by Rivers, Mal
“I say indirectly. I do not know to what degree. That is to say, how many of your staff had knowledge of such an affair. As far as I’m concerned, a separate police enquiry can approach that. However, I do know the identity of one—he is sitting right next to you. Aren’t you, Mr Rudd?”
Rudd rose from his chair in a flash. I half expected him to do something, so I did the same, but to my surprise, he sat back down again. Resigning himself to his fate.
Ryder nodded. “I suspect you realize it is futile, but, we have photographic proof of your involvement.”
Bromme looked at him. “For God’s sake, man, what have you been doing?”
Rudd shook his head and buried it into his hands.
“As I suspected, you were unaware, Mr Bromme?” Ryder said.
“Hell, of course!”
“Very well, I shall speak for Mr Rudd. The people behind the operation, whom I shall now refer to as the gang, have various outlets on the west coast of California. They use legitimate companies that have significant storage and loading facilities to help transfer illegal goods out of the country. The idea is twofold; one, in legitimate holding, their product stands minimal chance of interception. Secondly, if their product is found, the company itself will act as a diversion to blame. Your factory in Westminster was such a place.”
Bromme looked to Rudd. “Of all the things—you’ll cripple the company, for what, an extra paycheck? Despicable.”
“If you please,” Ryder said, shaking her head. “I suspect Mr Rudd acted under coercion rather than avarice. It is how criminal organizations of such stature operate. Now, naturally, you are considering what this has to do with Guy Lynch. The truth is, Guy Lynch also acted under coercion, until he had had enough.”
“So, Guy Lynch was a crook too? Christ,” Bromme said.
Ryder looked to Rudd, who seemed somewhat confused. “How about it, Mr Rudd? You seem dumbfounded.”
“I—he was never there at the transfers,” Rudd said.
“Quite,” Ryder said, “because Guy Lynch’s part was oh so different.”
Laura Harles spoke for the first time, saying, “So the gang killed him—is that what you’re saying?”
“If you expect a fee for that, forget it,” Robyn Faith said.
Ryder shook her head. “You’re missing the point. I shall tell you who killed Guy Lynch momentarily, but I shall start from the beginning and stipulate why.”
“Because he was a crook, we get it,” Bromme said impatiently.
“Indeed, but as I said, his part was different. You wanted, as a company, to attain a certain amount of positive publicity from all this. The truth of it is, you could not have possibly foreseen the consequences from learning the truth, and that is, Guy Lynch was the serial killer, egregiously known as the Cross Cutter.”
A lot of mumbling ensued, especially from the agents. You could practically see Bromme’s company falling from under him, and Johns looked unimpressed. A few people pointed out that Guy Lynch was murdered the same way as the other victims, to which Ryder asked for patience.
“That middle aged frump was a serial killer? Get out of it,” Johns said.
“How can you establish this?” Gibbs asked.
This was the tricky bit. Ryder had to wrap up a neat story, with over half of the history missing. For the first time tonight, she looked to Cassandra Bishop.
“Miss Bishop—pleased to meet you,” she said. “You were the one who convinced the FBI the serial murders were, in effect, committed under a different guise, is that correct?”
“Yes,” Cassandra said. “I also surmised they were connected to this criminal organization.”
“Why is that?” Ryder asked.
“For the very reason you did, I imagine. The inconsistencies suggested a lack of devotion, and serial killers are often devoted to their cause.”
“Indeed,” Ryder said. She looked to Gibbs and said, “And you, Agent Gibbs, after investigation, suspected some of the murders could be connected to the gang I am at odds with?”
“Yes, but there’s no proof,” Gibbs said firmly. “That’s why I’m here, you said you had—”
“Yes,” Ryder interrupted. “I fully intend to satisfy you. I am just merely presenting facts and stipulating that I am not alone in my theory as to the motive of the murders. Now, as for Guy Lynch—I can only surmise as to why he committed the first two murders the way he did. All I will say is that they were the only ones not connected to the gang.”
