If Looks Could Kill (30 page)

“Then…?”

“Madison!” he said, gripping her arms.

“What?” She gripped his arms in return.

“I sold my first novel. Without Dad's help. I didn't even use my own name when I sent in the manuscript. Madison, I got a six-figure offer for this book and its sequel! Oh, God, Madison, I can write. I can actually write!” He started hopping up and down with her on her front walk, and she started to laugh.

“Trent, I'm so glad! What's the name of it?”

“Right now, it's
The Color of Death.
It's a slasher book.”

“A…a slasher book.”

He flushed again. “It's not like Roger's books. Mine is…grittier. Hey, I hang around with a pathologist, and now there's an FBI agent in the family….”

“Yeah, there's an FBI agent in the family,” Madison murmured.

He smiled. “Will you read it for me and tell me what you think? I've got the manuscript in the car.”

“Of course. I'll be delighted. But you said it's already sold.”

“I still want your opinion.”

“Sure.”

He grinned and went to the car. He returned with his manuscript, handing it her. “Now, I know it's not what you'd usually choose to read—I'm not such a rotten brother that I'm not attuned to the fact that you have enough bad things going through your own mind half the time. But I need your opinion. Madison, I've wanted to write so badly, but being Dad's son, actually getting a novel out was hard. I didn't want to use his influence with an agent or a publisher. You understand, right?”

She nodded. “I understand.”

Trent took hold of her arms, pulling her close, smacking her on the forehead with a kiss. “Like I said, I'm really happy for you, it's just not a shock. I mean, you've been sleeping together since he rode back into town, huh? God, I'm crude. Sorry. Well, we'll be having a party soon, I guess. Love you, and thanks a lot. I'll get out of here now!”

He turned and hurried back to his car. Madison followed after him. “Hey! Don't go getting into an accident now!”

He shook his head. “I'll calm down. I'm just on cloud nine.” He saluted her. “Honest. I can't wait to tell Dad.”

“He's headed back to Key West.”

“I know. I'm going to catch him. I know his favorite lunch spot, the Rusty Rumhouse in Key Largo. I'll catch him there.”

“Drive carefully!”

“Promise!”

He threw her a kiss. Madison started back into the house, reading the first few lines of the manuscript.

The giant teeth on the arm of the crane turned up dirt, garbage, and something starkly pink against the gritty black of the earth.

Pasty pink.

Crane operator John Laramore sat dead still, staring at the puddle of pink, gaping. He jumped down from the crane, moving closer.

Flesh. Human Flesh.

A woman. Now her naked body lay among the refuse, her murderer having discarded her as if she were no more than a leftover meal. Her eyes, blue, remained opened to heaven. Her mouth was locked open, as well, contorted in a silent scream…

“Oh, jeez!” Madison groaned aloud, walking inside. She didn't want to, but she would have to read the manuscript. It meant so much to Trent.

If he'd been trying so hard not to compete with their father, why hadn't he opted for children's books?

“Madison!” Peggy was calling brightly.

Madison dropped the manuscript on the kitchen counter, staring from Peggy's face to her hand—she was holding the telephone receiver.

“I know, it's a member of my family. Or Kyle's.”

“Right on the first guess, dear. It's your sister, Kaila.”

“Thanks,” Madison said, taking the phone. “Hello, Kaila.”

“Hey, cool! You went off and married our big brother!”

“He's not our brother, Kaila.”

Kaila giggled. “Of course he's not, silly. It's just such a trip, isn't it?”

“It's that, all right.”

“I called to say I'm thrilled. You're perfect for each other.”

“Thanks,” Madison said. The phone made a double-beeping noise—call waiting.

“Kaila, hang on one sec. Don't go away. You and I need to talk big time. I meant to force you into some nitty-gritty at the gallery, but…Hang on,” she said, and hit the button. “Hello?”

“Madison!”

“Hey, Rafe!” she said, shaking her head with amazement.

“Just called to say congratulations to you and my little bro. Where is the dude, by the way?”

“Working somewhere. I have no idea where.”

“One-track mind! He marries the babe of the century and goes off to work. I'll have to speak with that boy.”

She smiled. “It's all right, Rafe. We'll make up for it somewhere along the line.”

“I'm sure you will. I just wanted to wish you both the absolute best.”

“Thanks. I'll tell him you called. I know he'll be sorry he missed you.”

“I'm sure he will. Bye, kid, take care.”

