The Chilling Spree

by LS Sygnet

  We hurried into the building. I wanted to take the stairs. Johnny grabbed my arm and guided me into the elevator. “It’s seven stories, Doc.”

  By the time we reached the floor, I was convinced we could’ve hoofed the stairs at twice that speed. Two officers stood in the hallway. The door to Crevan’s apartment was wide open.

  I rushed forward. “What’s wrong?”

  Officer Billings shook his head. “He’s fine ma’am. Physically at least. We’re having a hell of a time convincing him that he needs to stay here.”

  Relief dripped from my sigh. “Johnny and I need to talk to him. Keep your post.”

  The wave of calm quickly dashed back out into the sea when I saw Crevan inside the apartment. If looks could kill, four uniformed officers would be dead. They blocked Crevan’s path to the door.

  “I’m warning you. I’ll pull my gun and start shooting if you don’t get out of my way. I’m not under arrest, and you have no right to restrict my –”

  I pushed through the blue line. “Crevan, we need to talk.”

  “Helen? Johnny?”

  “Luke Napier is dead.”

  Crevan’s mouth sagged open. He sat, missed the chair, and hit the floor. “Is this related to Belle?”

  I nodded. “That’s why I’m here.”

  “Surely you don’t believe –”

  “She thinks you’re the quickest path to figuring out why two such disparate individuals could end up on the same hit list as Tippet and Goddard,” Johnny said. “Since you knew them both for more than a little while.”

  “Right,” Crevan mumbled.

  I crouched in front of him and gripped his hands. “Hey. You all right? I know you were about to finalize the divorce, but it’s still not so easy, is it?”

  Dulled green eyes met mine. “Of course you understand this. Helen, wouldn’t it have made you crazy if they hadn’t told you about Rick?”

  “I had no business being there, in hindsight. I wish you’d take my word on this Crevan. There are certain things that we shouldn’t see. It’s as simple as that. A dead spouse, even when the love is gone, definitely falls into that category.”

  “Reverend Napier too?”

  “How long have you known him, Crevan?” I asked.

  “Most of my life. He came to Darkwater Bay when I was a teenager. Thirteen, fourteen years old maybe. Why would someone kill him? He railed from the pulpit relentlessly against –” Crevan’s eyes darted toward our audience.

  “Guys, if you could step out into the hall and give us some privacy,” Johnny said. “I know I’d appreciate it.”

  While they shuffled out of the room, I gave Crevan a hand up off the floor and hugged him. “You’ll get through this, honey. I promise.”

  For once, Johnny’s reaction was absent the trademark jealousy that had infected too many interactions this week. Instead, he had a curious expression on his face when I turned around.

  “So,” he cleared his throat, “about Napier.”

  “Yeah,” Crevan said. “The church hired him when I was still pretty young. Twenty-five years ago, or so, I guess. I can’t imagine why someone who slaughtered two gay kids would kill him. In all honesty, I pegged him for the Hellfire character that Alex Waters cited.”

  “Did you show him a photograph of Napier?” I asked.

  “Sure,” Crevan said. “He didn’t recognize him. I started wondering if the protesters were from Foundations Baptist after all, but then Tony and I took a closer look at the names on the police report, and I recognized a bunch of them.”

  “So there is a link between them and Bobbi Tippet and Kyle Goddard through that protest back in October.” I let go of Crevan and started pacing. “How did that altercation play out in the press?”

  “It was Belle’s story, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Crevan said. “She was really pissed off because I wasn’t there for her to leverage for information. As you recall, we were up to our eyeballs with that meth lab and the suspects at Uncle Nasty’s Bar and Grill at the time. Shelly barely had the manpower to pull it off. I think that Ned and his old partner investigated it.”

  “There wasn’t much to the investigation, Helen,” Johnny said. “Minor charges for the arrests. I don’t think what happened to Ned is related to this case.”

  “That’s not what I was thinking.” A pang of doubt struck my heart. “Just the same, we are sure that was really an accident Monday, right?”

