Downstairs, on the Famous-Barr side, was an arcade and fun center that had everything from video games to bumper cars to virtual reality.
He'd been in there once and hated it. Boys with pants that were too baggy and baseball caps worn backwards, weird haircuts, body piercings, and pretty young girls hanging onto them like they were the catch of the day. It disgusted him.
But the food court was down there as well, and he did get hungry or have to follow a pretty woman down there.
Crestwood had covered parking beneath the Dillard's side of the mall, otherwise it was all surface parking from one end to the other. He chose the times he went to the malls carefully. It was usually on weekends, when they were very crowded, because that's when he felt his prey would be out.
This time, however, it was between lunch and dinner on a weekday, and it was also the time of year when the kids were going back to school, so the mall was particularly empty. The weather would be changing soon, and the young mothers would start covering up. October, though, would bring Indian summer. He had until at least November before sweaters and long pants would be the uniform of the day.
If this was the Galleria he'd be sitting right about in the center of the mall, where FAO Schwarz and Kay Bee toys were located. Crestwood did not have a Schwarz, but they had a Kay Bee. He got himself a pretzel and a Coke and sat on a bench in front of some decorative plants where he had a good view of the toy store. He used to stake out the clothing stores, but there were more young women without babies shopping there. He'd finally realized that the toy stores were the places to watch, with the food courts a close second.
Unfortunately, sitting several doors down from the toy store put him right in front of a lingerie store. This distracted him. In fact, the photos in the window aroused him, but not in the way his young mothers did. Still, it was a distraction…
He was not a very smart man. It did not dawn on him that with the mall this empty he would stand out-especially in front of a lingerie shop. He usually wore torn jeans and a soiled T-shirt when he was doing what the psychologists called trolling for his victims. This mode of dress blended in very well with weekend crowds, but during the week, when the shoppers were dressed for work, the thin, dark-haired man with long, lank, dirty hair and a homeless-style wardrobe stood out like a sore thumb.
Which was why there was trouble.
***
Patricia Dey had been working in Frederick's of Hollywood for over a year. A fortyish mother of two teenage girls, she enjoyed her job. There was nothing in that store that she could ever wear. Not only was she too shy ever to wear these types of garments, but she was not built for them. Still, she had acquired the ability to match her customers with certain items, and enjoyed doing so. It made her feel useful, and that was the reason she had come to Crestwood Mall looking for a job in the first place.
She had also acquired the ability to spot certain types of men who habitually took up a station just outside the store. Most of them were husbands waiting for their wives, who were off pillaging the mall, and who figured this was as good a place as any to wait. They watched the women and girls who went in and out, and looked at the photos in the windows, but they were harmless.
Then there were the other types, the weirdos who not only watched the women, but fantasized about them and-eventually-made remarks to them as they went in and out, the occasional man who looked at the photos in the windows not as advertisements, but as something else, entirely-like entertainment.
There was a man like that sitting outside the store right now, and she decided to call security before the creep decided to make a move on one of her customers.
***
Gary Neibuhr had been a security guard at Crestwood Mall for about three months. He had no police experience whatsoever. He had come out of college with a degree in criminal law, and had not been able to get a job in law enforcement. He was on several waiting lists for city and state jobs, but in the meantime he had been able to get this job because they had been impressed with his degree.
Of course, his degree did not prepare him for the kinds of people he would have to deal with in mall security-especially a mall like Crestwood, which had a large teen population because of the arcade. Belligerent teens were the norm, as well as pickpockets, purse snatchers, and snatch-and-grab artists who targeted the big department stores.
And then there were people like this fellow sitting on a bench a few stores down from Kay Bee Toy Store.
Well, a few doors down from the toy store was a Frederick's of Hollywood store.
The call had come in from an employee in Frederick's who reported a suspicious man sitting outside her store. The man was suspicious, all right. He also looked like the kind who hadn't changed his underwear in three days.
Neibuhr had run this type off before. They were usually the same types who peeped in windows, and they rarely caused trouble when asked to move. He didn't anticipate any problem running this one off, either.
***
He didn't see the security guard approaching. His attention was split between the front of the toy store, and the photo of the full-breasted woman in the hot pink teddy in the window of Frederick's. He was also wondering if they'd give him a calender if he went into Frederick's.
"Hey, you."
He was startled by the voice. He looked up and saw a uniformed security man looking down at him. The man was not large, and was about the same age as he was. He was wearing a gun, and his hand was resting on the butt of it.
"Me?"
"What are you doin'?"
"Just sitting."
"Are you waiting for someone?"
He looked away and said, "No."
He was a bad liar. His mother had always told him that. He had never gotten away with lying to her.
"Are you here with someone?"
He looked at the guard this time when he said, "No."
"I think you better move on."
"I ain't doing nothing."
"I know," the guard said, "but you're botherin' people."
He shook his head, not understanding. "But I ain't doing nothing."