“You, too.” She clicked back to Kaila. “Kaila?”

“I'm here.”

“It was Rafe.”

“Wishing you luck.”

“Yup.”

“Well, that's all I was doing, too. God! I'm so happy for you both!”

“Thanks.” Her line began to double-beep again. She groaned. “Kaila—”

“Go get it. I'm hanging up. I'll talk to you later.”

“Wait, Kaila—”

“I really will talk to you later.” Kaila hung up on her.

“Kaila!” Madison wailed, then clicked the phone again. “Who else can it be?” she murmured aloud. “Jassy?” she said into the phone.

“How did you know it was me?”

“I'm running out of family.”

“No one else ever calls you?”

“Yeah, now and then. So what's going on?”

“What's going on with
me?
That's not the question. You
pretended
you weren't even happy to see Kyle,” Jassy taunted.

“That's not exactly true. And is that your way of congratulating me?”

“No. I didn't call to congratulate you.”

“Oh?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Okay. Talk.”

“Not over the phone.”

“Oh, Jassy, you don't want me to come to the morgue, do you?”

“No. I'm at Jimmy's place.”

“Jimmy's place?” Madison said, surprised.

“Do you know where it is?”

“Vaguely. I've never been in his apartment, but I met him downstairs in the parking lot once. He's in one of the apartments on Brickell.”

“Right.” Jassy gave her the exact address. “Can you come right now?”

“I guess.”

“Kyle isn't there, is he?”

“No.”

“Good. I want you to come alone.”

“Jassy, why this secrecy?”

“Please, just come over. I'll explain when you get here.”

“All right. I'm on my way.”

Madison hung up the receiver. “Peggy!” she called. “I'm off to meet my sister. I'll be back soon.”

“No! Not alone!” Peggy called back to her.

But Madison pretended not to hear her, picked up her shoulder bag and left the house to see Jassy alone. The midmorning traffic was light, and she made it to Jimmy's apartment complex in less than fifteen minutes. She parked, found the right apartment and rang the bell.

“Yes?” came her sister's voice.

“It's me, Jassy!”

“Come on in!”

She turned the doorknob, tentatively walking in.

Startled, gaping, she let the door close behind her as she turned slowly around, staring at the living room of Jimmy Gates's apartment.

It was a small, handsome room. Leather chairs and a matching sectional sofa filled the center of the room, arranged around an entertainment center with a stereo, laserdisc player and a television. The room was painted off-white.

Attractively framed posters were everywhere. Movie posters and playbills.

All of them featuring Lainie Adair.

“I
f I were to see him, I could identify him,” Bitsy corrected. “I mean, how do I identify a guy if I can't see him?”

“Perhaps you could describe him. To a police artist. Face shape, eyes, hair,” Kyle said. “Would you be willing to do that?”

“Sure. But I don't know how much help it will be.”

“Why not?”

“Well, he kept dark glasses on the entire time he was here, so I don't know his eye color.”

“That's okay. The artist can draw him with the glasses on.”

“Then there was his hair.”

“What about his hair?”

“I think he was wearing a rug.”

“A toupé?”

“Yeah.”

“So he was bald beneath?”

“Who knows? I had the feeling that he was trying to disguise himself. Like maybe he was cheating on his girl with this other one or something, you know?”

“Bitsy, you're all that we have. I'd really appreciate it if you'd come to Miami with us and work with one of the artists there.”

Bitsy looked at her boss.

“This man has brutally murdered a number of women,” Kyle reminded her.

Her lip trembled slightly. “I know. I want to help. It's just that I have a kid, and…”

“We'll split tips just like you were here, Bitsy,” one of the other girls offered.

“And you'll get your hourly wage,” the manager assured her.

“That's good of you guys,” Bitsy said, relieved. “Thanks!”

“Hey, honey,” said a busty brunette waitress. “A killer's on the loose. You go get him, before he gets one of us!”

“Let's go,” Bitsy said.

 

“What the hell…?” Madison exclaimed.

“What?” Jassy said, frowning. “Oh, the posters.”

“Yeah, the posters! Of
Lainie!
” Madison said, staring at her sister.

Jassy curled into a corner of the leather sofa. “He kind of had an obsession with her, I guess.”

“I guess!” Madison turned back and stared at Jassy, shaking her head. “Jassy, what are you doing here? What's going on? Where's Jimmy—Is he here, too?”

