The Chilling Spree (39 page)

“Oh for heaven’s sake!  We’ll have him
in police custody.  You’ll be on the other side of the glass
watching.  What on earth do you think he’s gonna do?  I’m
not some underdeveloped boy who isn’t expecting trouble.  I am
always
expecting trouble.”

He grinned.  “Well all right then, when
you put it that way.”

I thought about Sunday night, how Kyle
Goddard’s body was found, what he looked like when Crevan and I
visited the morgue early the next morning.  “I wonder if he
really had no idea who Kyle was.”

“You think he specifically targeted Madden’s
nephew?”

“No clue.  He could’ve killed Tippet
because he knew who Kyle was meeting before the show.”

“That doesn’t explain the sexual activity,”
Johnny said.

“Kyle could’ve been with somebody else
before he met Underwood.  I guess I won’t know until Underwood
confesses.”

“If he confesses.  If we’re really on
the right track this time.”

“This is right,” I said with surety I hadn’t
felt all week.  “It’s all falling together in my mind.”

Johnny’s phone rang.  He answered with
the speaker.

“Commander Orion, I’ve got the information
that you requested from Montgomery.”

“Let’s have it, Tracy,” he said.

“Belle Conall’s mother was married to a man
by the name of Frank Underwood for five years.  It produced
one child, a son they named Fulk.  She was divorced for
several years when she remarried Brent Halloran.  A three
years later, they popped out a kid, Belle.”

“Shit,” I hissed.  Right there in front
of me the whole time.  “What about Luke Napier’s history,
Tracy?”

“Born and raised in Montgomery.  He
went to seminary school somewhere in South Carolina, came home at
the age of twenty-two and was immediately employed as the youth
pastor at a church called Community Baptist in Montgomery.”

“Is there a link between the Halloran family
and that church?”

“More than a link,” Tracy said.  “Their
pastor right now is Napier’s elderly father, Marcus.  I
suppose I should mention that Mrs. Halloran, formerly Underwood,
was a girl by the name of Rebecca Napier before she got married the
first time.”

“She was Luke Napier’s sister?”  I
gasped in surprise.  Maybe the gay boys weren’t the targets
after all.

“That’s correct, Detective Eriksson.
 Hope that information helps.  I’ll give you a call if we
dig up anything else.”

Johnny disconnected the call.  “Don’t
go there, Helen.”

“Where?”

“Your sniper theory.  Tony mentioned
it,” he said.  “Here’s the problem with thinking that all of
these victims weren’t specific targets.  Underwood has a long
history of hating gays.  We’ve only scratched the surface of
its existence.  I have a sinking suspicion that Uncle Luke
might’ve played a very strong role in that regard during Fulk’s
formative years.  Might be as simple as Fulk seeing their
condemnation of The Cockpit and tempting men who looked like
beautiful women as too weak.”

“And his sister never came out strongly
enough on one side at all,” I said.  “Drive faster,
Johnny.  We need to get Underwood into custody now.”

Johnny whipped the Expedition in front of
the hotel in Darkwater proper where Pan Demon’s manager assured us
that the close entourage would stay at least until after Madden
could attend his nephew’s funeral.  Solidarity and loyalty
were apparently part of everyone’s employment contracts.

We dashed inside.  Johnny flashed his
badge.  “I need to find Fulk Underwood.  We were told he
would be registered here with a group traveling with the band Pan
Demon.”

Fingers clacked over a keyboard
quickly.  It still felt like forever.

“I’ve got them in rooms six-forty through
six-sixty-two.  I’m sorry I can’t give you the specific room
–”

I pulled out a photo I’d snapped at the
post-concert party Monday night.  “Have you seen this man
coming or going tonight?”

The clerk shook his head.  “I haven’t
seen that man with them at all, detective.”

“Which room is the manager in?” Johnny
asked.

“Six-forty, but his is the only –”

“Thank you.”  Johnny’s clipped reply
was punctuated by a jerk to my arm that dragged me to the
elevators.  He stabbed the button impatiently.

“Do you think Underwood has been staying
somewhere else?”

“No forced entry at Belle’s house,” Johnny
said.  “What if he took up residence with his sister instead
of the rest of the band?”