"You're just sittin' here," the guard said. "This is a mall. Either shop, or leave."
That was when he looked down at the toy store and saw her.
***
Kate Fouquet had spent the morning with the sketch artist, giving him a description of the man who had tried to grab her and her six-year-old daughter late in June. When they were done and the police artist had left, she suddenly felt better. She'd been a prisoner in her own home since the incident had occurred, but now that she had contributed something toward finding the man, she felt free.
She decided to go to the mall, and while she would not bring her daughter with her-she was not feeling that good yet-she decided to go to the toy store and buy something for her. The poor kid loved the Galleria and the Crestwood Mall and its arcade, and she did not understand why they had not gone there in three months. Luckily, the incident in the parking lot did not weigh heavily on her mind.
As she was entering the Kay Bee Toy Store, she noticed a security guard talking to a man on a bench-and she suddenly stopped, a cold feeling in the pit of her stomach.
It was him!
***
He recognized the woman, but it was not the one he had been looking for. In fact, he had never expected to see this woman again. She was still blond and pretty, a perfect specimen, but she had been the first woman he'd attempted to grab, the one with the daughter who had run off screaming. That had been a huge mistake. He had been so attracted to her that he ignored the fact that she did not have a stroller. It was later that he realized his mistake and corrected it.
Now, however, it seemed that the mistake might come back and haunt him, for she was looking right at him, and from her expression, she recognized him.
"… got to get going-" the security guard was saying to him when he stood up.
"Hey!" the woman shouted. "Hey, stop him. Stop that man!"
"Wha-" the guard said, but suddenly he was in the plants behind the bench, pushed there by the man he'd been talking to, who was now running toward Dillard.
"Stop that man!" Kate Fouquet yelled again, and she was running toward the guard as he staggered out of the bushes, and as the running man disappeared around a corner.
41
Detectives Joe Keough and Al Steinbach were actually looking at the sketch supplied by Kate Fouquet when they got the call about the incident in the Crestwood Mall.
"I can't believe he came back here."
"I told you he wasn't smart," Keough said, as they parked in front of Chevy's Restaurant. "What I can't believe is that Kate decided to go to a mall today."
"Coincidence," Steinbach said, and both men shook their heads. Coincidence was the most unpredictable part of police work. You never knew whether it was going to help or hurt your case.
They entered the mall, walked past Dillard and the German chocolate shop. They turned the corner, went past the pretzel place, Hallmark, and Barnes & Nobles until they reached Frederick's. Kate Fouquet was sitting on a bench in front of the lingerie shop, with several mall security men and a couple of Crestwood cops. There was also a small crowd which had gathered to watch them.
Keough showed his badge and said his name, adding, "This is my partner, Detective Steinbach."
"I'm Officer Wells," one of the Crestwood cops said. "This lady says she knows you."
"She does," Keough said. "She's assisting us on a case."
"Do you need us for anything?" Wells asked.
"Yes," Keough said, and Steinbach produced photocopies of the sketch Kate Fouquet had supplied. They didn't yet have a sketch from Marie Tobin to compare with it.
"Just hold on a second," he said to the cops. He showed Kate the sketch. "Was this the man?"
"Yes," Kate said, "it was him. I recognized him. He was talking to this man." She pointed to one of the mall security men.
"What's your name?" Keough asked.
"Neibuhr," the man said, nervously, "uh, Gary."
"Gary, was this the man you were talking to?" Keough showed him the sketch.
"It looks like him," the guard said. "His hair was longer, though, and real dirty."
Keough turned to Wells and the other cop.
"I'd like you each to take one of these," he said, handing them each a sketch, "and separate. Each of you start at an opposite end of the mall and see if you can find this man."
"He's probably long gone," Wells said.
"I agree," Keough said, "but do it. He's already killed several women."
"Jesus!" the cop with Wells said, his eyes wide. He was about ten years younger than Wells, who was obviously the more experienced man.
"If you see him," Keough said, "don't try to apprehend him. Just get in touch with us."
Steinbach took out a radio and coordinated channels with the two uninformed cops, who then took off to do their search.
"What about us?" the other security man asked. He was older than Neibuhr, and not as nervous.
"Might as well," Steinbach said, and handed them each a sketch. "Check the parking lots and don't try to take him alone."
"Do you have other men you can use?" Keough asked the older man.
"Sure, why?"
"We want to talk to this man," he said, indicating Gary Neibuhr.
"Okay," the other man said. "I'll get on it. Uh, my name's Hartman, by the way. Pete."
"Get to work Pete, okay?" Keough asked.
"I'm going."
"You gonna stay with her?" Steinbach asked Keough.
"Yes."
"I'm gonna search, too."
"Go," Keough said, and sat down next to Kate. "How are you?"
"I can't believe it," she said, looking at him. She was wearing a pink sleeveless top that emphasized her full breasts and a pair of white shorts. "The first day I decide to go to a mall again, and there he is."
