by Dinah McCall
“All right, but it’s your call,” he said.
“I know.”
He winked at her. She smiled, and then another thought occurred to her.
“Sully?”
“Yeah, honey?”
“It’s very sad about their son killing himself, isn’t it?”
“From where I sit, it’s pretty damned ironic. Karnoff causes six innocent women to commit suicide, and then his son offs himself, too. I hope it haunts him for the rest of his natural life.”
“I was thinking more about the mother’s burden,” she said.
For a few moments the interior of the van was completely silent. Then Sully nodded and turned around to face the street.
Franklin Chee leaned forward. “It is the way of the world,” Franklin said. “The mother’s burden is always heaviest. From the day she conceives, until the day she is laid in the ground, her love for her children will be her greatest joy and her deepest sorrow.”
“That’s sad,” Ginny said.
“Yes, but you have to face life to enjoy it.”
Ginny sat, absorbing the wisdom of those simple words.
“Thank you, Franklin.”
He touched her shoulder once, in a gesture of understanding.
“You’re welcome.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Franklin added one last thought.
“Anyone want to hear Webster do his imitation of John Wayne?”
Dan burst into laughter, while Sully turned and grinned. Ginny hugged the camaraderie of the group to her heart and knew that when this was over, she would miss them very much.
Lucy Karnoff was still picking at fabric, this time at the fabric of her dress. It was one of Emile’s favorites, and he’d thought when he brought it for her to wear home that she would fall back into her role as the dutiful wife. But Lucy’s sanity had slipped a little too far out of sync to be fixed by one lilac-colored dress.
“We’re almost home,” Emile said, and covered her hand with his own so that she would stop pulling at the threads of her skirt.
“…under the bed,” she muttered.
“Not anymore, dear,” he said softly. “Not anymore.”
For a moment a flash of the old Lucy returned as she turned to look at him.
“Not anymore?”
He smiled. “No. Not anymore.”
“Not anymore…not anymore…not anymore…”
He sighed. One hurdle had fallen, only for him to find he was approaching another.
“Here we are, sir,” the cabdriver said, and pulled up to the front of the house. Then he jumped out and ran around the cab to help the old man with his wife. When Emile handed him a twenty, he pocketed it with a smile. “Thank you, sir, and good health to your wife.”
“Yes, thank you,” Emile said, as he gathered up her small bag of toiletries and took hold of Lucy’s hand. “Come along, dear. Let’s get you inside, out of the heat.”
“Out of the heat…out of the heat…”
He had the key in the door when he heard the sound of approaching vehicles. Thinking it would be the press, he was anxious to get Lucy inside and away from the cameras. He was all the way into the entry-way and turning to close the door when he realized it wasn’t reporters after all.
“Emile Peter Karnoff?”
He frowned. It was unusual to hear his full name from the lips of a man he’d never seen.
“Yes?”
“I’m Agent Dan Howard of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. We have a warrant to search your house.”
The warrant was in his hand, and he was pushed aside before he had a chance to speak.
“Gentlemen! I must argue this intrusion into my home at such a tragic time. Why could you possibly have need to search my house? My son’s death was ruled a suicide. Surely you don’t suspect foul play?”
Dan wasn’t paying any attention. “Agent Chee, you and your brother begin upstairs. You know what we’re looking for.” He turned to the other agents who’d been on surveillance watch and sent them into another wing of the house.
In the midst of the turmoil, something clicked inside Lucy’s mind. Company was here. She had duties to perform. Her thin, wavering voice pierced the chaos, momentarily stopping everyone where they stood.
“Emile! Dear! You didn’t tell me we were going to have company.” She began waving a hand toward the library, as if directing traffic. “Everyone, please adjourn to my husband’s study. I’ll bring refreshments in a few minutes. You will love my cranberry nut bread. It’s one of Emile’s favorites.”
Sully couldn’t look at Ginny. He knew what she would be thinking. She’d already voiced her concerns regarding this pitiful woman, and it would seem that she’d been right.
“Sir, you need to get your wife and make sure she’s somewhere out of the way,” Sully said.
“But I must challenge this disgraceful behavior!” Emile cried. “Why are you here? What on earth could we have done to warrant such treatment from the government? Do you know who I am?”
Sully turned then, for the first time staring fully into the old man’s face.
“Yeah, we know who you are,” he said softly. “You’re the man who sent six young women to their deaths.”
Emile blanched, put a hand to his chest and staggered backward in disbelief. Oddly enough, it was Lucy who led him to a nearby chair in the entryway.
“Come, dear. You look a bit pale. Why don’t you sit down while I go make some tea for our guests?”
Ginny was still in the background, an observer to the unfolding chaos, but when Karnoff unintentionally separated himself from the rest by sitting down, she moved through the doorway, quietly closing the door behind her.
Agents had dispersed to all points of the house, while Dan and Sully stayed nearby in the hall. It was only a matter of time before they arrested the old man, but they wanted the search under their belts before it happened. Even if they turned up nothing more in the way of evidence from this location, they were convinced that the phone records and Ginny’s testimony were condemnation enough to put him away for the rest of his life.