This was a lie, obviously. We suspected the murders were committed because Lynch saw red. He saw himself twelve years ago and he just blew, but we couldn’t tell anyone here that. I wasn’t too impressed with how Ryder had put it. It was rather lazy, expecting them to suspend the belief that Lynch had actually begun as a serial killer, and then diverted his priorities. I was right, Mantle objected.
“That kinda stinks,” Mantle said. “Make up your mind, he started off killing people—why did he suddenly become a hitman for this—gang.”
“I’m getting to that, Miss Mantle. Please, do not be impatient.” Ryder straightened herself. “The pivotal point in this whole affair was the third murder. I shall now explain the main question that no one had the sagacity to emphasize: why was there a secondary stab wound on Jake Segal, victim number three?”
The crowd in the office mumbled and looked at each other. Gibbs nodded for Ryder to continue.
“The answer is somewhat surmise, but poignant nevertheless. It’s because two different people stabbed Jake Segal.”
Again, more mumbling. “How could you possibly know that?” Mantle said.
“Naturally, I do not know that, Miss Mantle. As I said, it is surmise. But it is surmise that leads to a very convincing story. The only situation that seemed remotely viable to me was that someone who wasn’t the killer first stabbed Jake Segal. Such a scenario makes sense, considering the murder took place in an alley. Surely an unwise setting for a premeditated serial killing. With that in mind, you have to ascertain why the real serial killer came afterward to change the nature of the murder.”
Yet more mumbling and objections.
“How do you account for two people? If Lynch’s murder was a copy, why not this?” Gibbs said.
“Inference, Agent Gibbs. I’m sure the medical examiner will agree that the stab wound was different in nature.” She cleared her throat. “Back to what I was saying—why would Guy Lynch follow the real murderer of Jake Segal, and dress it up as his own? There is only one answer: to protect the murderer. But what he could not possibly know was that there was someone else watching them—a member of the very gang that we have been discussing tonight. And by coercion and blackmail, the gang later acquired Guy Lynch’s services as a hitman, disguised as a serial murderer, using the first two murders already creating a stir in the press as a smokescreen.”
This took some swallowing by the majority. I myself was struggling to follow along and had to admit, she wasn’t convincing. This was all on account of her trying to force a reason to avoid going in the direction of another.
“This is a whole lot of surmise, Miss Ryder,” Gibbs said. “I suppose you know who really killed Jake Segal?”
Ryder adjusted her arm as she leaned back in her chair. “Certainly I do. That person is in my office right now.”
Yet again the room resorted to mumbling.
“Rudd, you!” Bromme said.
“I didn’t do anything!” Rudd said.
“You’re the one in league with the goddamned Mafia,” Robyn Faith said.
“Well?” Gibbs said to Ryder.
Ryder shook her head. “No, I mean someone else entirely. Someone else involved with the gang, and I suspect Mr Rudd could hazard a guess at their identity. How about it, Mr Rudd?”
Rudd gazed to his left. “I—I don’t know.”
Ryder smiled. “Indeed. How about this, then; when did the gang start to use the Gillham and Mane factory for their operation?”
“About two years a
go,” he said sheepishly.
“The same time as Jake Segal’s murder.” Ryder nodded and looked to Gibbs. “I submit to everyone here, that the person who killed Jake Segal was intimate with him for a brief period of time. That she saw him every day during his duties as a mailman. After he rebuffed her and went back to his girlfriend, she followed him and killed him outside his apartment. Blade in her hand, bloodied. She would be caught in her current state of hysteria. But along came Guy Lynch. Perhaps she called for help, or Lynch had known she would resort to such action. In either case, he covered everything up—all except for removing the body, because they were interrupted. This is a guess, but I assume this was when everything changed. One of the members of the gang saw everything. After that, Lynch and the murderer were under the gang’s thumb. The gang realized not only Lynch’s use to them, but also Gillham and Mane’s.”
“Who the hell is it?” Gibbs said. The candidates had been whittled down, but given Ryder’s commentary, it had become clear to me.
