The Gravedigger's Ball (21 page)

Workman’s blood-soaked body was beneath the glass cabinet. His clothing was engulfed in flames. His one remaining eye was sizzling in his skull, but his dead face was fixed in the smile of the victor. He’d done what he could to protect what he knew, and nothing could get the secret from him now.

With the heat quickly building to unbearable temperatures and the smoke billowing up toward the ceiling, the killer dragged Workman’s lifeless body to a sliding glass door on the side of the house. Then he opened the door and allowed the bird to fly out ahead of him. The killer then pulled the body fifty feet to an area just beyond the line of trees, and with a mighty heave, he pushed the professor’s body into the hole he’d dug the night before.

A moment later, when he emerged from the woods and saw the balls of flame leaping out through the home’s broken windows, the killer felt as if he’d seen the very maw of hell open up.

While the crackle of flames filled the air around him, the killer walked to the car, took a knife from his sock, and cut out the heart of the woman he’d killed earlier.

“Prophet!” he called to the raven, and tossed the heart onto the ground.

As the raven consumed it, the killer carried the woman’s body to the grave where Workman lay. He threw her corpse on top of his. Then he looked back at the fire, got into the car, and drove away.

As he listened to the sound of sirens rising in the distance, a black-toothed grin spread across his face once more. Workman had proven in no uncertain terms that the killer was chasing after truth, because the Gravedigger knew, just as his former mentor did, that truth was the only thing worth dying for.

CHAPTER 11

Mann pulled into the Police Administration Building’s parking lot with Lenore, and John Wilkinson was standing there waiting. John’s face, which had been impassive for most of the day, actually showed a glimmer of emotion when he saw her, and he smiled with something approaching gladness.

When Lenore started walking across the parking lot, however, John’s smile quickly faded. His wife was surrounded by police officers, and instead of entering through the front door where he was waiting with his lawyer, she headed toward a side door and never even attempted to make eye contact with John.

“Lenore,” John said as he walked in her direction. She didn’t respond, so he called her again, louder this time. “Lenore!”

She glanced at him, her facial expression showing more hurt than anger, and continued to walk.

John caught up to them and tried to push past the cops to get to his wife. One of the uniformed officers nearly pushed him to the ground. John was about to push back when Lenore spoke up.

“Stop!” she said, as other officers in the parking lot watched.

She looked at her husband, who was red-faced and flustered. Then she looked at Mann, who appeared to be ready to take matters into his own hands. “I’d like to talk to John inside, if that’s okay.”

Mann glared at John. “He’ll have to talk to me first,” he muttered grudgingly. “He might want to bring his lawyer along, too.”

They all walked in through the side entrance and took the long way around to homicide. Once they were there, Mann led Lenore into one of the interrogation rooms and had one of the uniformed cops stay with her. He led John and his lawyer into another room and sat them down at a table much like the one where he and Coletti had earlier questioned Lenore.

“Mr. Wilkinson, I need to know where you were today,” Charlie said with a sigh.

John looked at his lawyer, who nodded.

“I’ve been in London for the past three days on business,” he said. “I was on a long flight back today. Lenore knew that before she came here.”

“Did the two of you also talk about her coming to Philadelphia?”

“Yes, right before I left for London she told me something about working on a ball for a historic cemetery.”

“And you had no problem with her doing that, right?”

“Why would I have a problem with it? She works with charitable causes all the time.”

“I was just wondering because I happened to be close by when the two of you talked earlier. I couldn’t help overhearing you screaming at her on the phone.”

The lawyer jumped in. “What does a personal disagreement between a husband and wife have to do with your case?” he said.

“I don’t know … yet.”

“So can we stick to things directly related to the case?” the lawyer asked.

“Sure,” Mann said with a grin while turning back to John. “When did you find out that your wife was a murder witness?”

“When my flight from London landed, I got a text message from my lawyer. He met me at JFK airport, and we immediately got a flight to Philadelphia.”

“So you never got the calls from Mrs. Wilkinson?”

“I was on a plane all day, so by necessity, my cell phone was off.”

