She's Not There (30 page)

Richard Conlin sat in a back booth of the cop’s favorite watering hole, nursing a beer and wondering why Jerry Chang, the newly appointed head of computer crimes, had left him a message to meet here at the bar.

When Chang sat down across from him, he turned down Richard’s offer of a drink.
Must be serious
.

“What’s going on?” Richard asked.

Chang shrugged out of his heavy winter coat. “Maybe I will have that drink—something strong—a shot and a beer.”

When Richard came back with the drinks, Chang had a brown file folder sitting in front of him.

He raised the shot glass. “Bottoms up.” The shot disappeared, followed by large gulps of the beer.

Richard frowned. “All right. What gives?”

Chang opened the folder and pushed a photo across the table. Richard glanced at it. “That’s an
ugly
guy.”

The face in the photo was that of a young man with a lumpy, bulbous nose, complexion scattered with blemishes and scars from pimples past, sagging eyelids, and receding chin. Even the stubble of his beard was patchy as a mole-

infested lawn. The guy was hideous “So who is this mope, and why should I care?”

Chang produced a blue, legal document.

Richard scanned the pages. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

“Don’t I wish. No, I dug this up today, unfortunately.”

The document recorded a name change awarded by the court over ten years ago in Ashland County.

“I assume the freak show is Rommelfanger.”

“You assume right.”

The Chief would be livid when he found out the personnel department hadn’t found this. Or that his former “future son-in-law” had been a sideshow candidate.

“Are you sure this is news, this wasn’t in his file?”

“I’m sure on both counts.”

Richard chugged down the rest of his beer. “It’s not
illegal
to change your name. Or your face.”

Chang snorted. “Yeah, like that’ll make a difference to the Chief.”

He handed Richard a newspaper article from a small town in northern Wisconsin, detailing an accident on a remote highway and the injuries suffered by Rommelfanger ten years ago.

Chang watched as Richard read, then said, “He wasn’t expected to make it and while he was still out, an intern worked on his face. I made some calls. Turns out the intern took it upon himself to fix the guy’s face. Said he had Tyrone Power in mind. Whoever the hell that is.”

When Chang left the bar, Richard sat in the booth staring at the photo, amazed that a face could be changed so dramatically. It didn’t seem possible, but there it was.

Sipping his third beer, he realized something was twitching at him. What was it? He sat staring at Wilson’s before photo, when suddenly it came to him, something that profiler had said. The killer, assuming you believed he existed, had a grudge against women for rejecting him; most likely because of a handicap. With a face like that, he’d have a grudge all right; women would have run from him. But he couldn’t see Wilson as a serial killer—an asshole, maybe, but a murderer?

It occurred to him what the revelation could mean—TJ and her friends—this put them on the top of the suspect list. If they’d uncovered this information, despite a lack of proof, they’d have thought he was their killer.

How could he find out if they’d had suspicions about Wilson? He’d start by calling Chang in the morning. Ask him just how difficult it had been to unearth the dope on Wilson.

Two days later, TJ and Lisa met in Waukesha at a Chinese restaurant known for good food and a serene atmosphere. They chose a booth in the rear and ordered a pot of tea while they waited for their food.

Lisa asked, ”Have you decided what you’re going to do with the insurance money?”

“Gonna put it in something safe—for now.”

“Makes sense.”

TJ said, “We gotta figure a way to handle this so we don’t hafta live like jailbirds in Eric’s house forever now that we know we’re safe and they don’t.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, too. Like you said before, we could tell Eric and Shannon that we were starting to suspect Wilson, but didn’t say anything since it was just that—only a suspicion.”

TJ winced. “Kinda tricky though, isn’t it?”

“Everything about this is complicated.”

TJ fiddled with a set of chopsticks. “Gonna be hard for you to lie to them, isn’t it?”

Lisa picked up the blue-patterned teapot and topped off her nearly full cup.

“This may surprise you, but I can be a perfectly good liar when I want to be.”

TJ’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, right. Tell me one thing you’ve lied to me about since we met.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

TJ eyed her, waiting.

“Well . . . I can’t think of anything.”

“You’re an honest person. You don’t lie.”

Lisa snapped, “That doesn’t mean I’m incapable of it.”