“The person who, by her own words, used to have a rapport with Guy Lynch. An almost maternal one—to the extent where a colleague assumed he had helped her get over a ‘nasty break up,’ when in reality, he helped her cover up her crime of passion.
“The person who was most likely to meet Jake Segal, when his mail route was several blocks away from Gillham and Mane… which would include the diner she frequented often—” Ryder tilted her head to her right. “It is you, Miss Harles.”
37
All eyes in the room turned to Laura Harles, who turned even paler than Ryder. She said nothing.
“You can’t know what you’re talking about,” Doreen Sharp said. “This is outrageous, we came to you for help, and you’re trying to convict us all!”
Ryder gave a grimace. “Trust me, Mrs Sharp, I am not yet done with your company.”
Agent Gibbs looked over Laura Harles and then said, “Where’s the proof?”
Ryder sank back in her chair and placed her free hand under her chin. “As much as I would like to prove she killed Jake Segal, it would be easier to convict her for something else—the murder of Guy Lynch.”
“What?” Mantle said.
“Why?” Gibbs said. “Why would she murder Guy Lynch after all that, and why would she frame Melissa? That makes no sense. Andonian was the one after you, not her.”
Ryder nodded. “Loyalties change, Agent Gibbs. I cannot possibly begin to extrapolate the entire story. All I can do is assure Miss Harles’ position is grave, and hope she will tell you herself.”
“Did you kill him?” Gibbs asked her.
“No, I didn’t, you can’t prove anything,” Laura said. “I don’t have to listen to this.”
Ryder said, “I am sure there is ample proof now that the attention is firmly on you. It would only take reexamination of the evidence at the restroom to get something on you—a fingerprint unaccounted for, the lack of an alibi, etcetera. As careful as you were, there is also your confederate, Andonian, whom I assume is the very man set to ruin me. My assistant, Ader, swears blind that he saw a certain female in Andonian’s car the other day. He needs to think again, as it was you.”
I rubbed my chin. I originally assumed it was Kacie Cordell—but her hair is remarkably similar to Laura Harles.
Ryder continued, “Right now, you know where the man known as Andonian is. What you don’t know is that he will be arrested before the night is out. Seen as he is the only alternative for the murder of Guy Lynch, don’t think for a second he will shield you. Such people are renowned for having expensive lawyers and cutting deals. He would hand you over without a thought.”
Laura remained still. She showed no signs of giving in.
“Of course—” Ryder took her hand from her chin and raised a finger. “You can make a deal of your own. Andonian will betray you, there is no doubt. Adhere to my advice, and betray him back. You may be able to gain something, by testifying he was the one who killed Robert Ulrich, a struggling actor from Hollywood who impersonated Guy Lynch Monday morning in my office, hours before his death.”
This caught the members of Gillham and Mane by surprise. They had no idea about the impostor Lynch. They interrupted with many questions, but Ryder was too busy trying to force her own version of prisoner’s dilemma on Laura Harles.
“Either way, you are done for, Miss Harles. You are trapped in at various angles and cannot possibly hope to escape. It would make events much easier if you would just admit defeat.”
At first she didn’t move. But then I saw her clench her fists and her face began to redden. Her teeth were showing.
Beside me, Cassandra tried to help things along by saying, “It’s okay, tell them,” in a calm voice.
Silence. Laura passed a hesitant glance at Cassandra, looked to the floor and then mumbled, “Yes. I killed him, but he killed the actor.”
Ryder nodded. “Go on.”
“Wait a minute,” Bromme said. “What’s all this about someone impersonating Guy?”
Ryder sighed. “The person I saw Monday was not Guy Lynch. In fact, I never saw Guy Lynch alive.”
I saw the agents getting impatient. I could tell Johns and Mantle just wanted to put the cuffs on Laura, but Gibbs wasn’t through.
“Why did they hire an actor?” she initially asked Ryder, but then asked the same thing to Laura, and got no answer.
Ryder cleared her throat and held up her free hand casually. “Ask her all you like, she can’t answer that.”
Gibbs squinted at her. “They didn’t hire the actor?”
