The Paul Mcdonald Mystery Series Vol. 1-2: With Bonus Short Story!

by J. Paul Drew

  “You mean you’re not sure?”

  “I’m pretty sure. Once, when he was still pretty lucid, he told me how it was going to work. He figured it was going to take another two years to get the bugs out— before they could test it on humans. That was less than a year ago.”

  “Anyway, when Terry told me about the ‘treatments,’ I confronted him. He acted as if I were out of my mind to doubt him. You know how arrogant doctors are? I mean, you know how they believe they’re God? Well, scientists, especially if they’ve had the kind of recognition Jacob has, are like doctors multiplied by twenty. So suppose a guy like that crosses just a little bit over the line— the line between reality and fantasy, I mean. Can you imagine trying to tell him what’s best for his kid?”

  “Gives me goose bumps to think about it.”

  Lindsay nodded. “A real blood-chiller. But, of course, there was always the chance he really was right— wasn’t crazy, I mean. That he really had discovered a cure.”

  “So you took Terry to Dr. Rumler to make sure.”

  She nodded again. “And then I panicked. I called Mike Brissette to ask him what I’d have to do to regain custody. He said it’s practically impossible to prove someone’s crazy, and particularly someone who’s respected in practically every household in the Bay Area. He was very discouraging. I guess that phone call cost him his life.” Her voice was shaky.

  “You think Jacob killed him?”

  “Of course. With all due respect, you simply don’t seem to grasp the fact that Jacob believes he has a mission to save the world. You’ve heard of that kind of maniac before, haven’t you?” She looked at me cannily. “You were in Guyana, weren’t you, Paul? And you knew Jim Jones before that, when he was in San Francisco. Jacob is that kind of nut. Capable of that degree of evil. Believe me.” I nodded and she went on. Sardis looked shocked. “Anyway, so I decided to try appealing to Marilyn. She’s been good to Terry and she isn’t a dumb woman.” She shrugged. “But it was hopeless. Jacob behaved as if I were the one who was crazy, but Marilyn actually came out and told me I was.”

  Sardis spoke, for the first time in a while. “But I don’t understand. She’s a scientist. If he hasn’t got the cure, she must know he hasn’t got the cure.”

  “Well, she didn’t exactly say he had. She denied that Jacob was giving Terry any treatments at all.”

  “You told her about the side effects?”

  “Yes, and Dr. Rumler and the whole thing. She flat out denied it.”

  “I still don’t get it. Why would she do that?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “She’s obsessed with him. It’s a very sick relationship, I think. He’s the better scientist, so she idolizes him, and he’s also the world’s handsomest man.” She shrugged again. “It’s sort of sad, really. He needed someone to take care of him and Terry, so he married Marilyn, who adores him and thinks he can do no wrong. She just refuses to see what’s happened to him, that’s all. He’s her whole world, and if she had to stop believing in him, she couldn’t make it. So she doesn’t see what’s happening around her.”

  “How about Steve Koehler? Did you go to him?”

  “Paul, every penny Steve Koehler has is sunk in Kogene, and Jacob is his only asset. Do you think he wants to hear anything against him? All the time I was Steve’s sister-in-law, I believe he spoke fifteen words to me. To my knowledge, he has never kissed or hugged his niece. I have never seen him display any emotion except greed, if that’s an emotion. Anyway, it’s as close as he gets. I’d say he should be eugenically sterilized, except that I’m quite sure he is incapable of so human a thing as fathering a child.”

  Sardis sucked in her breath. “What happened to these boys when they were kids?”

  Again Lindsay shrugged. “Parents died. Raised by relatives who drank and beat them. Passed on to other relatives, then others. The usual stuff.”

  Sardis nodded. She was very interested in that kind of thing.

  But I wanted more details about the case. “Did you have a date with Peter Tillman the night you were supposed to see Marilyn?”

  She nodded.

  “But you broke it?”

  “Not then. I phoned him to say I was meeting Marilyn and asked if we could make it later than we’d originally planned.”

  “So you saw him?”

  “No. As it turned out, I was too upset.”

