Diehl, William - Show of Evil

by Unknown

  'Why? Hell, it wouldn't have done a bit of good. Stampler could have stood on the courthouse steps five minutes after the trial and told the world he was sane and he killed those three people in cold blood and there's not a damn thing anyone could have done about it. He pleaded guilty to three murders and his sentence was passed and final. Nothing could have changed that, Molly, it's called double jeopardy.'

  'You also told me it was your job to find the holes and use them against the law so it would be changed.'

  'In a court of law. Don't you understand, we can't get Raymond Vulpes in court. You and I are both bound by the tenets of confidentiality. If I had gone to Judge Shoat and told him that I had made a mistake based on Stampler's comment, I could have been disbarred - and considering how Shoat despised me, probably would've been. So what possible good would have come from telling you what Stampler said? There wasn't a damn thing you could do about it, either.'

  'So now the time's come to free him and you want to keep him inside because of some remark he made ten years ago.'

  'It's a much more complex problem than that.'

  'Not my problem, Martin.'

  'That's right, but I need all the help I can get right now. Vulpes is going to walk. There's nothing I can do to stop him and Vulpes knows it. Woodward is convinced that Stampler and Roy no longer exist. He believes in Raymond Vulpes. And he's convinced the state board.'

  'It's uncomfortable to think about. I love medicine as much as you love the law. If this is true, I feel, I don't know, as if we both perverted our professions.'

  'Not you. You did your job.'

  'Not very well, I'm afraid.'

  'He faked us both out, Molly. But I wanted to be faked, I wanted to believe him because it was the one way to beat the case. Ironic, isn't it? The thing I fear most is prosecuting an innocent person, but I have to live with the fact that I am responsible for saving a guilty one.'

  'Then be practical about it. If there's nothing that can be done, put it behind you. It's not your business any more.'

  'It's my business because he wants it that way.'

  'What do you mean, he wants it that way?'

  Vail asked St Claire to rejoin them. 'What do you remember most about the murder of the bishop?' Vail asked.

  'Most vividly? The pictures,' she said. 'They were ghastly.'

  'What else? How about the Altar Boys? Do you remember their names?'

  'Afraid not. I remember he killed them.'

  'Not all. One got away. His name was Alex Lincoln. Do you remember Stampler's girlfriend?'

  'Yes. I met her once. At that shelter…'

  'Saviour House. Her name was Linda Gellerman.'

  'She was very frightened. And she was pregnant. She was going to have an abortion, as I recall.'

  'That's right. She straightened her life out, married a nice guy two years ago, and had a little boy.'

  She smiled. 'It's nice to hear a story with a happy ending.'

  'Unfortunately, the story doesn't end there. A few months ago somebody walked into her house one morning and chopped her to bits in front of her child.'

  'Oh…'

  'Now somebody has done the same thing to Alex Lincoln. Exactly the same MO as the Stampler murders, including the genital mutilation and the symbols on the back of the head. We know the same person committed both murders - one in southern Illinois, the other one outside St Louis. But Stampler's still in the maximum security wing and he hasn't had a letter or a visitor in almost ten years.'

  'But you think he's involved in some way?'

  'Something like that.'

  'How could he be?'

  'We don't know how and we don't know why. But I'm positive he's directing a copycat killer. We — Harve and I - think it may have something to do with transference.'

  'Transference? I don't understand.'

  'Isn't it true that transference sometimes causes the patient to have irrational expectations from the people they work and live with? That re-experiencing can cause problems?'

  'It can. There are other reasons. People naturally seek approval from their parents or supervisors. Frustration of these expectations may evoke rage or other immature behaviour patterns.'

  'Or worse?'

  'Yes.'

  'And these tendencies wouldn't be immediately obvious to the psychiatrist, would they?'

  'Usually the symptoms of abnormal behaviour are what put the patient into treatment in the first place.'

  'I didn't ask you that.'

  'What are you suggesting?'

  'That perhaps someone you were treating may have had mental problems far more severe than - '

  Her cheeks began to colour and her tone took on an edge. 'You really don't think much of my ability, do you, Martin?'

