Act of Betrayal (29 page)

“How likely is it that we’ve even got the right guy?” Ullman said.

“This particular combination of victims, the timing that is related to Vince Ramsey’s death, Ramsey’s presence here in St. Louis, his military and post-military experience with killing, the violent cruel personality that his ex-wife admits he has—those things are hard to ignore. It’s as close to certainty as we’re likely to get without finding Ramsey in the act.”

Damn straight.

There was a buzz of conversation when she finished. Wall picked up the phone and the buzz tapered off into a low hum.

“Find out where Arnold Cartwright is,” Wall said into the phone. “He needs to disappear for a while.”

There were several nods in the room, including Schultz’s.

“You’re going to mess up Ramsey’s schedule,” PJ said.

“Put him off balance,” Schultz said. “Off balance people make mistakes.”

“That means he’ll go after you in earnest,” PJ said. “If he can’t get at his next planned target.”

“You mean killing my son and framing me for murder wasn’t going after me in earnest?”

PJ’s cheeks colored. “You know what I mean. Don’t twist my words.”

Schultz didn’t react. His thoughts had already moved on. “That means I’ll have to get out there and wag my tail for attention,” he said.

“Like a puppy that wants to be petted,” Wall said.

“Or a stripper who needs extra cash,” came another response from the group.

“A prostitute on a busy corner.”

“A new convict…”

“Enough,” Wall said, cutting off the comments.

“You mean you’re deliberately going to dangle Schultz in front of Ramsey?” PJ asked.

“Yes,” Wall said. “We have a killer to catch. You have a problem with that?”

All eyes turned toward PJ. Schultz held her gaze. Was what they had together going to get in the way of their jobs? So soon?

“No,” she said firmly. “How do we get started?”

That’s my gal.

S
UNDAY MORNING PJ AND
Thomas got up early and ate a breakfast of fruit, cheese, and crackers. Megabite graciously accepted bites of cheese. The cat hopped up on one of the empty kitchen chairs and put her paws on the edge, poised there like a polite diner keeping her elbows off the table. PJ and Thomas had given up all pretense of not feeding Megabite during their own meals.

Megabite was gray tiger-striped on top, white on her belly and paws, with a band of orange fur making a circle around each leg. PJ thought about how much enjoyment the cat added to her life. Her ex-husband, Stephen, had been allergic to cats, or so he said. She had gone years without one, and vowed never to do it again.

She watched the white tip of Megabite’s tail flick in metronomic appreciation as the cat pinned down a piece of cheese that Thomas had sent rolling toward her.

After breakfast she and Thomas took off for the Missouri Botanical Gardens, called Shaw’s Garden by longtime residents of the city, after its original owner. She had used some of her limited funds to buy a family membership so that they could indulge themselves in a stroll around the gardens whenever they wished.

They each had their favorite spots. Thomas, much to her surprise, loved the ordered serenity of the extensive Japanese Garden. PJ liked the profusion of blooms in the perennial beds that flanked the Linnean House. The Linnean House used to be the greenhouse of the old Shaw estate. It had huge windows that gathered light, and it was filled with fragrant camellias. It was too early in the year for the camellias to be at their best, but the perennial gardens right outside were lovely. Reflecting pools mirrored lily and lotus blossoms held grandly above the surface of the water. Morning dew was bright with trapped sunshine, like handfuls of diamonds cast over the plants. The air was smooth against her skin, and the mixed scent of the flowers was intoxicating.

PJ gave herself over to the moment. She found a bench in the sun. Later the heat would be oppressive, but in the early morning it was comforting. Her muscles relaxed and her thoughts flowed easily, like melted chocolate.

An hour later she noticed a chill. Clouds were moving in. It looked as though the sun would be hidden the rest of the day. There was a breeze stirring, possibly bringing rain. Her delightful interlude was over. Thomas appeared on cue, having used up the coins he brought with him to buy food pellets for the koi in the Japanese Garden.

PJ congratulated herself on having gotten through the first morning of Schultz serving as bait, and in such a peaceful way. She dropped Thomas off at home with the promise of an early dinner together, if she could make it.

