“And she didn’t contact the group again?”
“No. That was the last we ever heard of her.”
“You mentioned her two children,” McCabe said. “Do you know anything about the other daughter? The older sister?”
“No, only that she and her boyfriend went to pick up the younger sister when she called.” Lockhart took another sip of her tea. “Rachel said something about the landlord telling her that the older sister took care of the younger one when the mother was gone.”
“Gone where?” Baxter asked.
“I suppose he meant gone out. To work, or wherever she went.”
McCabe said, “You’ve been really helpful, Ms. Lockhart. Is there anything else you can tell us? Something we haven’t asked?”
Lockhart shook her head. “I just hope this murder case you’re working on didn’t start with what happened at our science camp. How could it have?”
McCabe said, “We don’t know that it did. All we know right now is that the camp is where our two victims came in contact. But that may have nothing to do with the reason they were killed.”
“I hope not.” Lockhart sighed. “But I had a bad feeling when we closed down that somehow that wasn’t going to be the end of it.”
* * *
“Okay,” Baxter said after they had ended the transmission. “We’ve got a mother who rants and raves, possibly while under the influence. Threatens a lawsuit but by the next day has taken off with her two daughters in tow.”
“It would really help if we had the woman’s name.” McCabe leaned back in her chair and twirled around. “What about the schools? Maybe we can get them to cooperate and go through their files. We know the daughter had an unusual first name that could have been a combination of her parents’ names. Maybe when the mother packed them up and moved, they left town. In that case, we’re also looking for a student who didn’t go back to school that fall.”
“Sunday afternoon,” Baxter said. “We aren’t going to be able to do anything about the schools until tomorrow.”
“And in the meantime,” McCabe said, “about all we can do is add what Lockhart gave us to the file and walk it through one more time.”
“Okay, let’s start from the top.”
They were staring at the images and notes displayed on the wall when McCabe remembered the to-do list she had made when she was out running. She picked up her ORB and hit the playback.
“Ask Sharon’s mother if she knows what the movie was,” her voice said. “Check on Nabokov and Albany visit.”
“What movie?” Baxter said. “And who in Albany?”
“Nabokov, the author of Lolita. Remember Ted Thornton mentioned that Nabokov stopped here to hunt for butterflies?”
“So what?”
“So I don’t know what. We’ve got two young women who were students in a science camp. We’ve got Vivian Jessup, who played Alice when she was a child. Then there’s Lewis Carroll, whose reputation has occasionally been besmeared because of those photographs he used to take of young girls. And Ted Thornton, who mentioned the author of a book about a man obsessed with a child.”
“So are you suggesting—”
“No, I’m just saying we should make sure we’ve eliminated something that might be staring us in the face.”
“There’s nothing about how the women were killed to suggest a sexual motive.”
“No. And Ted Thornton probably mentioned Nabokov when he was talking about the mayor’s initiative because it’s really arctic that a famous author came to Albany to go butterfly hunting.…” McCabe frowned. “What did Greer St. John say about making insects and flowers for the show that she and her mother were planning?”
“She said this year they were doing Through the Looking Glass instead of Alice in Wonderland.” Baxter grinned. “I went over to my folks’ house yesterday to see if they still had my kid sister’s copy of the books.”
“You did?” McCabe said.
“The way you’ve been going on about Alice, I wanted to be able to hold up my side of the conversation.”
“Then I should have gone back for a look at Through the Looking Glass, too, because I only vaguely remember the whole thing with the insects and the flowers.”
Baxter grinned. “Got you covered. I found the chapters in question on the Web.”
He brought up the node that they wanted.
McCabe stood up and moved closer, staring at the illustrations. “Okay, we’ve got flowers that talk. Tiger-lily, who tells Alice that flowers can talk ‘when there is anybody worth talking to’…”
“Great line,” Baxter said.
“And Rose and Tiger-lily discuss Alice’s color and the fact that her petals don’t curl properly.”
“And a Daisy has a line about the bark of a tree going ‘bough-wough,’” Baxter said.
“Clever nonsense designed to delight a child,” McCabe said. “And we’re probably wasting valuable time.”
“I don’t know,” Baxter said. “I enjoyed reading about the looking-glass insects again. Had to go make myself a snack when I got to the Bread-and-Butterfly.”
“Who lives on ‘weak tea with cream in it,’” McCabe read, quoting the Gnat.
“There is one thing,” Baxter said. “The flowers that the killer left at the first two crime scenes.”
McCabe turned and looked at him. “A red poppy at the first, a tiger lily at the second. There are no poppies in Alice. But there is a poppy field in The Wizard of Oz. Dorothy falls asleep there.”
“Hold on a minute. The Wizard of Oz?”
“Sorry. You missed that conversation. And I was too busy arguing my point about the phenol to bring it up during the task force meeting.”
“To bring what up?”
“The conversation Pete Sullivan and I had when Lieutenant. Dole and I were in the Comm Center having a first look at the Jessup crime scene on the cam. Pete and I were discussing where the crime scene was in relation to the police kennel and horse stables and the community garden. And he mentioned the ‘yellow brick road’ out there—”
“Oh, yeah, I remember something about that. The bricks in the old bridge road.”