“Yes, but isn’t your plane equipped with a phone?”

John laughed. “My plane? I fly commercial, Detective. I don’t own a plane.”

Mann looked at him quizzically. “I read last year that your company owned a 707. In fact, I specifically remember reading that in
Forbes
.”

John’s laughter turned to something else. He licked his lips nervously. “We sold it,” he said. “We’ve been liquidating some of the company’s assets over the past year. In this economy, it’s pretty important for any company to do that.”

“Even your company, Mr. Wilkinson? That’s kind of surprising.”

“Why?” John said, sounding irritated. “I’m in real estate, Detective. In case you haven’t heard, real estate’s taken a beating over the past couple years.”

“So how bad is it for you?” Mann asked.

The lawyer jumped in. “Detective, if you want my client’s financial records, you’ll have to get a warrant for them. And I don’t see how that’s relevant to your investigation anyway.”

“It’s relevant if they’re having marital problems, or if he has any other motive to do her harm.”

“Now wait a minute!” John said, his face turning red. “Let’s get something straight. I love my wife, and I will not sit here and allow you or anyone else to imply that I would hurt her.”

“I’m not implying anything, Mr. Wilkinson. I’m telling you in no uncertain terms that if you’ve got financial problems or anything else that might affect your relationship with your wife, we need to know that, because that would impact the way we’re approaching this investigation.”

“I don’t know how many different ways I can say it,” John said. “I love my wife, I’m here to see her, and unless you’re going to charge me with something, I’d like to talk to her now.”

Mann knew he had no choice but to allow Mr. Wilkinson to see Lenore. Neither John nor his wife had been charged with a crime.

Mann got up and led them to the room where Lenore was waiting. The uniformed cop stepped aside as Mann opened the door.

Mann looked at John’s lawyer, then at Lenore. “Do you want this guy in here?” Mann asked.

“I really need a few minutes alone with my husband,” Lenore said. “We’ve got a lot to talk about.”

John considered saying something different, but Lenore gave him a warning glance, and he nodded in agreement with his wife.

“You can wait in the next room,” Mann told the lawyer before closing the door so John and Lenore could be alone.

“Are you, um … are you all right?” John asked in a tone much gentler than the one he’d used when they’d spoken on the phone.

“Do you really care?” she asked, her eyes flashing angrily.

They were sitting across from each other in rickety chairs, speaking over one of the heavy tables where criminals cop pleas and make deals before cases ever make their way to a courtroom. They both knew the police might be listening, so they didn’t say anything they didn’t want them to hear.

“Before I say anything else, Lenore, I need you to know I’m sorry,” John said, his tone sincere. “You know I just came in from London. It was a long flight, and I’m tired, so I might have been a little on edge.”

Lenore looked at him in utter disbelief. When the words finally came, they weren’t kind.

“You were a little on edge?” she asked. “Someone was murdered not fifty yards from where I stood, and if that wasn’t bad enough, I found out that whoever killed her wants to come after me, too. So you’ll excuse me if I’m a little more on edge than you are.”

John sighed. “Look, Lenore, I know you must be tired and under a lot of stress. I am, too. So why don’t we just go home, get some rest, and figure out what we’re going to do tomorrow?”

“You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said, have you? There’s someone out there who wants to harm me, John. Even if I wanted to, which I don’t, I couldn’t just pick up and go home now. It’s not that simple.”

“Do you really think I would let someone harm you? I’d spend every dime I have to protect you, Lenore. You have to believe that.”

“I believe what I see, and from all that you’ve said and done—or, rather, all you
haven’t
said and done—I know I’m not your priority. You said it yourself. My involvement in a murder case might scare off your investors.”

John stood up and closed his eyes tightly while squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Lenore, there’s more to it than that.”

“Like what? The fact that you want me at home doing charity work and playing bridge? Smiling and waving when I’m on your arm at black-tie functions? Never having a life or identity of my own?”

John knew that he had to get her to see things his way—a task that under normal circumstances would be easy. When she was upset, however, Lenore could be quite combative. The only way to gain the upper hand was to find and use a kernel of truth that she hadn’t already discovered.