Jassy shook her head. “Jimmy is working. And I can't believe you haven't figured it out by now, but…Jimmy is the guy.”

“What guy?”

“
The
guy. The guy I'm sleeping with.”

“Oh, my God!”

“What do you mean, oh, my, God! What's the matter with Jimmy?”

“Nothing, nothing…I just didn't…I mean—I had no idea, and now…these posters! Jassy, these posters are…scary!”

Jassy shook her head impatiently. “He had a crush on Lainie when he was a kid. That's why it was so important for him when he worked her murder. And all those posters are collectibles now—worth a bundle.”

Madison walked around to sit at her sister's side, still staring. “Life just gets weirder and weirder,” she murmured.

“Hell, yes. You just married Kyle.”

Madison exhaled, shaking her head again. “You and Jimmy Gates!” She stared at Jassy. “And I don't get it. Why aren't you at work? Why'd you have me come here?”

“You don't like the morgue.”

“Jassy, this may surprise you, but most people don't like the morgue.”

“Harry Nore didn't kill Holly Tyler.”

“That's not a surprise to me. I never thought he did. I don't think he killed my mother, either.”

“Well, he definitely didn't kill Holly.”

“How do you know?”

“Holly Tyler had intercourse before she was killed. The DNA samples don't match up.”

“So…they've got samples to match, if they can only find a few suspects.”

“Yes.”

“I still don't get it. Why am I here?”

Jassy shrugged. “Because I think someone we're related to or at least close to killed Lainie—and these women, who are all redheads who resemble her.”

“Oh, Jassy, I can't believe that! I can't. I won't.”

“We need to start clearing people. Kyle needs to give us a sample.”

“Kyle!”

“He was there, Madison.”

“What about Jimmy-boy here, with his poster fetish?”

“Fine. I can see that Jimmy clears himself. Then we have to go to Dad—”

“To Dad?”

“And Roger Montgomery.”

“Jassy! Jassy, I'm not great at understanding the law, but I don't think we can just walk up them and ask for sperm samples!”

“We're not talking about the law, we're talking about clearing people. Our family.”

“You can't just ask—”

“Madison! People are dying here.”

Madison fell silent, looking around the room once again. She lifted her hands. “Jassy—this doesn't bother you?”

Jassy shrugged. “Well, I've suggested he might want to put a few of the posters away, but…they are art, and they are collectible.”

Madison was silent.

“She was your mother, and I'm really sorry, Madison, but Jimmy and I have actually only been seeing one another for about a month now. Everything about it feels right, but I can't dictate his life.”

“Oh! You don't want to dictate his life, but I should ask Kyle for a sperm sample.”

Jassy shrugged. “There are other ways to get it. You two can just fool around, and then—”

“Jassy, please.”

“Well, if you don't want to say anything to him, it's one way to go.”

“Great. And what about Dad and Roger and Trent and Rafe? You can just fool around with Jimmy, I assume, so—”

“Madison, this is serious. You just don't want to believe the truth.”

Madison felt a chill steal over her, and she wondered if her sister hadn't hit the nail right on the head. She didn't want to believe the truth. Had that blinded her? In her dreams?

“It can't be Kyle. And I can't believe my father would have done something like that to my mother.”

“Frankly, Lainie's murder isn't so hard to understand,” Jassy said.

“Jassy!”

“Well, it looked like a crime of passion, and Lainie certainly made people feel passionately. The connection between then and now is what I can't quite understand, though the way Kyle explained it once, these serial killers need a fix. Killing Lainie might have been enough for a long time, and then the look of a certain redhead might have triggered the same emotions in the killer again.”

“Jassy…” Madison began, then glanced at her watch. “Jassy, damn it, you're making me late. I have to get Carrie Anne.”

Jassy stood, gazing at her own watch. “Just call Kaila, and she can get Carrie Anne when she picks up Justin. They're in the same school.”

“It's too late. Kaila will have left already.”

“It's not too late,” Jassy said, going to the phone on a side table next to the sofa. “You're too much of a pessimist. Always saying ‘can't' when you haven't even checked. See, Kaila answered. Kaila, it's Jassy, and I've got Madison with me. Can you get Carrie Anne when you get Justin, and Madison will just come to your house? Yeah, good.” Jassy hung up, smiling complacently. “See, no problem.”

“But I want to get my daughter, Jassy. I have to tell her I'm married.”

