Twisted Hunger (29 page)

Henry nodded toward the nightstand drawer and the man easily found what he was looking for.

Handing the items to Henry, he told him to sit up and write the following to his brother…

“I hope you’ll forgive me for doing this in your home, but I didn’t want to be all alone. I hope you will understand why I chose a quick finish rather than what we both know was in store. Know that I love you very much.”

Henry wrote every word that was dictated and wondered how this creature knew exactly how he felt. Perhaps he once had a friend die of AIDS.

“Sign it with whatever nickname he called you, so he won’t have any doubt that you wrote this note yourself.”

Henry obeyed, handed the finished product to his executioner to proofread, then sank back on his pillows.

“Excellent,” he whispered, reaching into the pocket of the pink jacket. He then drew out a black capsule. “And this is your gift—extra-strength cyanide. It’s easy to swallow, relatively painless and incredibly fast-working.”

Henry’s hand shook as he accepted the lethal pill. He had heard that one of these could be obtained in Sweden, but the black market price in the United States was prohibitive. He had been waiting for death for the last six months. His visit to his brother was for the express purpose of saying goodbye. In a way, this maniac
was
giving him a gift.

His only concern was for his family’s safety and writing the suicide note guaranteed that much, once he swallowed the capsule. Given the limited options available to him, the decision was not all that difficult.

The man patiently watched him come to the only logical conclusion then sat down on a chair in the corner of the room. Henry made his peace with God, asked for blessings for his family and washed down the pill with the glass of water that had been set on his nightstand.

The executioner had never seen anyone die from cyanide. He could only hope it was quick and that Levitt didn’t try to fight it or cry out once it started to take effect. Probably because of his weakened condition, the poison did its job sooner than he had been told it would. He watched the emaciated man’s body jerk from a violent muscle spasm then gasp for air as he began to asphyxiate. From the man’s facial contortions it appeared that he was in excruciating pain, but he managed to suffer almost silently and keep his thrashing to a minimum. He could not help but admire the man’s courage, despite his being a flamer.

Less than five minutes later, it was all over. As the smell of human excrement filled the room, he set the suicide note on the nightstand and climbed back out the window he had entered. He couldn’t help but think how convenient it had been that Levitt had left that window open for him.

Then again, the gods usually did smile on him when he set out to do his most important work.

Chapter 16

Terrell’s mail raised his blood pressure several points. He should have known Luke wouldn’t give up that easily once he’d made up his mind to find The Eye Doctor. He should never have shown him that file. But it was far too late for second thoughts.

He scanned the envelope and its contents again to make sure he hadn’t missed anything that would tell him how to reach his crazy friend. If he thought it would do any good, he’d fly up to Sacramento and cruise the streets until he tracked him down. He knew it wouldn’t make any difference, though.

Like a bloodhound, Luke had picked up an irresistible scent, and he wouldn’t be deterred until he followed it to the source. From personal experience, Terrell knew just how impossible it was to walk away without a definite answer.

The doctored photo was similar enough to the police artist’s sketch that it could be admitted in court… if the person who had given the original description hadn’t been going by a twenty-one-year-old memory of someone he saw in a dark alley for only a few seconds.

The fact that the Jones brothers had been attending college in the northeast when the first murders occurred meant nothing by itself. Adding the coincidence of the senator, and possibly his brother, being in Los Angeles when the construction worker was killed helped support Luke’s conclusion, but still didn’t prove anything. There would have to be a hell of a lot more in the form of hard evidence to accuse the brother of a popular politician of being a serial killer.

Terrell’s real problem was that he was starting to believe that Luke had accidentally stumbled on the answer that had eluded the FBI for over two decades.

If one accepted the concept that few events occurred strictly by coincidence, or that God moves in mysterious ways, then Luke’s walking right into the killer once he decided to face up to his social responsibility became more feasible. But again, that wasn’t something a judge would pay heed to.

He had an idea of how he could get closer to the truth, but it would take a carefully constructed story. Once he came up with one, he donned a pair of thin latex gloves and created an anonymous letter made up from newspaper cuttings. To further throw suspicion from himself, he addressed it to the
Sherrif’s
Dept.—purposely misspelling the word “sheriff”. He then made an appointment to see Sheriff Patterson later that afternoon.

* * *

“I found this stuck in my door when I was leaving for work today.” Terrell placed the phony letter on his boss’s desk. “I figure it must have been someone who knows I’m a homicide detective. Oh, and, uh, I got a fingerprint or two on it when I unfolded it, but I was careful once I read it. Considering the content, I didn’t want to take it to the lab until I’d shown it to you.”

“Good thinking, Harris.” Patterson put on his glasses and read the message.

The guy who kilt Stewart Neuman is Teddy Jones I seen him do IT but Im afrade to rat in person INVESTate him or Ill tell the News

“Obviously, it’s ridiculous,” Terrell said. “But with all the talk about Jones probably being the next vice president, the press might run something like this if they receive it.”

Patterson removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “What would you suggest?”

“The best defense is laid in advance. Why not have a response statement from us already prepared? I thought I could call his office and confirm where he was the night of the murder.”