Schultz had gone back to his house the evening before, conspicuously arriving with bags of groceries to indicate he’d be in residence for a while. He was wearing a small tracking device fastened to his chest with first-aid tape. She knew he had a gun in the house and was probably eager for a chance to use it. To her consternation, Anita had reported that he had spent most of the evening parading himself outside, barbecuing hamburgers, slapping at mosquitoes, and sipping beer in his front yard.

Ramsey had checked out of the hotel where he had been spotted and moved to another in South County. His movements were being closely monitored by the St. Louis County Police.

She was still worried.

Ramsey was trained to kill. He was an expert in approaching by stealth. He had apparently taken Dave by surprise, and he had demonstrated that he was capable of putting together an elaborate plan.

She had given Schultz her cell phone, since his house phone was tapped and she wanted to be able to talk with him privately. So far, she’d resisted calling, but the tug was always there.

PJ decided the best way to spend the rest of the day was to refine her simulation of Eleanor’s murder. During her first immersion, there had been something that bothered her, but she was unable to pin it down. A few quiet hours in the office gave her the perfect time to work on it.

She closed her office door and went through the simulation again. She came out of it convinced that she was overlooking something.

The light on her fax machine was flashing. Thinking that it was becoming a tradition that she would receive a fax every time she put on the HMD and stepped into the VR world, she went over to pick up the single sheet of paper lying in the tray.

Cracker had found Darla Ramsey. The paper contained the woman’s assumed name, her address and phone number, place of employment, new social security number, and a description of the type of car she drove.

There was a cryptic typed note at the bottom.

She covered her tracks well, but she should have hired me to make her disappear. She had one weak link—a man of the cloth, no less. By the way, she has a high-quality alarm system on her house, so don’t try to break in. You’d blow it. I’ll be in touch about the favor. It could be a while before your number comes up.

C.

PJ tried not to think too much about the last two sentences of the note and concentrate on the good part: Darla was within reach.

She wondered if it still mattered. After all, Elijah Ramsey had been located. Did it matter what Darla had to say?

She thought about that, and decided that everything she could learn about the Ramsey family would be important. The very fact that Darla had gone to so much trouble to hide had to be significant.

The first thing she did was contact Merlin using a dial-up connection. Their conversation got off to an uncomfortable start. He didn’t use his usual perky greeting.

I know you’re mad at me,
she typed.
You think I took advantage of you. I did, and I want you to know I feel bad about that. But I had to, Merlin. Leo’s life was on the line.

There was a long pause, and she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. Finally words appeared on her screen.

So. You have any idea which of my “friends” is a killer?

So that’s bothering you, too?

You bet it is. I didn’t actually think it would work, that anyone would get in touch with you. I thought all my contacts could be trusted. My confidence is shaken.

I don’t know what to say.

That’s the first time I can remember that words have failed you, Keypunch.

She was encouraged by his light-hearted response and the use of her nickname.
Am I back in your good graces, then?

No. But you’re on probation. Oh, let’s just skip the probation. You know I can’t stay mad at you.

I’ve got to go now. I just wanted you to know how helpful you’ve been.

In the interest of saving time and lives, I’ll spare you my list this time. But the next time we talk I expect the full low-down on this thing with Leo Schultz. Do you have stars in your eyes, my dear? Are you sleeping with him yet?

Bye, Merlin.

The next thing PJ did was tape a piece of blank paper across the bottom of the fax, covering Cracker’s note. She didn’t especially want Wall to know her source of information, and she particularly didn’t want him to see that line about the favor. She fed the sheet back through her fax and made a copy of it. She hid the original in her desk and dialed Wall’s number.

Not surprisingly, he was at his desk even though it was Sunday morning.

“I need to go to Dayton,” she said without preamble. “I want to talk to Darla Ramsey.”

“What makes you think she’s in Dayton? I’ve had people looking for her and they haven’t come up with anything.”

“I, uh, I have a source.”