"What did you do when you saw him, Kate?"
"I yelled."
"Did he see you before or after you yelled?"
"I… don't know."
"Think."
She did, for a few moments, and then said, "Before. He recognized me. I could tell."
People were still stopping to look at them curiously. Keough wished he had told the security man to keep them moving, then remembered Neibuhr, who was still standing by.
"Can you get these people to move on?" Keough asked. "I'll talk to you in a minute."
"Sure," the guard said, happy to have something to do.
"Where's your daughter?" Keough asked Kate.
"I didn't bring her," she said. "She's in school. Jesus, I wish I hadn't come."
"Believe it or not, Kate, it's a good thing you did. It helps us. At least we know he's still out here, looking."
"And that's helpful?"
"It is to us," he said, lamely.
"Well, not to me," she said. "Look, I can't stop my hands from shaking."
Her hands were resting on her smooth, tanned thighs, palms up, and they were indeed shaking. He took them in his and held them.
"Take it easy, Kate."
"Can't you find him?"
"We're doing our best," Keough said. He couldn't help thinking that if he was in New York he'd have twenty cops searching the mall by now instead of two cops and some security guards.
"Can I go home?" she asked. "I don't think I ever want to go to another mall in my life."
"Did you drive here?"
"Yes."
"Where are you parked."
"Outside, over by the Pasta House."
"Okay," Keough said. "I'll walk you to your car. Just let me talk to this security guard first, all right?"
"Sure."
He released her hands and stood up.
"Gary, we've been looking for this man for a long time."
"He's a killer?"
"Let me ask you some questions first, okay?"
"Oh… okay."
"What was he doing?"
"Just sitting here."
"On this bench?"
"That's right."
"Why did you approach him?"
"We got a call from an employee in here," the guard said, indicating the lingerie store, "that he was ogling the customers."
"Did you see a woman with a stroller at all?"
"A stroller?"
"Right."
"With, like, a baby in it?"
"That's right."
Neibuhr frowned. "I don't think so."
"What did he say to you?"
"Just that he wasn't doin' anything."
Keough looked up and down. From where they were he could see the front of many other stores… including a toy store. If the killer wanted to find a woman with a stroller, a toy store would be perfect-but there were no benches in front of it.
He had to sit someplace, and it was probably just a coincidence that he sat here. Meanwhile, somebody in the lingerie shop got worried and called security.
"How was he dressed?"
"Dirty," Neibuhr said. "Dirty T-shirt, torn, boat shoes, no socks."
"You're pretty observant."
The guard stood up straight.
"I was a criminal law major."
"Is that right?"
"I'm on the waiting list for, uh, several agencies."
"I wish you luck. Which way did he run?"
"That way," Neibuhr said, "toward Dillard. Probably out into the parking lot, or down to covered parking. There's a stairway just outside."
"No," Keough said, "not covered parking."
"Why not?"
"He doesn't like it."
"H-how do you know that?"
"I figured it out."
"Wow."
"Gary, I'm going to walk the young lady to her car. Would you wait here for my partner, please?"
"Sure, Detective."
"I'll be right back."
"I'll tell him."
"Kate? Come on, I'll walk you to your car."
/>
"Th-thanks."
She stood up, then fell back down again onto the bench.
"Oh, wow," she said. "My legs are weak."
He took her hands again, drew her to her feet and said, "I'll help you."
42
Running.
He didn't have far to run. His car was parked in the lot in front of Chevy's. He got in and backed up so fast that he smacked into the back of another car. Ignoring that, he put his car in drive and took off before anyone could come running out of the mall.
That goddamn bitch! He remembered her from the Galleria. What the hell was she doing here at Crestwood? Why did she have to come on this day? And what about that security guard? Why didn't he mind his own business?
He pulled out onto Watson Road and turned right, only because he could, and because he wanted to get away from there. He was heading west, not quite sure where he was going. He kept driving until he saw the strip mall on the left. There was an International House of Pancakes, a Friday's, a department store, a clothing store, and a Borders Books.
He pulled in, just to get off the street. Then drove around the parking lot until he reached the area in front of Borders-and that's when he saw her.
43
Keough walked Kate Fouquet to her car and tried to reassure her. She was still visibly shaken when she drove away, and Keough wouldn't have blamed her if she kept her word and never went to another mall again.
Instead of walking back through the mall he walked along the outside. He watched the parking lot, wondering where the killer's car had been, which way he had gone. It never occurred to him that the man might have been on foot. Considering the crimes he'd committed, and the number of bodies-large and small-he had transported, there had to be a car.
He was walking in front of the Mexican restaurant, Chevy's, not looking in the windows at the diners, but out at the parking lot, when he saw a man holding his head and looking at the back of his car. Across from it was an empty parking spot. Obviously, the man's car had just been backed into.
In the Shadow of the Arch Page 16
