Mind Games

by Polly Iyer

  “But I’ve already had my two cups of coffee, and I never eat those deadly things.” Under the table, Jake felt the point of the blade prick the skin near his femoral artery.

  “Shut up.” The woman’s eyes were glued to the door of Nell Devoe’s hotel.

  * * * * *

  Lucier answered his ringing phone. “When?” He listened. “Shit. Same MO? Send―What? How long ago? Find him and patch him through.” He jumped out of bed.

  Diana sat upright. “What?”

  “That was Sam. Our boy is definitely in town and quite busy. An employee found a body in the back alley of the theater where you performed last night. Looks like the dead guy was in the middle of a sexual experience when he was cut short. And I mean that literally. On top of that, Jenrette called. Some guy went fishing at his cabin and didn’t answer his wife’s calls. She got worried and called the police. Cops found him with his throat slashed. His car’s missing. Jenrette will call back when he knows more.”

  “And you think―”

  “Damn right I think. Got to go. Willy is picking me up in a few minutes.”

  On the way to the bathroom, Lucier called the district for a cop to come ASAP. Diana got up and threw on her robe. Lucier came out tucking his shirt into his slacks. “I’m glad I brought some pajamas so I don’t look like the wrinkled mess I looked like the other morning.”

  They exchanged sheepish grins. They had slept next to each other the last three nights, never getting more personal than the position in which they’d fallen asleep.

  “You stay inside this room,” he said, buckling his belt. “If you need anything, call down to Nell. She’ll take care of you. Don’t open the door for anyone except the officer I’m sending over. He’ll say specifically that I sent him. Do you hear me?”

  Diana tied her robe tighter. “I hear you. You think he’s coming after me, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know how he could have found out where you are, but I’m not putting anything past this guy. Maybe we got sloppy last night. There were so many cars after the performance. Even going out of the way and back again might not have kept someone from following. If you get a call that something’s happened to me, or anything similar, don’t fall for it. No matter what anyone says, you stay here and keep the door closed, understand?”

  “I understand. Be careful. Macon’s unpredictable. Oh, and there’s something else.”

  He swiveled around. “What?”

  “I don’t think he murdered the girl that sent him to prison.”

  Lucier’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m not sure I do either, but I think I have an idea.”

  “Well, it’ll have to wait till later. I’ve got to go.” He leaned down and kissed her. “Do what I told you and everything will be fine.” He kissed her again. “We’ve got some unfinished business.”

  “Yes, we have.” She followed him to the door. Another kiss, orders to double-lock the door, and he was gone.

  * * * * *

  The woman sitting with Jake Griffin in the coffee shop watched the unmarked police car drive away. She tossed a ten-dollar bill on the table and stood up, yanking him along.

  “Come on,” she said. “We don’t have much time.”

  Struggling to keep up with the woman’s long stride, Jake asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Across the street to that hotel. Do what I say and you’ll be fine. Try anything stupid and it’ll be the last thing you do, stupid or otherwise. Understand?”

  “Yes. Are you g-g-going to k-kill me?”

  “Don’t you listen? Do what I say.”

  As they hurried across the street, Jake listened as the woman told him what to do. In the lobby, Jake approached the desk clerk and flashed his ID. “I’m…I’m interviewing Diana Racine for an article in the Picayune. What’s her room number?”

  The woman eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I don’t know. No one’s supposed to go up there. Police orders.”

  Jake wanted to warn the desk clerk, but he was too scared. What if he got her killed? The clerk noticed neither the sweat beading along his hairline nor the tremor in his hands.

  “Miss Racine is expecting me. The police know about this interview. They…they probably forgot to mention it. My secretary is here to take notes.”

  The desk clerk eyed the tall, well-dressed woman. “Well, I guess it’s all right. Room 312. Third floor, at the end of the hall.”

  “Thanks,” Jake said, and turned back to his companion who nodded her approval. Jake knew who the woman was now, and she wasn’t a woman.

  As the elevator doors closed, the desk clerk called upstairs to announce Diana’s visitors.

  * * * * *

  The phone rang as Diana stepped out of the shower. She slipped on her robe, but by the time she got to the phone, the ringing stopped. The phone’s blinking red light coincided with the rapping on the door. Torn between the phone and the door, Diana went to the door. Must be my babysitter. Too late for the phone call anyway. She’d retrieve the message after letting in the cop. Peering through the eyehole, she said, “Jake, what are you doing here?”