  “Did you tell him about the meeting?”

  “How could I help it? I blubbered all over the telephone.”

  “I don’t see why Jacob would have killed him for that. I can’t see a motive in it.”

  “Don’t you see? It’s the same motive for all of them. They all knew he was crazy— Birnbaum, Mike, Pete. That’s why he tried to kill you— because he thought you knew too.”

  “But, Lindsay,” said Sardis. “They didn’t really know anything. All they knew was, you thought he was crazy.”

  “So you’re wondering why he didn’t kill me if that was the motive. He’s capable of it, Sardis.”

  “But the digitalis,” I said. “How would he get it?”

  “Easiest thing in the world. Haven’t you got an aunt with heart trouble? Even I have. And of course Jacob does too. Old Aunt Hallie, the only person who was ever nice to the Koehler boys when they were growing up. When she got old, they moved her out here and ensconced her at Rossmoor, a few doors down from my aunt Katherine. And believe it or not, they both visit her regularly— even that jerk Steve. She’s got digitalis lying around like aspirin.”

  “Does Marilyn visit her, too?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “Because if you really believe Jacob could kill three people because they might or might not have thought he was bonkers, and you believe Marilyn is neurotically obsessed with Jacob and would do anything to protect him, the same motive applies for her, doesn’t it?”

  Lindsay looked confused. “I don’t know. You have to be crazy to kill someone, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know, Lindsay. I honestly have no idea. Listen, I hate to be the one to say this, but I’m sure you’ve already thought of it…”

  She interrupted me. “I’m not going back with you. I want Terry to have this raft trip.”

  “But Lindsay—” Sardis looked as if she’d lost her best friend, and I guess she felt that way.

  Lindsay interrupted her. “I don’t think there’s any danger now to anybody but me, and he can’t find me on the river.”

  “What about Paul?”

  Lindsay looked shocked, as if she’d forgotten the attempts on my life. She started to cry again. “I have to think. Jacob is Terry’s father. I can’t imagine yanking her out of the river and up the canyon and back to San Francisco, just to try to get her father thrown in jail. I just can’t…”

  “I have an idea,” I said. “I brought a tape recorder with me. If you’ll tape your story, we’ll go quietly.”

  “But, Paul—” Sardis obviously couldn’t believe what I was saying, but I knew something she didn’t know. I shushed her.

  Lindsay looked as if she’d gotten a reprieve from the green room. The truth was, I’d come around to her point of view— she’d be safe on the river, and she might not be if she came back with us. Sardis and I could handle it alone.

  CHAPTER 23

  “There’s something you two should know,” I said, and told them about my revelation at the Auto Cabins. With three brains working on it, we put together a much more complete theory than I’d been able to generate alone.

  Then we worked out a plan, one that I wasn’t crazy about, but they convinced me it was the only way. Lindsay made the tape I’d asked for, and after that, she made a second tape. Then, having heard news of the deaths of two men she was close to and having plotted to trap their killer, all in the space of an hour, she joined her dying daughter and floated off down the Colorado River. She was one brave lady.

  Seeing her was inspiring in its way, but it broke the mood of our idyl. We couldn’t get out of the canyon till the mule trai
n left the next day, and I was restless. Sardis was too, I guess, but I was too restless to notice.

  The part about the plan that I didn’t like was that it used Sardis as bait. I’d agreed to do it on the condition that we first try out our theory on the cops. This galled me because it meant dealing with Blick, but I was worried enough to give it a try.

  I called him when we got back: “Howard, this is Paul Mcdonald.”

  “Eat shit and die, turkey.”

  To my everlasting credit I didn’t hang up. To this day, when I think about it, my right hand automatically snakes around and pats my lats. “Howard, I’ve got some very import—”

  Click. So much for the boys in blue. I called Susanna Flores.

  Then Sardis made a call. I listened to Lindsay’s second tape as she played it for the person on the other end of the line:

  “Hello, Jacob, this is Lindsay. I believe you killed Jack Birnbaum, Mike Brissette, and Peter Tillman and that this tape could help convict you. I have given Sardis Kincannon another copy in a sealed envelope to be opened in the event that either she or I should die. By the time you get this, the other copy will be in a safe-deposit box.”

