The Christine Murders (26 page)

But suppose she brought someone back with her? That was a possibility. One of her many men, he thought with disgust. He went back to the kitchen, where he hunted through drawers and cabinets until he found what he wanted: A large, well-sharpened butcher’s knife. Better to be prepared for anything that might happen.

Then, pleased that at last all seemed to be going as he’d hoped it would, Luther returned to the den, where he made himself comfortable in an overstuffed chair and waited for Christine – his Christine – to come home to him.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Christine was late; she knew she would have to scramble in order to be ready to leave for the airport by four. She had lingered too long over lunch with Peter, but it had been so pleasant being with him again.

When they finally left the restaurant, Peter offered to drive her home, but she told him she would feel better if he went back to the hospital. Bill had shown definite signs of improvement today, and she hated to think he might wake and be alone. They’d left him long enough. She would take a taxi.

Peter hesitated, but Christine had already flagged down a cab. As the car pulled up, she kissed Peter goodbye, promising to call as soon as she returned from Honolulu. Then she jumped into the waiting car. It had been a good day after all. Not wanting to burden Peter with her problems, she had never mentioned anything about Luther. Now all she wanted was to get to work and away from San Francisco for a few days.

***

As she rode the elevator to the sixth floor, she started thinking about John Kinsella. She wondered if she would hear from him before she left for the airport. She had not left her answering machine on, and her cell phone was turned off while she was in the hospital with Bill and Peter. She would check it to see if he’d called her as soon as she got inside.

She put her key into the door lock, trying unsuccessfully to push John out of her thoughts.

The first indication that something was wrong came when her key slid uselessly in the lock; the deadbolt was already off. That was odd. She knew she had carefully locked the door this morning. She would never leave the deadbolt off. Or was she so upset that she had forgotten? Or maybe Laura had needed to come into the apartment for something, but she too was extremely careful with locks.

She pushed the door open and stepped into the entrance foyer, noticing something else wrong. It was a beautiful sunny day but her apartment was dark. Squinting in the dim light from the living room, she saw that the draperies were drawn tightly shut. A chill crept over her. She never closed those draperies in the daytime, especially not on a day like today. Tommy loved to sit in the window and sun himself. Instinctively, she called out for the cat. He wasn’t on his window seat, and he didn’t come to her when she called. The apartment was too eerily, menacingly silent.

In the dim hallway to her left, something moved. She turned her head quickly, seeing a tall figure standing in the darkness outside the door of her den.

“Close the door, Christine.” Luther’s voice was low and cold, like ice water running down her spine. Christine remembered the nightmare that had awakened her early this morning. She had come awake then and the horrible dream had ended. But this was no dream, not now. She watched as Luther emerged fully from the dark shadows of the hallway and moved slowly toward her.

She jumped backwards in the direction of the door, which was still partially open. But he was too fast and was upon her instantly, grabbing her effortlessly by the shoulder with one hand as he reached to shut the door with the other. He turned her to face him, his icy eyes glinting.

“I asked you merely to close the door, not run away from me,” he whispered harshly. “I expect you to do what I tell you, Christine. I’m tired of being ignored.” Releasing her, he went back to the door and threw the bolt.

Christine watched him. She tried to speak, but her voice failed her. Luther sauntered back to her, smiling.

“Isn’t this a nice surprise, Christine? I thought you would be glad to see me, not try to run away from me. You see everything has gone exactly as I’d planned it. You didn’t even disappoint me by bringing anybody home with you. Not even one of your many boyfriends for a quickie before your flight. That would not have been wise. Not today.”

She managed to speak. “How did you get in here?”

He pulled something from a pocket and dangled it in front of her face, smiling proudly as he watched her reaction. Her missing keys. She knew she had an extra set. He had been in here before, but when, and how?

“So much for security buildings, my dear. All I did was wait by the bus stop outside one afternoon. I slipped into the garage next to an SUV. Driver never saw me. Then I got to the lobby, found your number, and came up here. Your cat sitter or whoever she was had conveniently left the door open while she dropped the trash. So I came in and hid until she’d left. That stupid cat of yours was the only one who knew I was here. I’ll admit he gave me quite a turn at first, but really Christine, it was all so ridiculously easy.”

Christine, fighting to remain calm, studied him. The beard was gone. He was tastefully dressed now in expensive slacks and jacket and tie. The scent of costly cologne came from him. He looked like any upscale man one would see here at Sutter Court, and he certainly would not have attracted any particular attention from anyone, other than Ray had he been around, once he’d entered the building.

The apartment was much too quiet. She thought of something he’d just said. “Tommy,” she blurted out. “What have you done with my cat? Oh please, where is he?”

Luther shrugged. “I don’t know, dear. Hiding somewhere inside, I would think. We’ve mostly avoided each other. Now, now, Christine, don’t worry. I haven’t done anything to him.”

She pushed past him and ran into her bedroom, frantically calling her pet. She heard something respond, something so familiar, and dropped to her knees on the floor beside the bed. There, huddled far against the wall underneath was Tommy, his eyes shining wildly out from the darkness. He meowed softly but made no move to leave his hiding place. He knew things were wrong. “Stay there,” Christine whispered to him, relieved. It was best that he stay where he was. She could not bear the thought of Luther harming him.

Luther had followed her into the room. “Come, dear, let’s get ready to leave. Put on a nice dress. We have an interesting evening ahead of us.” He went into her closet, rummaging around and coming out with a blue knit. “Here, put this one on. Alyson loved blue. And it’s your color, of course. Even your lovely airline uniform is blue. It matches your eyes. Her eyes. Put it on.”

Leave? For where, she wondered. Where was he planning to take her? It was then that she noticed the item in his right hand. He was carrying one of her kitchen knives. He had strangled his other victims. Was he planning something different for her?