“I wondered out loud to Pete if there might be some link to the case. Alice in Wonderland. The Wizard of Oz. But, as Pete pointed out, Vivian Jessup’s body was not left on our yellow brick road.”
“But,” Baxter said, “since we’re having our literary hour, we might as well have a look at Dorothy’s poppy field.”
“And get it out of the way,” McCabe said. She did a quick search: “Dorothy. Poppy field.”
The chapter came up on the wall.
McCabe said, “I had forgotten that. The title of the chapter.”
“I never read the book. Just saw the movie when I was a kid.”
“If you think about it,” McCabe said, “it’s kind of a scary story for kids.” She read the title of the chapter out loud. “‘The Deadly Poppy Field.’”
Baxter got up and they stood there reading the chapter together.
He said, “So the Lion passes out from the poppy fumes and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodsman have to leave him there in the field because he’s too heavy to carry. And they’re sorry that they have to leave him to die because he was a ‘good comrade’ even if he was ‘cowardly.’”
“But they have been able to rescue Dorothy,” McCabe said. “And they carry her to safety.”
Baxter said, “Read that last line. ‘They carried the sleeping girl to a pretty spot beside the river, far enough from the poppy field to prevent her breathing any more of the poison of the flowers, and here they laid her gently on the soft grass and waited for the fresh breeze to waken her.’” He grinned. “Think L. Frank Baum’s trying to tell us something, partner?”
McCabe told herself not to get too excited. But a tingle went down her spine. “Okay. Vivian Jessup was left to sleep by a river … a stream … the Normanskill. And she had been put to sleep by a poison.” She stared at Baxter, giving him a c
hance to stop them both from getting carried away. “But she didn’t breathe the poison. She was injected with it. And Vivian Jessup played Alice, not Dorothy.”
Baxter shrugged. “Alice. Dorothy. What’s the dif? Both little girls are wandering around in wacky worlds. Maybe our killer likes both books.”
“Or is as wacky as a fruitcake himself.”
“I think that’s drunk as a fruitcake,” Baxter said.
“That would be rum cake, Michael.” McCabe smiled at him. “Think we’re punch-drunk.”
“Or on a sugar-substitute high. But I also think we just might be onto something.”
“Maybe,” McCabe said. “The water might explain why Jessup’s body was dumped where it was. But he didn’t move the first two bodies.”
“Because it was too late to save them,” Baxter said.
“Except he’s the one who killed them. And there’s nothing to indicate he tried to revive Jessup.”
Baxter shook his head. “I give up. You’re determined to shoot down my brilliant theory. Ready to order a pizza and get some protein?”
“Yeah,” McCabe said. “I think we need it.” She went back over to her desk and sat down in her chair. “When we try running this particular theory by the task force tomorrow morning, Agent Francisco…”
“Guess we’d better work on it some more.”
“The movie that the TA showed the girls that day at the science camp. I had a note to myself that we should ask Mrs. Giovanni if she knew what it was.”
“We can be pretty sure it wasn’t Lolita,” Baxter said. He was on his ORB, ordering the pizza. “Are you an anchovies, woman?”
“No,” McCabe said. “But I don’t mind if you have them on your half. Pepperoni for me.”
“You going to call Sharon’s mom?”
“Might as well. Even though the odds that she’ll know the answer to the question aren’t that good. But, since it was a science camp, I think we can rule out movies about little girls in fantasy worlds.”
“Not necessarily. They might have been studying special effects.”
* * *
“The name of the movie?” Mrs. Giovanni said, sounding puzzled and looking confused. “I don’t know. Is it important?”
“Probably not,” McCabe said. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll be in touch if—”
“Oh, no, wait!” Mrs. Giovanni waved her hand to make sure McCabe wouldn’t cut her off. “Wait. They might be able to tell you at the library.”
“The library?” McCabe said.
“I remember Sharon said the teaching assistant told them she was late that morning because she’d had to wait until the library opened to pick up the movie. It was an old black-and-white movie and the teacher couldn’t find a copy to buy.”
“Any idea which library?” Baxter asked.
“Which library?” Mrs. Giovanni looked confused again. “The … I assumed she meant the one on Washington Avenue. That’s the one Sharon used to go to. But I don’t … She could have meant one of the branches.”
“We’ll find the right one,” McCabe said. “The movie itself—did Sharon say anything about what the movie was about?”
A pause, then a nod. “Ants. The movie was about ants.”
“Ants?” Baxter said.
“Sharon said that girl who was teasing the other girl … when the teaching assistant went out into the hall to talk on the phone … the mean girl asked the poor girl she was teasing if she’d like some big old ants like that in her pants. And then she whispered something in her ear. That was when the other girl ran out of the room.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Giovanni,” McCabe said. “You’ve been a great help.”
“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’ve told you, but I’m glad if I’ve helped.”
McCabe said good-bye and turned to Baxter. “To quote you, Mike, ‘bingo.’”
“A movie about ants?” he said. Where does that get us? Back to Ted Thornton’s memo on his check about the Charlton Heston movie?”
