Deadly Web (8 page)

Using Frank’s phone, Mitchell could scan Frank’s friends list on Facebook. He found several connections between that list and the harassed women. There was a Melanie Foster, who was both a Facebook friend and one of the main targets for Frank’s attacks. Two others were both Facebook friends and victims as well. There was one celebrity comedian, living in a different state, whom Mitchell doubted Frank knew first hand. It seemed Frank targeted women he knew personally and women he didn’t.

After checking Melanie’s profile, Mitchell established that she and Frank worked in the same place. The connection to the other two Facebook friends wasn’t immediately apparent.

Lyla Harper, Frank’s current partner, had one shared friend with Melanie. A coincidence? Probably. People had shared friends. In fact, according to Facebook, Mitchell’s cousin was Lyla’s friend as well.

Somewhere in the background, he heard Jacob speaking. He tuned out the noise, and dug deeper.

Jacob was talking to Matt on the phone. Matt sounded weary, and Jacob could sympathize. Matt had been woken up in the middle of the night, and had spent the last six hours painstakingly collecting samples from the crime scene and carefully documenting it. Now he was in the laboratory helping to analyze the findings.

“The killer was careful,” Matt said. “He wiped the doorknob before leaving, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t touch anything else. We have several fingerprints from the apartment; they don’t all belong to the deceased, but I doubt any of them are the killer’s.”

“Okay,” Jacob said, glancing at Mitchell. The young detective was looking at multiple open browser windows. Recently, Jacob had found himself feeling crippled next to his partner. He could hardly check his own mail, never mind cross-reference different social networks. How long until his supervisors noticed he wasn’t as useful as the other detectives in the squad? These days, it wasn’t enough just to interrogate well, or have a nose for details.

“The good news is Hannah and Bernard were right,” Matt said. “The killer was waiting in the hallway. We found some scuff marks in the dust where he was hiding. I think he was tapping his foot while he waited.”

Jacob tensed. “Fingerprints?”

“No fingerprints, sorry, but he was biting his fingernails. I have a few samples. They definitely belong to someone male. I’m sending those to the lab, see if they get a match in CODIS, but it’ll take some time.”

“Okay, good,” Jacob said, thinking yet again that
CODIS
was a really cute name for something that should have been named
the great scary big brother who knows us all by our DNA
.

“The pills in the medicine cabinet are definitely Ecstasy,” Matt said. “So this guy was buying drugs.”

“Yeah,” Jacob said. “We think we know who he was buying them from. Could be the guy who killed him.”

“Good. Many of the sex toys in his bedroom were used recently. We found some dried bodily fluids on two vibrators and on one of the dildos, and fecal matter on another dildo.”

“Okay,” Jacob paused for a second to consider the fact that
fecal matter on one of the dildos
was a reasonable phrase to use in a conversation. “When you say recently…”

“The past three months.”

“Right.”

“At least two different partners.”

“I see.” Was Frank seeing two women simultaneously? A jilted lover could have motive.

“According to the triangulation of the blood marks found in the apartment, the victim was standing when he was stabbed. His position in the room was pretty much where we found him. I’ll send you the exact measurements. There are some spots of blood on the floor which probably dripped from the killer’s knife as he was leaving the apartment. I’ll send you their position as well. I found another spot in the hallway.”

“Uh-huh.”

“That’s all I have for you so far,” Matt concluded.

“Thanks, Matt. Keep us updated.” Jacob hung up the phone and got up. He went over to the coffee pot, poured two mugs, and gave one to Mitchell, who thanked him distractedly.

“We have some fingernails which are almost certainly the killer’s,” Jacob told him. That got Mitchell’s attention.

“Any fingerprints?” Mitchell asked, turning away from his screens.

“Afraid not,” Jacob said.

“Okay,” Mitchell said. “I have the girlfriend’s work address.”

“The immediate family should be notified,” Jacob said.

“Parents?” Mitchell asked.

“I don’t know, but the people at the Wexler Center could probably give us a hand there,” Jacob said.

“So who first?” Mitchell asked. “Girlfriend or family?”