“I can go one better. I’ll give Abe a call myself. On his cell. Get it right from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”

Terrell frowned. “Wouldn’t it be more official if I called—” He dropped the end of that sentence because the sheriff was already dialing. A few seconds later he was leaving a message for the senator to call him back.

“Leave this to me, Harris. You never know what some assistant might make of a homicide detective questioning the senator’s whereabouts at the time of a crime. Now, I have something I need to ask you about.”

Terrell hoped it was something he had an answer for.

“The grapevine has a rumor on it… that another man had a police artist’s sketch done of a woman who looked a lot like Mr. Levitt’s transvestite. I heard you handled the case. Is that true?”

Terrell mentally relaxed. He was certain he’d covered his ass on this one. “I heard the same thing, but no, I didn’t handle the case. I escorted the man to the artist because he was working with us that day, but then I sent him to vice with the sketch to file a report. I don’t know whether the sketches looked alike or not. When I heard about the similarity, I checked with vice, but they said the guy never showed up there.”

“So what you’re saying is, we may have let a potential witness walk out the door.”

“I’m afraid so, sir, but there was no way anyone could have guessed that.”

The sheriff wasn’t happy with that answer, but when Terrell requested permission to leave, he granted it.

* * *

“It’s not definite that I have the part yet, but it looks very good. My agent said I could get the call any second and I have to be ready to fly out,” Brandon told Ellery over the phone. “That’s why I’ve got to stay in L.A. this weekend. I wish you’d change your mind and come down.”

Senator Jones came out of his office and stopped when he saw Ellery on the phone. She motioned that she’d be off in a second. “I’m sorry, Brandon, I couldn’t possibly get down there this weekend, but I made a note of your new phone number and address, and I promise to give you a call if anything changes. I have to go now. The senator needs me.”

Jones watched her set the note beneath her desk calendar. “Was that Brandon Ross?” he asked.

“Yes, I apologize—”

“Nonsense, Miss Winters. You may not have realized it, but my wife is a very big fan of his. And I noted that he made a nice contribution to our fundraiser. I gather that he’s back home in Beverly Hills, but do you think he’d be available to attend our dinner party next weekend?”

“I could certainly ask him. He mentioned several times that we should feel free to call on him if there’s anything he can do to support you. Unfortunately, based on what he just told me, I wouldn’t count on his being able to attend this weekend. It sounds like he’s about to land a big role in a movie that starts shooting immediately. If he gets it, he’ll be flying off to Poland in a few days.”

“I see. Well then, I certainly won’t mention it to Vivian until you get a definite answer. And speaking of my dear wife, I promised to meet her,” he glanced at his watch and grimaced, “an hour ago. Am I finished for the day?”

“As far as your calendar goes, yes. However, I took a call from Sheriff Patterson while you were out. He said he left a voice message on your cell phone also. I asked if I could help him, but he said he had to speak to you personally.”

Jones shook his head with a chuckle. “Frank Patterson always wants to speak to me personally.”

“I could call and tell him you never came back to the office.”

“Thank you, but that would only cause him to call me at home and we’ll be busy getting ready for our trip. It would be better to speak to him before I leave here. There’s no reason for you to stay… you know how long-winded he can be. Go on home.”

Ellery smiled. “I think I will. And you and Mrs. Jones have a nice weekend. Are you still planning to visit her parents?”

“Yes. It could be the last chance we have for a while and they are getting up in years. Oh my, I almost forgot. I want to take the budget analysis and fiscal projections with me.”

“I thought you might,” she said, handing him a thick binder. “Anything else?”

He chuckled. “I think this will be more than enough reading material for the drive down. Thank goodness Teddy likes to drive.”

“Santa Monica is at least a seven-hour drive on the freeway. Don’t you like to fly?”

“I’m not afraid of crashing or terrorist takeovers, if that’s what you mean. I just find driving or riding in my own car to be a lot more relaxing, especially when it’s the three of us.”

Ellery smiled and made a mental note to pass that on to Brevowski.

As soon as the senator returned to his desk, Ellery called Brandon back. If he was able to make it up to Sausalito for the dinner party, she’d have the perfect excuse to get into that house. Jones had not actually invited her, but she was certain she could manage it as Brandon’s date. When all she got was Brandon’s voice mail, she left him a message about the party and asked that he call her back as soon as possible.

Grabbing her purse and the environmental reports she wanted to read over the weekend, she left the office before the senator changed his mind about her going home. Usually she never left until he did, but tonight she wanted to give herself the time to freshen up and change clothes before Luke arrived for their “real date”. Unlike the last time, she intended to start out the evening completely relaxed and in control.

Diane had teasingly praised her courage when Ellery told her that she had called him. Before she left the office, however, she had also reminded her not to immediately give her heart to him, no matter how good he was… as though she needed such a reminder.

After a few hours of deep sleep and a productive day at work, she was confident that he would not get the best of her tonight. Before the evening was over, she would know whether he was an amateur spy or just the sexiest man she had ever encountered.

* * *

Abraham concentrated on balancing his mind and body before analyzing the conversation he’d just had with Frank Patterson. He did not believe in coincidences. In his well-ordered world, everything had a purpose, usually one that elevated him closer to his ultimate goal. So what was this threat to his plans, and where was it coming from?