“It’ll be a lot harder to find him.  He
could be in the wind already,” I groaned.  “And he could be
the person that linked the murders of Bobbi and Kyle for Belle in
the first place.”

“Uh-huh.  So are you ready to admit
that maybe Tony isn’t the devil incarnate in this scenario,
Helen?”

“Fine,” through gritted teeth.  “It
makes more sense that Underwood used his sister to turn attention
on us than Briscoe doing it.”

“Because he knew exactly how attracted I was
to you from the night of the first crime,” Johnny said.  “And
then again, if he had asked his sister about us, she witnessed that
little stunt you pulled outside Central Division a couple of weeks
ago.”

“Crevan warned me that she tended to hold
things in reserve until she could use them to inflict maximum
damage,” I muttered.

“You owe Tony an apology, Doc.”

“Not right now.  We’ve got to find
Underwood before he’s so long gone that we never find him.”

Johnny pounded on the door to room 640 with
an iron fist.  “State police, open the door.”

Drake Maverick opened the door a
crack.  “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Johnny ignored the fact
that Maverick was looking at me when he spoke.

“I thought you weren’t officially part of
the investigation, Detective Eriksson.”

“We lie,” I said.  “We’re the
police.  It’s what we do.  Where is Fulk Underwood?”

“Fulk?  I thought you’d be looking for
Madden for sure.”

Hadn’t Scott Madden said something about
management forcing Underwood into his employment without much
option from his side of the agreement? 

I changed tactics.  “Mr. Maverick, it’s
imperative that we find Mr. Underwood immediately.  As you
know, this is an ongoing investigation.  We’ve had to place a
number of people into protective custody.”

He eyed me warily.  “And not two
minutes ago, you just told me that the police lie.  It’s what
you do, remember?”

“For God’s sake,” Johnny hissed.  “Two
of Underwood’s family members have been murdered tonight.  We
need to find him right now!”

Maverick’s eyes bulged.  “His
sister?”  He flung the door wide open.  “Shit! 
Woody was staying with her while we wait for this mess with
Madden’s freak nephew to be resolved.”

“I can assure you.  Mr. Underwood was
not at his sister’s home earlier tonight,” Johnny said.  “Can
you think of anywhere else he might’ve gone?”

“Willingly?  No.  But I think I
might know where you’ll find him anyway,” Maverick said.  He
stepped into the room and scribbled something on a notepad on the
desk.  He tore off the sheet and thrust it into my hand. 
“This shit has gone too far already, Detective Eriksson.  I
wanted to tell you the truth Sunday night, but we all fear for our
jobs a little too much to be completely forthright.”

I stared at the address on the paper in my
hand.  It was vaguely familiar.  A moment later, it
clicked in my head.  “You think he’s been staying with Scott
Madden out on Hennessey Island?”

“Not voluntarily,” Maverick said.

“Mr. Maverick,” Johnny said slowly, “are you
insinuating that it is your belief that Scott Madden had something
to do with the murder of his nephew?”

He shook his head.  “You cops just
don’t get it.  I’m not insinuating it.  I’m saying it
outright.  You don’t know what a low-life bastard prick this
guy really is.  He’s a terrorist who hides behind a brilliant
publicist and contracts that’ll ruin lives if we ever breech his
precious confidentiality.  I won’t go into what I know about
his dirty little secrets, but I’ll tell you one thing. 
Underwood knows more about the truth than anybody else.  If
you can protect him, and convince him to talk, you’ll have all the
evidence you could ever need to put Madden behind bars for the rest
of his life.”

“I want you available to make a statement
when I call,” Johnny said.  “Contract or no, I’m sick of you
people impeding a police investigation.  It stops come
sunrise.  Are we clear?”

Maverick nodded.

And I couldn’t believe Johnny was falling
for Underwood’s carefully crafted lie.

The doors barely slammed shut when Johnny
yanked the paper out of my hand and studied the address.

“Please tell me you’re not buying that
bullshit, Johnny.”

He snorted.  “Do you really think I’m
that stupid?  Madden would be recognized in a heartbeat if he
strolled into The Cockpit and killed Bobbi Tippet.  He’s
probably has photographers following him every time he pokes his
head out for a latte.  Maverick believes what he said was
true, but no doubt, Underwood has been setting up his boss to look
like a real bastard for a long time.  I realize that Madden
and one brother are estranged, but the wife didn’t say one single
thing that indicated that he didn’t adore Kyle.”

