“Where is he now and what is he doing? How long has it been since you last spoke to him?”
Felix’s elaboration, if anything, made Peter appear more uncomfortable. He shook his head.
“I can’t really answer that,” he started slowly, as if unsure how to proceed. “Oscar - he’s, well - Oscar’s dead. He has been for a long time. It was a roadside bomb in Afghanistan, years ago, on the first year of his tour. Where he is now... he’s buried at Arlington.”
There was a lengthy pause. Felix nodded, as if he had been expecting this answer.
“Yesterday, when Adriana inquired about him, you said Oscar was fine.”
Peter seemed to squirm under Felix’s gaze, though Felix’s stare was not judgmental.
“I’ve - I’d better tell you the whole story,” Peter said. “Adriana and Oscar, they were very close. I think they were in love. They didn’t show it in a public way, in fact, I think they kept it sort of secret, but they had plans together. Plans for the future. But Adriana got into college on a scholarship, so she could afford to go. Oscar didn’t. He joined the army so he could pay for college. Adriana was always asking after Oscar and I didn’t really know what he was doing or what he was up to, so I always told her that he was doing fine. Then I heard that he’d been killed and I just couldn’t tell her. I know I should have told her but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Every time she asked about him, I’d just say he was doing fine. It got harder and harder to tell her. I pretended I’d lost contact with Oscar because of his service. Adriana graduated from college, and then medical school, became a doctor, and she never heard back from Oscar. She never had any other boyfriends or relationships. She became... kind of sad, you know?”
“Why do you think Oscar felt it was important to go to college?” Felix asked very quietly.
“I think - I think it’s because he wanted to get out of this place, out of the projects, and he felt that if he wanted a future with Adriana, he needed an education.”
“Did you blame Adriana for his death?”
“No!” Peter said with sudden, passion, standing straight up out of his chair. “It’s the opposite. I felt sorry for her, and I’m angry with myself for never being able to tell her. The only people I blame for his death are the Taliban.”
“Did anyone else know about her relationship with Oscar?” Felix asked, as though nothing had happened.
“No,” Peter answered, slumping back down into his chair. “I don’t know why they felt it was so important to keep it a secret. I think it was because they were both terrified it wouldn’t work, or maybe that no one else would approve. My brother and I were raised by my father, you know. He wasn’t around much and he drank, and I don’t know what he would have said to Oscar about Adriana. He never thought much of her. But I wonder if it mightn’t have been better if they’d told everyone.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Davey also quite liked Adriana.”
“You mean he was in love with her?”
“I mean he had a crush on her when he was a teenager, but she either didn’t notice or pretended not to notice. Davey had always teased Jack and they’d never really gotten along, but I think Davey decided the reason Adriana never opened up to him was she was spending all her time and effort babying Jack. He figured it was Jack’s fault Adriana didn’t like him.”
“That doesn’t make much sense.”
“Yeah, well, no one’s more egotistical than Davey. He’d never think to himself, ‘she doesn’t like me because there’s something wrong with me.’ I’m sure he’d say to himself, ‘she doesn’t like me because it’s someone else’s fault.’ He’s just like that.”
“The way you describe Davey’s attitude towards Jack sounds like Vicky’s attitude towards Adriana,” Alders added suddenly, his brow furrowed.
“Maybe,” Peter agreed. “With Vicky it’s different, though, because she’s always sort of inclined towards... fantasy. Seeing things that aren’t there. I know she used to think there was something between me and Adriana. I can’t help but wonder if she misinterpreted what there was between Adriana and Oscar. On the other hand, she does make things up.”
“Would you take something Vicky tells you seriously?” asked Felix offhandedly. “If she told you about a crime, for instance?”