“First you have to agree to help me.”

“Jassy…”

“There's hypnotism, too.”

“What?”

“You were never hypnotized.”

“So?”

“You ‘saw' Lainie's murder, right? Except you couldn't see a face. Maybe a hypnotist could lead you to see the face.”

“Jassy, I didn't really see anything, except in my mind.”

“You knew, Madison. You
knew.
Maybe a hypnotist could help you see.”

“Jassy…”

“Why the hell not try before someone else is murdered?” Jassy demanded angrily.

Madison threw up her hands. “You want me to be hypnotized? Fine. Arrange it.”

Jassy jumped up. “I happen to know the right person,” she said, dialing the phone again. “I want you to talk to her for a few minutes, and if you like her, we'll go in tomorrow, all right?”

Madison sighed and took the phone from her sister.

 

Bill Decker, the police artist, was a good man, a talented man. But Bitsy was driving him crazy.

Police artists were accustomed to changing what they had drawn. It was the name of the game. Change, until the face came up right.

Now Bill was working over his sketchpad, with Kyle, Jake Ramone and Bitsy looking over his shoulder. Bill had been at it a long time.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, the nose was straight? Or bent? We've done both a few times now,” the man said.

“I don't know, I don't know!” Bitsy cried. “It was there a minute ago….”

“Maybe I should just start over.”

“You know what?” Kyle said, smiling at Bitsy. “Maybe I should have a go at this one. My father's an artist, and I picked up a little something from him. Okay, Bill?”

Bill lifted his hands gratefully.

“Hang around, give me a hand, huh?” Kyle suggested.

He started to draw, smiling at Bitsy. “From the beginning. The face shape, how am I doing? Oval here, broader forehead? And the mouth…?”

“Full, really sexy lips,” Bitsy said. “I remember thinking that he was such a good-looking guy to be trying to wear some kind of a stupid disguise…. Yeah, that's it, the mouth is perfect! And the nose…it's straight.”

Bitsy kept talking. Kyle kept drawing, shading, adjusting.

Somewhere in the process, he began to feel a sinking sensation. A heavy cold, like a glacier settled over him. The picture he was drawing was more than a face. It was an evolving personality. It made no sense.

“No,” he murmured. “God, no.”

“Yes, yes, you've got it right. Absolutely right.”

Kyle stared up at Jake Ramone. “Where the hell is Jimmy Gates? I need to see him right now. Never mind.” He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed Madison's house. Peggy answered.

“Peggy, let me have Madison.”

“She's at her sister's house, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Which sister's house?”

“Oh, now, I'm sure as I don't know. She just said she was going to her sister's.”

“If she comes home, keep her there!”

He stood up, nearly knocking over the easel. “Jake, get on the phone and find Jimmy. I'm going to try to find my wife. You need to get an APB out now, this instant. I think he's going to start fraying soon, go out of control. Jesus.”

“Who is?” Jake inquired, startled by Kyle's vehemence.

Kyle hesitated just briefly, feeling as if knives were piercing his heart.

Then he gave Jake the name.

 

Kaila left the house with Anthony in her arms and Shelley scampering along at her side. She had just put the two little ones into their car seats in her minivan when a car pulled in behind her, blocking her in.

Her heart pounding slightly, she saw Darryl get out of his Lincoln and walk up to her. “Hey, Kaila, have you seen the newlyweds yet?”

Kaila shook her head awkwardly. “Madison is coming here in a while. I was just on my way to get Justin and Carrie Anne.”

“Then I'm glad I caught you. I'll get Carrie Anne.”

“But Madison will be coming here to pick her up.”

“I'll bring her over after we get an ice cream or something. Don't worry.”

“But—”

“Kaila, what's the matter with you? She's my daughter. I'll pick her up, and I'll bring her here.” Aggravated, Darryl turned and got back into his car. Kaila got into her own car to pick up Justin. She wondered why she felt such a strange sense of unease.

She shivered.

“What's the matter, Mommy?” Shelley asked.

“Nothing, baby, nothing.”

She started to drive.

At Justin's school, she left the two little ones in their car seats and stood about ten feet away, waiting to wave to Justin's teacher once she saw him coming out of the classroom.

Her son gave her a broad smile as he emerged. She smiled back. God, she loved her kids. She was so lucky, and she'd come so close to throwing it all away.

“Hey, kid!” she said, greeting him and tousling his hair. “How was school?”