“Yep, my gut tells me he’s our guy,” said Williams.
“Yet his son talks to him and the boy’s still alive?” said King.
Bailey answered, “Maybe even an animal like that has his limits. Or maybe he thought his son was half-asleep and wouldn’t remember the conversation, or that no one would believe him if the boy did tell someone. You’re a lawyer. A defense counsel could have a field day with a kid that young.”
King sat back in exasperation while Bailey eyed him closely. “Your partner said you were out doing some investigating of your own. Find anything?”
There was just enough mirth behind the FBI agent’s question to make King want to strangle the man. As if sensing this, Michelle, for once, put a calming hand on his shoulder.
“Just be cool,” she whispered under her breath.
“Is this where I’m supposed to say, ‘Screw you, Michelle’?” he muttered back.
Instead, he stood and said, “Well, if he is the guy, I congratulate you. Just keep us informed.” He took out his deputy badge. “Do you want this back, Chief?”
“No. It’s not officially over until we get a confession or some more evidence.”
“Good, because I like being a deputy right now. In fact, it might come in handy.”
He walked out.
“Talk about your sour grapes,” said Bailey.
Michelle immediately rose to her partner’s defense. “We don’t know for sure Robinson is the guy.”
“Well, we’re fast approaching that point,” Bailey replied.
Michelle stood to leave.
“Oh, Michelle,” said Bailey, “be sure and keep us informed of any more progress you two make. I’m sure it’ll prove invaluable to the investigation.”
“Chip, that’s the smartest thing you’ve said since I met you.”
She followed King outside.
“So what do you think?” she asked.
“I think we’ll let them keep Robinson locked up. He’ll probably be safer in jail.”
“But you don’t think he did it?”
“No, I know he didn’t do it.”
“But you know who did?”
“I’m getting there. Did you have a chance to talk to the Battles?”
“Not after all this went down. Do you still want me to?”
King thought for a moment, his hand tapping the roof of her truck as he did so.
“No, we’ll just cut to the main course. We’re running out of time.”
“You think he’ll kill again?”
“He’s arranged it so the police think the killer’s locked up in jail. That’s his way out. Even so, odds are Robinson must have an alibi for at least one of the murders. But the longer we wait, the less chance we have of nailing the real murderer.”
“If he won’t strike again, why keep Robinson in jail?”
“Because if he gets out, I’m convinced he’ll be found in some alley with a bullet in his brain and a handy note clutched in his cold, dead hand that reads, ‘I did it.’”
“So what do we do now?”
King opened the door of her truck. “Now it’s time to take our best shot. And hope to God it’s a knockout.”
Chapter 85
He was halfway through running down the list he’d taken from Junior Deaver’s trailer. The others would take time, but he’d bought himself some breathing space. The police had arrested Harold Robinson. He’d actually been fortunate Tommy had woken up and identified his father as being in the house, as the papers had reported. That plus the discovery of the items belonging to the five victims seemed to confirm Robinson as the perpetrator of the killing spree. Which had been his intent all along. Whether it would hold up he didn’t know. If Robinson had an alibi for at least one of the killings, it might sink the whole ship, but until that time he had room in which to work. And Robinson’s wife, a natural corroborator for her husband’s whereabouts, was dead. That would make the police’s alibi-checking a little more difficult. There was one more killing to do, but he wasn’t concerned about the police connecting it to the previous murders and letting Robinson off the hook. They’d never find the body of his next victim. Indeed, there’d be nothing left to find.
He’d recently gleaned one very intriguing piece of information. When he’d checked the recording from the phone bug planted in King and Maxwell’s office, he’d heard the conversation Michelle had with Billy Edwards. Over three and a half years ago the great Bobby Battle and his imperious wife had had an argument in the car barn. And the Rolls-Royce had been damaged. Over three and a half years ago. The day before Edwards had been let go, in fact.
He sat mulling this over. There was something… If only he could remember what it was. He finally turned back to his list, which showed the people Junior Deaver had done work for in the recent past. He figured that if someone had set up Junior for the burglary, they’d have to have had access to his trailer and personal items. He further deduced that the person who’d committed the burglary had probably killed Bobby Battle. This act had not only stolen his glory but ruined everything he’d worked for. For that sin only the ultimate punishment would do.
Michelle and King were huddled in their office.
“Okay, Sean, no more glib responses, no more bullshit answers. I’m tired of being kept in the dark. You said we had to give this guy our best punch and hope it’s a knockout. I want to know everything you know. And I want to know it right now.”
“Michelle—”
“Everything now, Sean, or you can look for another partner!”
King sat back and sighed heavily. “Okay, I know who killed Bobby Battle. I spoke to a bunch of doctors, did my antique shopping, made some other inquiries and figured out some pieces of the puzzle, and it all holds up.”
“Who is it!”
“Let me just say first that you’re not going to believe it.”
“Fine, I won’t believe it.”
King fiddled with a paper clip on his desk. “Harry Carrick killed Bobby Battle.”