  “No doubt,” Johnny said. “The guy that hit them didn’t hear the sirens because of his stereo. He was listening to something called corn. With a K, I believe. By the time he saw the lights, it was too late to stop. He was pretty torn up, from the report I got.”

  I turned my focus on Crevan. “Did you read the article Belle wrote?”

  “Sure,” he nodded. “It was standard issue. The Sentinel waffles back and forth on most slants to their stories. Belle painted the peaceful patrons of The Cockpit as victims that time. You know, minding their business, not bothering anybody, when suddenly a bunch of hooligans showed up and started setting fire to cars.”

  My eyes met Johnny’s. “She offered both sides to the story this time too,” I said. “Sure, she gave Napier and Crevan’s father a little more voice in the piece than she did Waters.”

  “But most of her ire was reserved for us in the top story,” Johnny said.

  “And very little of the attention focused on this guy’s message,” Crevan said. “Nobody talked about that much at all.”

  “It wasn’t her fault, Crevan,” I said. “We weren’t about to release information to the media at that point. Let’s shift gears back to Napier for a moment. You said the church hired him, that he came here twenty-five years ago.”

  “Yeah,” Crevan said. “Does that matter?”

  I thought about Underwood again, his longstanding feud with Devlin after the disastrous Marines relationship. “Came from where exactly?”

  “Some church in Montgomery. Napier was a young guy then, not too far out of seminary school if I remember correctly. Dad could really give you a lot more information, Helen.”

  “So he was an associate pastor, and Foundations was his first church as the spiritual leader?” I asked.

  “I think so. How does this matter?”

  “Trust me, I’m getting there,” I said. “Do you remember what his duties were when he was the associate pastor?”

  “Sure,” Crevan said. “We only had the one guy, you see, so Reverend Napier had to do it all at Foundations. His comfort zone was working with the youth group.”

  I chewed my lower lip. “How old was Napier when he took over your church?”

  “Old to my very young eyes. I think he’s in his late fifties now. I guess he couldn’t have been straight out of seminary school then, could he?”

  “Crevan, this is important. Was Belle a native of Darkwater Bay?”

  He blinked slowly. “No.”

  “Was Belle from Montgomery too?”

  “Yeah, she was. It’s a big place, Helen.”

  “The world seems to be growing smaller by the second. Tell me about her relationship with your parents,” I said. “Were they close? I know your dad was upset about the divorce. Was it on principal alone, or –”

  “They loved Belle like the daughter they never had,” Crevan said.

  I turned to Johnny. “What if she went to Napier and Aidan Conall because they were incendiary sources she knew well from the other side?”

  “Hold on, Helen. I haven’t been a regular at Foundations since I got out from under Dad’s thumb,” Crevan said. “Why would she approach Napier when we didn’t go to church there?”

  “I think Doc is suggesting that Belle might’ve known him from Montgomery, just like this killer does.”

  “I suppose her maiden name was Underwood,” I muttered.

  “Halloran,” Crevan said. “But her mother was married to somebody else before Belle was born. I don’t know why it never occurred to me before now. I’m not
sure, but I think name was Underwood.”

  “Shit,” Johnny muttered.

  “No wonder there was no sign of forced entry at her house,” I said. “Belle knew her attacker.”

  Chapter 35

  “Kylie. I’ll bet that was one of the names of the girls Underwood was meeting Sunday afternoon, Johnny. We should’ve listened to Devlin and Chris. They were right about this guy all along.”

  “Let’s not rush to judgment. I’ve got a team tracking down information on Napier’s time in Montgomery and Belle’s family as well. If Underwood is related to her, we’ll have confirmation before we pick him up.”

  “He had to have gone from Belle’s house straight to see Napier,” I said. “Has Briscoe gotten the phone records for that church yet?”

  “He’s working on the warrant right now.”

  “Underwood is what, forty-four, forty-five years old?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And Belle was thirty-six?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “So she was eleven or twelve when Napier left Montgomery.”

  “Right.”

