The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery (27 page)

“That’s it. That’s a good girl. What? You’re trying to speak? You won’t be able to my dear. I’ve stuffed your mouth with gauze. You understand. I’d love to chat, but you’d likely scream and that would upset my workplace, and just might rouse your neighbors. We wouldn’t want that, would we dear?”

KC managed a long guttural sob that sounded like so many frogs in a distant pond. A tear rolling from her right eye stung her as gravity guided its jagged course through her torn flesh.

She watched him use one of her bathroom hand towels to pat dry his forehead; he then put it in his open case. He would leave nothing behind.

“I understand what you were trying to say, KC. You’ll do anything. Anything I want. All you drop-dead gorgeous girls … oh, isn’t that funny, drop-dead gorgeous. Get it? Of course you do. Anyway, as I was saying, you beauties are all alike. When you want something, want it badly, you’ll smile. Flash your cleavage and even shake your ass for us ordinary Joes. Men you wouldn’t give the time of day if you didn’t want something from us.”

Despite the pain, KC felt herself relax, not from exhaustion, but resignation. Her eyes closed.

“I’m not locked in the closet this time, Mother,” she heard him whisper. “You can no longer deny me your beauty. I’m taking it.”

KC felt a strong hand grasp her breast, then a sharp poke. She arched her back and felt liquid warm her side.

She willed her eyes open, then screamed again against the gauze.

Chapter 39

“All of Stowe’s bras were 36-C,” Sue said as Maddie walked into the station Wednesday morning. “Well, all but one 36-D. It was a different brand so that could explain—”

“Sue. I don’t need a tutorial on bras, just the sizes.”

“Abigail Knight also had one 36-D. Just like Stowe, all the rest of hers were also 36-C. Carmen Diaz was only 36-C. That makes all three the same.”

“What about the Chicago woman?” Maddie asked.

“Mrs. Packard wore a 32-B. The detective there wants to know how that connects with our case.” Sue handed Maddie the Chicago detective’s name and number, then asked, “What do the bra sizes mean, and how does Chicago connect up?”

“While it’s not definite, there appears to be no Chicago connection,” Maddie said. “I’ll call there to explain. As for our victims, we know the Beholder is taking breasts. What we don’t know is if he uses bust size as a criterion when selecting his victims.”

“You mean this sicko is picking women based on boob size? Now that’s weird.”

“There’s no doubt this dude’s weird. What we’ve got to do is figure how his weirdness manifests.”

“Well, if he is,” Sue said, “I see why Chicago doesn’t tie in, but if Chicago is connected then the bra size angle means nothing. Locally, we have only three instances. For statistical reliability, we should have a minimum of five or six—”

Maddie interrupted Sue. “Are you suggesting we sit back and wait for more victims?”

“Of course not, Sergeant,” Sue said stiffly. “It’s just that statistically, three is a very limited sampling from which to draw conclusions.”

Maddie grinned. “I see why some of the jocks in school had you do their term papers. Three is what we’ve got. Our choices are to assume this commonality means nothing or that what appears to be a pattern is, in fact, a pattern. So, we’ll treat it like it means something, remaining aware we may be chasing a ghost.”

“All right,” Sue said, “assuming he’s picking boob sizes. Why? That’s the real question?”

“Right on, Officer Martin. It seems to me this guy has to have a fixation on some particular woman. Boob size is a strong influence, but there could be others we haven’t recognized yet.”

“The ages of our victims are too wide, their hair colors and styles too dissimilar,” Sue said, thinking aloud. “But their heights and weights are pretty close. Could that be part of how he does it?”

“Sure. But given the sexual and beauty aspects of breasts in our culture, I’m guessing they are the most powerful influence. But he may be using similar heights and weights as a first screen. Then from those, he zeros in on their boobs.”

“But what woman is the base for which he is hunting comparables? An old girlfriend? An ex-wife he hates but can’t kill without becoming a suspect, so he kills surrogates?”

“All possibilities, but you left out an obvious one. Based on the profile we’ve developed, that woman could be his mother or some mother figure in his life. But I think your ex-wife angle has solid merit as well. I certainly know a fair number of women who fantasize killing their ex-husbands, so there could be a few ex-wives who engender similar anger.”

“Darn few, of course,” Sue said, “seeing that marital problems always lie totally at the feet of the men.”

