by Sibs (lit)
Rob rushed to the bedroom. Grosso was squatting next to a naked prone male body, his index and middle finger on the throat. There was a huge amount of blood on the floor, pooling out from under the corpse.
Rob looked closer. It was Ed Bannion, the man he had been trying to find all night.
"Ain't even cold yet," Grosso said.
Rob had only met Bannion twice, but seeing him murdered like this got to him. He'd seen hundreds of murder victims but this was the first one he had ever known. He felt queasy. And angry. Now he might never know what went on in Kelly's room at the Plaza that night.
He was about to turn away when he noticed the way the blood was smeared near Bannion's right hand, almost like—
"Is that writing over there by his hand?" Rob asked and moved to the far side of the corpse.
Grosso bent for a closer look. "Shit, yeah, I think it is!"
Rob knelt on the throw rug next to Bannion's body. There were letters traced in blood on the polished wood:
The rest was smeared.
" 'Gates?' " said Grosso. "He talking about the Pearly Gates?"
The sudden burst of excitement in Rob was almost unbearable.
"I don't think so," he said. "I think he named his killer."
He rose to his feet and motioned Grosso away.
"Don't touch a thing! Don't touch a goddamn thing until Forensics gets here and photos and prints everything."
He stepped back and stared at the body. The uneasiness rose up in him again. Bannion was here dead, but where was Kara? Where the hell was Kara?
▼
Kara awoke with a start. There were sounds in the outer room, footsteps, rustlings.
Someone's here!
She leaped from the bed. She was weaponless, defenseless. And terrified. As she lifted the phone and prepared to dial 911, she peaked through the open door. The breath clogged in her throat. A man there. In a bomber jacket. He looked like—
"Rob?"
He whirled, his features tight with shock at first, then they relaxed with relief.
"Kara! You're here!"
"Of course I'm here. I've been sleeping here all week as you well know! But what are you doing here? And how on earth did you get in?"
He rushed forward and grabbed her shoulders— gently, but there was no escaping his grasp.
"Where have you been all night?"
"Right here. Where else?"
"No. You weren't here. I was here, but you weren't!"
Something in his eyes was starting to frighten her.
"Rob, what are you talking about?"
"I called here a couple of hours ago but got no answer."
"I talked to you—"
"No. After that. I got worried so I got Kelly's key from the effects bag and let myself in. The place was empty. I used your phone for I don't know how long." He let go of her shoulders and pointed past her. "Look. The phone book's right where I left it."
Kara looked and felt terror begin to crawl through her. She hadn't had the phone book out all week. She pushed past Rob and ran for the oven. The key was still there, and the strand of her hair was still wrapped around it. She looked at Rob.
"Rob, I couldn't have left here. The key's right where I put it."
She watched him shake his head slowly and knew with sinking certainty that he was telling the truth. He had been here and she had not.
How? She wanted to scream it. HOW?
He came over and led her to the couch. He eased her down and then sat next to her. Close.
"There's something else you should know, Kara." His eyes were locked on hers. "Ed Bannion is dead. He was murdered an hour or so ago."
"Ed? Oh, God! Ed?"
For a moment the room spun about her, but she willed it to stop. But she couldn't stop the tears.
"Poor Ed! What a horrible way to die!"
She felt Rob stiffen beside her.
"What way, Kara?"
"Stabbed to death. How awful!"
"How did you know he was stabbed?"
Know? God, how did she know?
"I… I don't know! Didn't you tell me? Please say you told me!"
Rob's headshake was slow and deliberate.
"My God, what's happening to my life, Rob? Everything's going crazy around me and I can't seem to do anything about it! What's happening?"
He held her gently and said, "I don't know, Kara." He said, "I don't know," over and over.
February 23
8:22 A.M.
"I HOPE YOU ENJOYED YOUR RDO, ROB," AUGIE MANETTI said as he dropped a stack of papers on Rob's desk.
