Spruell opened his mouth. Closed it. His face reddened.
Pappas decided to study the laces on his shoes. Jack made sure to keep his expression neutral. Even deferential Childers was having trouble keeping a straight face. He chose the role of peacemaker.
“Ma’am, we would really appreciate your help.”
She gave him a curt nod and continued to the file cabinet. Spruell informed his partner he would wait in the car and left.
Jack watched him go and commented, “Nothing changes.”
Childers asked, “You plan to stay around?”
“If I can.”
“I’m okay with it. Jimmy’s another matter. You need to tread lightly with him.”
“Sure.”
“How about we get together at the North Precinct tomorrow. You can tell me what you know.”
“I’ll bring Pappas along, assuming we can resolve his issues,” Jack said.
Childers smiled. “Ten o’clock?”
“Fine.”
“Remember the address?”
“I’ll find it.”
Childers said, “We’d better take a look at the new murder scene. Sounds pretty bad from what you’ve told me.”
“It is, Dave,” Pappas said. “Take a breath mask if you have one.”
Childers grimaced and then his expression turned serious. “Listen, I want you both to know how sorry I am about Elizabeth Sturgis. But that doesn’t mean you can go after the killer yourselves. I’ll run interference with Jimmy. He’s just—”
“An asshole,” Pappas said.
“I was about to say excitable,” Childers said.
“Interesting way to put it,” Pappas said.
“All right, he’s an asshole,” Childers said. “He’s also a solid cop. The thing is, we’re coming into this way behind the curve, which means we have a shitload of catching up to do. You guys willing to share?”
“Not a problem,” Pappas said. “Glad to work with you.”
“How about you, Jack?”
“Same here.”
“Fine. They tell me you were out here earlier. What brings you back?”
Jack hesitated before answering. After a moment, he made the decision to cooperate. He had a good feeling about Childers and liked his even-keel attitude. Childers had been the same way during the original Scarecrow investigation: thorough, quiet, not excitable. He explained they were checking the people going in and out of Pell’s cell on Mayfield’s security videos and wanted to do some follow-up.
“See anything worthwhile?”
“The imposter was with Pell a number of times.”
“You think that’s important?” Childers asked.
“It might be,” Jack said. “Dr. Cairo was also with him to do therapy sessions. I was hoping to speak with him and see if he noticed anything out of the ordinary about the man.”
Childers nodded. “Sounds like this guy may be our killer. He got to the real Curry, James Bonded his way in here, then took out a whole family to cover his tracks.”
“Reasonable theory,” Jack said. “Assuming the person we saw on the disc is the bad guy, Pell could have used the meetings to coach him.”
“That works,” Childers said. “But there’s a lot of ifs.” He paused, thought for a moment, and then continued, “Jack, if Pell is involved, Jimmy’ll want you to step away.”
“Everybody has wants,” Jack said. “Do we have a deal or not?”
Once again, the hardness he’d seen emerge in Jack Kale when they were in Atlanta appeared. It was an interesting change.
“We do. Asshole or not, he has a point. Officially, you’re a civilian now. I’m willing to take your help because I need it. We don’t catch this prick, more people are gonna die. What happened in the past with Pell is ancient history. You come into contact with the killer, you need to call us. You understand what I’m saying?”
Jack knew. “Got it.”
“The chief won’t tolerate vigilantism.”
“I hear you,” Jack said.
“I’m telling you, if you get crossways with Jimmy, he won’t hesitate to make out an obstruction case.”
Jack and Pappas remained quiet.
Childers waited for a response and got none. Just two men staring back at him, impassive. He tried to understand what they were feeling. Not so much different from what his mind-set would be if the situation was reversed. He looked from one to the other, took a deep breath, let it out, and turned to leave.
“You’re right,” he said over his shoulder. “Nothing changes.”
Chapter 73
Dr. Alton Cairo, wearing a dark-brown Harris Tweed sport jacket, a blue Oxford shirt, and black slacks, met with them in the cafeteria. He was tall, in his early forties, and looked to be in reasonably good condition. His hair was longish, brown, and tied in the back to form a small pony tail of about three inches. He sat across from them drinking a cup of tea and answering their questions calmly. A pair of reading glasses with gold frames poked out of his jacket pocket.
The cafeteria was filled with square Formica tables that seated four people and brightly colored molded plastic chairs.
Jack was working on his third cup of coffee. It was okay; it was the caffeine jolt he was craving. Pappas was struggling with a small container of orange juice that had become problematic to open because it was soggy.
Cairo informed them, “I try to see Howard Pell at least once a week if my schedule permits. We’ve made some progress over the years, but it’s largely a waste of time.”
“Why’s that?” Pappas asked.
“Because he’s a classic sociopath. Howard’s unquestionably bright. No doubt about that. Possibly too bright for his own good. That gets in the way. It’s more important for him to fence verbally with you than to try to get better. I’m sure Dr. Kale will tell you that unless a patient wants to improve, therapy is a waste of time.”
Pappas said, “The security video showed you going to see him twice a week toward the end of March.”
Cairo ran a manicured hand through his hair and consulted his notes. “I believe I saw him three times the week of March 24th.”