***

Just before noon, Lieutenant Harrison appeared in the doorway to Maddie’s office.

“Hi Adam, how are you feeling?”

“Like John Phillip Sousa is marching his band inside my head, but the volume’s lower than when I first got up. Thanks for last night. I owe you.”

“Hey, that was nothing. You’ll be there for me some time. Now, have you got some real reason for coming in here?”

“Yeah. How’s the watch on Steve Gibbs coming? The chief asked me. I need to get back to him. Are we ready to go for a search warrant?”

“I still think he’s clean. Just an insecure guy struggling to play the hand life dealt him. But if you’re going for a warrant, have it include the right to look for the victims’ clothing.”

“I wanna pick up Gibbs and squeeze his cojones until he confesses.”

“He’s not the perp, Lieutenant. I understand you want Carmen’s killer behind bars and I understand your frustration with my lack of results. But Steve’s not the guy, not on his own.”

“If you had to pick a lead suspect, who would it be?”

“Doctor Mills Knight. If Steve’s involved, he’s a stand-in for his therapist. That theory says the other women were killed to obfuscate the real deal. Now ask me if I believe that?”

“Do you?”

“No.”

Maddie got up, came around and leaned her derriere against the corner of her desk. “As you know, Gil and Sue have been tailing Steve Gibbs. So far he has not led us to either another woman or another dwelling where he might keep the trophies from his killings.”

“Don’t forget, Sergeant. Steve Gibbs told Dr. Ripley he was going to see someone. That person could have been Carmen. He could have killed her.”

“Adam. I know you want the Diaz murder solved with the right suspect.”

“Are you proposing we pull the watch off Gibbs?”

“Today’s Wednesday. Let’s keep the play on through Thursday, our sicko’s night to hunt. If nothing comes of Gibbs by then, I’ll cut the cord and swear Sue and Gil to a life of silence.”

“From what you’ve told me, Doctor Knight and Rip know you’re looking at Gibbs as a suspect.”

“That was unavoidable,” Maddie said. “Doctors deal with confidential information regularly and I’ve cautioned them to keep my inquiries to themselves. I’m hoping they do so.”

Maddie dialed her desk phone as the lieutenant walked out of her office. “Gary. Maddie. Anything happening? Have you seen that car again?”

“Everything’s quiet. Don’t let this prey on you. It was probably just some yahoo who once lived in the neighborhood driving by to reminisce. It happens.”

“But you don’t believe that do you?”

“Maddie.”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll keep on the watch.”

“I can’t ask the department. There are reasons.”

“Involve your ex?”

“I’ll bet you’re a good detective.”

“Thanks. No sweat, Maddie. I got this end.”

“I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you?”

“Have dinner with me when this is all over, when you’ve put this guy down.”

“It’s a date, but I can’t promise how soon that might be.”

“I’ll be around,” he said.

Gary Packard remained a longshot suspect, but Maddie couldn’t help her feelings. With each contact, she was growing fonder of the man.

Day after tomorrow, Thursday, might again be the Beholder’s night. Maddie prayed she could nail the case by Wednesday. But she wouldn’t get it done without some blind stupid luck and so far, she’d had none of that.

Chapter 40

Maddie walked in her office Wednesday morning to take a call from Lieutenant Harrison. There would be no lucky Wednesday. “The Beholder has taken another victim,” he said without preamble.

“When?” Maddie asked, just below a scream.

“Last night.”

“But last night was Tuesday! He kills on Thursdays. Thursdays!” Maddie exclaimed, angry at herself for letting the lieutenant hear her lose it, even for a minute. She fought to find calm. “His appetite is growing,” she said, acknowledging the truth of it. “He no long can wait a full week.”

“Could it be you’re getting close, Sergeant? That he anticipates we’ll be watching him on Thursday? Where was Gibbs? Where was Doctor Knight?”

“That could be, Lieutenant. Give me a minute, I’ll find out.”

She came back on the line. “Yesterday, Gil and Sue were on surveillance at Gibbs’s job before his quitting time. They didn’t see his car and after his quitting time came and went, Officer Martin went inside. Gibbs never returned from lunch and he didn’t call in the rest of the day. Rip says that’s totally out of character for Gibbs. Gil and Sue are still outside his house. He hasn’t come home.”