“She’s been telling you that story about the blackmail, huh?” Peter asked with a small grin. “Yeah, she told me too. Would I take it seriously? I don’t know. Let me tell you something about Vicky. This goes back a long, long time. When were children, little children, none of us came from good homes. That’s part of living on 20th Street. Vicky’s mother drank, her father did worse. When Vicky was little, one day she came home early and she walked in on her father having an affair. The other woman got out of there in a hurry. Vicky started crying and crying and saying she was going to tell her mother.”
An unnatural quiet had descended on the room.
“And then?” Felix asked, his voice echoing strangely.
“Her father started beating her. He beat her and beat her, trying to get her to shut up, but Vicky kept crying and saying she was going to tell her mother. I was next door, with the Ketterings. The walls were thin. I could hear everything. It seemed to go on for hours - and he was really hurting her. But I was little, too, and I didn’t know what to do. Then, her mother came home.” Peter paused. “Vicky was crying and crying and told her mother everything. And then her mother started beating her.”
“What?” Alders exclaimed, jumping out of his chair.
“Yeah. Her mother didn’t want to believe it. She started calling Vicky a rotten liar and beating her too and it went on and on until Vicky said she’d been lying and she’d made it all up, so her father got away with it and her mother could go on believing her husband wasn’t cheating. So that’s what Vicky got for telling the truth.”
Peter took a deep, shaky breath before continuing. “She was never the same afterwards. Mrs. Hamilton was beside herself, of course. The Hamiltons drove Vicky to the hospital the next day - she had some broken ribs, and then they called child services, who never came. After that, you could never believe anything Vicky said. I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. I’m just saying if Vicky is lying to you - don’t judge her too harshly, alright?”
Seconds ticked by. There was another lengthy silence, finally broken by Felix.
“I think you’ve told us everything we wanted to know and more, Sergeant Ulverson. Thank you.”
And Alders showed him out.
Chapter 9
When they returned to Alder’s cubicle, Felix was looking very thoughtful.
“I think I have the whole picture now,” Felix said.
“If by that you mean you’ve stolen a whole picture, I’m willing to believe you,” Alders answered, sitting down heavily in his chair. “I see I’ve gotten a return message from ballistics.” He flipped open a fresh file on his desk and skimmed the top page. “They’ve dispensed with trying to shirk responsibility, I see. I wrote them a rather strongly worded letter. Here’s an analysis of the damages to the weapon, and they’ve fired it, and it didn’t blow up in their faces, and here’s the bottom line. Ballistic analysis says the bullet that killed Adriana Kettering was fired from this rifle. That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Oh, but they’ve sent me a note saying how very long and laborious it was. I put pressure on them to rush it.”
Alders threw the file aside indifferently, but Felix scooped it up and began to read it with great interest.
“A bullet fired from that particular rifle killed Adriana Kettering.”
“Yeah, well, that’s hardly surprising is it?”
“But it leaves us with the problem we started with. If the murder was premeditated, why use a hundred-year-old rifle in so decrepit a state?”
Felix tapped his finger on the list of damages and started to read them aloud.
“Cracked barrel, cracked stock, unsecured firing pin, rusted bolt, missing sights...”
“A high-quality weapon isn’t necessary to commit the murder,” Alders answered heavily. “You can kill someone with a rusty spoon if the mood takes you.”
“They’ve rated this weapon as extremely likely to misfire,” Felix pointed out.
“Probably spinning us a sob story to try to attract our sympathies for their efforts,” Alders grumbled. “I don’t know why the killer picked a damaged rifle, but right now I’m more worried about the second murder. I’ve just had an email from the investigating officer on the Hamilton murder. He says there’s a security camera on the next street that may have captured an image of the vehicle the killer used. It’s only a partial image, but the vehicle appears to be a dark green pickup truck. Unfortunately, I’ve checked the vehicle registration records and none of our suspects owns a truck that fits that description.”
“And that’s another thing,” Felix said suddenly. “Why didn’t Hamilton call a tow truck?”
“What’s a tow truck got to do with it, Felix?”