“How come?” Pappas asked.
“I can’t discuss the details of a patient’s treatment, but I can tell you that he was very agitated. That was the reason for my visits.”
“Agitated about what?”
“It was just after the story about those murders in Jordan broke.”
“He jealous someone was using his methods?” Pappas asked.
Cairo smiled without humor. “Hardly. I think Howard was upset the spotlight was being focused on him again. Dr. Raymond ordered his medication increased. I agreed.”
“Where is Raymond?” Jack said.
“Oh, I suppose he’ll be around sooner or later,” Cairo said.
“Patients?” Jack asked.
“Golf game.”
“Did he have much interaction with Howard Pell?” Jack said.
“Not to my knowledge,” Cairo said.
“Detective Sturgis’s notes indicate he considers himself something of an expert on Pell. Even volunteered to consult with our department,” Jack said.
“I’m sure that was his opinion,” Cairo said with a smile.
“You don’t share it?”
Cairo shrugged elaborately. “I shouldn’t say anymore. He’s still my superior—factually speaking.”
Dr. Cairo apparently had a sense of humor. Having met Raymond, Jack was inclined to agree.
“How about Ron Curry?” Pappas said. “You have much contact with him?”
“Ms. Sturgis asked me the same question. At the time I was noncommittal, but I’ve thought about it and would have to say Ron struck me as a bit of an odd duck.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t know the man that well,” Cairo said. “He wasn’t here very long. I suppose it was his way of staring that made people uncomfortable. A number of staff members commented on it.”
“That’s it?” Pa
ppas said. “He stared?”
“He wasn’t given to socializing. Ate by himself and was very much a loner. I mean, he did his job. There were no complaints along those lines that I am aware of. These are just my observations, mind you.”
Pappas took out the e-mail he received from Ellenwood and showed the photo to him.
“Who is that?” Cairo asked.
“The real Ronald Curry. The man you were working with was an imposter and might be the man we—”
Cairo was jolted at the news. “Are you serious?”
“’Fraid so,” Pappas said. “Ms. Ritchey reacted the same way. We think he might be the man we’re looking for.”
“I can’t believe this. I’ve been working next to a murderer?”
“He’s just a suspect right now,” Pappas said. “I know this is upsetting. Any info you can give us might be helpful.”
“Christ almighty,” Cairo said. He took a sip of his tea and then asked, “What do you want to know?”
“You ever see Pell pass him anything while they were together?”
“No. That’s strictly prohibited. Guards can’t take anything from an inmate.”
“What about private conversations?”
“None when I was there. That doesn’t mean they didn’t talk when I wasn’t around.”
“Sure.”
They spoke for another twenty minutes. Pappas asked the questions while Jack observed, as they had worked out earlier. The news had clearly shaken Cairo. Nevertheless, he appeared sincere in wanting to help, and his responses seemed candid. In the end, they promised to keep him updated, thanked him for his time, and said good-bye. Cairo left to see his patients, muttering to himself on the way out.
Before heading to the security office, they decided to fortify themselves with more coffee and a bag or two of chips. They were in the process of paying when Dr. Cairo came hurrying back through the door.
“I just remembered something,” he said, catching his breath. “Your imposter and I were talking one day, and he mentioned he was having some work done on his house in Atlanta.”
“Atlanta?” Pappas said. “That’s a helluva commute.”
“That’s what I said. He told me he had just inherited it. From his grandmother, I think.”
“He say where the house was?” Pappas asked.
Cairo thought for a moment and then said, “I’m afraid not. He did mention the traffic on Ponce de Leon Avenue has been getting worse and worse over the years. That’s in Atlanta, right?”
Pappas smiled. “Yes, sir. I believe it is.”
Chapter 74
The evening security officer was a man named Jerry Banks. He listened to their request to view the videos again. Banks thought about this for a moment and then asked, “This the case where the lady detective was kidnapped?”
“Yeah,” Pappas said. “She’s my partner.”
“Oh, man,” Banks said. “I’m sorry.”
“Appreciate it.”
“I never met her, but Tony said she’s real nice. Follow me and I’ll set you up in his office.”
“I understand he had to leave early,” Pappas said, as they started to walk.
“Yeah. Something came up with his kid.”
Jack was content to remain in the background. Pappas was doing a good job. The big detective was a bright guy and could switch between blunt and subtle when he needed to. Anyone who underestimated him would be making a mistake.
Jack knew the portion of the disc he wanted to see again but had no idea what he was looking for. The sense that something was wrong continued to gnaw at him. It was another hour before he knew what it was.
As they sat in front of the monitors, Jack watched Alton Cairo approach Pell’s cell door. Once the imposter had secured the handcuffs, Pell stepped back to allow Cairo to enter the room. Curry, or whoever he was, left and returned about fifty minutes later to remove the handcuffs.
“Freeze the picture, Dan,” Jack said.
Pappas pressed the pause button. At the same time, Jack hit the button that controlled his screen where the master disc was running.
“There,” Jack said, pointing at the screen on the right.
“There what?” Pappas asked.
“See it?”
Pappas looked from one monitor to the other several times, then shook his head. “They both look the same.”