“Are you out of your mind? What possible motivation could Harry—”
King broke in. “The oldest possible one. He’s in love with Remmy. Has been for decades.”
“But are you saying he burglarized the Battles’ house too?”
“Yes. Remember, he’s old friends with the Battles. It would be relatively easy for him to get a key to their house and also obtain the pass code to the security system. Then he just busts the window and makes it look like a break-in. Harry said Junior had done work for him. You saw Junior’s truck. It was full of tools, clothes. Harry could have taken whatever he needed from there to incriminate Junior. And on top of that he was a prosecutor and circuit judge for years, so he’s no neophyte around fingerprints. He could have lifted one of Junior’s and planted it at the Battles’.”
“But why would he steal from the Battles?”
“I believe Bobby had incriminating evidence of their affair in his closet’s secret cache. If so, he’d likely make it look as though Remmy’s secret cupboard was the real target while he was really after what was in Bobby’s.”
“What sort of incriminating evidence would Bobby have had?”
In answer King opened his drawer and pulled out a photo. He turned it around and pointed to the back.
“Kc-pa? Ko-pa? Why don’t we try Kodak paper?”
Michelle slowly reached out and took the photo. She ran her fingers over the words “Kodak paper” imprinted across the back. “And it partially leached off onto the drawer.” King nodded. “So he had a photo of Remmy and Harry in some compromising position?”
“It must be. That’s why Harry brought up his theory of a stolen will from Bobby’s closet, to throw us off the track. The way I see it Harry and Remmy must’ve been in on this together. They had to get the photo back but make it look like a burglary in which Remmy’s things were all that were taken. Under that theory, Remmy would have given Harry the key and the pass code. What they probably didn’t realize was that
the security system has an archives feature. Without Remmy knowing I checked that log. At one-thirty in the morning when the burglary took place, the security system was turned off by someone inputting the access code. No one had ever checked that before because everyone assumed it was a burglary.”
“So they get the photo.”
“And then there’s only one more thing to do.”
“Kill Battle,” said Michelle, and her voice broke. “I can’t believe this, Sean, I can’t. Not Harry.”
“Look at it from Harry’s point of view. The woman he loved was married to a monster. Remember he was at the hospital the morning Bobby died. He told us the hospital had called him in because he’s their general counsel.”
“You mean he’s not!”
“No, he is, but they didn’t call him. He came in on his own. He arranged to meet us as we were leaving. He told us he was an old friend of Bobby’s. He asked if we’d seen Remmy. All things to throw off any suspicion we might ever have about him.”
“So the night Battle was killed?”
“Remmy left the hospital at ten or so. She signaled to Harry, who was waiting in the parking lot probably dressed in hospital scrubs. He’s the hospital’s general counsel. He knows its shift change time. He goes in, moves the camera, shoots the stuff in the bag, drops the false clues and leaves.”
“But Remmy’s being there incriminates her. Why would they have done it that way? Why have Remmy anywhere near there?”
“That’s why they planted the evidence that it was the serial killer’s doing. I checked: Remmy was already rich, even without Bobby’s leaving her property in the will. So there was no motive there. And because Remmy was there, people will actually believe she might have been set up. They might initially suspect her, but over time they’d start to think like you did: if she really did do it, there’d be no way she’d be near that room on the night Battle died.”
“And what were she and Harry going to do? Wait a bit and get married?”
“No, I suspect that after a discreet interval Remmy would move away. Then a little while later Harry would do the same. Next stop, maybe a private island in Greece.”
Michelle drew a long breath and slowly let it out. “So now what do we do?”
“We’re having dinner with Remmy and Harry.”
“What! Are you kidding?”
“No, we’re having dinner at Harry’s home.” He sat forward. “Michelle, they made a mistake, a small one, but it was enough. Using a little surveillance device I bought in D.C., I have all the proof I need.”
“Does Todd or Bailey know about this?”
“No, just us. I’ll never approve of what Harry and Remmy did, but I thought they deserved to have this handled as discreetly and with as much dignity as possible.”
“When?” she asked.
“Tomorrow night at seven. Harry’s out of town until tomorrow afternoon. It’ll just be the four of us there. Once they realize we know the truth and have the evidence, I have no doubt they’ll confess and come with us very quietly. Then we’ll turn them over to Todd.”
“I have a bad feeling about this, Sean. A really bad feeling.”
“Do you think I like it? Harry was a Virginia Supreme Court justice; he’s been a good friend of mine for years.”
“I know, but—”
“However much you like Harry, you have to put that aside. Bobby Battle was an awful person in many ways. I also learned that he probably was suffering from a chronic disease he may have transmitted to Remmy.”
“Oh, my God!”
“But regardless,” King continued, “he didn’t deserve to be murdered.” He looked at her and said quietly, “There, I’ve told you all I know.” A pause, then, “Are you with me on this, Michelle?”
“I’m with you,” she answered quietly.
Chapter 86
King had asked Harry to give Calpurnia the night off so he could make dinner for the four of them.
