Insidious (38 page)

They heard voices downstairs. “Our backup.” Cam raced out of the huge bedroom and down the stairs, holding up her creds. Two young officers, their hands on their guns, stood spread-legged, staring up at her. “Cam Wittier, Federal Agent. We’ll need an ambulance for an injured woman upstairs. And check the rooms downstairs and the grounds outside. Be on the lookout for a Caucasian man in his midthirties, tall and thin. Be careful, he’s a murderer. He’s holding Mr. Markham hostage.”

As she stepped back into the bedroom, she heard Mrs. Markham’s hoarse voice. “Neither of us was asleep. Theo’s a night owl, he never goes to sleep until after midnight. He was still upset over Deborah Connelly’s murder; it was bad, he was half out of his mind. I really tried to help him, not that he wanted much of anything from me, even
comfort. He was still dressed, lying here beside me, not talking, staring up at the dark ceiling.” Her breathing hitched. “The lights went on and I was blinded a moment, then I saw a man standing in the doorway, aiming a gun at us.

“I think I screamed, I’m not sure, but Theo, he leaped out of bed and started yelling. The man seemed crazy—he was yelling back at Theo, both of them cursing each other. I couldn’t believe it—the man laughed and he told Theo to sit back down on the bed and be quiet or he’d shoot him right then and there.

“I’ve never seen Theo so angry, he was shaking with it, but he was scared, too. The man came up close and I saw him clearly. I didn’t recognize him.”

Cam quickly called up Doc’s photo on her cell. “Was this the man?”

“Yes, yes, that’s him. Who is he?”

“We’ll get to that, Mrs. Markham. What happened after he approached you and Theo?”

“He told Theo to get some of his ties and tie me to the chair, and if he didn’t tie me up tight, he’d shoot me.” She was swallowing convulsively.

Daniel stroked her hands, trying to calm her, and kept his voice soothing. “That must have been terrible, Mrs. Markham. Then what happened?”

She closed her eyes a moment. “He didn’t say anything while Theo was tying me to the chair. Then he told Theo to get on his knees.

“Theo was cursing him, but I could see how scared he was. I thought the man was going to murder him right in front of me. The man pointed the gun at his head, and then he said in a scary calm voice I’ll never forget, ‘Tell your wife about how you murdered Deborah Connelly.’

“I didn’t understand, it was crazy. I mean, Theo had cast Deborah
Connelly in a title role in his next movie. Why would he kill her? And then Theo yelled right back at him.” ‘I’m not the murderer, you are!’ ”

Tears streamed down her face, and she swallowed yet again. “The man ran up to him and hit him in the head with his gun and Theo fell down, but the man kept hitting him, kicking him. Then he stood back over him and yelled. ‘Tell your wife you killed Deborah Connelly and do it now or you’ll kill her, too. Get up on your knees, face her!’

“Theo managed to pull himself to his knees, the man screaming at him over and over, ‘Face her, you bastard, have the balls to face her!’

“Theo looked up at me and said straight out, ‘I killed Deborah Connelly.’ I made noises through the gag but he couldn’t understand me. Then the man leaned down and hit Theo again, hard on his head this time, and he fell over and didn’t get back up. I didn’t know if he was dead or not. The man came up to me, bent down and put a knife to my throat. I knew I was going to die.” Her voice clogged in her throat and she began shaking.

Daniel patted her arm. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Markham, but we have to hurry, and only you can help us. You have to tell us the rest.”

Cam ran to the en suite marble bathroom and came back with a glass of water. “It’s okay; you’re okay. Drink this.”

She slowly sipped the water, pulled herself together. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it was so horrible.” She looked up at Cam. “That man didn’t say anything else, only checked to see I was tied tightly. He grabbed my chin and held me still and I’ll never forget what he said, never. ‘I’ll bet you were once as pretty as all the women your husband sleeps with. And now you know he’s as much of a monster as you think I am. He admitted to you that he murdered the woman I loved and I’m going to see he pays for it.’ Then he struck me on the head and I felt my skin split open.” She touched her fingers to the wound. “I never passed out, though. I saw him look down at Theo and kick him again. He looked back at me and laughed. He sounded pleased, happy. ‘You’re
far better off without this bastard. Consider it my present to you, that and your life.’

“He never said another word, dragged Theo to the door, and turned off the light. I heard him dragging Theo down the hall, heard him bumping down the stairs, the front door opened, then banged closed.”

“Do you own a third car, besides a Mercedes and a BMW?”

“Wha-what? Yes, a Lexus SUV.”