Emile’s heart was hammering as if it would burst. He put the flat of his hand against the sound and made himself relax. Closing his eyes, he practiced a mental relaxation technique, focusing his skills on himself.
“Is that the way you did it?”
Emile started at the sound of the voice, and then looked up.
“I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?” he asked, too sick to be concerned with the fact that Lucy was flitting all over the hall, pretending to pour tea and serve cake.
Ginny stared long and hard into his eyes, her anger overriding any lingering fear. Her voice was low, her behavior calm, but her sense of loathing for this man simmered hot below the surface.
“Why did you do it?”
He took a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and began mopping his face.
“I’m sorry, miss, but you’ll have to be more specific. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His voice made her weak, but her hate kept her focused. She wanted him flushed from her senses like the waste that he was.
“We weren’t hurting you,” she muttered, thinking of a little boy who would grow up without a mother, and of Georgia, who’d had so much to give the world. “You had your way with us when we were children, but that wasn’t enough, was it? You needed to destroy the evidence. Were you afraid we’d remember? Was that it?”
“Miss, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Emile shouted, then covered his face with his hands. “This is a nightmare!” he cried. “A nightmare with no end! God, please let me wake up!”
Sully spun around and bolted toward the end of the hall. He hadn’t seen Ginny come inside, but it was obvious from Karnoff’s behavior that she’d confronted him. He grabbed her by the arm, intending to pull her out of harm’s way, but she yanked free, her attention completely focused on the old man in the chair.
“Don’t,” she muttered. �
��I have to do this.”
Lucy followed the sound of her husband’s voice and then, like a child, scooted herself into his lap and put her arm behind his neck as she spoke.
“This is my husband,” she said. “He’s a very important man, you know.”
Emile tried to pull her arm from around his neck, but she was clinging to him like a kitten with its claws caught in the drapes.
“I miss him dreadfully when he’s gone,” she continued, “but I know his work is important to the world. It’s my duty to keep his home trouble-free so that he can have a pleasing environment in which to work.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sully said, and put his arms on Ginny’s shoulders, gently pulling her back against the wall of his chest.
“I can see that you’re good at your job.”
Lucy beamed as she patted Emile’s cheek. “So much to do. So many cobwebs to sweep out. After all these years, so many cobwebs.”
“Yes, ma’am. You have a very clean house,” Sully said.
Emile laid his forehead against Lucy’s breast and closed his eyes, struggling between the urge to laugh and the urge to follow her into madness. This mannerly conversation was ludicrous, considering what was going on beneath the roof of his own home.
“I have a cleaning lady, you know,” Lucy said. “But I tend to the important things. She couldn’t possibly be trusted to clean out my husband’s files. I do that on my own. No one touches my husband’s files except me…and him, of course.” She giggled.
“Lucy, dear, they don’t want to know about the dust in our house,” Emile said, wishing to God she would hush.
“Oh, it isn’t the dust that’s important. I let the cleaning lady tend to the dust. I clean the cobwebs.”
Emile looked up at Sully, silently begging for something he couldn’t voice. Then he sighed. If this was happening, he needed to know why.
“I know you people think you have a reason for doing this, but as God is my witness, I don’t understand. By what right are you here?”
Dan Howard walked up just as the question was asked. He pointed to the paper in Emile Karnoff’s pocket.
“That search warrant explains it all, sir. We’re here because your phone records show you had contact with every one of our victims on the day of their deaths, except for Sister Mary Teresa at the Sacred Heart Convent. We haven’t proved exactly how you contacted her yet, but we know that you’re responsible.”
Karnoff shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know—”
“Cobwebs,” Lucy cried, and clapped her hands. “Emile, you must see the convent some time. The stained glass windows are so very beautiful. All the colors shine true in the sunlight, like the flowers in my garden.”
Sully was the first to grasp the relevance of what she’d just said. He lowered his voice, making it seem as if he and Lucy Karnoff were in the room on their own.
“You’ve been to the convent, have you?”
“Oh yes,” Lucy said. “And not too long ago. It wasn’t a long trip, either. About an hour and a half by train. I was home in time to fix dinner for Phillip.” Her face crumpled for just a moment as she looked at Sully’s face. “My son is dead, you know. He bled all over my floor. I tried to fix his head, but I used the wrong tape.” Her hands began to flutter as her eyes welled with tears. “I need to clean up the blood. We can’t eat in the dining room until I clean up the blood.”
As she spoke, both Sully and Dan thought the same thing as they looked at each other. A tape? Had she done something to her own son, as well as the women?
Emile could tell by their expressions that something momentous had happened, but he was so focused on keeping Lucy from dissolving into one of her fits that he didn’t bother to ask.
“The floor is clean, my dear. I had the cleaning service over just this morning. Everything is fine. It’s all put back just the way you like it.”
She patted Emile’s leg, the smile on her face as out of place at the moment as the tears still drying on her cheeks.
“It’s clean,” she announced. “I need to get tea.”
“Wait,” Dan said. Then he added, “Please. Mrs. Karnoff, can I ask you a question?”
“Why yes, although I’m sure I have nothing important to say. My husband is the star in this family, aren’t you, dear?”
