Shoots to Kill (31 page)

“Tell me how to get there, Tom. I’ll leave right now.” I grabbed the message pad off the counter and wrote down his instructions. Then I dropped the piece of paper and my phone in my purse and headed for the door.

“You’re not going out to the forest preserve alone, are you?” Grace asked, standing behind me.

“Tom will be there.” Before she could argue, I grabbed my peacoat and flew out the door.

As I hurried to the parking lot, shivering as I shrugged on my coat, my cell phone rang and I foolishly answered it without checking the screen.
Damn.
It was Marco.

“Hey,” he said. “We must have been cut off earlier. What did you want to run by me?”

“Nothing. It’s not important now. Besides, you have company.”

“I don’t have company. Libby stopped by briefly, but she’s gone now, so tell me.”

“Really, Marco, it was nothing. I have an appointment, so I have to run.” I hung up, slid into my Vette, and took off. I followed Route 30 east to 39 and headed south, following the directions Tom had given me. Within forty minutes I had located the forest preserve and pulled into the parking lot beside Tom’s Buick. Other than our two cars the lot was empty, which wasn’t odd for a chilly November day. I glanced around but didn’t see anyone.

My cell phone rang again and I answered it, expecting to hear Tom’s voice, but it was Marco. I
had
to start checking that screen.

“Abby, what the hell are you doing? I called your shop and Lottie said you were on your way to Starke County to talk to Oliver.”

“So?”

“So turn around and come back. An APB was just issued for Oliver. The cops recovered a pair of men’s camouflage gloves from his apartment half an hour ago. The gloves were wrapped in aluminum foil and left in the back of the cabinet where you found the pot. The gloves had blood on them, Abby, and the blood type matches Delphi’s. Do you understand what I’m saying? Oliver is the killer. Don’t even think about trying to talk to him alone.”

Bloody gloves near the bamboo plant. Dirt on the floor. Obsessive-compulsive disorder. Paranoia. My mind raced to make sense of it all. “How do they know Oliver wore those gloves, Marco? Couldn’t someone else have used them? Couldn’t someone have planted both the gloves and the pot under his sink?”

“Abby, come on. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m telling you that Oliver ditched the gloves and the pot and went into hiding because he knew the cops were getting close.”

“I know it looks bad for Oliver, Marco, but I just don’t think he could have pulled it off.”

A shadow fell across my lap. I glanced out my side window to see a guy with a round, red face standing beside my car. He was short, squat, and about thirty years old. He was wearing a hooded parka, pants, and hiking boots all in olive drab. I rolled down my window. “Yes?”

“Are you Abby?” the guy said in a high, reedy voice that I recognized at once.

“Yes. Are you Tom?” At his nod I said, “Would you give me a minute, please?”

“Make it quick. Oliver is really losing it.”

“Tom’s there?” Marco asked as I quickly rolled up the window. “Abby, for God’s sake, stay in your car. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Maybe you should take your own advice and have some trust in
me.
” So take
that
, PI Salvare!

“Okay, look, I deserved that. Just please don’t let your feelings for Libby cloud your judgment. Stay where you are. I’m on my way. I should be there in—”

“I’ll be fine, Marco.” I hit End, put my phone in my purse, and got out of the Vette.

“Oliver is about half a mile into the woods,” Tom said as we started across the lot.

“That far? Can you convince him to come here? I’m not really dressed for a hike.”

“Are you kidding? He’s curled up into a ball with the blanket over his head. In about ten minutes he’s going to start drooling all over himself.”

I glanced down at my good boots with a regretful sigh. “Lead the way.”

As we tromped through bramble and a thick carpet of wet leaves, I said, “Tom, how well do you know Oliver?”

“About as well as anyone, I guess. We’ve been friends since grade school.”

“What was Oliver like back then? Was he mistrustful? Fearful?”

“No way, man. Oliver was fearless. It was his idea to get a group together to play war games. He was crazy over anything military. He couldn’t wait to graduate so he could enlist.”

“Being rejected by the army must have been quite a blow to him.”