  The tape stopped there. Sardis spoke into the phone: “There’s more. Lindsay said it was an insurance policy to keep us safe. I wasn’t supposed to listen to it, but I got curious. I don’t really think Lindsay’s in danger from Jacob, so I don’t think she needs an insurance policy, you know? And I thought you might be able to use the tapes. I’m not greedy. I was thinking something in the neighborhood of ten thousand dollars. You could get that much by tonight, easy.”

  There was a pause.

  “Well, five thousand will do for now, then. After all, there are two tapes. One of them will be on sale at midnight at Pandorf Associates. You know the ferry?”

  She hung up and grinned at me. “It’s set.”

  We had asked for ten thousand on the theory that it sounded like a reasonable amount for an amateur blackmailer and that at least half of it ought to be readily available on a day’s notice. Our nerves weren’t good for more than a day.

  At ten o’clock we met Susanna Flores at the ferry. She had a cameraman with her, one named Freddie and equipped with a Minicam. I did a stand-up for him.

  “This is Paul Mcdonald,” I said. “I called Police Inspector Howard Blick today to give him information I thought would be helpful in a homicide investigation. He called me ‘turkey’ and hung up. I have a tape recording of that telephone call. The police have no part in the ‘sting’ recorded on this videotape. Susanna Flores of Channel 5 and I hope that it will be valuable evidence in the arrest and conviction of a killer.”

  The point of that speech was to authenticate the tape. I didn’t know whether the thing would hold up as evidence, but I was going to try my damndest to get it into court. How I was going to get the cops to look at it was another matter— maybe Susanna would have to air it.

  Sardis took us to a little room about midway between bow and stern. It was well-appointed with soft, deep plushy gray sofas. One wall was mirrored. “This,” said Sardis, “is where we hold the focus groups.”

  “How’s that?” asked Freddie.

  “Market research groups. You put a bunch of people in a room and get them to talk about fast-food joints or something. Then the client— Mcdonald’s, say— can find out whether people like their golden arches, or whatever they want to know. We’ve got microphones in the ceiling, and of course the mirrors are really one-way windows.”

  “You mean we can tape from the next room?”

  “We often do ourselves. It’s a great room for extortion, isn’t it? Everything all comfy and private. Perfect little false sense of security.” Sardis spoke confidently. I wished I felt as upbeat about this crazy caper as she did.

  At midnight Freddie, Susanna, and I were in place in the viewing room. Sardis was sitting alone in the reception room, waiting for a killer who was a few minutes late.

  At 12:10 the doorbell rang. We heard Sardis answer it and talk to someone. Then we heard their footsteps, and then they entered the room where Pandorf held the focus groups. It was spooky, being able to see them like that— hard to believe they couldn’t see back. Sardis’s companion looked around the room, appraising it. It seemed to me that our eyes locked for a moment. But that was impossible— I had to tell myself that to keep still.

  “No one’s on the boat,” said Sardis. “But every now and then someone comes down for some reason. No one’ll bother us here.”

  Steve Koehler nodded. “It’s a nice room.”

  “Make yourself at home.” Sardis sat down, and pointed to a loaded tape recorder on a low table. “There’s the tape.”

  Steve sat down across from her.

  Sardis spoke again: “Did you bring the money?”

  “Yes.” Steve took out an envelope and let Sardis look in it.

  She nodded and turned on the tape, the first one Lindsay had made, in which she described Terry’s illness, Jacob’s phony treatments, the emergency visit to Dr. Rumler, the call to Brissette, the visit with Marilyn, and the talk with Tillman. When it was over, Sardis turned off the machine.

  “Lindsay honestly believes Jacob killed those three men,” she said. “Only she doesn’t want anything to happen to him— at least not right now— because it would be a shock to Terry. On the other hand, she doesn’t want to be his next victim. That’s why she made the tape.”

  “If my brother is a killer, perhaps he should be locked up.”