“I’ve never begrudged you your own life,” he said. “In fact, I’ve always wanted you to have one. You just never seemed to want it for yourself.”

“Until now,” she said firmly.

John placed his hands on the table and bent down until they were nearly nose to nose. “So what does having your own life look like?” he asked. “Because I thought I’d provided you with a pretty great life as Mrs. Wilkinson.”

“I’m not saying I don’t want that life anymore, John. I love that life. But I want us to have that life together, not apart.”

“Then come home with me now.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because for once I want to see something through. That’s what having my own life looks like. And it doesn’t mean I love you any less.”

John looked in her eyes for a few minutes more. Then he walked across the small room and stood there with his back to his wife.

“If you love me at all, you’ll do the right thing,” he said. “Investors don’t like controversy. That’s why I need you to come home.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but the money and the deals aren’t important to me.”

“Then what is?”

“Happiness, John, and I’m staying here until I find it.”

There was a knock on the door just then.

“Come in,” Lenore said. “We’re finished.”

Charlie Mann walked into the interrogation room along with John’s lawyer.

“Do you need anything more from my client?” the lawyer asked Mann as John stood up and prepared to leave.

“I need him to stay reachable,” said Mann.

“That’s fine,” John said, turning to his wife with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Lenore, are you absolutely sure you don’t want to come with me? I can get you the best security money can buy, and when things are safer you can come back.”

“I’ve made my decision, John,” she said as her eyes grew moist with tears. “You’ve made yours, too, so please, get on with it.”

He tried to hug her, but she pulled away. Duly chastised, John stood back and looked at her. Then he took out a business card, scribbled his personal numbers on the back, and handed it to Charlie Mann.

“I have to go back to New York to tie up some loose ends. These are all my phone numbers and e-mail addresses. You have my lawyer’s numbers, too. I’ll be back here as soon as I can.”

He reached out to hold his wife once again. Her tears were flowing freely now, and John wanted to make them stop. He whispered the one thing they both knew for sure. “You’re my biggest investment.”

As Mann and the lawyer looked on, Lenore pulled gently away from her husband and touched him on his cheek. “One day soon, you’ll act like it.”

With a last glance at his wife, John left with his lawyer. Mann wanted to say something to make Lenore feel better, but he didn’t have the words to do so. He was still trying to figure out what to do about his own relationship. Seconds later, opportunity knocked.

Sandy walked into the interrogation room, fresh off her interview with the cemetery manager, and Mann’s eyes lingered on everything about her. Sandy liked that, but she wasn’t about to be distracted by it.

“Hi, Lieutenant Jackson,” Lenore said, her eyes filled with pain.

Sandy knew that pain all too well, and she couldn’t help feeling sympathy for Lenore. “I assume that was your husband,” she said.

Lenore nodded as a tear rolled down her cheek.

Sandy paused, unsure what to do. Then her humanity took over, and before she could stop herself, she was crossing the room to hug Lenore.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” she whispered as she held Lenore. “Men do what they do, and no matter what, we come out a little stronger in the end.”

Their embrace lasted only a few seconds, but it was enough to let Sandy know they were more alike than they were different. When they released each other, Lenore smiled with gratitude. Then Sandy turned to Charlie Mann, who was still mesmerized by the sight of her in jeans and a tight leather jacket.

Sandy stood there for a moment, basking in the power of her raw sensuality. When she was satisfied that Charlie had seen all she needed him to see, she gave him the news she’d come to deliver.

“We just got word that Professor Workman’s house burned down this afternoon. They found his body and a woman’s body in a shallow grave on his property. Coletti’s already there.”

“What about the killer?” Mann asked.

“They think he’s still in the area. They’re searching for him now.”

*   *   *

The Gravedigger drove the black Ford out of Elkins Park without incident, because from the outside, everything about the car appeared to be average. Its dull paint was speckled with water spots from the morning’s rains. Its tires and rims were worn and dingy. Its engine was louder than most.