad you're going to be okay.”
“Much to my nurse's chagrin. She'll have to find another ghoulish subject for her camera.”
“You read her lips, didn't you?”
“Pardon?”
“I have to admire you. You were in so much pain, but it must have been second nature for you. We used the same trick on Talman. We read his lips when he talked on the pay phone outside your room. You read your nurse's lips, didn't you?”
Her eyes twinkled.”Is that what you think?”
He nodded. “You're in good company. Some of the greatest supposed psychics in history were skilled lip-readers. It comes in handy before performances when you scan the crowd from behind the curtain. You can pick up all kinds of things, can't you?”
Monica nodded.”I imagine you would.”
“That's how you found out about my argument with my daughter, and maybe even about Carla's secret romance. I've determined that each of us had telephone conversations within sight of you—conversations that would have tipped you off to these things. Add a few good research contacts—including a source at one of the credit reporting bureaus—and you could come up with all kinds of information about people. Like the fact that Howe had recently spent six thousand dollars at a jewelry store. When an unmarried cop spends that much at a place like that, there aren't many other possibilities. You also could have found out that I'd recently dropped seven hundred at an auto repair shop. You filled in the blanks with some educated guesses.”
“Well, will you at least give me credit for the name of the song that Glen Murphy was working on?”
“'Nothing but the Stars'? I was impressed until my daughter showed me Glen Murphy's fan website.
There were daily updates on the making of his new album. If you had read that, you could have seen that Murphy was working on 'Nothing but the Stars'during the last week of his life.”
If
I'd visited the website.”
“That's the funny thing. Murphy's people were very accommodating, and they gave us the website visitor logs. A few of the IP addresses were from Canada, and a guy at the station checked them out. One of them belongs to you. You visited the website just before coming to Murphy's murder scene that morning.”
Monica shook her head. “It must have been someone at my production company.”
“If you say so.”
She patted his hand.”I'm sorry, Joe.”
“For what?”
“For disappointing you.”
“I'm used to it, Monica. It's my job.”
“I'm not confirming anything you said, but it's obvious I haven't made a believer of you. Maybe you'll give me another chance someday.”
“You never know.”
“It was nice meeting you, Joe Bailey.”
“The pleasure was mine.”
She looked at him quizzically.
He smiled.”At least it's been interesting.”
“You're right about that. By the way, my offer stands. Anytime you'd like to be a guest on my show, we'll be happy to have you.”
“I'll keep that in mind. Have a good flight.”
“Good-bye, Joe.”
Joe motioned toward the attendants, and they
came and lifted Monica onto the plane. He wasn't close enough to hear, but he thought she was giving them an impromptu reading as they helped her aboard. He chuckled to himself. The lady definitely had spirit.
He stayed and watched as her jet taxied to the end of the runway and took off into the cloudless sky.
SAVANNAH, GEORGIA
I
s there something wrong, Daddy?” Joe stood on the riverbank, taking in the bright red-yellow leaves and breathing the crisp morning air. He turned toward Nikki. “Nothing's wrong, honey.”
“So can we go now? I don't want to miss the parade.”
“We won't.”
Joe looked up at the path that overlooked the riverbank. His father was pushing Carla in her wheelchair, talking a mile a minute about all the plans he had for them. Not only was Carla expected to make a full recovery, she'd emerged from her coma with an engagement ring on her finger. She planned to move to Savannah by Christmas and join the local police department.
Joe, Suzanne, and Nikki had driven Carla from Atlanta the night before, and they'd all risen early to see the town's Veterans'Day parade.
Joe gently pushed back Nikki's hair.”You're getting to be so grown-up, you know that?”
“I don't feel grown-up.”
“Well, you are. You really handled yourself well these last couple of weeks. Barry Roth tried to hurt us in the cruelest way imaginable, and you held it together. I'm proud of you.”
Nikki hugged him.”Suzanne helped me. She's awesome.”
“I think so too.”
Nikki pulled away.”I knew it wasn't Mommy doing and saying those things. I thought it was at first, but later I knew.”
“Suzanne explained it to you really well, huh?”
“Not just Suzanne.”
“Who else?”
She didn't answer.
“Nikki?”
She looked away from him. “I knew it wasn't Mommy because …Mommy
told
me it wasn't.”
Joe felt as if he'd been kicked in the stomach. “What?”
“Suzanne came over that day, and after Grandpa left, she helped me talk to Mommy.”
“How?”
“Please don't be mad. Suzanne said you'd be mad if you knew.”
“I'm not mad. Just tell me what Suzanne said.”
“Suzanne talked to her friend, the one who died when she was a little girl. Her name is Daphne. Daphne talked to Mommy.”
“You believed her?”
Nikki nodded. “Mommy told me not to be scared.
She said that you'd take care of me. She knows that I still sing 'Breakout'in my head when I get scared. I've never told anybody that, not even you.” Her gaze searched his face. “I knew you wouldn't believe me, but it's true …it's true, Daddy.”
“Are you …sure?”
“Yes. Mommy misses you. She's happy, but she still remembers us and the things we did. And she knows about Lillian.”
Joe stopped breathing.”What?”
“There's a statue you like to look at. It's in the window of an antiques store. It's a statue of a pretty lady named Lillian. It reminds you of the way Mommy looked one summer when she got her hair cut short. You've thought about buying it, but it's expensive and you're afraid it will make you sad. Mommy doesn't want you to be sad.”
Joe felt light-headed. He'd been looking at that statue for months, but he'd never breathed a word about it to anyone.
No one could possibly know this. Unless …
“Joe?”
He turned and saw Suzanne standing on the path above them.
He and Nikki climbed the embankment and stopped a few feet away from her. Suzanne studied his expression.”She told you, didn't she?”
He nodded.
“I knew I should have asked your permission, but I had to keep Nikki from hurting. I'm not sorry I did it. Do you want me to leave?”
He shook his head.
“What do you want to do?”
Joe's eyes stung, but for once he didn't care if Nikki noticed. He wanted to say something, but the words wouldn't come.
That's okay, he thought. He had a lifetime to find the words.
He took Suzanne's hand and kissed it. “Let's go watch a parade.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTSAs with my previous Joe Bailey mystery, I owe a debt of gratitude to the skeptics—past and present—who have influenced me through the years. Many of history's most effective debunkers have been magicians—from Harry Houdini to James Randi to Penn& Teller—and, at their best, they've shown that skepticism is not synonymous with cynicism.
Thanks are also in order to Dr. Jennifer Li, who educated me on the sound transmission properties of Terfenol-D and its use in upcoming personal audio devices. One such device, the Soundbug, is already available from Olympia International.
I also owe much gratitude to:
My wife, Lisa, who keeps the magic and wonder alive.
My agent, Andrea Cirillo, who is the best guide to the publishing world that I could ever hope for.
And finally, my editor, Bill Massey, who became a husband, father, and New York City resident during one of the most traumatic times in the city's history. And through it all, he helped me shape this story with unerring taste, understanding, and intelligence.
That
'
s
a good trick!