  'Of course I do!'

  'You didn't even use me as a witness in the trial.'

  'You served your purpose, Molly. Hell, if it weren't for you…' He stopped, realizing where his thought was heading.

  'If it weren't for me, you wouldn't be in this fix, is that what you were going to say?'

  'No, no, no.' He shook his head. 'I'm responsible for the problem, nobody else.'

  'Then stop implying - '

  'I'm not implying anything!'

  'You're implying one of my patients is this killer of yours.'

  'No, we think it's possible, that's all. Do you still have the tapes you made with Stampler?'

  'Yes, I do.'

  'Where are they?'

  'Under lock and key.'

  'Where?'

  'In my office.'

  'May we see them?'

  'What are you trying to prove?'

  'May we see them, please?'

  She got up and opened the door to her private office. The walls were lined with oak book cabinets with glass doors. They were filled with reports, files, and near the end of one shelf the Stampler tapes, twenty-three of them, each in his own black box with the date on the spine. There were also several locked file cabinets.

  'I also keep audiotapes of most of my interviews,' she said with a touch of sarcasm. 'They're in the locked files.'

  'Do you ever leave them open? You know, during the day when you're getting stuff out of them?'

  'The tapes have never been out of this office.'

  'Have you ever discussed them with anyone?'

  'I've discussed the case, in strictly medical terms.'

  'No details on, for instance, the Altar Boys?'

  'Absolutely not. Never. They're confidential. And they're invaluable as a research tool.' She stopped, her brow bunched up in a scowl. 'You're questioning me as if I were on the witness stand and I resent it!'

  'I'm trying to figure out how the copycat killer knew about Linda and Alex. The tapes are a very logical possibility. Did you ever mention anything about the motive for Rushman's murder to - '

  'You know I couldn't do that even if I wanted to. I have a responsibility to my patient. You're asking me to violate confidentiality.'

  'Don't play games with me, Molly,' Vail said, and anger was creeping into his tone. 'This isn't about shrink-patient relationships, it's about slaughter. Not just murder - slaughter! Stampler is a mass murderer. Want a list? Shackles. His brother. Mary Lafferty, his old girlfriend. Some guy in Richmond, we don't even know his name, for God's sake. Rushman, Peter Holloway, Bill Jordan. Alex Lincoln, and poor little Linda Gellerman trying to make sense out of a screwed-up life in some little nowhere town. Count 'em up, lady, that's nine - that we know about! Don't tell me about confidentiality when there are two butchers on the loose.'

  'How dare you talk to me like that! How dare…'

  'Molly, someone you treated or worked with may be a serial killer taking orders from Stampler. Think about it - both of them could be your clients. You want to protect them by invoking doctor-patient confidentiality?'

  'You would, if they were your clients,' she snapped back.

  Vail hesitated for a moment. Suddenly he became calm, speaking just above a whispe
r. 'Stampler was my client,' he said. 'I made a mistake. Now I'm trying to rectify it. We don't want details. We want names. We can check them out discreetly. We're not going to hurt or embarrass anyone, but we have to stop the killing.'

  She did not answer. Instead she got up and slunk back into the shadows of the room, becoming a fragile silhouette in the corner. St Claire shifted uneasily in his chair, astounded by Vail's attack on Molly Arrington. He needed a chew. The silence in the room was unsettling. Then as suddenly as his temper had erupted, Vail became quiet. His shoulders sagged and he shook his head. The silent stalemate lasted a full five minutes. It was Molly who finally spoke.

  'It's all supposition, anyway,' she said feebly.

  'I would have to disagree, ma'am,' St Claire said softly, finally breaking his silence. 'I believe in my heart that the copycat killer came from here, just like I believe Stampler's makin' a fool of you like he's makin' a fool of us. I don't pretend't'understand why, I reckon you're the only one in this room could even make a stab at figgerin' that out. But there ain't any doubt in m'mind that he's a genuine, full-blown monster. He don't deserve an ounce of pity or sympathy or compassion. And whoever it is - doin' his biddin'? - is just as bad.'