Jacob sighed. “Family,” he said unhappily. “We should really start with the family.”

Chapter Six

The Wexler Care Center was only five minutes away from Frank Gulliepe’s apartment. Jacob expected a sterile white building, something similar to a hospital, but in fact it was a charming brown brick building, surrounded by lush green grass spotted with trees and small flowerbeds. It stood in clashing contrast with the rest of the neighborhood, which consisted mostly of old decrepit structures covered in graffiti and soot.

Jacob and Mitchell parked their car and approached the glass front door, which was locked. There was a small intercom to one side, and Jacob pressed the button.

A voice emanated from the speaker. “Yes?”

“Police,” Jacob said.

“Yes, Officer,” the speaker said. “How can I help you?”

“You could open the door,” suggested Jacob.

“What is this about?”

“It’s about a murder investigation.”

The door buzzed open.
Murder investigation
seemed to be the secret password.

The lobby was well-lit, the walls painted light blue, the floor white and clean. There were several pictures on the wall, all of them displaying various bodies of water: a stream, a lake, a sunny beach.

A woman sat behind a pearl-white front desk. She didn’t wait for them to introduce themselves. “My name is Mrs. Pendergast,” she said, standing up and walking around the desk to stand in front of them. “What is this about, Officers?”

Mitchell introduced Jacob and himself, as Jacob examined Mrs. Pendergast. She was about forty, with a deep brown complexion, short brown hair, and tight lips. She seemed angry, though Jacob suspected this was her natural expression. People with tight mouths always seemed unhappy. She wore a pearl necklace and large gold earrings. Combined with her name, her appearance gave her an air of aloof superiority which Mitchell frequently saw in low level managers and bad teachers.

“We’re investigating a murder, Mrs. Pendergast,” Mitchell said. “I believe the sister of a man named Frank Gulliepe is staying here?”

At the mentioning of Frank, Mrs. Pendergast’s mouth relaxed a bit and her eyes softened. Jacob was impressed by the transformation. She suddenly seemed more like a kindly aunt than an angry headmistress.

“Of course. Melinda Gulliepe. Is her brother all right?”

“I’m afraid not, Mrs. Pendergast. He’s dead.”

She covered her mouth with her hand in horror. “Oh God!” she said, and leaned on the desk. “How did it happen?”

“We are not at liberty to say,” Jacob said.

“But… You said it’s a murder investigation, then… then… did someone…” Mrs. Pendergast blinked, tears appearing in her eyes.

“I understand Frank was here yesterday?” Jacob asked smoothly.

“Yes. He comes… came here every Tuesday afternoon. He visited his sister.”

“What was Mr. Gulliepe’s relationship with his sister like?”

“Oh, he loved her. It’s very rare to see such dedication between siblings. Parents, sure. Most parents regularly come to visit their children here. Sometimes even daily.”

Jacob briefly imagined having a child in a place like this. The thought was ghastly and he pushed it away, shuddering inwardly.

“But siblings?” Mrs. Pendergast continued. “Frank was a rare person. Every Tuesday and Thursday, like clockwork. And every other weekend, as well. Melinda was dearly loved.”

“What about their parents?” Mitchell asked.

“Both their parents are dead,” she answered.

Mitchell and Jacob exchanged looks. There would be no knocking on Frank’s mother’s door to tell her that her son was dead. In a way, it was a relief.

“Did Frank seem different yesterday evening?”

“Well, I wasn’t on shift yesterday, so I didn’t see him,” Mrs. Pendergast answered. “You’d have to ask someone from that shift.”

“Could you please let us talk with the person in charge of yesterday’s shift?”

“Well, Dorothy Hobart was in charge… but she had a double shift and was awake all night. I’m sure you don’t want me to wake her up.”

“Actually,” Jacob said. “If you could wake her up, it would be most helpful. This is a murder investigation.”