  “I have to talk to you, Diana.”

  “I’m not dressed. I promised to give you a special interview after Macon’s caught. I meant it.”

  “I know, but I must speak to you now. I have crucial information about Macon you need to know.” His voice turned to a whisper. “Lives depend on it.”

  “I can’t, Jake. Come back later.” Where’s the damn cop? “Call the police.”

  “I tried calling the lieutenant, but he wouldn’t take the call. He’ll take it from you. Please, Diana. I can’t tell you how important this is.”

  She remembered what Ernie told her. Jake Griffin was a pain in the ass, but he’d helped her when she needed him. Surely he was safe. “All right, Jake. Let me put some clothes on. Wait a minute, okay?”

  “Hurry, what I have to tell you is important.”

  Diana dashed into the bedroom and threw on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, shaking her wet curls, which would tighten as they dried. She glanced in the mirror before heading to the door and Jake’s persistent finger rapping.

  “Coming, coming. Now, Jake, what’s so important it couldn’t wait?” She swung open the door. Her smile faded when the tall woman moved into her range of vision. Something familiar struck her, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Then the woman pushed Jake inside and spoke. Diana’s heart crashed; prickly heat spiked her body. She saw the glint of the knife’s blade.

  Oh, my God, Ernie, what have I done?

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The Diversion

  “What have you got, McCoy?” Lucier held his cell phone close to his ear as Cash raced through traffic on the way to the theater only a few blocks away, lights flashing, siren blaring.

  “We got a dead guy at a fishing cabin,” Jenrette said. “Name’s Richard Corbeau. Wife called when he didn’t answer his phone, and they found him sitting in his fishing chair, rod in hand, dead as a mackerel—’scuse the pun. Throat slashed from ear to ear. No weapon, and Corbeau’s knife isn’t in his fishing box. No prints, but tracks came from the house around the point. We got hold of the owner and he gave permission for us to go in. CSU is in there now, so we should know something soon.”

  “Got a time frame on the murder?”

  “M.E. says sometime late Wednesday afternoon. He drove a black 2007 Volvo wagon. It’s gone. I’m not saying for sure Macon’s the culprit, but it looks like his handiwork.”

  “You got a bulletin out on the car?”

  “Done,” Jenrette confirmed.

  “You know we’ve got another one here. We’re assuming he was in the audience last night at Diana’s show. On our way there now.” Lucier’s anxiety surfaced. “It’s getting close, McCoy.”

  “Any word on Dree?”

  “No, and still no word on Frankie Castor. We’ve checked all flights out of the city. Nothing. If he’s harboring Macon or kno
ws who is, he’s in serious trouble. Listen, call me as soon as you know something, will you?”

  “You’ll be the first. Take care, Ernie. This guy’s a twisted son of a bitch. And watch out for that little lady, ya hear?”

  Lucier’s stomach did an ugly turn as he and Cash pushed through the crowd standing behind the yellow crime tape. They darted into the alley leading in back of the theater where the ME was checking the body. “What have we got, Charlie?”

  “Cut him off at a crucial moment, Lieutenant, then sliced him up the middle. Ejaculate on the excised penis. This was coitus interruptus.”

  Lucier filled in Beecher about the fisherman, then bent down over the mutilated body. “Lipstick on his collar.”

  “Yeah, Corcoran said he’d check more thoroughly when he got back to the lab.”

  “If he’s straight, it took a strong woman to do this. Maybe Alice Mayburn’s taking to her boyfriend’s style. Got a name, Sam?”

  “Stanley Kravitz, New York, thirty-four, no wedding ring. They’re running him now.”

  Lucier saw BJ Corcoran, one of the crime scene investigators. “What’s your best guess as to weapon, BJ?”

  “Knife. Not serrated and very sharp.”

  “Could it be a fishing knife?”

  “Could be.”

  “If you can find a trace of fish, we might be able to tie this to another murder. And see if you can get any prints off Mr. Kravitz’s penis.”

  “We’ve already bagged it in ice so it doesn’t shrivel anymore. Hurts looking at the thing.”

  “Hurts more thinking about it. Good work, guys. This is priority.”

  “That’s how we’re treating it, Lieutenant.”