“Maybe. But, even more important, it might also get us the teaching assistant’s name. If she checked out a movie—”
“She would have had to use her library card,” Baxter said, grinning. “I’m slow sometimes, but eventually I get there.”
“A black-and-white movie about ants shouldn’t be too hard to identify.”
“I bet it was one of those 1950s sci-fi movies. You know, the kind with the giant insects.”
“That would make sense,” McCabe said. “As I recall, The Naked Jungle, the Charlton Heston movie, is in color. A black-and-white sci fi movie would be perfect for a summer science camp. Unless they went serious and showed them an old documentary.”
“I’m betting on the sci-fi movie.”
“Okay, you’re on. Winner springs for lunch tomorrow.” McCabe glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost three o’clock. “This is October, right?”
“Last time I checked.”
“Just making sure. As I said, I’m getting punchy. In fall, the public libraries go back to their regular Sunday-afternoon schedule. They’re closed on Sunday during the summer.”
“I’ll take your word for it. I haven’t been in a library in a while.”
“I do occasional book runs for my dad,” McCabe said. She picked up her ORB and touched the icon for Research. “We’d better check the university libraries, too, just to be safe. They have film collections.”
“Problem, though. Even if we can identify the movie, there is the little difficulty of getting a library to tell us who checked it out.”
“All we can do is go to the ADA on that one. I’m not holding my breath that the library will give us the information, but— Kelsey? Hi, it’s Hannah McCabe. We need some help finding a movie title.…”
They might not be able to get the library to give them the name of the patron who had checked out the movie, but, McCabe thought, this felt like real progress.
* * *
“Not going to happen,” Mark Paxton said. He was the ADA on duty. McCabe had called him after speaking to the lieutenant and getting clearance.
“Mark, can’t you even—”
“Is this related to a terrorist threat or a matter of national security?”
“I’ve told you—”
“That you’re fishing for a name of someone who might be somehow involved in your murder investigation. Not going to happen. Libraries do not open their patron records unless it’s a matter of national security.”
“Then there’s no way we can get the name?”
“Unless you find another patron who was at that library on the day in question and happens to recall seeing who checked out the movie.”
“Okay, I get the picture.” She sighed. “No pun intended.”
“Look, I’m sorry, Hannah. But no point in wasting your time or mine. Call me if there’s anything I really can help with.”
“Thanks.”
“No go?” Baxter said.
“Only if we can find an observant patron who happened to see the transaction in question and can provide the name.”
Baxter tilted back his head and stared up at the ceiling. “We could try to get any surveillance video the library has for the parking lot that morning. Of course, we’re talking nine years ago.”
“And if they haven’t long since recorded over or tossed it, if they knew why we wanted it, we’d still need the FBI with a national security subpoena in hand.”
Baxter sighed. “See this is the kind of stuff Howard Miller complains about. Eleven years of lefty liberals in the White House, stacking the Supreme Court, and law enforcement has to jump through hoops to get anything done.”
“Lucky for him, or he and some of his buddies would be under indictment,” McCabe said. “Any other bright ideas?”
“Traffic-cam videos,” Baxter said. “But they aren’t stored.”
“And if we’re talking about the main library on Washington Avenue, that parking lot is in back. It faces houses. Unless our teach
ing assistant went out of the lot and back up the hill onto Washington, the only cameras would probably have been the ones in the library lot.”
Baxter twirled in his chair. “Okay, let’s say she did go out of the parking lot and head back up onto Washington Avenue. We’ve got businesses on both sides of the street. A bank across the street.”
“And we’re still talking about surveillance video from nine years ago.” McCabe shoved her hands through her hair and pulled it away from her scalp. “We’re so close. It feels like we’re so damn—”
“A television camera crew,” Baxter said.
“You know what a long shot this is,” McCabe said, but she reached for her ORB again.
“The library’s in downtown Albany. If we’re lucky, some newsworthy event was happening that morning.”
McCabe said, “Lieutenant Dole, sorry, it’s me again. The ADA says no chance on the library patron information, but Mike had another idea. We’re thinking television camera crews. If one happened to be in the area that morning … Yes, sir, I know if we ask for the information … I know … Yes, sir, that sounds like a good idea.”
“Well?” Baxter said.
“He’s going to call Jacoby. He thinks Jacoby might be able to get the local stations to cooperate without having to promise them too much.”
“Assuming they won’t do it out of civic-mindedness.”
“Assuming that.” McCabe shook her head. “This is such a long shot.”
Baxter grinned. “We’ve been good. Done our chores and brushed our teeth. We’re due for another break right about now.”
* * *
They got their break. It came later that evening. Lieutenant Dole tagged McCabe at home to tell her that the commander and Jacoby had talked and Jacoby had reached out to the local television stations. One of them had been so eager to get a jump on the competition that it had initiated an immediate search of its archives for any relevant footage. And the archivist found video of a camera crew covering the setup for a championship wrestling match at the City Armory. The crew had been doing interviews with fans and passersby while also filming the arena setup.
The Red Queen Dies Page 18