  “Perhaps old enough for this youth group.”

  “Doc, where are you going with this?”

  “We’re not gonna find him. Dammit! Why didn’t I listen to them? I’ll tell you why. Because I thought the military was right about him, that it was truly a personality disorder that got him kicked out. Even Madden saw the truth!”

  “Hold on a second,” Johnny said. “Just because he’s a creep who killed a bunch of people that pissed him off doesn’t mean he can’t have this personality disorder thing, Helen.”

  I waved it aside. “I pegged him as a major narcissist. They’re annoying, but generally harmless. All talk, no action if you know what I mean.”

  “So you figured that his exploits with women, what little I overheard, were just exaggerations?”

  I nodded. “I mean look at who he set up as his major competition in that department. Fulk Underwood versus Scott Madden. Where’s the contest? Not that I find Madden particularly attractive, but Underwood? He’s a troll by comparison. Not only has he set his sights on a more attractive guy, he’s competing against someone with incredible charisma and a larger than life presence that comes from being adored by millions of people that go to those shows specifically to see Madden. He’s the only guy left in that band that hasn’t come and gone or come back again.”

  “Not to mention the fame, the wealth, all the stuff that goes along with that. Underwood is a step removed from the limelight.”

  “Everything that Madden told me was true,” I said. “Underwood put himself in a position to compete, and he knew it. Scott said something to me the other night, that it didn’t matter because they weren’t even attracted to the same kinds of women.”

  “That never stopped Underwood from hitting on you.”

  I nodded. “Sure, but that was after he saw Madden’s reaction to me. Maybe this thing with Kyle Goddard was a symptom of Underwood’s frustration. He felt the need to step up his game. He fancies himself smarter and better than Madden in every way. Hell, he isn’t even doing his job unless he’s got a crowd to show off for.”

  “How is that?” Johnny asked. “I mean, isn’t the sound check done long before people show up for the show?”

  It was part of the VIP package that Devlin and I skipped. “We could’ve been there Sunday, Johnny. Sometimes it’s part of the program for fans who have special access privileges. They get a whole backstage experience. Something about Kyle made Underwood think he was Scott Madden’s type.”

  “So… we should be talking to Scott Madden about what type of woman he’s attracted to?”

  “Not just yet,” I said. “The first thing we’ve got to do is get Underwood in police custody. He can sit in a cell until I’m ready to talk to him.”

  “You mean until we’re ready to talk to him.”

  It was a bad plan. Even Madden picked up on the vibe between Johnny and me, knew enough from that damned picture in the Sentinel to realize that Belle intruded on a very private moment. “Johnny, I think you should take a run at him first. With Crevan maybe, somebody that can push Underwood’s bias buttons. I’ll need to talk to him alone.”

  “I think I see where you’re going with this, Helen. Not sure I like it, but –”

  “Oh for heaven’s sake! We’ll have him in police custody. You’ll be on the other side of the glass watching. What on earth do you think he’s gonna do? I’m not some underdeveloped boy who isn’t expecting trouble. I am always expecting trouble.”

  He grinned. “Well all right then, when you put it that way.”

  I thought about Sunday night, how Kyle Goddard’s body was found, what he looked like when Crevan and I visited the morgue early the next morning. “I wonder if he really had no idea who Kyle was.”

  “You think he specifically targeted Madden’s nephew?”

  “No clue. He could’ve killed Tippet because he knew who Kyle was meeting before the show.”

  “That doesn’t explain the sexual activity,” Johnny said.

  “Kyle could’ve been with somebody else before he met Underwood. I guess I won’t know until Underwood confesses.”

  “If he confesses. If we’re really on the right track this time.”

  “This is right,” I said with surety I hadn’t felt all week. “It’s all falling together in my mind.”

  Johnny’s phone rang. He answered with the speaker.

  “Commander Orion, I’ve got the information that you requested from Montgomery.”

  “Let’s have it, Tracy,” he said.

