Agnes Hahn (26 page)

“We cranked up the fireplace and curled up on the couch in front of the television. It was wonderful. I didn’t think about this place for a minute.”

“You’re a lucky man. I’m stuck in a room that smells like cigarettes and sex, and they aren’t even my smells.” Jason kicked at the floor. Would marital happiness ever come his way, or was he destined to live with those smells for the rest of his life?

“When are you planning to go back to your apartment?” Bransome said.

“I don’t know. Not until something shakes loose with this case. If you’re going to take my picture, I’d prefer it be with a smile on my face and my danglies intact.”

“A couple of weeks ago I’d have preferred the file shot.”

“You’re a pal, Detective.”

Bransome laughed. “Go to hell. I’ll be your pal when we put this murderer behind bars.” He slapped his hand down on Jason’s shoulder. “How’s that for an incentive?”

“Better than a paycheck.” Jason gave a single chuckle. “Speaking of that, I think I will double the bet. Agnes is a victim, not a murderer.”

“I want to agree with you, but I can’t. I still have to go with my intuition. I’m coming in your direction, but I believe I’ll drag my feet a while longer.”

Jason sat down on the corner of a desk. “I can’t stand this waiting. I’m worried Lilin will kill both Eddie and Agnes. Is there anything we can do to find them?”

“I’ve been agonizing about that. We have APBs on all of them and on the GTO. The people in Marin County are supposed to be checking the cabin at least twice a day. Other than that, we have no leads. On a sitting-or-doing scale, we’re way to the left.”

Jason stood and clapped his hands together. “There might be something we can do. I was getting hang up calls at the old motel, and now I’m getting them at the new place as well. I didn’t tell anyone where I was staying. It’s our only means of contact going in that direction. Is there anything I could say that would help flush them out?”

Bransome paced around the desk. “I could put a trace on the phone.”

“The caller’s too smart. Besides, my guess is they’re from a cell phone. All the caller has to do is move around and triangulation will only tell us where he or she was, not where he or she is.”

“Yeah. You’re probably right. Then we have two choices. You could say something to inflame the situation, hoping it would accelerate it, or say something to defuse the situation. Since we have no clue where they are, the first won’t do anything useful and probably will give a bad result. The second’s our only choice.”

Jason plopped back on the desk. “What if I said the DNA tests proved Eddie didn’t father Lilin and Agnes? That could get him off the hook.”

“Not if he abused the girls. The family tie may be the only thing that’s making her be deliberate with Eddie. If he was a nonrelated abuser, she probably would’ve whacked him long before now.”

“So you suggest I do nothing if I get another call?”

“I don’t see any other option at this time. Either way, it’d probably come out bad.”

“Just like doing nothing.”

“I know.”

The phone on Bransome’s desk rang. He answered and turned his back on Jason to help mute the conversation. It didn’t take him long to get agitated, peppering his side of the discussion with obscenities, which danced in the room like they were shouted in a cavern. He slammed the receiver down and turned to face Jason.

“That idiot postal worker in Inverness called the sheriff’s office yesterday afternoon, around four thirty. He told them a man matching Eddie’s description came in earlier and got his mail. The man was driving a lightcolored foreign car. Compact model. Seems the clerk didn’t give a better description because he was admiring a beautiful, black GTO that was parked across the street. When the man left, the GTO left right behind him. That happened around two.”

“He didn’t call them for over two hours?”

“Right. The officers got on it right away. They drove around all evening looking for the GTO, but they didn’t see it. They also stopped by Eddie’s cabin last night, and again this morning. It was untouched.” Bransome shook his head. “They’re keeping an eye out, but they’re at the mercy of an idiot witness.”

“Didn’t they tell him to look for the GTO?”

“Yes, but he said he didn’t make the connection.”

“Didn’t make the connection? Look for a familiar man coming in to get mail. Look for a black GTO. Does the mailman have a problem with a certain white powder?”

“What’s done is done. The important thing is that she was on his tail yesterday afternoon.”

“She’s probably done him in already. His body’s probably floating in Tomales Bay.”

Bransome tugged his belt upward.

Jason imagined a younger Bransome, without the gut, but with the same thick arms and barrel chest. Almost his height, Bransome was probably more than formidable. Probably scary.

“I don’t think so.” Bransome said. “She’s been very public about the other killings. If this is her finale, I wouldn’t expect her to hide it. She’d want everyone to see him with his wiener sliced off. She may even do something symbolic with this one.”

Jason shook his head to reset Bransome’s image. “Like what?”

“Like kill him in a symbolic place.”

“The deputies said the cabin was clean.”

“I’ll have Wilson go check Agnes’s house.” Bransome hurried to the door.

“Jesus. Do you think she would? What a perfect way to frame Agnes.”

He spun around. “Or for Agnes to make it look like Lilin was framing her,” Bransome said as he left the room.