“Mr. Hamilton is one of the victims. His actions on the day Adriana was killed may shed light on both her murder and his own. He disguises himself as a construction worker so as to sneak onto the site moments before the demolition and makes his way to the bunker, where he finds the bullion - yes, of course. The bullion. It makes sense.”
“What makes sense?”
“But let us suppose that there is only one killer. If Mr. Hamilton isn’t the killer - and Davey, Davey when he runs into the bunker does not see the killer, then that must mean...”
“Must mean what?” Alders asked sharply. Felix suddenly made a spasmodic motion and flipped through the ballistics report. Alders’ cell phone had again appeared in Felix’s hand.
“I need to borrow this,” Felix said, putting Alders’ cell phone to his ear, apparently having placed a call.
“Give - that -” Alders said, but it was too late. He tried to snatch it back but Felix had already starting walking away.
“Hello, ballistics?” Felix said. “I’d like you to elaborate on something you’ve written in this report. When you confirmed that the rifle in question fired the bullet that killed Adriana Kettering...”
And he walked off.
Just when Alders thought things couldn’t get anything worse, a loud barking shout from behind him made him jump.
“Alders!”
Alders swiveled around to see Chief Breckinridge standing behind him, looking less than amused.
“Chief,” Alders said quickly.
“What is your progress on this Kettering case?”
“We’re making significant progress, sir,” Alders lied.
“Not significant enough, apparently. I understand you’ve acquired a second body.”
“You mean the murder of Mr. William Hamilton?”
“Yes, of course I mean the murder of William Hamilton,” the Chief shouted back, his important-looking mustache wobbling with fury. “Now we’ve got some sort of serial killer on the loose. I want this case cleared!”
“Respectfully, sir, it’s been less than twenty-four hours since-”
“I don’t care if it’s been less than twenty-four minutes!” Breckinridge roared back, his voice drawing interested glances from around the station. “I want this case closed, you understand? What are you doing to find the culprit?”
“We’ve narrowed it down to five suspects,” Alders said quickly. “We just finished interviewing one and I was about to call in all five of them to interrogate them, and we’re trying to identify the vehicle used in the Hamilton killing.”
“You get those suspects in here and grill them until one of them breaks, Alders - I want this case open and shut before the local news starts asking about the serial killer who started his criminal career right under my nose. Where’s that blasted PI, Green?”
“He’s on the phone to ballistics, sir,” Alders answered. “We just got the report on the murder weapon from the Kettering case and he’s clearing up a few details. But if we could have more resources-”
Breckinridge gave him such a distinctly sour look that made Alders trailed off.
“Close this case, Alders. I mean it!”
When Felix returned some twenty minutes later, Alders was looking distinctly unhappy.
“May I have my phone back?” Alders asked curtly. Felix handed it to him, seeming not to notice the other’s bubbling anger. On the contrary, Felix was wearing a slightly dreamy expression.
Alders did not notice and started to explain what had happened. “I’ve called the five remaining suspects. Jack Kettering, Davey Kempt, Reva Hamilton, Vicky Melbrush, and Peter Ulverson. I didn’t want to, but the Chief says he wants an arrest quickly. I think he must be considering a run for mayor; he’s obsessing over the media involvement in this case.”
“Never mind that just now,” Felix said vaguely. “You said the five suspects are coming?”
“They should already be here. I’m was waiting for you.”
“Ah, I see. Let’s go have a word with them, shall we?”
Felix began walking towards the lobby of the station with long, deliberate strides, Alders not far behind him.
When they reached the lobby, they found all five suspects waiting for them. Peter Ulverson was standing closest to Felix, looking oddly imposing in his military uniform as he leaned against the wall. Vicky Melbrush was sitting in a chair closest to him, occasionally shooting sidelong glances at him, then looking away quickly. Dave Kempt sat next to her in turn, staring pensively out the open door of the station. Jack Kettering stood alone in the far corner, arms crossed, not far from a bereaved Mrs. Hamilton, whose face was no longer tear-streaked but remained unusually pale. When Felix walked into the room, all five looked up at him. Alders cleared his throat to draw attention back to himself.