  'How would you know?' she asked from the safety of her dark penumbra. 'I mean, even if I gave you names, how would you know if one of them…' She let the sentence trail off.

  'You'd just have't'trust us on that. Have to be somebody had access to your tapes. Somebody who may have even come here lookin' for 'em, who looked on Stampler as a hero.'

  'Somebody who was in a position to kill Linda Balfour and Alex Lincoln on the days they were murdered,' Vail said.

  'And you think Aaron Stampler turned this person into a serial killer?'

  'Not at all. I think the potential was there, all Stampler did was capitalize on it. I think maybe, somehow, transference played a key role in this.'

  Molly stepped back out of the shadows and sat down on the rocker facing St Claire and Vail. She said, 'You keep bringing up transference.'

  'It's something Woodward said.' Vail, who had taken notes of the audiotape, took out his notebook and flipped through the pages. 'Here it is. He was talking about the downside of transference, how it creates a subconscious fear that old injuries and insults will be repeated. He said it's a double-edged sword, that the fear of re-experiencing all past injuries can turn the patient against the therapist. And then he said, and this is a quote, "Abhorrent behaviour patterns can be mirrored only to individuals who would normally accept the transference." '

  'That's true,' she said. 'Nobody can transmit abnormal moral standards to another unless the receiver is capable of such behaviour to begin with.'

  'See, ma'am, what we think happened, and understand this here's a rank amateur talking, what we think is that this copycat killer was in therapy and reacted adversely to re-experiencing. So that person sought out Stampler for assurance, and Stampler was brilliant enough to become the killer's mentor.'

  'The killer transferred to Stampler?'

  'Yes. And Stampler capitalized on the killer's instability,' said Vail.

  'We ain't sure just how the killer contacted Stampler, Doctor, we don't know at this point how that was accomplished, but that seems the likely scenario since Stampler wasn't in any position to contact anyone on the outside. What I mean, somebody came to him, he didn't go't'them.'

  'Why do you think that person was here?'

  ' 'Cause of the tapes. The tapes are the one place the copycat coulda learned about Rushman and the Altar Boys. And about Linda.' St Claire paused for a minute, then said, 'I just had a thought. S'posin' this person wasn't a full-time patient - '

  'An outpatient?' Molly interrupted.

  'Or maybe an employee. Somebody who was workin' here and who was also bein' treated for some kinda mental problem. Got into the files, studied Stampler… and then maybe left here - maybe got a job at Daisyland for a while…'

  'And was proselytized by Stampler.' Vail finished the sentence.

  'It coulda happened. Ain't much else makes any sense.'

  'Is that possible, Molly?' Vail asked.

  'Well, there's certainly no rule that says a patient always transfers to a doctor.'

  'So what we're lookin' for here is someone who is your basic psychopath and left here…'

  'Or was on vacation or leave on the days when Balfour and Lincoln were killed,' Vail added.

  'You mean this person might still be here?'

  'No, ma'am. We think - and once again we're guessin' - that the killer's in Chicago waitin' for Stampler-Vulpes - to get out.'

  'And he gets out today, Molly.'

  'We're also guessin' he's got a list of future victims.'

  'A list drawn up by Vulpes.'

  Vail put his briefcase on the couch beside him, opened it, and removed a large manila envelope. He took out three photographs. He handed her the photo of Linda Balfour's corpse, taken by the police. She looked at it in horror and turned her head as she handed it back to him.

  'Alex Lincoln was a delivery man for UPD. He was lured to a house near St Louis and killed. This photograph was in a box that Alex Lincoln was delivering. The real residents of the house were out of town at the time.'

  He handed her the Polaroid shot of Balfour. Her eyes widened as she realized it had been taken by the killer.

  'My God.'

  'You're a psychiatrist, Molly,' said Vail. 'How do you figure this? The same MO as Stampler's murders. Messages in blood on the backs of both heads. References to Rushman's books, which are now in a private library. And the last surviving members of the Altar Boys. That information was never brought out in the trial. How did the killer even know about them?'

