by Roy Johansen
She took a sip of her drink.“Couldn't this have waited until later?”
He smiled.“I know you can never sleep after going out for a reading.” He glanced at the two empty rum bottles.“At least not until you drink enough to pass out.”
She turned away.“That's none of your business.”
“Sure it is. Everything you do is my business. We're partners.”
“I'm starting to have regrets.”
“It's too late for that, Monica.” Haddenfield sat on the edge of the bed.”Get some rest. You've just begun the most important seventy-two hours of your life.”
Joe stared at Captain Sheila Henderson.“You're kidding, right?”
“Afraid not, Bailey. We want you to stick with Monica Gaines for a while.” Henderson, a forty-seven-year-old woman whose hair was pulled back so tight that it threatened to tear off her face, sat on the corner of her battered maple desk. She had only recently been promoted, which ignited another round of innuendo that plagued all fast-tracking female cops; i.e., they slept their way to the top or were lesbians who benefited from a mysterious“gay network.” As far as Joe could tell, however, Henderson had risen through the ranks only because she was a damn good cop.
He'd been summoned to Henderson's office only minutes after arriving at headquarters. Although he'd tried to catch a few hours'sleep, he was still groggy.
“Look, I was useless out there. Gaines said the murders were committed by evil spirits. They're just words. There's no way I can debunk that.”
“I know. But if she does decide to put something over on our guys, I need you there to explain it. What do you have going on now?”
“Well, I'm gathering evidence on the Northlake insurance fraud ring. This afternoon they're going to be in the parking lot of an abandoned shopping center, practicing choreography for auto accident setups. I'm planning to camp out in one of the storefronts and videotape them.”
“Put Garrison or Saunders on it. We need you on this.”
Joe gave her a puzzled look.“With all due respect, why not just send Monica Gaines on her way and tell her you'll be on the lookout for any homicidal spirits?”
“I'd like nothing better, but I can't do that. We initially refused her offer to help, just as we refuse the assistance of all psychics. But she began talking about the cases on her television show, and suddenly everyone is wondering why we don't take all the help we can get. Then Councilman Talman started breathing down the chief's neck.”
“Since when does the chief of police answer to a city councilman?”
“Since he found out that Talman has been quietly gathering support for a run at the mayor's office next year.”
Joe grimaced.”That explains a lot.”
“I don't have to tell you that most people have at least some belief in the paranormal. Even if they're on the fence, they believe we should try anything we can to catch this killer. I know it's probably a waste of your time, but if this Gaines woman puts any crap over on us, we could come out of this looking worse than we probably already do. Even if she doesn't go in for the sleight-of-hand stuff, you're up on the methods these people use, aren't you?”
“To give the appearance that they have psychic powers? Sure.”
“Then I need you in there to keep an eye on her. Work with Carla Fisk and Mark Howe on this. Misery loves company, right?”
“If you say so.”
Henderson reached for a faxed document on her desk and handed it to Joe.“Councilman Talman is hosting a reception for Gaines on his dinner-cruise boat this afternoon. He's invited the officers involved in the case to attend. Be there.”
Derek Haddenfield closed his eyes and felt the late-morning sun on his face. Nice to be outdoors, away from the buzzing, flickering fluorescent lights where he'd spent the previous several months. If only there wasn't so much work to do.
He motioned toward the Foster Window Treatments van parked on the dirt road. The rear doors flew open and his three team members jumped out, carrying cameras, surveying equipment, and trifield meters. They weren't the experts he would have chosen for this kind of fieldwork, but there wasn't time to send for anyone else. Dammit.
They were at the scene of Ernest Franklin's murder, where, less than nine hours before, Monica Gaines had gathered her first psychic impressions related to the spotlight murders. Haddenfield wishedhe had gotten there earlier, but he'd needed time to brief the team.
“The checklist is in the van,” he said.“Make sure we get everything.”
They moved quickly and efficiently, measuring the area and using a compass and surveyor's scope to pinpoint the precise geographic coordinates where Franklin's body had been found.
Haddenfield turned to Gary, a bearded young man holding a custom-built 3-D digital video camera with two large lenses.”Okay, circle the perimeter with that thing and keep tightening the circles as you go around. When you finish, I want you to end up at the target zone, got it?”
Gary smiled, his beard almost covering his bottom row of teeth.“Got it.”
“And, Gary, tell me the 3-D glasses that work with that thing won't make me cross-eyed.”
“No can do, boss.”
“Terrific.”
Haddenfield glanced around to make sure no one else was watching. All clear. The last thing he needed was for the police to come nosing around, asking what the hell they were doing there. He had phony press credentials in the van, and although he was sure he could convince the cops they were a camera crew working for a tabloid TV news show, it could make things difficult for him to carry out the job he had to do in the days ahead.
Nothing must stand in the way of that.
Joe rode with Howe and Carla to the Lake Lanier dock where the Carlottawas moored. Easily the largest craft on the lake, the Carlottawas a popular destination for tourists and well-heeled locals. Joe had once taken Nikki there for a birthday lunch, but he had no idea that Edward Talman owned it until Henderson had told him that morning.
