One to Go (19 page)

“That's an exaggeration, Detective. She said she needed legal advice and was insistent. A nice girl, but a little flighty, if you know what I mean.”

“Ms. Stoddard confirmed Ms. Hawkins' call to you later that evening. You told Ms. Stoddard that Jessica wanted you to come see her immediately, but you elected not to do so. Is that correct?”

Now what? Should he perpetuate the lie and hope it would stick or come clean? If he told the truth, Eva would learn of it and get pissed. He didn't want to do anything to upset her, not this early in what he hoped might be a long-term relationship. That is, as long-term as one could enjoy while on death row for murder.

“That's correct.”

“Did she tell you what she wanted to talk about?”

“No, but she seemed scared. And she said she needed to tell me where to find something. Didn't say what it was. She was afraid her phone might be bugged. As I said, a little flighty.”

Castro paused, seemingly deep in thought. “By the way, we found traces of cornstarch, magnesium oxide, and epichlorohydrin on the index finger of Gino Battaglia's right hand.”

Tom's expression showed his genuine confusion.

“Powder commonly used to keep latex gloves from sticking. Interesting thing is, we found the same trace elements on a bottle of Wild Turkey resting next to Reece Mackey's body.”

Tom fought to control his body, particularly his facial muscles, doing his best to force them from belying his guilt.

Castro continued. “Seeing's how you were with the two deceased shortly before they died, thought you might have an idea about the gloves.”

Tom did a lousy job of feigning a thoughtful pause. “No, don't remember seeing any gloves.”

“Do you keep latex gloves here?”

“Me?”
Of course, you, idiot. Who the hell else is he talking to?
“Nope, no gloves.” He made a show of checking his watch.

“I've kept you too long. Might I surmise that you're seeing Ms. Stoddard?”

“Yes.”

“Even though she's on the other side, I don't know a cop who doesn't respect her.”

“I'll be sure to pass that on.”

He reached out his hand. “Have an enjoyable evening, Mr. Booker.”

Tom shook his hand. Another half smile from Castro, then he turned and left.

Tom looked down at his palms, wet with nervous perspiration.

On any other occasion, Tom would've been having the time of his life. Eva, though dressed more casually, looked as radiant as she had at Bat's birthday party. Along with Zig and Marcie, they enjoyed a wonderful dinner at 1789, the iconic restaurant on the edge of Georgetown's main campus. The goal of cheering up Marcie had taken some time to achieve, but by the end of the evening, she laughed a few times at Zig's horrible jokes.

Maybe it had been his imagination, but Tom thought he saw Eva eyeing his third Jack. Was she counting drinks? He purposely didn't finish the third one and ordered iced tea instead.

During the table conversation, Tom appeared to hang on every word. He laughed at Zig's punchlines, though he had absolutely no idea what the joke was about. But all he could think about was Castro's expression when Tom denied having latex gloves in the house.

“…so then on the third day, the little boy comes out, and says, ‘Mom, Mom!' And the Mom says, I know, you were peeing and a bullet came out. And the boy says, no, I was jerking off and shot the dog!”

Tom was angry at himself for not telling Eva—

“Tom?” Eva's expression showed she wasn't happy about his inattention.

“Where were you, man?” asked Zig. “We boring you?”

“Just your stupid jokes, which are as old as Methuselah.” Tom's retort elicited another round of laughs, but he could see
Eva wasn't completely buying his deflection. During the rest of the dinner, Tom focused on participating in the conversation. He even told a joke of his own, which he knew was lame, but his three companions laughed politely anyway.

Exiting the restaurant, Zig suggested they walk along the C&O Canal and find a place for a nightcap. He wanted to locate a restaurant that served Mastika, a Greek liqueur he enjoyed on his trip to Mykonos and Santorini. Eva made the mistake of asking about his visit to the Greek isles, and for the entirety of the walk, Zig offered a frame-by-frame travelogue of his vacation. By the time they reached a small café by the water, even Eva had had enough.

“You know, I'm kind've beat.”

“Makes two of us,” said Tom. “Why don't we leave the two of you to enjoy your Mastika. Marcie, maybe you haven't heard about Zig's trip to Greece. I'm sure he'd love to tell you.”

They all laughed. Tom and Eva said their good-byes and turned up Wisconsin Avenue toward the parking lot.

“I could tell you were preoccupied throughout the evening,” said Eva. She hesitated a moment. “Were you thinking about Jess?”

“No, not at all. Again, I dated the girl a couple of times, that's it. I'm really sad she's dead, and I hope they find the killer. Maybe what you thought you saw was just my reaction to hearing Zig tell the same jokes he's told since I met him.”

She held his gaze for a moment, and he could see she wasn't totally convinced. “Okay,” she said. “Why don't we go back to my place for coffee.”