“Describe it, quickly, Mrs. Markham.”

“It’s white, last year’s model, an LX 750.”

Cam said, “Where can I find the license number?”

“It’s my car and it’s a vanity plate. HOLLY 7.”

Cam called it in.

Daniel said, “Mrs. Markham, did the man say anything about where he was taking your husband?”

She started to shake her head. “Wait—after he hit me on the head I was really woozy, but I remember how he whispered something to Theo, even though I don’t think he could hear him. He whispered something about how he was going to make him suffer where he’d suffered and then settling with him. Something like that.” She closed her eyes tightly, as if it would blot out the words.

Cam heard ambulance sirens, not much time now. She hated to upset Mrs. Markham more, but she had to ask. “Did you know before he told you that your husband had been sleeping with young actresses?”

Mrs. Markham’s shoulders straightened, her chin went up, and she looked Cam full in the face. “Of course I knew. How do you think I got him away from his first wife? I knew what he was, and I really didn’t care, didn’t worry about any of them, until this year, until Connie Morrissey.”

“Why her?”

“
Because I knew he put her in his house in the Colony, in Malibu. The way he sometimes said her name, I knew he loved her, because he’d loved me like that once. He changed after she was murdered, he was never himself again. He sold that house in the Colony he loved so much because he couldn’t bear to keep the place where she’d died.” She looked at them, and now tears spilled. “Did he really kill Deborah Connelly? Or did he just say it because he had to?”

“We’ll find out, Mrs. Markham,” Daniel said. “Do you think he took Theo back to Connie’s house in the Colony?”

“No, I don’t think so. Theo doesn’t even have a key anymore. Why would that man take Theo there?”

Cam said slowly, “He wants to make him suffer where he’s suffered. Daniel, and that means he took him to where Deborah died.”

Mrs. Markham ran her tongue over her lips. “Do you think Theo killed Deborah Connelly?”

Yes, of course he did
. But to Mrs. Markham Daniel said, “We’re going to find out.”

66

Daniel passed everything ahead of them driving south on PCH back to Santa Monica, though there was little traffic this time of night. The ocean flew by on Cam’s right as Daniel’s Crown Vic shimmied at a hundred miles an hour past the last of the rugged cliff walls. It was warm, a perfect night, really, but Cam was too revved to pay much attention. She didn’t tell Daniel to slow down. She knew she’d be driving just as fast.

She saw an SUV turning onto the highway from a driveway, managed to swallow a shout of warning as Daniel jerked the Crown Vic sharply right, spinning out onto the gravel and nearly sending them airborne, a dozen feet down to the beach below. He managed to ease the car to a stop and steer back onto the road, hugging the center stripe. Cam looked back to see the SUV stopped dead in the middle of PCH, probably too scared to move. “Well done, Mario.”

He nodded, his hands white from gripping the steering wheel. He sped up, not quite hitting a hundred miles per hour again, but he came close.

“Do you think Markham killed Deborah, Daniel?”

“I think he’d have confessed to murdering his own mother with
Doc holding a gun to his head, but yes, it makes sense he murdered her. Do you have doubts?”

“No, not really,” Cam said. “What really makes me mad is that Doc used us, pretended to help so he could find out what we knew, who we were looking at. We told him about Markham and his P.I. and he figured the rest out. Markham took Deborah’s computer and cell phone—how would he know to do that? We never released that detail. Doc knew the killer had to be close to one of the victims, didn’t take him long to realize Markham knew he’d killed Connie. So he figured it had to be Markham who killed Deborah. It’s all about his revenge.

“The M.E. pointed out that Deborah’s murder might have been a copycat. I didn’t want to believe there were two killers, but Doc’s going after Markham proves there were.” Cam banged her fist on the dashboard. “I grieved for Doc, I felt sorry for him. Both of them were playing us.”

Daniel shot her a look. “You were right about one thing, though. Doc didn’t kill Deborah.”

“Some consolation.”

Daniel didn’t say anything.

“What are you thinking?”

He smoothly executed a curve, then said, “I really don’t care if Doc kills Markham. They’re both monsters.” He drew a deep breath. “But it’s Doc I want, Cam. I want to make him pay, for the rest of his miserable life.”

Cam said slowly, “Because he was going to murder Missy.”

“If Blinker hadn’t been stalking her, freaked her out so much she wouldn’t have pulled up stakes and gone to Las Vegas—”

“—She’d have been at home where Doc could easily get to her. In Las Vegas, he couldn’t, not in a hotel with the twenty-four-hour casino traffic.”