  “Oh, but he isn’t.” As she spoke, Sardis took the tape out of the recorder. She kept holding it, hands in lap. “I’ve thought about it quite a lot and I see how it’s possible to come to that conclusion. Because he is mad.”

  “Oh?”

  “Of course. How do you explain nearly killing his own daughter?”

  “Look, Miss Kincannon, he was doing what he thought best. People don’t like to face the truth in situations like that. Everybody’s a little bit that way.”

  “Mr. Koehler, when a Nobel Prize-winning scientist doesn’t know what’s real and what’s not real, he’s flipped out.”

  “Nonsense. There’s nothing—”

  “Gone bananas, Mr. Koehler. Not playing with a full deck. Besides, a few other things have happened. A man in a stocking mask accosted me and demanded to know where Lindsay was. Susanna Flores got a threatening phone call. Jacob was the assailant and the caller.”

  She said it confidently, as if she knew it were true. Actually, it was just part of our theory, but it made sense: Not one but two people wanted to find Lindsay— Steve and Jacob. Steve might be a murderer, but nutty, desperate stuff like that wasn’t his style.

  “How do you know?” asked Koehler.

  “I’m not going to tell you yet. Instead, I’m going to go on with the line of reasoning I followed. I just asked myself a question, that’s all— if Jacob wanted to find Lindsay so badly, why would he kill the man he’d hired to find her?”

  “You tell me, Miss Kincannon.”

  “Well, he might if Birnbaum were blackmailing him. Birnbaum tried to blackmail me into giving him information. If he did that routinely, with everyone he investigated, pretty soon he might come upon a piece of information about his client that was worth a lot more than he was getting paid. So maybe he’d blackmail his own client.”

  “That’s pretty farfetched.”

  “Not at all, Mr. Koehler. Only Birnbaum didn’t do that. Crazy people don’t know they’re crazy. What would be the point of trying to blackmail Jacob on that account?”

  Koehler shrugged. “Because that’s what he found out about Jacob. Just like Lindsay’s tape says. She called Brissette to find out if she could get custody of Terry on grounds that Jacob’s marbles were missing. Brissette told Birnbaum about that. He was a coke freak and a politician and therefore vulnerable to blackmail. So Birnbaum didn’t have any trouble getting it out of him. Birnbaum didn’t even realize how valuable the information was. He didn’t know what
I know, what the person developing Kogene’s new corporate identity would have to know— that your company’s going public in a couple of months.”

  “And you have only one asset, don’t you?” Sardis made it a taunt. “Without Jacob Koehler, there really is no Kogene.”

  “Nonsense. Marilyn’s almost as fine a scientist as Jacob is. And we have others—”

  Sardis shook her head. “I mean from the point of view of investors. And at this point, your investors are brokers, aren’t they? Your investment banker is probably even now putting together a syndicate to offer your stock. The whole deal will fall through if they lose confidence in the company.”

  “Any company with a good product is going to do well.”

  “But you don’t have one, do you? If word gets out Jacob is bonkers— like in a custody case that gets lots of media play— it’s good-bye public stock offering and good-bye Kogene and good-bye every cent Steve Koehler ever made or stands to make.”

  Koehler’s filbert eyes were starting to narrow and make him look mean.

  “Birnbaum figured out all that and tried to blackmail you, didn’t he? Not Jacob. You. So you just lifted some digitalis from your Aunt Hallie and killed him.”

  “How do you know about Aunt Hallie?” He sounded panicked.

  “Lindsay told me. Birnbaum, incidentally, made kind of a strong case. He had Brissette’s story and also Tillman’s story to back him up. Tillman had talked with Lindsay the night before she disappeared. All three of them knew Jacob was off his nut, but there was no reason for either Brissette or Tillman to make it public. Probably you would only have had to kill Birnbaum if he hadn’t had the reports ghostwritten. When that came out in the paper, you realized Paul Mcdonald would be able to connect Birnbaum’s murder with the job Jacob hired Birnbaum to do. The people whose names Jacob had given Birnbaum would be questioned. So that meant Brissette and Tillman had to be killed. I understand there’ve been attempts on Mcdonald’s life as well.”