“Hunh.” TJ sighed. “All right. If this is gonna work, we have to have our stories straight. We’ll tell them I was starting to suspect Wilson. Then I got the background on him and felt sure in my own mind he was the one. And I just now told you—you didn’t know anything about it before he was killed. We can go from there. But I’ll do the talking, so by the time you have to say anything, you’ll be ready.”

The next time they were all together, TJ began spinning the tale of her suspicions of James Wilson. She avoided looking at Lisa while she followed the script they’d agreed on, concluding by bringing out Wilson’s “before” photo.

After Eric and Shannon’s shocked faces returned to normal, she explained why she’d been reluctant to tell them—there just wasn’t enough proof. When she’d finally confided in Lisa, she’d insisted they tell Shannon and Eric.

Lisa, as agreed, had been quiet during TJ’s discourse, letting the narrative play out. She’d been concerned about Eric’s reaction, and as expected, he was first to question the story’s content.

“How sure are you he’s the one?  And who killed him?” Eric was angry. Lisa knew why; if he’d known, he’d have gone after Wilson himself.

TJ said, “I’m sure. Anybody coulda’ killed him. Somebody related to one of the women, a client, maybe even a relative of Bergman.”

“Bergman?”

“His boss at MPD. Right before Christmas she overdosed on sleeping pills after her husband left her. They ruled her death a suicide, but who knows? Everybody hated her guts.”

Eric stood and glared at her. “Now we won’t find any of those women’s bodies and I’ll never be able to prove I didn’t kill Kayla.” He stood in front of TJ, his arms crossed. “You know, if I hadn’t sedated you myself, I’d think
you
killed him.”

TJ met his gaze without blinking, matching his dark look with one of her own. “I woulda’ done it if somebody hadn’t beaten me to it. But here’s the rub—if the cops find out he’s the killer, who do you think will be on the top of their suspect list?”

Shannon said, “Us? No, they couldn’t think we did it. We didn’t even know about him until now. And we were here that night.”

TJ faced them. “Wait—wait a minute! I just thoughta’ somethin.’ If the women’s bodies turn up, and they find out Wilson did them, they won’t give a rat’s behind who knocked him off. We’d be home free.” Her blue eyes flashed. “We’ve gotta find the bodies.”

Richard called TJ, demanding that they meet. With the temperature still below zero, she wasn’t eager to leave the comfort of Eric’s home. Since she’d told Eric about Wilson earlier, he was still agitated, shooting questions at her that she couldn’t or didn’t want to answer.

She pulled on her coat and made a fast exit as soon as Eric left the room. Now she had another irate male to deal with. She could handle it though; it was Lisa she’d been worried about. But Lisa had been great. No one would have suspected she had a secret.

One look at Richard’s face when he opened the door of his apartment confirmed she had another fire to put out. He had all the signs of suppressing his fury.

She threw her coat over a chair and took a stool at the kitchen counter. “What’s going on?”

He didn’t offer her a drink—another bad sign. He was definitely pissed about something. He tossed a photo at her. “Guess who?”

Rommelfanger.
TJ knew it wasn’t a question. He assumed she knew. The real question was—should she play dumb? She’d left behind an angry Eric. There was no need to exacerbate that—she couldn’t let on to Richard that they knew about this. Not before discussing it with the others.

She looked up from the photo. “Ugly fucker. Think I’d remember that mug.” TJ, who prided herself on being an excellent liar, was sure she’d given nothing away.

“So that’s the way you’re going to play it?” Red-faced now, Richard was steamed, the vein at his temple prominent.

TJ stood up. “I didn’t come out tonight and freeze my ass off just to play guessing games. You want to tell me what’s going on? Then fine, we can talk. If not, I’m outta here.” She picked up her coat, aware of him scrutinizing her. Clearly he was torn between stopping her from leaving or letting her walk out. Until the door clicked shut behind her, she’d been certain he’d ask her to stay.

The next night at seven, Richard and Justin, his partner, stood on Eric Schindler’s doorstep. Eric, dressed casually in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, greeted them at the door. “You have news for us?”

“We need to talk to you. All four of you.”

“Sure. Come on in. You’re just in time for dinner. We can set two more places.”

“Thanks, but we can’t stay long. Just a few questions and you folks can get on with your meal.”

They accepted coffee while Lisa and Shannon put the finishing touches on the table setting.