Sunday was Rob's regular day off, and he had spent most of it with Kara and Jill. He had been itching to stay on the Bannion killing but he felt Kara needed him around until she got used to the idea that someone she knew had been murdered. So he had stayed away from the precinct house all day. Besides, Manetti was his partner and was familiar with the Kelly Wade file. Rob had filled him in on all the details of the Bannion case. Officially, it was out of Midtown North's area, but because Rob had said it tied in with the Wade death the case had been assigned to Midtown North. Rob expected to be called into Mooney's office any minute.
Yesterday had not been the best of days. Kara had swung between depression and anxious agitation. But he had enjoyed being with Jill. The kid was a joy. Plus having her along had forced Kara to keep it light most of the time.
Rob dragged them around on a tour of his personal favorite sights in Manhattan, from the New York Yacht Club on 44th Street with its second-story windows that looked like the stems of Spanish galleons, then to the Dakota, then for a ride on the Roosevelt Island cable tramway, and finally to the top of the Chrysler Building. Kara seemed to perk up a little, but whenever Jill was out of earshot, Kara had rambled on about strange dreams, and Gates being there. Rob was beginning to worry about her mental stability.
Maybe today would be better.
"What's the beef?" Rob said to Manetti.
"This Bannion case—it's turning into a pretzel."
Manetti dropped into the chair next to Rob's desk. He was a compact, well muscled man with jet black hair, fashionably short on top and sides, and long in the back. He and Rob had come up about the same time arid often worked together.
Rob said, "The unknown prints from the Plaza and the electric bill match Bannion's, right?"
"Right. That was a damn good guess."
"A deduction, my dear Augie. A deduction."
"No shit, Sherlock. But I went you one better. I had the M.E. take a bite impression from Bannion. And guess where it found a perfect match?"
"Kelly Wade's shoulder!"
"Riiiiight!"
Manetti held out a hand, palm up. Rob slapped it.
"That's better than prints!" Rob said.
"You know it. The prints don't say when he was there. But the bite match says he was with Kelly Wade at the very end. And I expect the DNA match on the semen to show he was in her as well!"
Rob wondered how Kara would take that. Not well, he figured.
"Nice work."
"Found the murder weapon, too. One of the kitchen knives. Traces of Bannion's blood in the groove between the handle and the blade. No prints on it, though."
"Still, it sounds like you had yourself a pretty good Sunday, Augie."
"Up to a point. Then things get screwy. I mean, Bannion writes the name of Kelly's psychiatrist in his own blood on the floor. But nowhere in the place is there a single print that belongs to this Dr. Gates."
"Damn. Probably wore gloves."
"Maybe. Maybe not. Because you know whose prints the place is lousy with?"
"I can hardly wait to hear."
"The other Wade girl. Kelly's twin. What's her name—Kara?"
Rob froze. He stared at Manetti. He wasn't kidding. Why would he? He didn't know of Rob's past history with Kara—or of his continuing interest.
"Christ!" Rob said.
"My sentiments exactly! See what I mean about screwy? We got
a dead guy named Bannion we can link to the death of Kelly Wade, maybe not as her killer, if indeed she was killed, but right there on top of the scene of her death—and right there on top of her, as well, if you know what I mean and I think you do. And we can put Kelly Wade's twin sister at the scene of this Bannion guy's death. But whose name does Bannion write on the floor in his own blood? The psychiatrist who was treating Kelly Wade!"
"You want another twist in your pretzel?" Rob said, still 'numb from the news that Kara had been in Bannion's apartment.
"Sure. Why not? Hit me."
"Dr. Gates is Kara Wade's psychiatrist, too."
"No shit!" Manetti clapped his hands and laughed. "I'm gonna have to write a book about this one!"
A book, Rob thought. Kara was writing a book. He hoped she wouldn't have to finish it in jail.
"So!" Manetti said. "What do we do now? Pick up the twin?"
Rob stopped himself from shouting No! But it wasn't easy. He forced himself to lean back in the chair and look as if he were seriously considering the suggestion. He had to buy Kara some time. She hadn't killed Bannion. He was sure of that.