“The boat must come in handy for fund-raising dinners, huh?” Howe said as they neared the Carlotta.”If I owned that thing, I could be city councilman.”
“Now, that's a scary thought,” Carla said.
They pulled alongside the boarding ramp, where an army of valet parking attendants was waiting to whisk the guests'cars away. Howe surrendered his vehicle, and he, Joe, and Carla stepped onto the boat. It was a 120-foot craft with two main decks, each filled with tables covered with white tablecloths, flowers, expensive china, and gleaming crystal. The lower deck was enclosed, dark, and luxurious, with a rich cherry wood covering the walls and ceiling. The upper deck, which Joe preferred, was light, open, and spacious.
The place was packed. In the first ten seconds after he boarded, Joe spotted a United States senator, a CNN anchorwoman, and the manager of the Braves baseball team.
“What the hell are we doing here?” Carla muttered, shifting uncomfortably.
As if in response, a strong voice called out,”Detectives, glad you could make it!”
Joe, Howe, and Carla turned to see Edward Talman walking toward them. Talman was shorter than Joe imagined, about five foot five, but otherwise just as he appeared on television, with close-cropped gray hair, trademark western string tie, and eyes that always appeared to be squinting. Joe figured he must be in his mid-fifties.
Talman shook hands with each of them.“I can tell a cop from a mile away.”
Joe smiled.“What gave us away? The ill-fitting blazers, the bad haircuts, or the sour disposition?”
“Don't sell yourselves short,” Talman said.“It was your sense of authority. Plus, our guest of honor just pointed you out.” Talman motioned toward Monica, who walked toward them.
“Hello, Detectives,” she said.“Get a good night's sleep?”
Howe rolled his eyes.”Ha. Good one.”
Talman stared at Joe.“I was surprised to see your name on the guest list this morning. You're not a homicide detective. Why would you be investigating the S
potlight Killings?”
“I'm not.”
“Then, why—?”
Monica put her hand onTalman's.”He's investigating me.”
“You?”
She smiled.“The Spirit Basher is on the case to keep me honest.”
Talman turned back to Joe.”We have a crisis in this city, Detective, and Ms. Gaines has been kind enough to try to help us. I don't know what you're trying to prove, but in the absence of any real progress by your department on this case—”
Joe cut in.“Did she tell you about her reading of Ernest Franklin's murder scene?”
Talman glanced at Monica.“Yes. It was inconclusive, correct?”
Monica didn't respond. She just stared at Joe.
“Inconclusive?” Joe's gaze didn't leave hers.“I guess you could say that.”
Talman's eyes narrowed as they moved between Monica and Joe.“Is there something I should know?”
Joe stared at Monica a moment longer before finally replying,“It's an ongoing murder investigation, Councilman. I'm afraid I can't discuss the details.”
Talman was obviously miffed to be out of the loop, but he managed a faint smile.“Remember that she's our guest in the city. Please show her the respect she deserves.” He took Monica by the arm.”If you'll come with me, I have some people you should meet.”
Howe leaned close to Joe as Talman escorted her away.”Ten'll get you twenty she's telling him to pressure the chief to have you taken off the case.”
“I don't think so,”Joe said.”She thinks she can handle me.”
“Can she?”
“No.”
While Carla and Howe went to the bar to place their drink orders, Joe climbed to the upper deck and watched the tall pines along the lakeside swaying in the wind. The air rushed through the millions of pine needles, sounding like distant waves crashing.
“It's beautiful.”
He looked over his shoulder to see Monica strolling toward him. He smiled.”Yes, it is.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?”
“Not tellingTalman about my reading last night.”
“You don't stand behind it?”
“I do, but I'm not entirely sure what it means. And until I am sure, I'd rather not discuss it. I know how ridiculous it sounds.”
“I don't think you do.”
“Sure I do. If I was going to make something up, don't you think I'd come up with something a lot less crazy-sounding than that? This is my reputation on the line.”
“It's the Atlanta PD's reputation too.”
“I know that. I just have a lot I need to sort through. That's why I want to visit the other murder scenes.”
“You will, and we'll be right there with you.”
“Good.” She leaned against the railing.“Hey, would you consider appearing on my show sometime?”
He smiled.“You want me on Monica Gaines's Psychic World?”
“Sure. We could fly you up to Vancouver, or we could do a satellite uplink with you in one of the studios here in town.”
Joe shook his head.”I don't think so.”
“Too bad.”
“I thought you had only believers on your show.”
“Oh, I have all kinds of guests. You'd be great. You're not like most skeptics I've met.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Very good. A lot of people are hostile when they meet me. Vicious. They don't even try to understand what I'm doing.”
“After last night, I'm not sure I understand.”
“That makes two of us. But at least you were trying. So many people are afraid to admit even the possibility of psychic abilities, but I don't think you're one of them.”
Joe gazed at the choppy water.”I used to be. I didn't want to believe that any of this stuff was possible, because I was afraid it would color my objectivity. I've seen a lot of so-called paranormal investigators spend months deluding themselves into believing they've found the genuine article, when it takes me only ten minutes to pull apart the whole thing. It's not because these people are stupid, but their will to believe is so strong that they don't want to see the truth. I didn't want to fall into the same trap.”