“You’ve got quite a kitchen, Harry,” said King as he and Michelle put the meal on the table. “I appreciate your letting me come early to get things done.”
Harry looked at the elaborately prepared meal. “Really, Sean, I have to think I made out far better than you on the arrangement.”
Harry was dressed in one of his finest suits, though it seemed a little snug over his frame. “My weight hasn’t changed in forty years, but its location has,” he’d explained in a mock depressed tone.
“Yes, indeed,” said Remmy, who was also dressed very handsomely. She and Harry sat side by side across from Sean and Michelle in the large dining room.
“I just trust that your drive home will be far less eventful than it was the last time you dined with me.”
“Actually, I think this evening may hold its own unique points of interest,” said King vaguely as he started serving the food. Michelle meanwhile looked on with a distracted expression.
“Michelle, my dear, what’s wrong?” said Harry.
She glanced up at him quickly. “Nothing, just not feeling all that great. Probably just a spring bug.”
The meal went uneventfully. They ate dessert and then moved on to the library for coffee. The night had turned chilly and the fire was warming. King went over to an enormous wood-and-stamped-tin room divider that sat diagonally against one corner.
“This is a beautiful piece,” he said.
“Eighteenth century,” answered Harry. “It was handmade from materials right here on the property.”
King stood in front of the fire. He glanced nervously at Michelle and then said, “I’m afraid I’ve been a little deceitful tonight.”
Harry and Remmy stopped chatting and looked up in surprise.
Remmy said, “What?”
“The purpose of this dinner wasn’t really social.”
Harry set down his coffee and glanced at Remmy and then at Michelle, who kept her head down and her hand buried in the pocket of her jacket. “I don’t understand, Sean. Do you mean you want to talk about the case some more?”
“No, I don’t really need to talk about the case any more. I think I know all I need to know.”
The two continued to glance curiously at him.
Michelle finally blurted out, “Sean, just tell them.”
Harry said, “Tell us what?”
The hand in which Remmy was holding her cup and saucer started to shake.
They all turned as the man in the black hood came into the room, his gun out and its red laser aimed dead on Harry’s heart.
King immediately stepped between black hood and Harry.
“This stops now,” King said quietly. “No more killing.”
“Get out of my way or you’ll die first!”
Remmy rose. The pistol swiveled in her direction. “Sit down!” said the man sharply.
King took a step forward but stopped when the pistol came in his direction once more. “Michelle,” said black hood, “take your gun out and put it on the table. Now! No heroics,” he added.
She did so, gripping it by the muzzle.
“You can’t kill us all, can you?” said King.
“I’m thinking about it, I really am,” shot back the man as he eyed Remmy.
“Well, then I guess it’s time to clear up your misperception,” said King calmly. “Remmy and Harry had nothing to do with Bobby’s death. It was a setup. A setup to bring you in.” He paused and added, “I found the bug.”
The gunman took a step back, his pistol dropped a notch. “What?”
“The conversation you heard between Michelle and me was staged. Okay!”
He snapped his fingers, and the room instantly filled with heavily armed police and FBI agents. They came out from behind the enormous room divider, the large cabinet in the corner and behind the thick drapes. With a dozen guns to his one, black hood backed up against the wall.
“Drop it,” said Todd Williams, his gun leveled right at the circle in crosshairs etched on the black hood.
Michelle had picked up
her gun and was aiming at the exact same spot. Black hood seemed to be thinking of whether to go for it. His body seemed to tense.
“Drop it!” roared Williams, who obviously sensed what the man was doing.
“It would really be better if you did,” said King in a level voice. “At least that way you may be able to clear up a few remaining pieces. I think you owe us that.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Despite the sarcasm, the man let the pistol fall to the floor. He was immediately tackled by the police and handcuffed.
“The house has been surrounded all day,” said King as they pulled the man back up. “We knew exactly where you were at all times. When I went over to admire that piece of furniture, I was actually given the signal you were in the house and I could start my little act.” He paused. “We had Harry and Remmy in safe places so you wouldn’t get a chance to jump the gun on us. We did it on our terms. It was actually refreshing.” King walked over to the prisoner. “Do you mind?” He glanced at the prisoner’s manacled hands. “Since you’re in no position to remove it yourself.”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it?”
King glanced over at Remmy. “I realize you already know from his voice, Remmy, but, Harry, you better hold her anyway.”
Harry placed a protective arm around Remmy’s shaking shoulders. She put a hand to her mouth, stifling back a sob.
King lifted off the hood. The man flinched slightly as the fabric slid across his strong features.
“It’s all over, Eddie,” proclaimed King.
Surrounded by armed men, manacled and caught in the act, Eddie Battle actually had the temerity to smile. “You really think so, Sean?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Hell, I’ll take that bet, old buddy.”
Chapter 87
“I still don’t understand how you figured it out, Sean,” said Williams.
The police chief, Sylvia and Chip Bailey were gathered at King and Maxwell’s office.
King bent a paper clip into a triangle before answering. “Seven hours,” he said. “Seven hours, that’s what got me thinking in Eddie’s direction.”
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