MASS MURDER (9 page)

He glanced up to where a round plaque hung on the wall above the head of the stairs. Etched into the wood was an exact duplicate of the cross imprinted on the button in his hand.

Chapter Six

He lay on the small, uncomfortable bed with his arms folded behind his head.
The interview had gone well.
A young cop with red hair had asked cursory, simple questions meant to establish the basics.
He’d applied just the right inflection of sadness in his answers.
After all, a young woman had just died.
He would be expected to feel badly about that.

In return, he’d gleaned important information of his own.
The police had no suspects and couldn’t figure out how someone had gotten the victim into the closet without being seen.
The girl’s name was Mallery Olsen
,
and she’d been strangled.
So far, no one had reported seeing anything suspicious
. B
ut something else, something more sinister had happened the young cop wouldn’t reveal.
Of course, that sinister
“
thing
”
was sitting safely tucked away in an envelope inside the closet.
The officer had also divulged there was only one detective on the force trained in homicide investigations, but he wouldn’t be available to take the case tonight.
That was a f
ucking stroke of luck.

He rolled onto his side thinking about the girl.
Mallery.
He’d dated her for a short time in college when her name had been Mallery Young.
They’d met in the theater
;
she’d played Guinevere to his Lancelot.
Like most stage romances it
had
lasted only until closing night.
She briefly dated his best friend as well, saying the only way she could tell them apart was by the color of their hair and how
well
they performed in bed.
He just assumed he was the better lover.

Perhaps he should have indulged himself tonight.
They hadn’t seen each other in over five years and yet
,
clearly
,
she’d been interested.
She’d appeared out of nowhere
to join
him on the bench in the garden as he sat enjoying the fading sun
. She’d been
all chatty and curious about his appearance.
Although he’d tried to engage himself in the
ir conversation
, his mind had raced ahead in an effort to resolve the situation.
She could blow his cover
,
now
,
or when the conference was over.
Fortunately, she’d suggested the rendezvous in her room before the banquet.
All he’d had to do was suggest keeping it private.
She’d gone back to the conference while he’d returned to his own room to figure out what to do.

His initial panic quickly morphed into a concentrated planning mode.
The “what” (what to do) was answered immediately.
He had to get rid of her.
The “how” (how to do it) was a little more difficult.
Fortunately, t
he location of his room
came to his rescue.
In the end, it had all been incredibly easy
,
and he remembered the odd sense of detachment when he wrapped the green silk scarf around her neck.
She’d struggled and squirmed
,
but when the small bone in her neck snapped, her legs had gone limp
,
and he’d dropped her to the floor.

He’d stood over her for a moment, wondering at the perverse sense
of power he felt at having
killed another human being.
When he’d shot Mangano, the man who had killed his father, the power had been contained in the gun, dissipating quickly once the gun was eliminated.
With the girl, the power had been in his bare hands.
But that feeling hadn’t lasted long.
A mist had formed above her body breaking the spell and making him step back.
The memory gave him a chill even now.
He thought perhaps it was her soul leaving her body.
That hadn’t happened with Mangano, but then, maybe Mangano didn’t have a soul
.

Getting Mallery down to the closet had been the biggest challenge.
She hadn’t weighed much
. E
ven rolled in a blanket
,
she’d been easy to balance on one shoulder.
The real risk had been running into someone.
But even the caterers had been too busy to notice him as he’d entered the rear hallway.
Once he was in the closet, he’d been relatively safe.
Hanging her on the utility rack and then removing her little finger was meant to achieve maximum attention.
That was important.
He wanted news of this to reach across the country.
After
he
placed her on the hook, he’d had time to indulge himself with a feel beneath the fabric of her dress for old time’s sake.
Her perfume lingered yet on his finger tips
,
and he dragged the back of his hand across his upper lip, inhaling the full aroma of her scent.

Shit!
The perfume!

He sat up, flinging his feet to the floor in one fluid movement.

Had the young cop smelled it?

He jumped up and ran to the bathroom with a curdled feeling filling his stomach.
Grabbing the hand soap, he lathered up.

