The Secret Friend (13 page)

37

Christina Chadzynski sat behind a wide mahogany desk, reading a file under the soft light of a lamp. Her office, wide and airy with windows overlooking the grey sky hanging over Boston, was decorated with nautical antiques and replicas of old wooden sailing ships.

Four chairs were set up in front of the desk. Darby took the seat next to Bryson and waited for the commissioner to finish reading his report detailing the events from Friday night until Sunday evening.

Chadzynski closed the file. ‘I don’t even know where to begin.’ She took off her glasses and massaged the bridge of her nose. The corners of her eyes were lined with wrinkles. Even with makeup, the woman looked tired. ‘Let’s start with the man you met Friday night at Emma Hale’s home.’

‘Malcolm Fletcher,’ Darby said.

‘You’re sure this man is Fletcher?’

‘Detective Bryson showed me his picture from the FBI website. That’s the man I met. Fletcher was here in eighty-two, consulting on two strangling cases for the Saugus police. We’re investigating a possible connection.’

‘And we still don’t know what Fletcher was doing inside Emma Hale’s home.’

‘No. Mr Hale claims he doesn’t know the man.’

Chadzynski’s brown eyes were as cold and unforgiving as an X-ray. ‘Are you suggesting that Jonathan has hired the services of a known felon?’

‘Do you know Mr Hale?’ Darby asked.

‘We travel in the same social circles. My husband knows him very well. They do a lot of charity work together.’

‘We know Malcolm Fletcher accessed the building through the garage,’ Darby said. ‘He took the service elevator to Emma Hale’s floor and entered her apartment. Burglary examined the locks. They weren’t picked. He had a key. I think it would be prudent to place Jonathan Hale under surveillance.’

‘Darby, the man is a respected member of the community. I can’t have him followed without a valid reason, and I certainly can’t bring him in for questioning. The press would crucify us.’

‘Hear me out. Malcolm Fletcher is the man I met inside Emma Hale’s home. I don’t know what he was doing there. Either he’s working alone, for a reason we don’t yet understand, or he’s working for Hale.

‘For the moment, let’s assume Fletcher is acting solo – and that may, in fact, be the case,’ Darby continued. ‘We know Fletcher was here once before, back in the early eighties, when he was working as a profiler. Is it possible he’s independently investigating a connection between the strangulations and the murders of Chen and Hale? Yes. We also know Hale’s Newton office was broken into and the surveillance tapes, the DVDs, for Emma Hale’s building are, in fact, missing. So we do have some evidence to suggest that Fletcher’s acting alone. However, given what we know about the man’s history and his status on the Most Wanted List, don’t you think it wise to place Hale under surveillance for his own protection?’

‘Darby has a valid point,’ Bryson added.

Chadzynski put on her glasses. ‘How many times have you spoken with Malcolm Fletcher?’

‘I spoke with him inside Emma Hale’s home,’ Darby said. ‘So far, he’s called me twice – Saturday afternoon while I was at Judith Chen’s and then later while Tim and I were at Sinclair.’

‘And he hasn’t called you since?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Do you think he’ll call you again?’

‘I think it’s a strong possibility.’

‘What do you base that on?’

‘He’s inserted himself into our investigation. He led me to Sinclair where we found, in a room inside an area where they supposedly held violent offenders, a picture of a woman and a statue of the Virgin Mary – the same statue we found inside the pockets of Hale and Chen.’

‘Where did he get the statue? Do we know?’

‘We have no idea.’

‘And the woman in the photograph,’ Chadzynski said. ‘Is she connected to these strangled women from Saugus?’

Bryson answered the question. ‘Cliff Watts passed her picture around the Saugus station. They don’t know who she is. She’s not listed in any of their missing-person cases. I’m going to give a copy of the picture to our Missing Persons Unit after this meeting.’

‘My understanding is you searched the hospital and failed to find anything else,’ Chadzynski said.

‘We only managed to search part of the hospital,’ Darby said. ‘The basement itself is a maze. Some sections are sealed off because they’re unstable. Other areas are locked. The place is massive, and it took a good amount of time to map out the areas we searched. We only had a day and a half.’

‘So you think we should continue the search?’

‘I do.’

‘Tim?’

‘I don’t see the need.’ Bryson explained his position.

Chadzynski turned back to Darby and said, ‘What do you think Malcolm Fletcher wants you to find? You can’t honestly believe a living woman is trapped inside the hospital.’

