His eyes still felt itchy from the tears he'd foolishly spent, but he tried to ignore them. He took out the milk and peaches from the refrigerator, added both to a bowl of cereal, then carried it to the TV. He had folded up his sofa bed, so he sat on the sofa and started the tape in the machine and ate his cereal while he watched his favorite movie.
35
Keough stopped into the Richmond Heights station early Monday morning just to verify what Steinbach had told him on Saturday. He got the word from Sergeant Bilcheck.
"Three-man task force, my friend, you, Steinbach, and Jackson-and good luck dealing with Jackson."
"What's the story on him, anyway?" Keough asked.
"Ego."
"Is he any good?"
"He's got the skills," Bilcheck said, "but that ego gets in his way. Some people say he's got such a big ego you'd think he was from New York."
"And people say New Yorkers have an attitude."
"Do me a favor, will you?"
"What?"
"Catch this guy quick and get back here?"
"Will you miss me?"
Bilcheck smiled and said, "I'll be a man short."
"Same thing," Keough said, as he went out the door.
***
Keough was ready to start his new assignment because on Sunday he had gone to Forest Park and finally put a kite in the air. It was a small thing, but it had cleared his head, and now that he'd done it once he knew he'd get into a routine.
When he reached the office of the Major Case Squad, Steinbach was already there waiting with a brown paper bag that said "Einstein's Bros. Bagels" on it.
"Coffee and bagel," Steinbach said.
"At least it's not a donut," Keough said.
"I don't deal in stereotypes. Pull up a chair, you can share my desk."
"That Jackson's?" Keough asked, indicating the other desk in the small room.
"That's right."
"There's nothing on it."
"He's a neat freak."
Steinbach took out two bagels.
"Butter or cream cheese? It's raspberry."
"I'll take the butter."
Steinbach handed it to him.
"Where's the boss?"
"He's got an office through there." He inclined his head toward a door set in the back wall. "He'll want to see the three of us in about fifteen minutes. Time enough to eat a bagel."
In fifteen minutes Jackson still had not arrived.
"This figures," Steinbach said, wadding up the paper his breakfast had been wrapped in and tossing it into the waste basket.
"What does?"
"Jackson. He's making a statement."
"Has he got that kind of pull?"
"Yeah," Steinbach said. "He solved a couple of cases last year, really lucked into the solutions, if you ask me. They put him at the top of the heap."
"Well," Keough said, "Us bottom-of-the-heapers better go and see the boss."
"I read O'Donnell's book," Steinbach said, as they stood up. "You're not such a bottom-of-the-heaper."
"O'Donnell made me sound good."
"Uh-huh," Steinbach said, but didn't pursue the matter.
They entered the captain's office after Steinbach knocked at the door.
"Have a seat," McGwire said. "Jackson won't be here, he's working on a lead."
Keough and Steinbach exchanged a glance.
"Am I to understand that you two have been working together already?"
"We've been comparing notes," Steinbach said.
"What are we looking at here in the way of more victims?"
"There's two definites, and a woman who's still missing," Steinbach said. "She may or may not show up as one of his victims."
"Was one of the Dumpster kids hers?"
"Yes." Steinbach had checked with the husband when they reunited him with the child, and the man verified his wife was still missing.
"Then she's dead."
"More than likely," Keough said.
"Then there's nothing else I can say but go out and catch this guy."
"We can do that, Cap," Steinbach said.
"Then do it."
Keough looked at Steinbach, who jerked his head and started to get up.
"What was that all about?" Keough asked when they were out in the hall.
"He's a man of few words."
"I'll say."
"He won't get in our way," Steinbach said, "that's what's important."
"Now if Jackson would do the same thing," Keough said, "we'd be in business."
***
Since they each had their own car they decided to split up.
"We'll cover more ground that way," Steinbach said, in the parking lot. "Plus, we're really not used to working with each other. We'd be spending too much time trying not to step on each other's toes. We can just keep doing what we've been doing-and now we don't have other cases getting in the way."
"That's fine by me," Keough said. "Since all of the victims that we know of have shown up, what we need to do now is try to get a witness to give us a good look at the perp."
"That's my job," Steinbach said. "I'll have an artist talk to the witness he hit-what's her name?"
"Marie Tobin."
"Right. Give me her address and I'll take care of it."
Keough tore out the page in his notebook with Marie Tobin's name, address, and phone number on it and handed it to Steinbach.
"I've still got to talk to a detective named Taylor," Keough said. "He works undercover for Narcotics in the Galleria. Maybe he saw something along the way that doesn't mean anything to him, but might mean something to us."
"That's fine," Steinbach said. "What do you say we meet back here about three this afternoon to compare notes? Do you have a radio?"
"No."
"Hold on," Steinbach said. "I've got two units in my car."
He retrieved the two radios and they made sure they were on the same channel. They also exchanged call numbers so they'd be able to identify each other.