“Thank you all for coming,” Alders began. “First I’d like to ask you all to please remain calm in this difficult time. I know that the loss of your friends and loved ones must be terrible and frightening, but with your cooperation we can bring the criminal behind these attacks to justice. I have some additional questions to ask each of you-”
“That won’t be necessary,” Felix said softly. “I finally understand everything that happened yesterday and I know who the murderer is.”
Chapter 10
Felix’s words had an electric effect on the whole room. Jack Kettering stood quickly, Reva Hamilton gasped, and even Alders looked at him sharply.
“You know who the killer is, Felix?” Alders asked.
“Oh yes,” Felix answered. “I know who the killer is.” He began a slow, meandering circuit around the room.
“Two people are dead: Adriana Kettering and William Hamilton. As my associate, Detective Alders, was saying to me just a few hours ago, it seems impossible that these murders are unrelated. To solve the murder of Mr. Hamilton, we must first have an understanding of the death of Ms. Kettering. So let us start there. The shooting of Adriana Kettering. I have said from the very beginning that there is a distinct feeling of nostalgia about this entire case. It concerns your personal histories, things that happened in the distant past, years ago, when you were children. It focuses on the day that Adriana invited you to witness the demolition of your old home, to relive the happier moments of your collective pasts, in short, nostalgia. I am sure you will come to appreciate what I mean in a moment.”
He paused for a moment, then continued pacing slowly around the room.
“You all have a motive to murder Adriana. Jack,” he said, suddenly spinning around and confronting Jack Kettering. “You lived your whole life in the shadow of your sister, under her protection, living day and day out with her coddling. Maybe you became tired of living in a cradle. Perhaps you decided the only way out was to kill your sister, and that was the only path you could see to independence.”
“That’s ridiculous,” sputtered Jack Kettering, having suddenly gone as white as Reva Hamilton. “That’s completely - I loved my sister. The idea I’d kill her is comp
letely insane.”
“Indeed. But sometimes killers are insane, and indeed, people have killed for less. Consider Davey Kempt, for instance.”
Felix rounded on Davey, who looked shocked at this sudden shift in events. “Davey, I have yet to see your egotism genuinely displayed, but everyone I’ve asked about you has described you as self-absorbed. You had a long-standing crush on Adriana. You had feelings for her that she never returned. Perhaps your emotions, your anger at your love being left unrequited, ran deeper than any of us ever suspected, and you killed Adriana with all the rage of a lover spurned. You have admitted to entering the bunker at the time of the shooting, and we have only your word that it was not you who killed Adriana.”
“I told you, I’d never hurt Adriana,” Davey rasped in disbelief. “It was the man in the jacket-”
Felix cut him off.
“But of course, there are others with a motive as well. Reva Hamilton, your career was nearly ended when you became embroiled in a cheating scandal at your old school - a scandal that was said to have been exposed by Adriana Kettering. Could you finally have taken your revenge against her?”
“Adriana?” Mrs. Hamilton gasped. “I had no idea she had anything to do with that whole business.”
Her protestations fell on deaf ears as Felix continued around the circle.
“Vicky,” he said. “We’ve heard from every source we have cared to ask that you bear a grudge against Adriana because you believe she came between you and Peter. Perhaps, when you saw Peter return on the day of the murder, you killed her to prevent a repeat of past events.”
“But why would I do that?” Vicky said with a little gasp. “I have Peter right here and he just adores me!”
Peter looked uncomfortably first at Vicky, then at Felix, as the latter turned to face him.
“And Peter Ulverson. Your brother, Oscar, was in love with Adriana. Oscar joined the army because he wanted to go to college, because he felt he needed an education to be with Adriana. Did you hold Adriana responsible for his death? Did you kill Adriana to take revenge for Oscar?”
Death by Nostalgia Page 10