‘The last time I spoke to Fletcher, he mentioned a quote by George Bernard Shaw – “If you can’t get rid of the family skeleton, you might as well make it dance.” I don’t think he was being clever. I got the sense he was warning me. He mentioned opening Pandora’s Box. I think there’s something inside that hospital, and he wants us to find it.’

‘Or, as Tim suggested, Fletcher is simply jerking us around.’

‘That very well may be true,’ Darby said. ‘The fact is he’s involved himself in this case. He left us the same Virgin Mary statue we found in Hale and Chen’s pockets. I’d like to know where he got it.’

‘You think he wants to help our investigation?’

‘I don’t know what the man’s motives are,’ Darby said. ‘What little I know about him came from the FBI website, which isn’t much.’

Bryson said, ‘There’s also another theory: What if Malcolm Fletcher murdered Hale and Chen?’

‘That’s not Mr Fletcher’s style,’ Chadzynski said.

‘Do you know something about him?’

‘How many people have you told about Malcolm Fletcher?’

‘I told Watts,’ Bryson said, turning to Darby.

‘Jackson Cooper and Keith Woodbury know,’ she said. ‘I haven’t told anyone else.’

Chadzynski crossed her legs. ‘What I’m about to say I’d like to stay inside this room.’

38

‘This is the second time Malcolm Fletcher has resurfaced in Boston,’ Chadzynski said. ‘The first time was roughly nine years ago. Do you remember the Sandman case?’

‘It was big news.’ Darby had followed the story in the papers.

A serial murderer named Gabriel LaRouche had murdered a family in Marblehead, a North Shore town north of Boston, and called the police. LaRouche, watching the house through sophisticated surveillance equipment, waited until all the police were gathered inside and then detonated the bomb he had left at the crime scene. Two more families were killed before he was captured.

‘Do you know Jack Casey?’ Chadzynski asked.

‘The former profiler,’ Darby said. ‘He’s the one who caught Miles Hamilton, the “All-American Psycho”.’

‘Yes. Casey had retired from the Bureau and was working as the chief of detectives for Marblehead, where the first family was murdered. Boston SWAT was called in at one point – there was a hostage situation on a highway. I have a personal friend at the Bureau, someone who works in Investigative Support. Jack Casey brought Fletcher in as a behind-the-scenes consultant. After the Sandman case was solved, Casey left Marblehead and hasn’t been seen or heard from since. Fletcher disappeared. Several years later, he was placed on the FBI’s Most Wanted List.’

‘Fletcher attacked the agents in eighty-four,’ Darby said. ‘Why did the Feds wait so long to place him on the list? Do you know?’

‘The Bureau wanted to handle the matter quietly.’

‘What a surprise.’

‘Malcolm Fletcher was one of their best profilers,’ Chadzynski said. ‘His clearance rate is unprecedented. The problem was he crossed the line into vigilantism. The last dozen or so serial cases he worked on, each killer died. The last four cases he worked, the suspects disappeared. My friend didn’t say how long this had been going on, but when the Bureau found out, they sent in three agents to apprehend Fletcher and you know what happened next.

‘After the FBI placed him on their list, a task force was formed to apprehend him. The problem, from my understanding, is that nobody knows much about him. For a man on the run, he lives quite well. He stays in good hotels. He enjoys fine wine and cigars. He prefers driving luxury cars.’

‘The security guard at Sinclair said Fletcher drove a Jaguar,’ Darby said.

‘He’s also a clothing snob,’ Chadzynski said. ‘I remember my friend saying Fletcher was ordering hand-made suits and shirts from a well-known tailor in London’s Mayfair district. Nobody knows anything about the man’s family life or if his eye condition was caused by some genetic defect or disease. I was told the man isn’t a psychopath. He kills for specific reasons. Are you familiar with
The Shadow
?’

‘The movie with Alex Baldwin? It wasn’t very good.’

‘Actually, I was referring to an old pulp-magazine character. The Shadow was a vigilante. He skulked around in the dark, fighting for justice.’

‘“Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men? The Shadow knows,”’ Bryson said. He saw Darby’s expression, and with a slight grin, added, ‘Before your time.’

‘Malcolm Fletcher is the same way,’ Chadzynski said. ‘He only targets people whom he believes have committed some grievous offence. I heard speculation – and, at the moment, that’s all it is, idle speculation – that Fletcher was working independently on some of his unsolved cases. Maybe these Saugus cases are connected to Hale and Chen in some way. I’ll need to make some phone calls.’