There was a long silence. She could visualize him doodling on a piece of scratch paper, drawing tiny animals. She’d seen the discarded sheets in his trash can. She wondered if he’d press her to reveal how she’d located Darla. Nervously she jumped into the silence.

“You don’t ask your detectives to disclose their sources, do you?”

“Ordinarily, no.”

But you’re not a detective.
She easily added on the sentence in her mind.

It was her turn to let the silence stretch out. She was sure a lot of things were running through his mind, including whether she’d done anything illegal and whether he cared.

“All right,” he said. “I’ll get you on the first flight out. I don’t know anyone on the Dayton force, but I know somebody who does. I’ll set you up. We’ll do it right, get you wired. I think we’ve got cause.”

“I don’t like the idea of wearing a wire. I want to handle this my own way.”

“What, your ten dollar tape recorder in your purse?”

PJ stubbornly kept her silence.

Wall sighed. “All right. But you’re not going in there without backup.”

“I can’t just drive up to her house in a police car. She’ll get spooked.”

“So they’ll be subtle about it.”

“Lieutenant, I still don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Doctor, take it or leave it.” He’d reached the end of his willingness to go along.

“In that case, I guess I’ll take it. Your concern is touching.”

“Concern, hell. I just don’t want her to escape out the back door while you lumber up to the front door. She can probably smell a shrink coming.”

PJ laughed. “I’ll approach from downwind.”

She contacted Helen Boxwood, who was wonderfully free that evening and volunteered to stay overnight with Thomas, no questions asked, if PJ didn’t make it back in time. She phoned Thomas and canceled their dinner together. He didn’t seem upset with the substitution of Helen, blurting out that she would bring over great movies on tape for them to watch together. When asked exactly what movies, he got evasive. She remembered that Helen once said she enjoyed R-rated police thrillers, so it was no wonder Thomas clammed up. It wasn’t the type of entertainment PJ would have chosen, but in the spirit of her new attitude toward him, she didn’t press it.

She caught a ride to Lambert Airport with a couple of rookies who didn’t mind stopping at the hospital so that she could take some flowers to Dave. He was asleep, so she quietly left the flowers, patted his arm, and left.

C
UT LOOKED OUT THE
window of the hotel, checking the logical vantage points for surveillance. His room was on the third floor, with a view of the parking lot as he’d requested. He had just finished watching local news. There had been a segment on the hit-and-run which indicated that Schultz was cleared of suspicion, although police weren’t releasing details of why he was cleared. The item hadn’t gotten much coverage in the first place, so he was surprised to see Schultz’s mug on the tube.

Then he figured it out. Schultz had left town, or so Cut thought, right after getting the message on his answering machine. Cut assumed he’d fled in blind fear. The fact that he was back meant he’d been ordered to serve as the sacrifice to bring Cut out into the open. They’d be making Schultz as visible as possible, probably have him dancing under the Arch downtown in a tutu any minute.

Most likely the police had not only figured out the pattern but located Cut and had him under observation. Without observation, they’d practically be throwing Schultz’s life away. Cut could come out of nowhere and vanish just about as fast, and they must be aware of that by now. If the police weren’t trailing him, they wouldn’t be able to get to him in time to stop a lightning attack on Schultz. Even with someone on his tail, Cut knew he stood a fair chance of getting the task done and escaping, as long as he only had to do it once.

A few more minutes of thought and a couple of peppermint candies led him to believe that the police probably assumed Arnold Cartwright was next on the hit list. That accounted for the timing. That was why they were waving Schultz around like a flag made out of red underwear, to divert Cut from another civilian target.

It was a wasted effort, because Cartwright wasn’t even on the list. Wasted.

Cut wondered how they’d found him, then realized his picture would be out on the street, and the clerk in his previous hotel had most likely turned him in for money.

That blue sedan in the southwest quadrant of the parking lot—the driver had pulled in an hour ago but hadn’t gotten out of the car. That had to be one of them. And if there was one in view, there were probably three or four hidden. Just like cockroaches. It didn’t make things easy for Cut, but he never expected to set his feet on the easy path anyway.