"Okay, let's get the ball rolling on this," Steinbach said.
"See you back here at three," Keough said.
Steinbach went back inside to make some calls and arrange for an artist to visit Marie Tobin. Keough got into his car and drove out of the parking lot.
He couldn't help but think that now that he was off the chart, not catching any other cases, he might be able to sneak in some time on the Brady Sanders case. He still had it in his mind that there was something going on between Bill Sanders and the girl who worked at his office, Miss Bonny.
He hoped he'd be able to check it out without running into Ken Jackson.
36
When Keough arrived at the Richmond Heights station, there was a message telling him to be at the Galleria at two that afternoon to meet Detective Taylor. He was to sit on one of the benches outside Brentano's Bookstore, near the fountains.
Keough had time to kill before going to the Galleria and no other leads to pursue in the case of the-the what? What were they calling him? Since one of the children had shown up dead, maybe they should just call their man the Mother-and-Child Killer-or better yet, the Mall Rat.
That was it. He decided to think of the man from now on as the Mall Rat.
He decided to drive over to the real estate office where Sanders had worked and see what he could see. Maybe he could just shake Miss Bonny up a little bit, and see what fell out of her pretty head.
He parked right in front and went inside. Miss Bonny was at her desk, as she had been the first time he was there. She looked up and her eyes widened when she recognized him.
"Detective…" She groped for his name.
"Keough."
"Yes," she said. "Would you, uh, like to see Mr. Riverside again?"
"No," he said. "I came just to see you, Miss Bonny."
"Me?" she asked, looking astonished-or frightened. "Whatever for?"
"I was wondering if you'd heard from Mr. Sanders."
Her eyes darted around the
room, a dead giveaway that she was about to tell a whopper.
"Why would I see him?"
To Keough it was a sure sign that someone had to lie but was desperately trying not to when they answered a question with a question, as Miss Bonny had done.
"I don't know," Keough said, "I just thought you might have been contacted by him. After all, you did say that you were friends, didn't you?"
"No, sir," she said, firmly, "I did not. I said nothing of the sort. I said we worked together, and that's all."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
Keough contrived to look puzzled.
"Hmm, where did I get my information, then?"
"That's what I'd like to know," she said, suddenly indignant.
"I'll have to check my notes, won't I?" he asked her. "Thanks for your time, Miss Bonny."
"You're… welcome."
He left her looking dazed and confused. He was convinced now more than ever that she had a thing for Bill Sanders.
He got in the car and turned on the motor, then the radio, but did not drive off.
He considered following Miss Bonny when she left for lunch, but decided against it. It would probably make more sense to follow her in the evening, after work. If she were going to rendezvous with Sanders, night would seem most likely. She hadn't done it the other times he'd watched her, but maybe he'd get lucky.
In the end he started the car and drove straight down Clayton Road until he reached the intersection of Brentwood Boulevard, where the Galleria was. He was several hours early, but he decided to take a good look at the mall, and possibly even pick out some likely victims for the Mall Rat. Were they plentiful in malls at this time of the year? Or would the killer have to search for the right one to be his next victim?
He parked in one of the surface lots and spent the next two hours girl watching. It was a hell of a way to make a living.
***
Two hours later he had seen one likely victim, a blond mother with an equally blond daughter in a stroller. He chose to do his watching from the same bench where he was supposed to meet Detective Taylor. While sitting there he started to think about the time of the year they were in. It was September, and the weather had been pretty mild since the beginning of the month. There were still lots of shorts and halter tops and tank tops in the mall, but there were also some people covering up a little more than they had during July and August.
Katherine Fouquet, the woman with the six-year-old, had been attacked in July. Marie Tobin had been punched in August. Maybe he'd take another victim in September. What would happen in October and then November when the weather got colder? Was he attacking women who not only looked a certain way, but dressed a certain way, as well? What would happen when the women began to cover up?
What if this wasn't the first summer this killer had struck?
His reverie was broken when a man sat on the bench with him, at the other end.
"I don't want it to look like we're together."
Keough looked at the man. He was dressed in jeans and a black Harley T-shirt and worn sneakers. He looked like he needed a shave, a haircut, and probably a bath.
"Taylor?"
"That's right. You're Keough. I've seen you around the station."
"I haven't seen you."
"I'm in and out," Taylor said. "Listen, I've got some information about a buy going down at the Dillard's end of the mall. Can we get to the point?"
"It looks as if women are being snatched from mall parking lots," Keough said. "I was wondering if you'd seen anything."
"When?"
"All summer, since July."
"Is this about the women who were found in the men's room and under the Dumpster?"
"That's right."
"They were grabbed from here?"
"I don't know if those women were grabbed from this location," Keough said, "but I do know that he tried for a woman in this parking lot in July and didn't get her."
"Why not?"
"She had a six-year-old who ran. Since then he's taken women with strollers."
"Jesus. Hey, the babies found in the Dumpsters?"
"Those are the ones."