“But I… of course.” Mrs. Pendergast sighed. She pulled a phone from her pocket and dialed, then waited with the phone glued to her ear, clearing her throat every two seconds. Finally, the person on the other side of the call seemed to pick up. “Dorothy? It’s Linda. I’m really sorry to wake you up. I… Yes, it’s nine-thirty. I’m sorry, but the police are here. They say that Frank Gulliepe was killed last night... Yes! It’s terrible. Poor Frank… I know you saw him only yesterday, dear, that’s why I’m calling you. They want to ask a couple of questions.”

Jacob nodded silently at Mitchell, indicating that he’d take the call. Mrs. Pendergast babbled for several minutes more, then passed the phone to him. “This is Detective Cooper,” he said. “Could I have your name, please?”

The lady on the other side sounded as if she was weeping. “My name is Dorothy. Dorothy Hobart.”

“Mrs. Hobart, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Okay.” Dorothy Hobart said, sniffling.

“Did Frank seem different yesterday evening? Was he worried, or preoccupied?”

“No, he was his usual self.”

“Could you describe what he did during his visit?”

“Well, I wasn’t exactly following him around. He usually got to the center at about four-thirty, and then spent an hour and a half with his sister.”

“Is there any way to corroborate that’s what happened?”

“Well, I dropped by at about five-fifteen to make sure that she would be eating in the dining room. Sometimes Frank took her out to eat, and we need to know how many meals to prepare. He was in her room.”

“Doing what?”

“Talking to her.”

“What did he say?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t listen.”

“Okay.”

“Then, at about six, he escorted her to the community room, where they played cards for about half an hour. They probably took a walk outside before, like they usually did, but I can’t say for sure.”

“And then what?”

“He said goodbye and left.”

“Did he escort his sister back to her room?”

“No, it was time for dinner. She went to the dining room, on her own.”

“Was that usual?”

“Yes.”

“Did Frank fight with anyone, have any confrontations, or take any strange phone calls while he was here?”

“Not at all. He is… was a very peaceful man.”

Jacob recalled the nasty Twitter accounts Mitchell had shown him before they left the station, and tried to connect that to the man they were talking about. “Did his sister behave unusually in any way while he was here?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hobart.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you catch whoever did this.” She hung up.

Jacob handed the phone back to Mrs. Pendergast. “Mrs. Pendergast,” he said. “Did Frank or his sister have any problems with anyone? Perhaps a family member?”

“No. I can’t imagine he would. He was an amazing person. So very kind.”

“Can you give us a list of the visitors his sister has had in the past year?”

“Well… No. Not unless you have a search warrant. Those records are confidential. But I wouldn’t bother.”

“Why not?”

“Because no one except Frank visited her.”

“We need to talk to his sister,” Jacob said.

“Of course,” Mrs. Pendergast sighed. “But I’ll be there the entire time. And you won’t say a word until I explain everything. This is very delicate, Detective.”

“Informing about death always is, Mrs. Pendergast,” Jacob said.

“Yes. I expect so. Nevertheless, you will let me explain.”

Jacob nodded. She led them through several passages to a long hallway lined with doors. She approached one of the doors and knocked.

“Melinda?” she said. “Can we please come in?”

The door opened. A woman Jacob recognized from some of the pictures on Frank’s Instagram page stood in the doorway. Her hair was chestnut brown, and her nose was a bit wide, making it a prominent feature on her face. Her eyes, large and hazlenut, fluttered around, scanning the visitors then lowering to her hands.

“We can talk in the hallway,” she said. “There is no reason to come in.”

“Melinda,” Mrs. Pendergast said in a soft tone. “These gentlemen need to tell you something. And it is something that should be told in your room.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s how it’s done.”

“Okay. You can come in,” Melinda said. “Don’t touch the pictures. Please,” she added a second later, as though as an afterthought.

They entered her room. It was simple, but tasteful. There was a double bed, the sheets folded neatly on top. A blue couch stood against the wall on the right, exactly opposite a bookcase on the other side of the room. There was a small doorway to what appeared to be a bathroom. There were five pictures on the wall, all of them depicting famous modern buildings. Jacob identified the Sydney Opera House and One World Trade Center. Melinda walked a few feet inside, and turned around. Her eyes wandered and Jacob realized she was looking at each of the pictures in turn. Finally, her stare focused on Mrs. Pendergast.