  “Belle Conall’s mother was married to a man by the name of Frank Underwood for five years. It produced one child, a son they named Fulk. She was divorced for several years when she remarried Brent Halloran. A three years later, they popped out a kid, Belle.”

  “Shit,” I hissed. Right there in front of me the whole time. “What about Luke Napier’s history, Tracy?”

  “Born and raised in Montgomery. He went to seminary school somewhere in South Carolina, came home at the age of twenty-two and was immediately employed as the youth pastor at a church called Community Baptist in Montgomery.”

  “Is there a link between the Halloran family and that church?”

  “More than a link,” Tracy said. “Their pastor right now is Napier’s elderly father, Marcus. I suppose I should mention that Mrs. Halloran, formerly Underwood, was a girl by the name of Rebecca Napier before she got married the first time.”

  “She was Luke Napier’s sister?” I gasped in surprise. Maybe the gay boys weren’t the targets after all.

  “That’s correct, Detective Eriksson. Hope that information helps. I’ll give you a call if we dig up anything else.”

  Johnny disconnected the call. “Don’t go there, Helen.”

  “Where?”

  “Your sniper theory. Tony mentioned it,” he said. “Here’s the problem with thinking that all of these victims weren’t specific targets. Underwood has a long history of hating gays. We’ve only scratched the surface of its existence. I have a sinking suspicion that Uncle Luke might’ve played a very strong role in that regard during Fulk’s formative years. Might be as simple as Fulk seeing their condemnation of The Cockpit and tempting men who looked like beautiful women as too weak.”

  “And his sister never came out strongly enough on one side at all,” I said. “Drive faster, Johnny. We need to get Underwood into custody now.”

  Johnny whipped the Expedition in front of the hotel in Darkwater proper where Pan Demon’s manager assured us that the close entourage would stay at least until after Madden could attend his nephew’s funeral. Solidarity and loyalty were apparently part of everyone’s employment contracts.

  We dashed inside. Johnny flashed his badge. “I need to find Fulk Underwood. We were told he would be registered here with a group traveling with the band Pan Demon.”

  Fingers clacked over a keyboard quickly. It still felt like fo
rever.

  “I’ve got them in rooms six-forty through six-sixty-two. I’m sorry I can’t give you the specific room –”

  I pulled out a photo I’d snapped at the post-concert party Monday night. “Have you seen this man coming or going tonight?”

  The clerk shook his head. “I haven’t seen that man with them at all, detective.”

  “Which room is the manager in?” Johnny asked.

  “Six-forty, but his is the only –”

  “Thank you.” Johnny’s clipped reply was punctuated by a jerk to my arm that dragged me to the elevators. He stabbed the button impatiently.

  “Do you think Underwood has been staying somewhere else?”

  “No forced entry at Belle’s house,” Johnny said. “What if he took up residence with his sister instead of the rest of the band?”

  “It’ll be a lot harder to find him. He could be in the wind already,” I groaned. “And he could be the person that linked the murders of Bobbi and Kyle for Belle in the first place.”

  “Uh-huh. So are you ready to admit that maybe Tony isn’t the devil incarnate in this scenario, Helen?”

  “Fine,” through gritted teeth. “It makes more sense that Underwood used his sister to turn attention on us than Briscoe doing it.”

  “Because he knew exactly how attracted I was to you from the night of the first crime,” Johnny said. “And then again, if he had asked his sister about us, she witnessed that little stunt you pulled outside Central Division a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Crevan warned me that she tended to hold things in reserve until she could use them to inflict maximum damage,” I muttered.

  “You owe Tony an apology, Doc.”

  “Not right now. We’ve got to find Underwood before he’s so long gone that we never find him.”

  Johnny pounded on the door to room 640 with an iron fist. “State police, open the door.”

  Drake Maverick opened the door a crack. “Oh, it’s you.”

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Johnny ignored the fact that Maverick was looking at me when he spoke.

  “I thought you weren’t officially part of the investigation, Detective Eriksson.”

  “We lie,” I said. “We’re the police. It’s what we do. Where is Fulk Underwood?”