Jason frowned. The closer they seemed to get, the farther they were away. Theories were easy to formulate, but nothing allowed them to rule any out. All they could do was wait and hope. They were doomed to be reactive, as Bransome had said, and Jason hated it.

The day dragged on, worse than the previous one. Bransome had filled him in on the frustrating details. Agnes’s house was untouched, inside and out, and the Marin County boys checked Eddie’s cabin two more times before they set Bransome off by suggesting they stop making any more drives out to Inverness unless there was other business there. They had said something about crying wolf.

There were no prints on the letter. Two types of prints from the envelope included Jason’s and someone whose pattern wasn’t even close to Agnes’s. Probably the motel clerk’s. Bransome delivered the envelope to the lab person to start processing the glue for DNA.

Jason relished the fading afternoon. Back in the motel, he curled up in the bed, inside the covers this time, and looked forward to vegetating in front of the television. He needed to empty his mind, and there were any number of prime time shows that required low double digit IQ points worth of audience involvement.

He chose a reality show with six contestants, three of whom were young ladies in scanty outfits. Poster girls for breast implant surgeons throughout the country. Jason chuckled. One of the girls seriously discussed the importance of mental preparation and strategy before fishing pig uteri out of a vat of mealworm larvae with her teeth. Andy Warhol was right on the money about the fifteen minutes of fame.

The host had admired the complex weaving of tattoos on one of the male contestants when the phone rang, jolting the 99 percent of Jason’s brain that was on standby.

He felt the tingling of nervous energy course through his body and his thudding heart jumped into overdrive. It was his cell phone this time. Bransome? Agnes? He reached to the nightstand and pushed the speaker button.

“Hello?”

Silence.

“Hi, Lilin.” His heart thumped so hard it seemed to vibrate the bed. “Can I talk to Agnes?”

Silence.

Bransome had said it wouldn’t do any good to bluff about Eddie, but what other move was there? It wasn’t the first time he disagreed with Bransome. And it beat sitting around, twiddling thumbs.

“Did you hear the news? The DNA evidence says that Eddie isn’t your father.”

Quiet giggles built into loud laughter.

The laughter was female, but low-pitched, throaty. Creepy to the extreme. “Lilin. Talk to me. Where’s Eddie?”

She laughed. “Eddie’s at home,” she whispered.

The voice reminded him of his apartment. The smell of the eucalyptus. The sound of the razor slicing the air, close to his ear. “At home, where? In Inverness?” Hopefully far away.

Silence.

“Where’s Agnes?”

“She won’t interfere anymore.”

Panic swept his mind, but the reporter took over. He stood. “How about Eddie?”

“He’s a bastard.”

Her venomous voice surprised him.

“He’s trying to protect himself.”

Jason walked to the window and pulled back the drapes. “Why does he need protection?”

“No-good fucking bastard.”

He rechecked the door locks. “Did he hurt you?”

“Fucking no-good bastard.”

“Did he hurt you and Agnes?”

Silence.

Jason backed away from the door and flopped on the bed. “Is that why Gert and Ella took Agnes?”

Silence.

“Why didn’t they take you, too?”

“Too late.”

“What do you mean, ‘too late’”

Dial tone.

The cell phone startled Jason. Bransome again? He’d just called fifteen minutes ago.

Jason rechecked the clock—2:00 a.m. Had the Marin County boys found something at Eddie’s cabin after all? Bransome had said they were pissed about being called on a wild goose chase so late. That they threatened to back-burner the case.

The phone rang again and he fumbled for the
talk
button. “Is there news?”

Silence.

“Lilin?”

Silence.

“What do you want?”

A whisper: “Eddie’s at home.”

Dial tone.

J
ASON READIED THE BATHROOM FLOOR FOR HIS HALF-
curtained shower. He couldn’t get the two phone calls from Lilin out of his mind. The warm water reset his thoughts, then turned his mind loose into freewheel mode. At home, some of his best thinking came at the expense of his water bill.

She could have made the first call from Inverness, knowing he would phone Bransome, and that Bransome would forward the information to the Marin County deputies. She could have been watching as the officers checked the cabin, angry at Bransome for a late night false alarm. That would give her the time, and freedom from discovery, to carry out her plan. But why the second call? To publicize her act? To taunt?

He turned the water off and toweled his shoulders. His reflection in the mirror caught his attention. Maybe she wanted him to find the body. Body or bodies?

He hurried out of the bathroom, wrapping the towel around his waist, and dug in the nightstand drawer for the phone book. He dialed and made a reservation.

Jason paused in the doorway. The police station workroom was empty. He turned to see Bransome stomping up the hallway.

“What’s up for today?” Bransome said. “More grunt work? I have a pile.”

“I’m heading out on a road trip. A rental car is going to be delivered in half an hour. I have to pay for this one myself so I got a little POS.”

“POS?”

Jason smiled. “Piece of Shit. Don’t worry. I told the delivery guy to use the back door. Is that okay?”