“Bingo. Gibbs is our man, but let’s cover all the bases, what about the good doctor?”

“Doyle Brackett’s heading that up, running it through the Tempe P.D. Knight is staying at his sister’s place out their way. As soon as we finish, I’ll raise Brackett on his cell.”

“Find out now. Put me on hold.”

Three minutes later, Maddie came back on the line where Adam Harrison waited. “Lieutenant? … You still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Someone was in with me. I’m alone now.”

“Dr. Mills Knight went to a movie. The stakeout broke off at midnight after he got back to the sister’s place and the lights went out.”

“The doc’s still your favorite, isn’t he Sergeant?”

“I don’t see how he can be now. Just like the Marriott Hotel on the night his wife was killed, our surveillance team has given him an airtight alibi. Not unless I was right about Gibbs following orders from his shrink.”

“Whoa. You touched on that before, spell it out.”

“Steve Gibbs has been a patient of Dr. Knight for a couple of years. With Gibbs going AWOL, he definitely moves to the top of the leader board, but the core question remains. If Gibbs is guilty, is he acting on his own sick fantasies or following orders from his shrink, Dr. Knight.”

“It’s time for a warrant,” Lieutenant Harrison declared. “Our case remains thin, but we couldn’t account for Steve Gibbs the night Carmen was killed, and our stakeout lost track of him last night when the Beholder killed his fourth victim. And the only alibi he has for when Stowe and Knight were killed is his aunt. Hell, there could be a dozen explanations for her vouching for him. So he’s got opportunity and even if you’re right about the puppet—”

“You want me to work up the warrant, Lieutenant?” Maddie said, interrupting.

»Let me do that. You better get out to the scene. I’ll get the warrant signed by a judge no later than first thing tomorrow.”

“Who’s the latest victim?”

Lieutenant Harrison cleared his throat. “We’ve both lost someone close, Maddie. He killed Katie Carson.”

***

The yellow spike flew across Maddie’s speedometer as she sped down the ramp onto I-51, north. The center lane was packed and a motorhome was lollygagging in the right lane so she caromed along the right shoulder spraying the RV with gravel. Rat a tat tat. Rat a tat. After getting in front she swung hard across into the car pool lane, her siren screaming at the cars to get the fuck out of her way. She had all the windows open, the air conditioner off, and the moon roof back. She wanted to feel the hot air, feel she was burning in hell for not finding the Beholder before he mutilated her friend.

Maddie’s mind was racing even faster than her Taurus. She grabbed her phone off the seat and dialed.

“Sue. Maddie. Have you heard the Beholder has struck again?”

“No. Gil and I are headed back to the station from Gibbs home. Are we sure it’s the Beholder? It’s not Thursday.”

“It was KC,” Maddie said ignoring Sue’s question. “He killed Katie.”

“Oh, God. I know you two were close.”

“We have no time for that. I need you to get over to KC’s station. See the manager. Have him put on a tape. Find out what outfit Katie wore on the late afternoon news. Then join me at her place. Tell Ortega to get in his car and get over here now.”

“KC wasn’t on the news yesterday,” Sue replied. “She’s off Tuesdays. She told me once that most of the local anchors take the weekends off, so she wanted to work them. Steal their audiences if she could. She figured it gave her an edge, that the viewers would—”

So that’s why the Beholder picked Tuesday. Thursday night wouldn’t work. KC would be doing the news.

“Do it anyway,” she said to Sue. “Go to her station. Did she come to the station to meet with her staff? Did any of them see her during the day? Find out what they know about her schedule for yesterday? Yadda Yadda. When you find out about her outfit beat it out to her house. I’m headed there now.”

Maddie wanted to rush home and hug her son, and cry. Instead, she fought through her grief and guilt, and tromped on the accelerator. The wind pounded her face.

And right then, Maddie knew what she had always known. She had a rotten job.

***

The Beholder sat on the edge of his chair, staring at his television screen.

My latest masterpiece has been found. Oh, good, a picture of Katie Carson. KC was one of their own so the media coverage will be exquisite. KC will provide my coming out party for full national coverage: Fox, CNN, and the anchors at all the networks. Carmen Diaz brought Lieutenant Harrison close to the action. Katie Carson drags Sergeant Richards right into the middle of my game. Selecting KC tells the media that even they are not beyond my reach.