Lisa knew that Richard had his eyes on all four of them. “We’ve come across something that could possibly throw suspicion on James Wilson as the person responsible for the missing women. If he were your killer, that would also implicate him in the Ventura murder and Denison’s dubious suicide. We thought maybe Marian Bergman too, but we haven’t uncovered anything that proves her death wasn’t a suicide.”

Richard scrutinized their faces. “There’s nothing that’s really conclusive; the only thread is this.” Richard tossed a photo of Ronnie Rommelfanger’s face onto the counter. “This is James before plastic surgery. He grew up as Ronald Rommelfanger. He looked like this before having his face destroyed in an accident and a plastic surgeon turning him into a good-looking guy. Makes him fit the profile Orth came up with—that the killer has some kind of handicap, or had in the past, giving him a serious grudge against women. James wouldn’t have had any problem attracting women, and tracking down abused women would have been a cakewalk.” 

They gathered round the island. Lisa said, “He would have been bullied mercilessly as a child.”

Richard waited patiently until they’d finished discussing Wilson’s former appearance. “Whether he’s a murderer or not, we have to investigate his death. That said, I have to ask all of you where you were when he was shot. The autopsy report narrows the time of death to roughly from 4:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. the night Jeff Denison died.”

TJ crossed her arms over her chest. “You know where we were that night—we were all here. None of us knew about this Rommelfanger thing.”

Justin said, “Sorry, we’re going to need details.”

Eric volunteered, “Since we believed Jeff had been murdered, I brought TJ back with me after we left you. I increased security again and asked Lisa and Shannon to move in. They had been staying at Lisa’s. We were all here that night.

“TJ and I left Jeff’s townhouse together sometime around two, after you arrived on the scene. I drove to her apartment so she could pick up some of her things and we came back here sometime before four. I gave her a strong sedative and she was out until morning.

“If you want further confirmation, Maggie Petersen stopped in later, and so did Jon Engels.”

Richard frowned. “So TJ was down for the count, and the rest of you were here all night?”

Shannon stood up, irate. “Of course we were. Somebody killed Jeff and who knew which of us would be next? You’re treating us like suspects and all we’ve ever tried to do was find a murderer for you.”

Visibly surprised at Shannon’s outburst, Richard had no comeback.

“I’m the only one without an alibi,” Lisa offered. She took a sip of wine. “I was with TJ at Jeff’s until about two when I left to do some errands before going to Eric’s. I developed a migraine. When I got home the pain was so bad I had to lie down for a while. I fell asleep and didn’t get out here until sometime around ten.”

Richard and Justin exchanged a look.

Shannon shifted in her chair. “Uh, there’s something I have to tell you. Well, tell Lisa actually.”

The room went quiet as the morning after a ten-inch snowstorm.

“After it stopped snowing that night, I went out to pick up a prescription. Sorry Lisa, but I didn’t want you to think I was checking up on you, so I never said anything about this. I stopped at your house to be sure you were all right. I was worried about you and wanted to ask you if you needed me to drive you over here. I let myself in. You were really out of it and didn’t even wake up when Phanny barked. I figured you needed the rest, so I left. I didn’t tell you because I was afraid you’d think I was being overprotective.”

Lisa explained, “I took something to make me sleep. Maybe that’s why I didn’t hear you. I had an alarm set for nine.”

Lisa was relieved when Conlin and his partner left, but realistically she knew it wasn’t over. But if the worst happened and she ended up behind bars, it would have been worth it.

When Lisa went up to bed carrying a pot of tea, Shannon, who was staying in the second bedroom, said hopefully, “Hope you brought me a cup of that stuff.”

She wondered if Shannon would bring up the lie Lisa told. Shannon had either been there, seen Lisa was gone, and decided to cover for her, or not gone at all and told the lie. Either way, she was sheltering Lisa.

Shannon put down the book she was reading. “I was upset that they actually thought we might have killed somebody. I did go out for a bit that night—but I didn’t go to check up on you.”

Lisa breathed an inner sigh of relief—it was better that Shannon didn’t know she’d been gone.

“I thought about it, but I was afraid Phanny would bark like she does when someone comes in and wake you up if you were sleeping. I hope they’ll leave us alone now.”

“It’s hard to say, but they’ll probably be back sooner or later.”

“It felt weird to lie to a cop, but I knew you were there. They might have made a big deal of it otherwise. Then where would we be?”