“Hurry up, put that dress on.” He was waving the dress in front of her, yet she was unable to move or to make a sound. She imagined him coming in here boldly, and Laura had been here! What if she had caught him? What would have happened to the girl?

She remembered too the evening when she’d found the closet door open, and clothing moved around, and Tommy acting so strangely. He had been hiding in her closet waiting for Laura to leave. Thank God nothing had happened to Laura!

Willing herself to move, Christine dropped her purse on the bed and took the dress from Luther. Perhaps it would be best to do as he said. If she could get outside, she would have a much better chance of getting away, or at the very least, of attracting some attention that might bring help.

“Who is Alyson, Luther?” she asked him, but he seemed to be paying no attention, staring off into space. So she started toward the bathroom with the dress. I’ll be only a few minutes.” He looked back at her and nodded. “Go on,” he said.

The dim room when she returned wearing the blue dress was bathed in a pale pink glow. Luther stared at her a minute before pulling something from his pocket. “Lovely, you look lovely. Now tie this at your neck.” He handed her a long dark blue silk scarf, similar to the one he had sent her, the scarf John had shown such an interest in and taken with him. Suddenly she knew why John could not tell her about the scarf. Most likely, Luther’s victims had been strangled with scarves, a fact the police had never mentioned, and could not mention to the public.

She took the silky fabric and began to try to arrange it, but her fingers were useless. “No, not like that, Alyson. Here, let me do it.” Putting the knife down on the bed he expertly draped and knotted the scarf at her neck. “There, that’s it, that’s perfect. Now hurry up, we have to leave.” He lifted the knife again, waving it slowly in front of her face. “I don’t want to have to use this. Don’t make me cut you, please don’t. It didn’t have to be this way you know, but you made the choice.”

What choice? Rejecting his unwanted advances? Is that why he was going to kill her? And why had he killed those other women? Because they looked like her, or this Alyson he kept mentioning?

“Luther, who is Alyson?” she asked again. Suddenly her body began to shiver so violently that her teeth started to chatter.

He came up behind her, turning her toward the mirror. “Don’t be frightened. Alyson was frightened, and she didn’t have to be. It’s going to be a wonderful night, Christine. Just us. I’m so glad I found you!”

“Who are you talking about?”

She watched his reflection in the mirror before her. He was somewhere else, somewhere in memories. “Alyson was someone I loved, and thought loved me, but she really didn’t. She lied to me.”

He put his arm around her waist, pulling her toward him. “I’m not Alyson. I never led you on or lied to you about anything.” But his eyes were unfocused and he stared dreamily off into space.

“She told me she had met someone else, and she said I needed help, that there was something wrong with me. Do you know how many people in my life have told me that? I couldn’t take that again, especially not from her, of all people. All I’d ever done was love her.”

“But you killed her,” Christine said softly. Moving slightly away from him as he loosened his hold, she stepped into a pair of shoes. Her uniform was hanging on the back of the closet door. When Laura came in to feed Tommy, would she come in here and see it and know something was wrong? Her flight bag sat on the floor as well. What else could she leave here to alert Laura that all was not right?

As if on cue, Luther’s demeanor changed and he looked directly at her again, speaking normally. “Well, yes, I had to kill her. She was a slut, and she was going to leave me. I didn’t want anybody else to have her. Women always do that. You too. I thought you might be different, when I found you. But you have a whole collection of men, don’t you, Christine. And by the way, how is Bill? The guy on the flight from London with you? He recognized me, you know.”

“Recognized you? What do you mean?” she asked. But even before he answered, she knew what he was going to say. Why hadn’t she been able to make the connection before? Bill found inside the locked gate downstairs. Bill in a coma, constantly murmuring something about keys. Luther had been here that night, and Bill had surprised him. It was Luther who had attacked and beaten Bill.

He was smiling now. “He told me he knew who I was, when I confronted him downstairs. Bloody bad coincidence that was, my dear. He spoiled the entire night for us, and what I had planned for you. But then, of course, I certainly spoiled his, didn’t I? Fair turnabout, I’d say.” He reached into a pocket again and this time pulled out a wallet and a smart phone - Bill’s wallet and phone – and tossed them both onto the bed, while Christine stared at him in horror. The mood swings he was displaying terrified her. She could not be sure one moment to the next what he was going to do.

“You nearly killed him, Luther. And those other women. Why did you have to kill them?”

Again, a mood change. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to, really. I thought they were Alyson, you see, or maybe you. I was so confused. But then the voices – you see there are these voices, Christine, these wretched voices! They told me I had to kill them. It was really Alyson all over again. I told them I was sorry. Don’t you understand?” He stopped then, shaking his head. “Now come on, no more questions. Are you ready? Let’s hurry along.”

He walked ahead of her and, momentarily assured that he wasn’t watching her, Christine picked up her purse and quickly pulled out her wallet. Then she opened it and dumped its contents over the bedspread before throwing the purse upside down next to both wallets and Bill’s phone. Then she quickly turned off the light and went into the hall where he was waiting for her. It was a last pathetic gesture, but she knew that Laura would certainly know there had been foul play here and would call for help. Please God it wouldn’t be too late.

Luther was at the door. He pulled a coat from the hall closet and tossed it to her. “Do you have your car keys?”

She ran back into the bedroom and found the keys on the bed, together with her own phone. Of course, her phone! If she could somehow make a call and leave the line open . . .

Coming back into the hall, he put the coat around her and took the keys. Suddenly the phone she was holding, trying to hide from him, began to ring. Damn! Not now!

“We certainly don’t need that,” he told her, pulling it roughly from her hands and tossing it on the living room floor. He had also wrapped the knife in a sweater and tucked it under his arm. The phone continued to ring.