Daniel nodded. “So he killed Molly Harbinger instead. You know he drove there, Cam, and we’ll prove it.”

“If Missy and I hadn’t met up in the grocery store, would he have tried for her again, rather than Gloria Swanson?”

“He’s a psychopath, you know he would have. Hang on, we’re nearly there.” Daniel turned right, bulleted down a deserted block, swung a fast left, slowed to a crawl down the alley behind Deborah’s house. Mrs. Markham’s SUV, HOLLY 7, was parked in the alley close to the back stoop. It was quiet, after one o’clock in the morning.

The small house was as dark as its neighbors’. The crime scene tape was pulled from the back door. Cam touched Daniel’s arm as he cut the car’s lights and they slowed to a stop. “There, in Deborah’s bedroom, I saw a light. Now it’s gone.”

Though she knew what he’d say, she whispered, “Backup?”

Daniel shook his head. “If he’s got Markham, we can’t wait. Whatever goes down, I want us to be the one in control, not Elman, not anyone else. Just us, you and me.”

He pulled a small flashlight out of the glove compartment. “Let’s try the back door. I doubt Doc reset the alarm, if it was on in the first place.”

They exited the car, taking care not to slam the doors, and crept along the walkway until they reached the kitchen door. Daniel tried the doorknob. It was locked.

Cam pulled out her lock pick set from her pocket, smaller than a change purse. A few seconds and the door lock sprung open. He shook his head at her, marveled. She turned the knob slowly and slipped in, Daniel behind her. They stood in the small night-shrouded kitchen, listened. They heard voices coming through the dining room.

Doc’s voice was filled with rage. “Shut up, you murdering bastard, or I’ll stuff the gag back in your mouth before I cut your throat.”

Cam pulled out her cell, pressed record.

Markham’s
voice was low, pleading. “What can I say to make you believe me? I didn’t kill Deborah. I honestly thought you killed her and that’s why I hired the P.I. Don’t you remember that party? You didn’t want Deborah to have anything to do with us, you hated that she was an actress. I thought she finally threw you out and you killed her.”

They heard a hand strike flesh, then Doc’s hard voice. “You confessed!”

“I had to or you would have killed both me and my wife. But I didn’t kill Deborah. She was starring in my movie. I had no reason to kill her.”

“Did you really think I’d let you frame me for Deborah’s murder after you killed her? Let you just walk away?”

“Didn’t you hear me? You have no proof I killed her because there isn’t any!”

Doc laughed. “It’s enough that I know, Markham. You overplayed your hand, hiring that P.I., siccing the FBI on me whenever you had a chance. Oh yes, I know what you did, what you said, how you kept pushing me in their faces. I was in the inner circle, a victim. They felt sorry for me, all of them did, and they talked.”

“You’ve got to stop this. I didn’t kill Deborah. I didn’t have a motive. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Believe you? You’re not even a good liar. I’m going to kill you, Markham, whatever you say. It’s up to you if you want to go out a coward or die like a man, own up to what you did. You murdered the woman I loved.” He was breathing hard, nearly beside himself.

Markham remained silent.

“Your wife won’t grieve for you. She knows you cheated your way through eighteen years of marriage. Do you think she kept count of all the young actresses you stashed in your little house in the Colony?
Deborah told me you charged Connie a bit of rent, to make it look good, and both of you denied you were sleeping together. What a joke. How many other actresses before Connie did you keep there? They slept with you, sold their bodies to you, so you’d get them roles? Your precious wife is still tied up. I could go back there, finish it for her. And I would. Up to you. I want the truth, now.”

Theo Markham finally spoke, his voice low and flat. He sounded broken, in pain. How many times had Doc struck him, tortured him before they’d arrived? “I loved Connie more than anyone and you murdered her, sliced her throat. You’re the monster here, not me. Connie had what it took to be a star, with or without me cheering her on. I loved her, do you hear me, you crazy bastard? And you killed her!”

Doc gave a small chuckle. “I really enjoyed killing her. Let me tell you about it. She was asleep, probably dreaming of some handsome young stud, not a middle-aged man she was having to suffer sleeping with to get her start in some idiot movie. You know what? There was a script open on the bed beside her. It was
The Crown Prince
, the role Deborah wanted and deserved. Her eyes popped open just as I sliced across her neck. She stared up at me with her big beautiful green eyes, and she never made a sound. I watched her die. Like you watched Deborah die, you bastard. There’s one thing I want to know from you before I cut your throat and let you join your little slut in hell. How did you know it was me?”