“No,” Ryder said.
“Well, who did?”
“Guy Lynch did, obviously.”
“What?” Gibbs said, startled. “Why?”
“Oh, I couldn’t possibly explain that before the night is out. That said, I suspect Guy Lynch had predicted his demise. How about it, Miss Harles, will you explain what happened that day, or do I have to continue to ad-lib?”
“I don’t care,” she said.
“Very well. I suspect you do not wish to recall it because you know by now that you were duped—not by your partner, or even myself—but by Guy Lynch. How long was it before you changed your allegiance from him to Andonian, and his gang?”
“I didn’t have a choice. Guy wanted to come clean—I don’t care about the money Andonian makes, but if Guy did come clean—it would’ve been the end. He didn’t care that I’d go to prison. Who thinks like that? I’m not sorry.”
“So you say.” Ryder nodded lazily. “But what you didn’t realize was that he played you both. He wanted to come clean, but not to the police. Not directly. Instead, he gave you a chance. He threatened to lay bare your crimes, past and present, knowing that if you reacted negatively, it would lead to his death.”
This was met with a lot of confused faces, especially Mantle, who had a hard time taking in anything that wasn’t straight.
“You’re saying he wanted them to kill him? Why not just tell the police everything and—I don’t know—hang himself?” Mantle said.
Ryder looked up at the ceiling. “What could he go to the police with? Anything he told them was liable to interpretation, and he probably didn’t want to expose Andonian’s operation while he was alive. He was still loyal to Gillham and Mane, and likely didn’t wish to physically see the company disgraced. And I doubt he would’ve been able to prove much else. Miss Harles wouldn’t have known that, though, so she feared his threat legitimately. It was an ultimatum, pure and simple. Perhaps if she had chosen differently, Guy Lynch would have had a change of heart.”
“Wait a minute,” Johns said. “So he pushes them into killing him—what for? Some ridiculous way to prove to himself that he was right? Who on earth does that?”
“Not quite,” Ryder said, pulling at her sling. “He had the added satisfaction in knowing it was likely they would be caught for the crime.”
“How?”
Ryder peered forward in a somewhat arrogant manner. “As you stand here now
—isn’t that rather obvious?”
A laugh came from the back of the room. It was Mantle. “Oh please, you’re seriously suggesting Guy Lynch led them to you? We’ve all heard of your ego, but this is pretty insane.”
Ryder sighed. “I cannot be blamed for the faith Guy Lynch had in my abilities. That is my assessment of matters, take it or leave it.”
I’d remained quiet for everything up until this point. I wasn’t going to let her leave certain bits out. “What about Melissa’s bracelet?” I asked.
“Nothing to do with either Andonian or Miss Harles.” She looked at her. “Am I correct?”
Laura kept her head down and said nothing.
“All along, I and my assistant feared we were being targeted to certain degrees. This was and still is true, but we never really considered that someone else wanted to provoke me. Someone who wanted to push me into urgency, and further point a finger toward the gang that had used him—Guy Lynch himself, from beyond the grave.”
“I’m still struggling to see this,” Johns said. “How do you account for how he died? The ladies’ restroom—how the bracelet was put there. Not to mention if it was Guy Lynch who planned ahead, how was it this—Andonian, or whatever, managed to kill the actor before Guy Lynch had actually died?”
“This is where we come to guessing,” Ryder said. “The only way I can explain it is that Guy Lynch’s plan was far too haphazard for its own good. Also worthy of note is that although he expected to be killed, he didn’t count on Miss Harles staging it as one of the serial killings, which clearly made everything far more complex. As for the murder itself, it was the progression of events that made it all the more likely Miss Harles was the one responsible. It isn’t hard to imagine Lynch making his case to her. That halfway through she storms off. Fully committed to his cause, he follows her into the ladies’ restroom, without concern. Inside, he gets the reaction he expected. She doesn’t strike him on the back of the head. Rather, she pushes him backwards into the wash basin, and against the faucet, which accounts for the injury to the back of his head, and the flooding afterward.