Stupid mistake.
Stupid, stupid mistake!
He had to get rid of the smell and hope the officer hadn’t noticed it.
Thank God he’d been fortunate enough to draw the biggest novice in the bunch.
A mistake like this could have given him away.
He scrubbed until his fingers were almost raw, even lathering up the
back of his hand and
putting the wings of
the
eagle tattoo into motion.
He kept this up until only the crisp smell of the soap filled the small bathroom.
Then he dried his hands and leaned on the sink, staring at himself in the mirror.

He’d killed a girl he’d once had feelings for
,
and yet he didn’t really care.
It was just something that had to be done.
Survival.
There had been no hesitation, no moment of question, and no guilt.
Was that how his uncle felt when he took care of business?
When he’d ordered his only nephew to disappear because he’d made a mistake?

He turned off the water and watched the soap disappear down the drain.
This was no time for sentimentality.
His uncle would expect more.
Hadn’t he always said, “
Never underestimate your adversary?
”
Even
dim-witted
police could identify mistakes, so there couldn’t be any mistakes.
Not if he wanted back in the family.
The girl was dead
,
and the disguise had been hidden away.
He was invisible again.
He was safe.
Tomorrow, he would use the disguise to mail t
he envelope, sending this small-
town police department into a tail spin.
After all, deception wasn’t so hard.
All you had to do was help them focus on all the wrong places.
Like any good magician, it was only a matter of misdirection.
And that was something he was very, very good at.

Chapter Seven

Giorgio
dropped
the coin
back into his pocket
.
Marsh wasn’t telling all he knew.
That was clear.
But what did the deception mean?
As Marsh disappeared
around
the top of the stairs, a red-haired officer appeared from the opposite direction.

“McCready!” Giorgio called up to
the young man. “Where’s Swan?”

The officer lifted his eyes from the Blackberry in his hands.
At twenty-four, McCready was the youngest member of the Sierra Madr
e department and the tech whiz.

“Joe, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight.
Swan’s interviewing two women up here,”
M
cCready said, jerking his head back and to the right.
“Do you want me to get him?”

“No.
Thanks.” Giorgio grabbed the carved finial at the foot of the stairs and took them two at a time, stopping to look over McCready’s shoulder. “Are you sure you’re not playing solitaire on that thing?”

McCready was never far from a keyboard and was already lost again in the small display window.
He looked
up, his blue eyes lost in a curious expression.

“I’m putting in my notes, Sir.”

Giorgio smiled and continued around the head of the stairs.
He found himself in a dreary, narrow hallway.
Voices drew him into the first room to his right where Swan was finishing up with two older women.
The room was sparsely furnished with twin beds covered by eyelet bedspreads and green chenille blankets.
Giorgio gave Swan a nod, encouraging him to continue with his interview.
He decided to look around while he waited.

The hallway extended forwards for about seventy-five feet with rooms on both sides.
Giorgio’s footsteps were muffled by a series of threadbare, Middle Eastern carpet runners laid end
-
to
-
end.
Two
amber
wall sconces splashed soft arcs of light across the faded, floral wallpaper.
The hallway ended at a window that looked out onto a
small
roof.
Giorgio glanced out the window and then tried the window.
It was securely locked.
Retracing his steps, he passed the brunette from the driveway, the one wearing the slim, white suit
with the split skirt
.
She glanced his way, her eyes lost in shadow as she disappeared into her room
.

Giorgio made it back to where the
landing at the head of the stairs had been made into a sitting area
. Two windows
covered by heavy brocade curtains looked out over the north side of the property.
Giorgio pushed one set of curtains aside and found a tall, leaded window.
Dust lifted off the curtain making him
pinch
his nose to avoid sneezing.
When
the urge subside
d
, he reached out to test the crank window.
It was also securely locked.
He checked the second window and found it locked as well.
The view from either window revealed
little.
It was virtually dark outside except for a string of lights strategically positioned along the walkway below.
Yet even these were obscured by a canopy of mature trees now restlessly moving back and forth in a healthy breeze.