“Hell, yeah. He was ready to jump in front of a train. I mean, it wasn’t like we robbed a bank. A couple of us guys got high one night after a football game and thought it would be funny to break into the school. We had this computer teacher who was a real ballbuster, so we decided to get even with him by smashing up the computer lab. I know it was a terrible thing to do, but we were stupid back then.

“We got away before the police arrived, and made a pact never to talk about it to anyone. But somehow the police found out that Oliver was in on it, because they picked him up after school the next day. He never ratted us out, though, even though they offered him a deal. Poor guy, he never thought it would ruin his chances of getting into the army, but when he went to the recruiting office, they checked his records and that was the end of that. He tried the navy, the marines, even the police department, but no one would touch him.

“Oliver was never the same after that. He lost interest in everything but our war games. Most of our friends went away to college, but Oliver and me, we kept them up. I do it for him mostly. I mean, I still enjoy the games, but if Oliver wasn’t so into it, I wouldn’t be, either.”

“Has Oliver ever said anything about his mother’s death?”

“What do you mean? Like who did it? Nah. I told him I was sorry about it, and all, but he just shrugged it off. He isn’t really much of a talker. He mostly likes action.”

“What about snakes? Has Oliver ever mentioned that he had one?”

“Yeah, he said he got one from his sister for his birthday. He showed me some photos he took of it.”

Well, wasn’t that interesting? Libby bought him the snake, then pretended to be surprised about it. “When was his birthday?”

“Maybe a month ago?”

Perfect timing for a mailbox trick.

Tom came to a stop and pointed to a thicket of pine trees. “He should be just beyond those pines.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and called, “Oliver? Hey, buddy, Abby is with me and she came alone.” Tom glanced at me. “Can you hear that?”

I listened closely, trying to shut out the chattering squirrels and cawing blue jays, and finally heard a low moaning sound. “Is that Oliver?”

“Creepy, isn’t it? Talk to him as we get closer so you don’t spook him.”

“Are you sure this is safe?”

At Tom’s nod I said, “Okay, then, let’s get on with it.” As we pushed through thorny branches, I called, “Hey, Oliver, it’s Abby.” We emerged from between two towering pine trees and there, under the drooping branches of another huge pine, I saw a large, quivering lump covered by an olive drab blanket. Next to the lump was an army canteen with its cap off, as though it was empty, and the discarded wrapper from an energy bar.

Stopping a few feet away, I said, “Oliver, I’m here.”

A scrawny hand emerged to grasp the edge of the blanket and peel it back, revealing two sunken eyes and a pathetic-looking face. “Is the coast clear?” he rasped.

“All clear.” I crouched so I could look him in the eye, putting my purse on the ground beside me. “What happened to you last night, Oliver? You didn’t show up.”

“I had to leave, ma’am. They’re after me. They know what I did.” He hugged himself, rocking, as he muttered, “It’s bad. Real bad.
Bad News Bears.
Bare it all now. Time to bear it.”

Tom was right. Oliver was losing it. Whatever he’d done, the guilt was eating him up. I didn’t want to think that he was talking about murder, but what else could it be?

Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, nearly yanking me off balance. “You have to make them understand that I didn’t want to do it, ma’am.”

“Of course you didn’t want to,” I said soothingly, darting a concerned glance at Tom.

“Tell us what happened, buddy,” Tom urged.

“I had no choice,” Oliver said, his sunken eyes holding a deep inner anguish. “No say-so. No rights. No wrongs. No in between. Over and done with. Over and out.” His grip grew tighter. “Do you see that I had to do it?”

“Absolutely.” I gently tugged on my hand, but his grip was firm.

“You’re the only one I can trust on this, ma’am. The only one not in the game. No game, no shame. Do I have your word on that? Are you as good as your word?”

He was squeezing harder now. I glanced over my shoulder for help. “Tom?”

Tom knelt down beside me. “Hey, buddy, don’t cut off her blood supply or anything.”

Oliver instantly released my hand. “You understand what I’m saying, don’t you, ma’am?”

“I’m trying, but I’m still a little confused. You’ve got to tell me very clearly what happened.”

He pressed his fingertips into his eye sockets and began to rock. “I killed Delphi.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

The shock of Oliver’s confession hit me like a punch in the gut, but I had to pretend to be calm. The last thing I wanted to do was to lose his trust. I glanced at Tom and he gave a shrug, as if to say he hadn’t known, either.
Damn!
How had my gut feeling been so wrong?