At least he thought he was sure.
"Not yet. If her prints were on the knife or if Bannion had written her name on the floor, we'd have her all but sentenced. But they're not and he didn't. He wrote 'Gates.' So I'm going to look into Gates. In the meantime, why don't you run a background check on Kara Wade."
That ought to buy us a couple of days.
"Will do."
Manetti headed for his desk while Rob sat and brooded at his own. He was faced with unanswerable questions.
But what would he do when the time ran out? And how could he tell Kara she was at Bannion's place without sending her off the deep end?
The only way he knew how: Come right out and say it.
▼
1:30 P.M.
"Maybe I was there, Rob," Kara said.
She was surprised at how calm she felt. But after all, she had been anticipating this moment all day. Memories of the other night's dream had prepared her for it.
"You were there, Kara," Rob said. "Fingerprints don't lie."
She nodded, echoing him. "Fingerprints don't lie."
"But another thing they don't do is tell us when you were there."
"It was probably Saturday morning. But just my body was there. I wasn't."
"You mean… Janine."
She didn't answer him. They were sitting twelve stories up in the front window of Ellen's co-op, overlooking East 46th Street. They were alone in the living room for the moment. Ellen was out at a luncheon. Jill was in the kitchen helping the cook with a batch of tollhouse cookies. Kara looked down at the snarled traffic below as she debated whether or not to tell Rob what she had come to believe. It was so incredible, so outre, that she scarcely believed it herself. But it explained everything.
And it was the reason she had skipped her session with Dr. Gates today.
"I don't know," Rob said slowly. "I don't know if this multiple personality thing is going to carry much weight with a jury if the evidence puts you in Bannion's apartment Friday night or Saturday morning."
Kara took a deep breath. Might as well go for it.
"Maybe it's not a multiple personality disorder. Maybe it's Dr. Gates."
Rob stared at her. "I don't get it."
"That letter I got—on the back of the electric bill? Maybe it's true. I think it's possible Dr. Gates can take over bodies and use them."
She explained what she remembered of her dream from Saturday morning—disjointed snatches of monologue as her own voice told Ed Bannion Dr. Gate's story of how he used women's bodies for "fun," of a knife, of blood, and Ed falling to the floor.
Rob's expression was stricken. "Kara… Kara…"
"I know how crazy it sounds, but doesn't it explain everything? It explains the note—it's from one of his former 'toys'—and it explains this so-called Ingrid personality in Kelly and this Janine in me. And most of all, it explains why Ed wrote Dr. Gates' name on the floor instead of mine!"
"Kara, there isn't a jury in the world that will buy that."
Kara fought the sinking, trapped feeling that threatened to overwhelm her. The apartment walls seemed to be closing in.
"I'm in big trouble, right?"
Rob nodded. "Your prints are all over the apartment, you can't account for your whereabouts at the time of the murder, and you've got what might be construed as a motive."
"Motive? I didn't know he'd… he'd been with Kelly until you told me yesterday!"
"You know that and I know that, but—"
"But what will a jury say? Is that it?"
Rob shrugged and remained silent.
"Do you think Ed might have thrown Kelly out that window?"
"He was there."
Yes. Ed Bannion had been there, and he'd bitten Kelly! He'd also been alone with Kara in Kelly's apartment. She felt cold all over.
"Then what was he doing hanging around me? Do you think he wanted to kill me?"
"Maybe. I doubt we'll ever know."
"And what about the other man they say was with Ed at the Plaza? Is he out there lurking about?"
Rob reached over and squeezed her hand.
"I'll be keeping an eye on this place—and it's here I want you to stay. Not that apartment."
Kara felt her back begin to stiffen at being told where to stay, but she made herself relax. Rob was right.
"But what if I'm… dangerous after I go to sleep?"
"Can't you talk to Ellen? Find some way to lock you in a bedroom when you call it a night?"