“They’re not.”
“Kale, I’m too tired and too hungry to play games, and my ass hurts from sitting here. Just tell me what I’m not seeing.”
“Look at the nurse’s back pocket on the left monitor.”
“Yeah.”
“See the outline?”
“Looks like . . . a book. You can see the top edge sticking out.”
“Now look at Cairo. He goes into the room carrying what I presume is Pell’s file, a tape recorder, and a pad to take notes. But on the way out—”
“Right there,” Pappas said, pointing. “Between the file and the notepad. They’re not lying flat anymore. Sonofabitch is covering the book.”
When they compared the original to the copy, they finally saw what happened. It wasn’t much. No more than the blink of an eye. But the copy contained a small skip. No doubt about it. None at all. Several frames had been deleted.
Jack said, “The first time Cairo and the fake went to the cell, Gillam asked if we wanted coffee. On their next visit, he dropped his phone.”
“And I bent down to pick it up for him,” Pappas said.
“The noise pulled me away from the screen, too,” Jack said.
“That’s all it took. Gillam altered Beth’s copy.”
“Why? What the hell’s with that book?”
“Good question,” Jack said. “Let’s ask him.”
Chapter 75
They obtained Tony Gillam’s address from Danita Ritchey and then called Max Blaylock. He had just finished at the new murder scene and sounded tired. Not surprising. It was horrific. Enough to drain anyone. He gave them directions and said he would meet them there.
The Gillams lived in a modest home in the middle of a subdivision just outside of Jordan. There was no community tennis court. No swimming pool. Just nicely maintained houses with neat lawns.
It was still light out when they arrived at seven o’clock. People were home for the evening preparing dinner. Kids were doing homework. A few were playing in their backyards. Max Blaylock’s car was parked at the curb. The sheriff was leaning against the front fender waiting for them. A Ford Explorer and a Toyota Camry were in the driveway.
“Did you call Childers and Spruell?” Pappas asked.
“Completely slipped my mind to call ’em,” Blaylock said. “Must be gettin’ old.”
Pappas smiled and informed him, “We ran a history on Gillam on the way over. He’s clean. According to Ms. Ritchey, he’s been working at Mayfield for eight years. You have any contact with him?”
Blaylock shook his head. “He phoned in a report about an abandoned car off Highway 92 a year ago, but that’s about it. Maybe there was a glitch on the video you saw. He seems like a solid citizen to me.”
“There wasn’t,” Jack said.
“You sure?” Blaylock said.
Jack stared at the sheriff.
“Yeah, I guess you are. How do you want to play this?”
“Here’s the plan,” Jack said. “We walk up and ring the doorbell.”
“Right,” Blaylock said.
“That’s it,” Jack said.
Pappas and Blaylock looked at each other. Finally, Pappas said, “Well, it’s an easy plan to remember.”
Pappas rang the front doorbell and waited.
When Tony Gillam opened the door, he didn’t seem surprised to see them.
“Tony, I’m Max Blaylock. You know these other gentlemen. Mind if we come in for a minute?”
Gillam had changed into jeans and a T-shirt and was wearing a pair of old moccasins. He asked no questions. He simply nodded and led them to the family den. The room
had inexpensive laminate paneling and a small fireplace. Over the mantel was a medium-size flat-screen television. The carpeting was tan and worn. Two cabinets topped by wooden shelves flanked the fireplace. Opposite it was a blue couch and two oversize leather club chairs. No one sat down.
Blaylock said, “Do you know why we’re here, Tony?”
Gillam turned his palms up and tried to give the impression he was confused.
“We’d like to know why you altered the copy of the security disc you made for Beth Sturgis,” Jack said.
“I didn’t alter anything,” Gillam said. “There must be some mistake.”
“No mistake,” Jack said. “You tried to distract us by asking about coffee when the imposter showed up with Dr. Cairo. After the coffee, you dropped your phone. We’ve examined the discs. They don’t match.”
“That’s ridiculous. I was there with you the whole time. I was trying to help,” Gillam said.
Pappas said, “Look, you’re in charge of Mayfield’s security. You had to have seen the file Southern States Memorial sent over. The photo doesn’t look anything like him.”
“I barely knew the man,” Gillam said. “Why would I screw around with his file? That’s crazy. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Pappas informed him, “Two other detectives are involved in the case now. Sooner or later, they’re gonna put it together. Lying to us is one thing. Don’t get yourself in deeper. We need your help, kid.”
“Do I need a lawyer?”
“I don’t know,” Pappas said. “Do you?”
Gillam was doing his best to come across as sincere, Jack thought, but he tended to answer their questions with questions of his own, a probable sign of deception.
“If there’s a problem, let us help you, son,” Sheriff Blaylock said.
“I don’t have a problem,” Gillam insisted. “I’m calling my lawyer.”
Blaylock turned to Jack and shook his head. It was obvious to all of them Gillam was lying. Jack observed him, noting a slight sheen of sweat had broken out on his forehead. He and Gillam made eye contact, and as they did, one piece of the puzzle finally fell into place. A small one.
“Where’s your wife, Tony?”
“My wife?”
Once Shadows Fall Page 32