‘You’re going to bring the Feds into this?’ Darby asked.

‘We need to consider the possibility. They have access to information about the man that we don’t.’

‘I think that’s a mistake.’

‘I agree with Darby,’ Bryson added. ‘The Feds will come in, take over the case and when things go wrong, they’ll start pointing the fingers back at us, get their PR machine to cover their ass.’

‘Let me call my friend and see if I can make some subtle inquiries,’ Chadzynski said. ‘I doubt the task force would come here based solely on a sighting. They’d want concrete evidence before they mobilize. In the interim, we need to take some proactive measures. Darby, since he seems to be focused on you, with your permission I’d like to place a trap-and-trace on all of your phones. I’d also like to place you under surveillance.’

Darby nodded.

‘Tim, you have surveillance experience,’ Chadzynski said. ‘Can you head it up?’

‘I’ll take care of it.’

‘Good. As for continuing to search through Sinclair, I’d like to suspend the operation until we have something more concrete. I want our focus on Judith Chen.’

‘We may have another potential victim,’ Bryson said. He told Chadzynski about Hannah Givens.

‘Have either of you spoken to Dr Karim?’ Chadzynski asked.

‘I’ve left a message at his office over the weekend,’ Darby said. ‘I’m hoping he’ll cooperate.’

‘I’ll take care of it,’ Chadzynski said. ‘Karim likes to push, and I like to push back. Keep me informed at every step.’

The commissioner stood. ‘Good work on the necklace, Darby. Let’s see what else we can find.’

39

When Darby arrived at the lab, she immediately went to Serology. Coop had set up in the back, near the grouping of windows with the strong light. Keith Woodbury was taking pictures.

The pink sweatshirt, nylon running pants, socks and sneakers were laid out on sheets of butcher paper. Like Emma Hale, Judith Chen’s dirty clothing was ripped and snagged in several places from rocks, branches and other rough, sharp things she had bumped up against during her journey across the cold, dark bed of Boston Harbor. The clothes were dry but still carried the water’s polluted, metallic odour.

Coop handed her a mask. ‘Paperwork’s all done, and Keith is almost finished the Polaroids,’ he said.

‘What about digital?’ Darby always used digital pictures to augment her files.

‘How long have we been working together?’

They each took an item of clothing and began the painstaking process of examining the fabric under the illuminated light magnifier.

Inside the running pants Coop found a long black hair. He examined it under a comparison microscope. The hair didn’t contain a root bulb, which ruled out DNA analysis. Given the length, texture and colour, chances were the hair belonged to Judith Chen. He placed the hair inside a glassine envelope and went back to work.

The sweatshirt was stained with blood. The splatter pattern suggested that Judith Chen, like Emma Hale, was shot first and then transported to the destination where her body was dumped into the water. Darby wondered if their killer had used the same vehicle both times. She also wondered if Chen and Hale had known they were going to die. Given the advanced decomposition of the bodies, it was impossible to know if either woman had struggled or put up a fight.

‘This is interesting,’ Darby said. Using a pair of tweezers, she pointed to a tiny pale smudge on the right shoulder of the sweatshirt.

‘What is it?’ Coop asked.

‘It looks like makeup.’

‘What’s that stuff you chicks put on your face and cheeks?’

‘It’s called foundation. Chicks use it to even out their skin tone.’

‘Okay, so Chen smudged some of her makeup on her shoulder.’

‘Look at the placement. It’s too high on her shoulder. She couldn’t have done that.’

‘Maybe she wiped her hands on her sweatshirt.’

‘Women don’t wipe their hands on their clothes, Coop.’

‘I think it’s safe to assume she was being held under less than favourable circumstances.’

‘If she wanted to wipe off her hands, she’d wipe them on her pants or the front of her sweatshirt. Why reach up and wipe it on her shoulder?’

‘Good question.’

‘This is probably oil based.’

‘You’ve lost me.’

‘The makeup is oil based as opposed to water based. If it was water based, we probably wouldn’t be able to see it. All the time in the Harbor would have washed it away.’

Darby swung the illuminated magnifier over the stain. ‘The colour is too pale,’ she said. ‘Chen’s skin was darker. She wouldn’t have used this shade. It’s made for pale Irish chicks.’

‘Emma Hale had pale skin. Maybe it belonged to her.’

‘Then how did it get on Judith Chen’s shoulder?’