  Lucier scoured the scene. “Murder in the middle of a sexual act is Macon’s trademark, Sam.”

  “Same with the fisherman?” Beecher asked.

  “No. That was for the car. Black ’07 Volvo wagon. It’s missing and on the wires. Probably snatched his credit card and cash, though he’s too smart to use the card. They’re going over the cabin next door to see if they can come up with Macon’s prints.”

  “Shit,” Cash said.

  “What?”

  “A black Volvo wagon was a few cars behind Beecher when we took Ms. Racine back to the hotel. I didn’t pay attention because driver didn’t fit Macon’s description, or Alice Mayburn’s. But now I’m thinking it could have been her. Only now she’s blonde with short hair. She didn’t follow me the whole way. That’s why I wasn’t worried. But she could have cut back and around.”

  Lucier snapped his fingers. “Lipstick on the collar. Jesus, that’s how he did it. The son of a bitch disguised himself as a woman. That’s why we didn’t recognize him and how he got this poor guy to drop his pants. Damn. Alice followed us in the Volvo when we left the theater. How could we have been so damn sloppy? Macon knows where Diana is. And I was in such a rush I didn’t wait until someone came to stand guard. If anything happens—” He couldn’t finish his thought. “Come on, Willy. The hotel, and fast. You too, Sam.” Lucier raced toward the car punching phone buttons as he went. “I only hope we’re not too late.”

  “She won’t let anyone in the room no matter what he says,” Beecher said, catching up.

  They got to the car, Cash behind the wheel, Lucier in front, Beecher in back. “I made that very clear, but this guy’s clever. If there’s a way, he’ll find it.” Lucier pressed the phone to his ear, impatiently slapping his hand on his thigh. “She’s not answering. Hurry, Willy.”

  “I’m driving as fast as I can, Lieutenant.” As they flashed their way through the busy streets, Lucier saw things he didn’t want to see. He saw the lifeless, mangled bodies of his wife and children inside their wrecked car. He saw his empty house and felt his empty life.

  Not again. It can’t happen again.

  Diana Racine was the first ray of sunshine to brighten his dark existence since that tragic day eight years before. The first reason to feel his heart beat again.

  He could sense Beecher’s stare on the back of his neck. His men respected him, but few knew him, except for Beecher. And even that relationship had boundaries because of their positions. Today, his emotions rode the surface, and he couldn’t hide them if he wanted to. Everyone knew Diana meant more to him than the intended victim of an obsessed murderer. He’d kept his past grief private, never allowing anyone to see his pain. But if Macon achieved his goal today, he might as well kill Lucier too, because he didn’t think his heart would survive Diana’s loss.

  * * * * *

  When Macon pushed Jake Griffin into the hotel room, Diana opened her mouth to scream, but all she could manage was a gasp of stunned surprise. Everything crystallized. The body at the theater was a distraction to lure Lucier away. To lure everyone away from her. And where was the cop assigned to protect her? Probably dead in the elevator.

  She looked at Macon. Flawless makeup, long red nails, and expensive clothes transformed the man into a tall, elegant woman.

  “Hello, Diana, remember me?” he said in the mesmerizing voice that had captivated his unsuspecting victims.

  Words caught in her throat and she couldn’t release them. Jake Griffin’ apologetic visage frightened her even more. Would he be another victim of Macon’s obsessive crusade to exact revenge on a ten-year old girl?

  “Got nothing to say?” Macon taunted. “Even after all we’ve been to each other. My life would’ve been so much easier if I’d killed you back at the cabin, but stupid me dragged it out. Well, guess what? I’m going to drag it out again. I like playing against the odds.” He turned his attention to Griffin, whose face looked like a kabuki mask—white and rigid.

  “Don’t kill me,” Griffin pleaded. “I won’t say anything. I promise.”

  “But that’s what I want you to do, Jake. I need you alive to tell that cop boyfriend of hers that he won’t be able to save the little lady this time. You’ll remember that, won’t you?”

  Without preamble, Macon pulled a gun from his pocket and smashed it against Griffin’s skull. The sound the reporter made as he went down hard filled Diana with dread. Her stomach revolted, and she thought she was going to be sick.

  “No,” she cried, and started for Griffin, but Macon grabbed her arm and dragged her down the hall, the gun jammed into her sore rib.