Quickly, I reached into my purse to find my cell phone. I wanted Marco to hear the conversation so he could call the Starke County cops and get them out here. The tactic had worked before; I was desperately hoping it would work now.

“I didn’t want to do it,” Oliver moaned, holding his head.

“Did your mom hurt you, Oliver?” I asked. I felt for the buttons on my phone to speed-dial Marco, then hit Send.

Oliver began to rub the top of his head, rocking faster and talking louder. “You know what she did? She reported me to the cops. Her own son, ma’am.
Delphi
was the snitch.”

“Holy shit,” Tom murmured out the corner of his mouth. “His mom was the one who turned him in for breaking into the computer lab.”

“She said it was for my own good,” Oliver continued, “that I might get killed in the army, but she just wanted to control my life. It wasn’t about my safety—it was about Delphi’s
control.
”

Poor Oliver. His own mother had shattered his life’s ambition. How telling that he used her first name, as though to depersonalize her. Judging by his reaction, I was betting Oliver hadn’t known about Delphi’s betrayal until recently. But who had told him? Who would know?

“How did you find out, Oliver?” I asked. “Who told you, and when?”

Tears spilled out of Oliver’s eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “Delphi always said I didn’t get into the army because I didn’t measure up. That I would never be good at anything. But she lied! She knew why they wouldn’t take me. She knew I would have been the best soldier they’d ever seen. Heads above the rest. Best of the rest. ’I know what you did,’ I told her. ‘Now you apologize for it.’ But all she said was to get out. It’s over and done with. Grow up. Then she reached for the phone. She said she was calling the police, but I knew what she was planning—to put me into a mental hospital, just like Libby said she would.”

I darted a glance at my phone and saw that I was connected. I hoped Marco was listening.

With his emotions running high, Oliver began to speak in a falsetto voice, as though imitating his mom. “See? I’m dialing the cops, Oliver, just like I told you I would.”

“Stop her!” Oliver cried suddenly, flailing his arms as though reliving the scene. The blanket fell away to reveal his camouflage fatigues complete with a leather belt full of army implements. “Stop her, Oliver. Stop and drop her!” He clutched my hands, his expression imploring. “I had to do it, ma’am. I had no choice. You see that, don’t you?”

Then his arms went limp at his sides. “She had such a surprised look on her face, like she didn’t believe I would hit her. Then she just—collapsed.” Oliver clapped his hands to his ears and began to rock. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. Didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean it. You brought this on yourself. You should have apologized. See what happens? See?”

“What did you hit her with, Oliver?” I asked gently.

He kept talking as though he hadn’t heard me. “She was trying to tell me something, so I got down beside her and smoothed back her hair. ‘What, Mummy? What is it?’ I couldn’t hear her, but I knew what she wanted to say. She wanted to say she was sorry for what she did, so I told her I forgave her. There was dirt all around her and I knew that would upset her, so I went to get the hand vac from the pantry. She wouldn’t like all that dirt in her kitchen. No dirt for Delphi.”

“Where did the dirt come from?” I asked.

“The pot!” he cried, becoming agitated again. “It came from the pot when I hit her! When I came back to clean it up, she was grabbing on to the bamboo shoots and trying to pull herself over to the counter and making funny sounds, and there was blood on her fingers and dirt everywhere. No place to walk. Can’t walk the walk.”

I glanced down at my phone again and saw that my call had disconnected. I hoped that meant that Marco had heard enough and called the cops. Now I had to keep Oliver talking so he’d stay put until they got here.

“Did you try to help her?” I asked, hoping that maybe he’d at least made an attempt.

“Yes, ma’am. I cleaned up the dirt and took the pot to the garage.”

“What I meant was, did you
get
help for her?” I asked.

“What was the point? Dead is dead. Time is meaningless. Death needs no time.” As he talked more gibberish, he pulled the blanket over his shoulders and hunkered down again, rocking and muttering to himself, “Mission accomplished. Over and done. Time to move headquarters. All we can do now is wait. Wait and bait.”