Kara thought about that. She could tell Ellen and Jill she'd been sleepwalking.
"That might work. What are you going to be doing?"
"I'm going to be all over Gates. He's in this up to his neck. Not like you say—sorry, but there's no way I can buy that. But he's involved. After all, it was his name Bannion wrote on the floor. So that means the good doctor's got some questions to answer. And I'm the guy who's going to be asking."
The grim determination in Rob's eyes offered her a glimmer of hope.
Jill came running into the room, a plate in one hand and her ever-present chopsticks in the other.
"Rob! Rob!" she cried, then caught Kara's sharp look. "Mr. Harris! Look at this!"
Kara watched his face brighten at the sight of her. He put an arm around her waist and drew her close. With the contact, all the tension seemed to run out of his body.
"What are they?"
"Guess!"
"Spotted rocks."
She giggled. "No! They're uncooked cookies."
"Don't look like cookies to me. Cookies are flat. Those are round."
"They flatten when they cook. But watch this!" She picked up one of the balls of raw cookie dough with her chopsticks and popped it into her mouth. "See? I can do it now!"
"Well, I'll be!" Rob said, hugging her closer. "You did that just like a real Chinese! Can I have one?"
Jill picked up another with her chopsticks and got it to Rob's mouth.
"Hmmmm," he said. "Tell the cook it needs more vanilla."
"Not me!" Jill said. "You tell her!"
Jill ate another dough ball.
"You know," Rob told her, "you're so good with those, I think we can take you to a sushi bar."
"What's that?"
"That's where they eat raw fish on rice balls."
Jill made a sour face. "Eeeeuuuuu!"
Kara watched Rob rock his head back and laugh. She had to tell him about his daughter. And soon. Before he figured it out on his own.
▼
2:55 P.M.
Rob sat in Gates' waiting room and surveyed some choice photos of the murder scene. The best was a close-up of the writing on the floor. Rob had made sure the photographer had set the lamp so that the light reflected off the still-wet letters. He was anxious to show this to Gates and watch how he reacted to seeing his own name written in blood.
Kara was in
nocent and Gates was guilty. He firmly believed that. He had no right to. He hadn't a shred of evidence to back that up. It was a gut feeling.
Or was he fooling himself? This was why cops were supposed to stay away from cases in which they were emotionally involved. Emotions clouded judgment. Were his feelings for Kara clouding his?
Rob began to turn the photo over on his lap, then snapped it back to face up. From this angle, the smears to the right of "Gates" had looked like an "equals" sign, followed by a "K."
The hairs at the back of his neck began to rise. Gates is Kara? Rob stared at it from all angles. Was that what Bannion was trying to say? That Gates was in Kara? Like the note on the electric bill had said? Like Kara had said less than an hour ago?
The number of people who believed in that crazy idea seemed to be growing. Was it possible that—?
Rob shook off the thought. No. Couldn't be. Something like that simply wasn't possible. The smeared end of Bannion's scrawl—the "=K" part—had to be a trick of the light. People did a lot of awful things to each other in New York, but they didn't take over each other's bodies.
When Gates' patient came out, Rob scooted into the consultation room as he had done before, without waiting for the receptionist to warn the doctor.
"Detective Harris," Gates said in a bored tone. "What brings you back?"
"Your friend Edward Bannion is dead," Rob said without preamble.
It had the desired effect. Gates stiffened and blurted:
"My friend?"
Any uncertainties Rob had harbored about Gates being involved in Bannion's death evaporated with those two words. He took grim satisfaction from the fact that Gates' first response was not to ask who was Edward Bannion or what the hell Rob was talking about, but to challenge the idea that he was a friend.
He shoved a particularly gory crime scene photo under the psychiatrist's nose.
"Sure. Don't you recognize him?"
Gates took the photo and studied it. The blood and the corpse did not seem to faze him.
"I've never seen this man before in my life."
"Really?" Rob handed over the close up of the scrawl. "The last act of his life was to write your name."