As Tom followed Eva up the steps to her apartment building, he sensed a sexual tension between them. He told himself it was his imagination. To a girl like Eva, coffee meant coffee—nothing more.

But as they rode the elevator to her floor, he could not only feel, he could almost
see
the sexual energy filling the space between them. He touched her hand, and she squeezed it tight. In a moment,
she was in his arms, her lips pressing hard against his. His arm around her shoulder, they were close to breaking into a jog as they hurried down the hallway to her apartment.

She giggled as she fumbled in her purse, searching for the key. In frustration she upended her purse, spilling its contents onto the corridor rug. As she quickly retrieved the key, Tom scooped the rest of the contents back into her purse. She inserted the key with one hand while wrapping her other around Tom's neck. The moment the door clicked open, they bulled through the door.

Once past the threshold, she kicked the door closed without breaking her embrace. They stumbled toward her living room while hungrily locking their mouths, refusing to let go. Her tongue explored his mouth while his hands caressed every curve of her body. Not willing to waste a second, they peeled off only the most essential garments. He easily lifted her off the ground with one arm, then gently lowered her to the plush carpet, covering her body with his.

His body temporarily assumed complete control and, for a time, mercifully forced from his mind all thought of anything other than the pleasure of making love to a beautiful woman.

He spent the night and, as is always the case, after the first coupling the sex got slower and better. The next morning they arose and walked along the waterfront to the Odyssey Café for breakfast. Unfortunately, the light of day returned the clarity of his situation.

A thousand times he considered admitting that he'd—what was the word?—fibbed, not been as candid as he should have, slightly dissembled, misspoke? Okay, lied his ass off—about driving to Jess' place the night of her murder. But he reluctantly kept his lie to himself and hoped against hope that the fat lady with the annoying white dog couldn't identify him.

After breakfast, Tom walked Eva home, and after a warm kiss, they said their good-byes. He had to pick up Janie and Angela for a promised trip to the zoo, and Eva needed to go into the office to deal with administrative stuff that hadn't reached the top of the pile during the work week.

At the zoo, Janie and Angie, each munching a hot dog, watched enthralled as Tian Tian and Mei Xiang jostled over a long bamboo stalk. The giant pandas remained the most popular animals at the zoo. Before even visiting the exhibit, Tom had bought each of them a stuffed panda at the zoo store.

A roly-poly park guide, who resembled Smokey Bear in his khaki uniform, described the lives and habitats of the
black-and-white bears to the two girls and a small group of other onlookers. Tom couldn't take his eyes off the girls. So young, so innocent.

One of the dark side effects of his nightmare had been the loss of his ability to enjoy the people and things he loved. But for a few hours with Eva, where carnality trumped everything, the monster at the edge of his thoughts was always there, banging the door to enter. The first few minutes when he and Janie greeted each other were always glorious, since her unreserved love was strong enough to keep the beast at bay. But, invariably, as their time together wore on, the monster would break through and his mind would return to black thoughts of death—how was he going to terminate another human life?

Tom planned on arriving at the office early Monday morning so he could look through files of defendants coming up for arraignments and preliminary hearings. Hopefully, he'd be able to find a more deserving target than LaRyn Walker.

Angie had finished all but the last bite of bun on her hot dog and tossed it through the fence toward the two pandas. Immediately, the guide reproached her.

“Young lady, do you eat bear food?”

Angie knew she'd done something wrong. “No, sorry—”

“You don't eat bear food because it would make you sick. People food is poison to bears. Do you want to poison our pandas?”

Angela was almost in tears.

“Look,” said Tom. “She understands. Won't happen again. But putting the thought in a little girl's head that a bite of hot dog bun is going to poison the pandas is a stretch, don't you think?”

Before the guide could respond, Tom took each girl's hand and they moved on to the elephant exhibit.

But the guide's words had given him an idea.

That evening, Tom entered the Internet Café on Prince George Street in Annapolis, Maryland, to research poisons. He knew
he couldn't use his own computer, and he'd driven forty-five minutes to the Maryland state capital where chances of anyone knowing him were slight. On the way, he'd stopped and bought a worn, black Orioles warm-up jacket at the Goodwill store on West Street.

While he hadn't spotted any security cameras either inside or outside the café, Tom took no chances and wore his sunglasses and Orioles gear into the establishment. He paid in cash, and when the young girl behind the counter asked for a credit card to hold, just in case he went over his allotted time, he professed to have forgotten his card and gave her a $100 bill instead. Before she could respond, he found a computer in the back corner, away from the handful of other patrons who appeared to view the venue more as a social gathering place than a research site.

After only a few clicks, Tom had before him more information than he could ever need regarding virtually every poison from the truly exotic to the most mundane. Seeing as he had neither the time nor the ability to obtain curare, sarin or monkshood, he focused on so-called household chemicals.