‘Maybe the guy who abducted Chen made them wear makeup.’

‘Or maybe he wears makeup to cover a scar or a defect,’ Darby said. ‘Don’t give me that look, Coop. I know plenty of men who use concealer to hide a pimple or a scar.’

‘You mean guys like Tim Bryson?’

‘I don’t think Tim wears makeup.’

‘He gets his hair cut at some fancy place on Newbury Street
and
he does yoga.’

‘For the record, yoga is an amazing workout. You should try it sometime.’

‘I’m strictly free weights, sister.’

‘Which way would you go?’

‘Sorry, but I don’t swing that way.’

‘Good for you. I was referring to the sample. Mass spectrometer or FTIR?’

Woodbury answered the question. ‘FTIR has the better library.’

Darby nodded. While the mass spectrometer could isolate a sample’s components, Fourier Transform Infrared Spectroscopy was a more sophisticated test. It would identify the organic and inorganic compounds found in a sample and compare them against its library in search of a ‘molecular fingerprint’.

Darby took several close-up photographs of the smudge and then prepared the sample.

‘I’ll keep working on the clothes, see if I can find the print in the pant pocket,’ Coop said. ‘You two kids have fun.’

FTIR had failed to find a unique match in its makeup library, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist. The lab’s FTIR system was only as good as its library.

On the FTIR computer screen was a bar graph listing the sample’s various chemical properties.

‘There’s a large concentration of titanium dioxide,’ Woodbury said. ‘We also have paraffinum liquidum, cera alba, talc, isopropyl palmitate, magnesium carbonate, allantoin, propylparaben and copernicia cerifera. We also have one listed as unknown. Let’s make sure we have the latest version of the makeup library.’

Woodbury checked the system. The makeup library had been updated early last month. He checked to see if there were any additional updates to download. There were none.

‘Maybe it’s not makeup,’ Darby said.

‘These are chemicals found in makeup, but which brand?’ Staring at the monitor, Woodbury leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand across the stubble on the back of his head. ‘The problem is the sample listed as unknown. It’s throwing the system off. We’ll need to isolate it first.’

‘Could FTIR give us a possible list of brands?’

‘It could, but you could be talking hundreds of samples. The level of titanium dioxide is interesting.’

‘Meaning?’

‘It’s rather high,’ Woodbury said. ‘Makeup – and that covers everything from foundation to products used to camouflage scars or pimples – contains traces of titanium dioxide, mica and iron oxides. Here, we have a higher than normal level of titanium dioxide. Did Chen have any scars on her face?’

‘I don’t think so. I’ll have to check the photographs.’

‘Did she use makeup?’

‘She had some things in her medicine cabinet.’

‘If I had the makeup she used, I could take samples and run tests against what we have here.’

‘I’ll make sure you get them.’

‘Are you going to get them yourself or are you going to send someone there to retrieve them?’

‘Why are you asking?’

‘I don’t know how to say this without sounding sexist, so I’ll just say it. You’re a woman.’

‘Thank you for noticing,’ Darby said.

‘What I mean is you’re more familiar with makeup than, say, a male patrolman who might rifle through her medicine cabinet or makeup kit and overlook something. For all I know, this sample is a zit cream with a camouflage tint.’

‘Understood. I’ll collect the samples myself.’

‘The other thing is we may be talking one or more different samples of makeup – meaning you could have two different brands here. You may also want to get Emma Hale’s makeup. If both of these women were held in the same place, maybe Chen used one of Hale’s products.’

‘How are you going to identify the unknown sample?’

‘Let me see what I can do.’

That was Woodbury’s way of saying he wanted some time alone to think. Darby knew he didn’t like to work with someone hovering over his shoulder asking questions.

‘I’ll get you the makeup,’ Darby said.

She was standing in her office, putting on her coat when she received a call from the station’s front desk.

‘I’ve got a woman named Tina Sanders here who wants to speak to you,’ the desk sergeant said.

The name wasn’t the least bit familiar. ‘What does she want?’ Darby asked.

‘She says you have some information on her missing daughter, Jennifer. I told her to go to Missing Persons, but she said the detective she spoke to told her only to speak directly to you and no one else.’

‘What’s the detective’s name?’

‘Hold on.’ The desk sergeant spoke in a murmured conversation for a moment and then came back on the line. ‘She doesn’t know the guy’s name but said he was working with you on the Sinclair case. Does that mean anything to you?’

‘Send her up,’ Darby said.