  “If you say one word to the desk clerk, I’ll shoot her, and you’ll have one more body on your conscience. Understand?”

  She nodded because she couldn’t get out the right word. Her body felt like dead weight, and it took all her energy to put one foot in front of the other as he steered her into the elevator. The desk clerk, occupied on the phone, didn’t even look in Diana’s direction. The empty lobby offered no hope of alerting anyone to her predicament, a docile sheep being led to slaughter. Even if a crowd hovered around, she doubted she’d say anything. Too many people, too many potential victims. A black station wagon waited at the entrance, and Diana recognized the triumphant face of Alice Mayburn behind the wheel. Macon pushed Diana into the backseat, got in behind her, and they drove away as a police car driven by a uniformed officer screeched to a stop at the entrance.

  * * * * *

  Cash double-parked in front of Nell Devoe’s hotel. A marked police car sat in front; ambulance sirens weren’t far off. No sign of a Volvo. Lucier’s stomach sank. Why was an ambulance screaming toward them? If anything happened to Diana—He couldn’t think that. Wouldn’t think it.

  “What the hell’s going on?” He swung open the car door and sprinted into the hotel. “Have you seen Ms. Racine?” he called out to the desk clerk as he ran for the elevator.

  “She’s in her room with Mr. Griffin and his secretary. A policeman went up a few minutes ago. Why, is something wrong? Why is an ambulance here?”

  Panicked, Lucier bashed the elevator button repeatedly. “What did the secretary look like?”

  “Quite tall and attractive. Should I not have told Mr. Griffin which room Ms. Racine was staying in? He said she was e
xpecting him and the police knew.”

  Lucier gave up on the elevator and bounded up the stairs, scaling two and three at a time, before the desk clerk finished her sentence. Cash and Beecher followed in pursuit.

  Diana’s door was wide open and Jake Griffin lay on the floor. Blood clotted around a nasty gash on his head. The young police officer assigned to watch Diana had placed a pillow under his head and was wiping the blood from his face.

  “I’ve called an ambulance, Lieutenant. I’m sorry. I got here as fast as I could, but the traffic from an accident held me up. I did everything but drive over the wreck. When I got here, the door was open, and I found him like this.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “A few minutes.”

  “Did you see a car pulling away when you arrived?”

  “I saw a few cars, but nothing unusual. I was in such a rush to get here I wasn’t paying attention.”

  “Macon’s got a good start. He’s probably out of the area by now.” Lucier patted Jake on the face. “Jake, Jake, can you hear me? Jake.”

  The paramedics came in and checked Gibbon’s vital signs while tending to his scalp wound. The semiconscious man groaned and opened one unfocused eye.

  “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. I couldn’t help it. She…he caught me off guard.” Then Jake passed out.

  “Jake, wake up.” Lucier turned to the paramedics. “Can’t you give him a shot of something to revive him? I need to ask him some questions.”

  The two men exchanged looks, and one of them said, “We’re doing our best.”

  “Well, do better,” Lucier snapped. “Where did he take her, Jake? Shit.”

  Jake moaned again and tried to lift his head. “It was Macon. He shoved a knife in my side and said he’d kill me if I refused.”

  “I know, Jake. You’re going to be okay. If he wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Did he mention where he was taking her? Anything at all.”

  “Just to tell you that you won’t get her this time. That’s what he said.”

  Lucier got up, pulled aside his two detectives. “Macon wanted Griffin alive to give me the message.” He stared at the battered reporter. “Willy, stay with him. Find out what he/she looked like: hairdo, makeup, clothes, anything he can tell you. Then call it in. I want Macon’s new look all over the media. Run Mayburn’s face too, with cropped blonde hair and assorted wigs. We need to scrutinize everything in Frankie Castor’s files. We’ve missed something. I know you’ve checked cell phones. Check again. Anything registered to the business or to his wife or his daughter. See if his dog has a cell number. Castor made a call last night and I want to know to whom. I don’t give a rat’s ass if it’s to the local potato chip company. Find out who he spoke to, then find out where he lives and get the hell over there. Someone knows where those two are holed up. They may not know who’s staying there, but they know someone is. Willy, call when you get what you can from Jake. Sam and I are going back to the station to set the wheels in motion. Make sure the press gets the story. Move, everyone.”