  'Thing is, Dr Arrington, we ain't askin' to look in no files or ask about specifics. What we need to find out is if there's a chance that a patient or an employee here coulda got a squint at those tapes, and if so, where we can locate that person now. Hell, could be a half-dozen or a dozen fits the bill. Our job'd be to narrow it down, find out if any of 'em coulda been in Gideon, Illinois, and St Louis, Missouri, on the dates those two folks was killed. We sure ain't lookin' to drag a whole buncha folks in and have 'em psychologically evaluated, if that's what you're worried about.'

  'And you think this killer went from here to Daisyland?'

  'Possibly,' said Vail. 'Maybe not directly from here, but ultimately managed to make contact with Stampler there.'

  'When would this killer have been here?'

  'Not sure, ma'am. Could go way back, but the first killin' occurred last October, so my best guess is two, three years ago.'

  'How many people are on the grounds - staff and inmates?' Vail asked.

  'Patients, not inmates, please.'

  'Sorry.'

  'Our patient list is held to three hundred fifty. There's a medical staff of twenty-two and another twenty in the kitchen, security, main office. About four hundred altogether.'

  'Big turnover?'

  'On staff? Not really. It's a pleasant place to work, the wages are excellent.'

  'Patients?'

  'I'm guessing - I would say the average stay would be two to three years. We have some long-termers and we have some who are gone in six months. Also about a third of them are children, three to twenty-one.'

  'Tell you what'd help, ma'am. If we could get us a list of the staff and patients for the past three years.'

  'We can't release the names of our patients. This is a private hospital, patients are guaranteed anonymity.'

  'How about a list of staff and anyone on staff who might have been undergoing treatment while they were employed here?' Vail suggested.

  She thought about that for a bit, then excused herself and went towards her office. She stopped at the door and said, 'I'm not playing prima donna. These people have very fragile egos. They need all the breaks they can get. It doesn't always have a happy ending, sometimes they end up back here - or someplace worse. We're not infallible, you know, it's not l
ike treating mumps.'

  She went into the office and closed the door.

  St Claire leaned over and whispered, 'You realized we could be chasin' the biggest wild-goose in history.'

  'Got a better idea?' Vail whispered back.

  'Hell, no, it was my idea to begin with.'

  They could hear her muffled voice as she spoke on the phone. Vail lit a cigarette. Ten minutes crept by before she came back. She sat down in the rocking chair.

  'I'm not comfortable with this,' she said. 'I talked to Lowie - Fred - and our personnel director, Jean Frampton, and they agreed to give up the staff records. They left it up to me, whether to discuss staffers who were also outpatients. That's what I'm uncomfortable about. These people, when they reveal themselves to us, that's the ultimate in trust. To violate that…'

  'I understand that, ma'am, and we certainly appreciate your feelings. Could I make one suggestion, please? If there are staffers who were patients, maybe we could discuss 'em in general terms, not necessarily by name, unless they become real strong candidates.'

  'We'll see.'

  'Fair 'nuff.'

  Thirty minutes later they had a computer printout of the staff members going back for the past five years. They spread the sheet on the coffee table and she began going down the list. It was divided into sections: Name, address, age, sex, education, qualifications, previous employment. There was also a check box marked References and another marked Photograph. There were fifty-five names on the list. Thirty-eight had been employed the entire three years. Six others had been there at least two years, four were relative newcomers, and seven had been dismissed or had resigned.

  'Let's start with them,' St Claire suggested.

  Molly had a remarkable memory for all the staffers, knew their backgrounds and temperaments, how proficient they were. 'When you see the same forty people every day for years, you get to know them very well,' she explained. They went down the list, checking backgrounds, discussing each of the people as if he or she was a candidate for office. As the afternoon wore on, she became increasingly interested in the project, gradually cutting down the list, occasionally making a discreet phone call to clarify questions that arose. St Claire was beginning to question his hunch, although not out loud. They finally eliminated all but three prospects, two women and a man.