Dan persisted, trying to make sense of it all in the midst of her insanity.
“Mrs. Karnoff, do you know who Emily Jackson is?”
Lucy nodded. “Cobwebs.”
Sully grunted. Sweet Jesus. It was her!
Ginny started to cry, quietly and brokenly. When Sully opened his arms, she turned her face against his chest and let it all go.
Dan persisted. “What about Josephine Henley?”
“Cobwebs.”
“And Lynn Goldberg and Frances Waverly and Allison Turner?”
At that point Emile had had enough. “Stop this!” he shouted. “My wife is not saying another word to you until you tell me what’s going on.”
Lucy frowned. “It’s not nice to shout at our guests,” she said. “They’re only asking about the cobwebs. I took care of them for you. You’re an important man. Can’t have any cobwebs in our closets. I tried to fix Phillip, too, but I think I used the wrong tape.”
Emile looked to Dan for understanding.
“Please. Sir. At the least, I’m owed an explanation.”
“Over the past few months, calls have been made from a cell phone registered in your name to six…” He looked at Ginny, then amended the number. “No…seven phone numbers in different parts of the country. Directly after receiving the call, the six women did something completely out of character that resulted in their immediate deaths.”
“Everything’s over. Finished. Done. Face your greatest fear, then open your arms and go to God,” Lucy chirped and then clapped her hands. “Cobwebs all gone.”
“God. Oh my God,” Sully whispered. “Georgia’s greatest fear was water. She couldn’t swim. The priest said that right before she jumped, she opened her arms, looked up at the sky and smiled.”
Ginny turned, staring at the old woman and unable to correlate the innocence on her face with the horror she had done.
“The families I talked to before I left St. Louis told me that witnesses to the deaths said it looked as if the women were trying to fly,” Ginny said.
Lucy’s recitation had stunned them all, including Emile. Suddenly he was beginning to realize that she’d done something wrong, but he didn’t know what, or how.
“Please?” he begged.
“Dr. Karnoff, do you recognize me?” Ginny asked.
He shook his head. “No. Should I?”
“My name is Virginia Shapiro.”
A dark scowl spread across Lucy’s face. “Couldn’t find that cobweb.”
“And thank the Lord and Georgia for that,” Sully muttered.
Emile was still staring at Ginny. Finally he shook his head. “No, I’m sorry.”
“Do you remember Montgomery Academy? Upstate New York. 1979?”
“Why yes! Of course!”
His answer startled everyone, including Ginny. She’d expected reticence, lies, even denial, but not this.
“You do?”
“Certainly. It was the first place where I began testing my theories on actual people.” Then he looked at Ginny again, and as he did, they could see recognition dawn. “Oh my! You’re the little girl with asthma.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Ginny said. “I haven’t had asthma since I was a—”
Suddenly she got it. He smiled.
“The elation of watching that panic disappear from your eyes, of knowing that you had learned how to stop it before it began to constrict your breathing…ah, you can’t know the joy I felt.”
Ginny was trying to absorb the fact that the man she’d thought a monster had cured her of a terrible disease when Sully changed the focus of the conversation.
“Do you remember Edward Fontaine?” Sully asked.
/> “It costs four-hundred-and-seventy-five dollars to fly to Florida,” Lucy chirped.
Dan stared at the woman in disbelief. Of course she was out of her mind. They would never get a conviction, because she was unable to stand trial. She would spend the rest of her life in a hospital for the criminally insane, and as he thought it, he knew that, in her fragile condition, she wouldn’t last a month. But as he remembered the people who’d died at her hands, he decided it might just be thirty days longer than she deserved.
Unaware of the complete background of Lucy’s deeds, Emile answered Sully’s question without concern or guile.
“Of course I remember Fontaine. He was a remarkable man, completely devoted to the children and their education. That’s why he was so amenable to allowing me into the school. He even dealt with all the formalities of obtaining permission from the families. I imagine I still have the signed permission forms somewhere in my file. I’m meticulous about documenting.” Then he looked at Ginny again. “It’s hard to realize how many years have passed. Just look at you now. A lovely and mature young woman, and you were such a quiet, sickly child. I wonder if those other children have fared as well as you? Do you know?”
“Dr. Karnoff, you’ve been missing the point,” Sully said. “Those were the names of the women that Agent Howard read off…and they’re dead. But for the grace of God and one valiant little nun, Ginny would be, too.”
A sick feeling began to unravel within Emile’s belly. Suddenly the accusations and Lucy’s odd, nonsensical comments began to tie themselves into neat little knots. He was afraid to ask, and yet he did, knowing it would answer the rest of his questions as to why they were here.
“How?”
“They each received a phone call, at which time they heard a tape of some chimes, prefaced by some thunder in the background. I don’t know exactly what they were told, but we know that directly afterward, they committed suicide.”
Lucy frowned. “I already told you. Everything’s over. Finished. Done. Face your greatest fear and go to God.”
Emile jumped up from the chair, in the process almost dumping Lucy on the floor.
“Lucy! What did you do?”
She frowned and brushed her hands together, as if brushing off some dirt.