"Bastard."
"We found another baby on Saturday."
"Saturday," Taylor repeated. "I didn't hear."
"At a garbage dump," Keough said. "Dead."
"Jesus."
"So think it over, Taylor," Keough said. "Maybe you saw a woman being hassled, or followed. Maybe it didn't mean anything to you at the time."
"I'll give it some thought."
"Blond women," Keough said, "pretty, well built, pushing strollers."
"This guy's sick."
"Yeah, he is," Keough said. "That's why there's a new three-man task force setup to try and catch him."
"You and who else?"
"Detectives Steinbach and Jackson, from Major Case."
" Steinbach's okay, but Jackson…" He made a face and shook his head.
"I'm finding that out."
"I've got to go," Taylor said, looking at his watch. "Where do I call you if I remember something?"
"Leave a message at Richmond Heights, or call Major Case."
"Okay," Taylor said, and without further word got up and wandered off-at least, it looked like he was wandering off. He was shuffling his feet, and his head was down. Very few people were paying attention to him. Keough thought he was a little obvious for an undercover vice cop, but then maybe that was just his New York attitude.
37
When Keough got back to his new office there was a message waiting for him, relayed from the Richmond Heights station. He was to call Mrs. Valerie Speck at children's services. Not knowing if this was a business or pleasure call he decided to return it immediately.
"Oh God, I'm glad you called, Joe."
"What's wrong?"
"It's the foster parents I placed Brady with."
"What about them?"
"They called and said a man was hanging around the house looking inside."
"Was he looking for Brady?" Keough asked, wondering if the man could possibly be the boy's father.
"I don't know."
"Were the police there?"
"Yes."
"When did it happen?"
"Earlier today. I called your station around noon, but they said you weren't there anymore."
"I've been temporarily reassigned."
"Can you do something, anyway?"
"Yes, I'll take a ride, uh, out there." He pulled a pad over and asked her for the address. She gave it to him and told him it was in Florissant, then had to tell him where that was. It was well north of St. Louis, and she gave him directions.
"Why was he placed all the way out there?"
"Luck of the draw."
"All right," he said. "I'm on my way."
"Oh, thanks, Joe. They're real shaken up, and the police out there didn't do much to soothe their fears."
Keough didn't bother telling her there wasn't much the police could have done if the man was gone when they arrived. Unless…
"Did the man actually see or talk to Brady?"
"No," she said, "Brady was at preschool."
"Valerie," he asked, "did anyone go to the school to see if Brady was okay?"
"Oh God… I don't know. Lord, what if… Joe, the Goodmans weren't told about Brady's parents. We don't give out that kind of information. They wouldn't have any reason to think to go to the school-"
"Look," he said, "just relax. I'll take a ride out there, ask some questions, check on Brady, and then I'll call you tonight."
"Could we meet somewhere," she asked, then added, "I mean, to talk about it?"
"Sure, pick a place and tell me when I can call you."
"All right. Thanks for doing this, Joe."
"Hey," he said, "I'm concerned about Brady, too."
He hung up, wrote a note for Steinbach, and then left the building to drive to Florissant.
***
Keough foun
d the neighborhood he wanted without much difficulty. Valerie's directions had been very easy to follow. He pulled up in front of one of many private homes on a block that reminded him of some parts of Brooklyn. He parked his car in front of the address she had given him, walked to the door, and rang the bell.
The woman who answered the door was in her thirties, plain-looking in a pleasant way. She was drying her hands on a dish towel.
"Mrs. Goodman?"
"That's right."
"My name is Detective Keough." He took out his shield and ID and showed it to her.
"Frank!" she called. "Can you come here?" She looked at Keough and said, "Frank is my husband."
Keough nodded and waited. Frank Goodman was also in his thirties, slightly overweight, soft-looking, with a receding hairline and a slack jaw. Together they looked at Keough's identification.
"What can we do for you, Detective?" Mr. Goodman asked, handing the ID back.
"I'm the detective who was originally working on Brady's case, Mr. and Mrs. Goodman. I-"
"Detective Keyhole!" Mrs. Goodman said, interrupting him.
"What?"
"That's what Brady calls you."
"It is?"
"That's right," Mr. Goodman said. "He's said it a few times. Keyhole. We weren't sure what he meant."
"May I come in and see Brady?"
"Of course," Mr. Goodman said, and they both backed up to let him enter.
"Brady has talked about you," Mrs. Goodman said. "He told us you gave him cookies."
"I did," Keough said. "Chocolate chip."
"His favorite."
"I didn't know that," Keough said. "It was all we had available at the station."
"What brings you here, Detective?" Mr. Goodman asked. "Are you checking on Brady?"
"Yes, sir," Keough said. "I wanted to see how he was, but I also spoke to Mrs. Speck and she, uh, told me about the, uh, incident."
"The man who was here," Mrs. Goodman said.
"That's right. Can you tell me what happened?"
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