I sighed my relief.  “Well thank God
for that.  Rham didn’t disparage his brother either, and even
the disgust that Theo Goddard spewed seemed rooted in sibling
rivalry and jealousy and not any kind of fear that Scott would hurt
Kyle.”

“Then again, Scott made Underwood aware of
his nephew’s true gender a long time ago,” Johnny said.

“There could’ve been a valid reason for it,”
I argued.  “Maybe it was his way of letting Underwood know
that he needed to back off.  One thing I don’t doubt is that
all of these people working for Pan Demon share a single
fear.  Their boss.  I might be curious enough to find out
what Madden’s really hiding, but my gut says it has nothing to do
with murder.”

“We’re not gonna find Underwood at Madden’s
house.”

“I highly doubt it, Johnny.  At the
same time, we’ve been wrong before.  I feel like I owe you an
apology.”

“What for?”

“Being so far off the mark on this one.”

He reached over and squeezed my thigh. 
“It’s partly my fault, running around acting like a crazy man,
wanting you on the case, throwing you off, issuing
ultimatums.  This isn’t all your fault, sweetheart.”

On the drive to Hennessey Island, Johnny
said, “Crazy man issues aside, I’d like to insist that the upcoming
conversation erase the need for you to have dinner with this guy
tomorrow night.”

“Insist away.  I’ve had enough of these
people to last me a lifetime.  Besides, it’s not like this
dinner was ever what I let Madden think it might be earlier
tonight, Johnny.  Remember?  We lie.  It’s what we
do.”

“So long as you aren’t doing it to me.”

My little spark of guilt blazed to life
again.  He read the words in my silence.

“Did you lie when you said you love me?”

“No.”

“Is there something about Rick’s suicide
that I don’t know?”

I nodded.

“Well, that’s all right, Helen.  I’d
rather you stop reliving that moment and put it in the past where
it belongs.  Can we at least agree to leave it there?”

“Yes,” I said.  More like
hell yes
please and thank you forever
in my brain.  “I was out here
for a couple of weeks when I was working on my doctorate you know,”
I spoke quietly.  “After I moved here last spring, I couldn’t
seem to stop wishing that I’d made different choices, Johnny.”

“Was that the trip when Rodney Martin
invited you here?”

“Yeah.”

“What sort of things were you wishing,
Doc?”  He threaded our fingers together.

“Wondering mostly.  Wishing is a lot
like prayer in my mind.  Pretty pointless.”

“All right.  What did you wonder?”

“What my life might’ve been like if I
happened to meet you while I was here.  If there had never
been a marriage to Rick.  If you would’ve loved me when I was
young the way you do now.”

He squeezed my hand.  “Those are some
beautiful thoughts.  I think I would’ve loved you on sight no
matter when we met, Helen.  Anything that would’ve prevented
you from living a life of pain and isolation would’ve been what I
wanted too.  I can’t turn back time and erase all of that, but
I can give you happiness and peace now, if you’ll let me.”

Tears started leaking from my eyes
again.  “I don’t want this life anymore, Johnny.  I can’t
keep chasing monsters.  I hate the responsibility of doing
everything in such a way that people don’t slip through the cracks
and get off on some stupid technicality.”

“You’re worried about Datello, aren’t
you?”

I nodded.

“The temptation to behave like Wendell?”

“I considered it when I returned George
Hardy’s phone call last spring,” I said.  “He’s gonna get into
court and still try to play this card, that I was his cousin by
marriage.  He’ll try to create reasonable doubt based on
–”

“Shh,” Johnny soothed.  “He can
try.  We’ve got dozens of people who have worked with you
every step of the way on this, Helen.  We know that you
wouldn’t do him a favor for any reason under the sun.  Don’t
worry about that.  We’ve got your back.”

Johnny didn’t understand that I already
skidded off the rails.  My genes probably guaranteed that at
some point, I’d become Daddy’s Girl in every way imaginable. 
Like I’ve always said.  Where I’m concerned, in the battle of
nature versus nurture, I’m simply screwed.  Something is wrong
with me.  With Dad too.  We don’t give a damn about civil
law, because it fails.  At that point, the reactions are
beyond our control.