“You feel different now?”
“A little.”
“What changed your mind?”
Joe studied Monica. Was she following the pattern of most con artists, mentally compiling a profile of the mark to formulate her strategy? Possibly. He finally replied,“I met someone who showed me some things I couldn't explain. I discovered that I actually liked the feeling.”
“You're speaking in the past tense. You eventually found an explanation?”
“No, not yet. I guess it's still a work in progress.” He shrugged.”I think I'm a better detective now. I'm a little more open, and I think that I give people more of a chance to try to prove themselves. The only difference now is that I get disappointed every time I do my job well. I think there's something in all of us that makes us want to believe in magic. That's why you're a millionaire.”
Monica moved closer.“Do you think I'm going to disappoint you Joe?”
He looked away. Her offbeat charm was as effective in person as it was over the airwaves. He actually liked her.”Yes, I think you will disappoint me.”
“I won't. I promise.”
After lunch, Talman summoned everyone to the upper deck for self-serving speeches and toasts to the guest of honor. Predictably, there was an outcry from the guests for Monica to give them an impromptu demonstration of her abilities.
Talman waved them off.“Please, Ms. Gaines is our guest here today. Let's not ask her—”
“It's all right.” Monica smiled and stepped forward.“I've met a lot of you today, but there are many I haven't met. I'm trying to reach out to those of you I haven't had the chance to speak with. I just ask that you try to be open with me, okay?”
Standing at the back of the crowd, Joe, Howe, and Carla watched as Monica closed her eyes. Howe leaned toward Joe.“If I feel her rummaging around in myhead, I'm jumping overboard.”
“There's someone here who had a birthday not long ago,” Monica said.”A lot of attention was paid to it, more than usual. I'm getting the initials L.K. Does that mean anything to anyone?”
There was an“Oh my God” in the crowd, then a slender woman with dark wavy hair raised her hand.“Me! Me!”
Monica gestured for the woman to step forward.“What's your name, honey?”
“Laurie Klempner. I turned forty last week.”
The crowd was obviously impressed by the revelation as Joe pushed his way forward. Time for him to get to work too. He bumped into an older man, quietly apologized, and kept moving.
Monica stared at the woman.“Laurie, we've never met, have we?”
“No.”
“Okay, I can feel that you have a good sense of humor and that you're a very loving person. I'm not sure if you're in a relationship right now, but I can tell you that you have a lot of love for animals, one in particular. Am I right?”
The woman nodded.
“A small dog, maybe a Scottish terrier?”
The woman gasped.”Yes!”
“You work in a large building, very large. You're sometimes frustrated that people there don't communicate with each other as well as they should.”
The woman nodded.“Yes. And just so you know, you're freaking me out.”
The guests applauded as Joe stepped to the front of the crowd. Talman caught Joe's eye and smiled triumphantly.“There's no way you can explain that away, Detective.”
Joe shrugged.
Talman's eyes narrowed.”You think you can?”
“Maybe.”
“Be my guest.”
Joe turned toward the crowd.“I'm getting the initials T.R. A man born in mid-June, I believe. A man who loves his three grandchildren very much.”
An elderly man raised his hand and stepped forward.“That would be me. My name's Tracy Ray.”
“Nice t
o see you, sir. Three grandchildren, is that right?”
He nodded.“And another one on the way.”
“Congratulations. How's the Stingray driving?”
The man stared at Joe, stunned.
“It's a yellow Corvette Stingray, right?”
“Yes, but I didn't drive it today.”
“Of course not, mostly weekends. Did you restore it yourself?”
“Yes.”
“I can tell that you put a lot of yourself into it.”
Talman walked toward Joe.“What the hell are you doing?”
“Exactly what you asked me to do.”
Joe could see that Talman wanted to rip him apart, but the guests would obviously keep him on his best behavior.
“Apparently you know this man,” Talman said.
“No, we've never met. Have we, sir?”
“Nope.”
Joe glanced back at Monica. If anything, she seemed amused by the demonstration. She sipped her champagne.
“Then, how did you do it?” Talman asked.
Joe held up a brown billfold.“Simple. I lifted his wallet.”
The man frantically patted his pockets while the guests laughed.
Joe handed the billfold back to him.“I had only a few seconds to look it over, but I saw his driver's license, which gave me his name and birth date. There was also a picture of him and a lady I assumed to be his wife with three young children, and two pictures of him posing proudly next to a yellow 1964 Corvette Stingray.”
A vein was standing out onTalman's forehead.”You think Monica Gaines stole this woman's wallet?”
“Of course not, but I think it's entirely possible that she saw it.” Joe turned toward the slender woman.”Ma'am, was your wallet on your table at any time since you boarded, or maybe during lunch?”
She looked away.”Uh, maybe. I'm not sure.”
“All it would take is a few seconds,”Joe said.”If she happened to come by your table, moved your wallet so that it fell open to show your driver's license and business card, she could have gotten most of the information she needed. Your name, the fact that you just turned forty, and that you work in a large building. If your business card has a high floor number, that would tell her.”
