The Beholder, a Maddie Richards Mystery (29 page)

“I’m looking forward to talking with Jed,” she said, “and I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing his own relatives in Southern California.”

“Did you notice if Gary Packard was home last night?” Maddie asked, aware that her mother had carefully locked the sliding glass door.

“I saw his headlights when he pulled in around ten,” her mother said, while rinsing out their tea cups. “Does that fit the timeline for KC’s killing?”

“You know that you’re a wily old broad.”

“It’s about time you found that out, dear,” her mother said. “And while I agree it’s a reasonable precaution for Bradley and me to go to California, I don’t think Gary Packard is the Beholder.”

“Does he look too much like Kirk Douglas?”

“No. He doesn’t look enough like Boris Karloff.” She smiled. “I love you, Madeline Jane.”

“I love you, too, Mom,” Maddie said before leaving the room.

When Maddie had first seen what was left of KC, she had steeled herself to deal with it. And she had. But now, away from the horror, her police instincts had shut down and all she could feel was sorrow, and a splash of fear. The Beholder was somehow connected to the police. She had no proof. It was just one of those tendrils that put down roots in the mush of a cop’s gut.

Folami Stowe had an arrest for prostitution. Abigail Knight’s husband had done some psych work for the police department some years before. Carmen Diaz was Lieutenant Harrison’s lover. And Katie Carson was the lifelong friend of the homicide cop handling the case. Each victim more closely connected to the department.

Then it struck Maddie that this progression of thought led to her being the Beholder’s next victim. Her own height and weight were similar to the other victims. She was still closer to the department. And she and KC had at times worn each other’s bras, so she fit that criteria as well.

Chapter 42

Maddie’s alarm clock brought her out of a dream in which she had been driving a lonely rutted road through a shrouding fog, the imagined eerie night dotted with a forest of bloodshot eyes.

She showered and dressed without a great deal of care and headed for the station where the roundish mass of Ben Carson, KC’s three-hundred-pound brother, stood waiting. His size and the gravel pit voice he’d had since the ninth grade had made it easy for him to be the school bully, a trait he had brought along into adulthood.

Ben rushed up close. “Damn you, Maddie Richards.”

His words struck like a cattle prod, not to mention his hot spittle which spewed onto her cheek.

She had to get control over Ben, try to comfort him and get him on his way, stop by the Beholder work station, and get home before Jed came for her mother and Bradley.

“If you had done your job,” Ben went on, “sis would still be alive.”

“Ben Carson. When you were ten you grabbed and kissed me. I’m sure you also remember my kneeing you in the balls. I can do that again.”

The department encouraged a more sensitive approach when dealing with grieving family members, but Maddie had always been able to handle Katie’s brother, so she had fallen back on time-tested methods.

Ben glared at her, then stepped back and collapsed into a lobby chair.

Maddie sat next to him, and took his hand. “You know I loved your sister. I regret not having caught the Beholder in time. Believe me, I do. But it’s just not that simple.”

“Sis didn’t deserve to die, certainly not that way.”

“No one does.”

Tear welled in his eyes. “I always thought Alzheimer was cruel. Right now it seems compassionate; Mom will never comprehend what happened to her little girl.”

“I’ve been thinking about going out to see your mother. I just haven’t gotten there.”

“Don’t bother,” Ben said, sitting with his legs spread and leaning forward, his forearms on his thighs; his head down. “She doesn’t recognize me much of the time. … I wish I had been visiting sis that night. I could have protected her.”

“Don’t take this on your shoulders. It doesn’t belong. She was a grown woman, living her own life. You have a beautiful wife and two lovely children. Go find them and hug them.”

“Can you get this guy?”

“I can promise you what I’ve already promised myself: I won’t stop. But I can’t promise he won’t take more victims before that happens. Someday, when all this is over, you and I’ll sit down and I’ll tell you why finding serial killers are like needles in not just haystacks, but hayfields. Now, go home Ben. Grieve and then let it go.”

“I’m sorry, I …”

“Oh. Go on. Get out of here.”

Ben hugged Maddie for the first time since they were ten. She didn’t knee him in the balls this time. She hugged him back.

***

Maddie buzzed Lieutenant Harrison and learned he was on his way to pick up the warrant to search the home of Cornelia Gibbs, the residence of their number-one suspect.

“The Carson autopsy is tomorrow morning,” he told her. “I’ll be attending, not you.”

“Listen, Lieutenant,” Maddie protested. “It’s true, I’ve known Katie Carson for a long time, but we were never all that chummy. My relationship—”

“Can it, Sergeant. I’m not going to take you off the Beholder case for being too close. I discussed it with the chief and we’re in agreement. We think you can handle it and we don’t want to lose time reshuffling.”

“Thank you, sir. And I can handle KC’s autopsy. Really.”

“I told you to drop the double talk Sergeant Richards. I’m not going to let you go there and watch your friend get chopped up. If you don’t agree, I can read back all the reasons you gave me for my not attending Carmen’s autopsy.”

***

Maddie got home at eight-twenty, the temperature already above ninety, to find Jed and her mother standing by his car, which was already packed. They were ready to pull out.

“Thank you,” she said into Jed’s ear while hugging him.

“You got your bathing suit, Brad?” he asked, grinning as Bradley came running out of the house. “And your basketball? There are some great places at the beach to shoot hoops. I wanna see what kind of game you got.” When Bradley turned and headed back for the house, Jed faced Maddie. “Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?”

“It means what it means. I had no one else to ask.” Jed winced. “And when you get back, I want to hear all about how you think you’ve put in the fix for the custody hearing against Curtis. And I don’t want any more of that need-to-know shit.” Maddie’s mother frowned when she swore.

“When I get back,” he said.

“You want I should follow you for a while?”

“No need,” he told Maddie while holding open the back door of his Chrysler for her mother. He had put a few throw pillows in the back to make her more comfortable. Brad got into the front seat. “I’ll watch for a tail. If I pick one up, I’ll call you and we’ll set a trap.”

As they drove off, Maddie glanced at Gary Packard’s house. She had seen a change in the angle of the wooden shutters over the front window.

Chapter 43

“What is this foolishness, Maddie Richards?” Cornelia Gibbs demanded. “Why are all these police officers at my door?”

Lieutenant Harrison took the screen door in his hand and stepped closer. “You are Cornelia Gibbs, aunt to Steven Gibbs, who resides here in your home?”

“Yes. Stevie isn’t here. I don’t know where he is. You’ll have to come back.”

Without makeup, Cornelia Gibbs actually looked better. Maddie moved her shoulder inside the lieutenant’s.

“Did Steve come home yesterday or last night, Ms. Gibbs?”

“What is going on here?”

“Just answer my question, Ms. Gibbs.”

“No, Maddie. No. Stevie did not come home last night, and I’m worried sick. Has something happened to my Stevie?”

“Ms. Gibbs, my name is Lieutenant Harrison.” He moved closer. “This is a warrant to search your home.” The lieutenant put his foot on the door sill.

“For what?” Ms. Gibbs moved right up to his face, her hands firmly planted on her hips. “You can’t just barge in here. Do you really want to be known for knocking an old woman out of the doorway of her own home? You’re not the Gestapo.”

Had this been a warrant for drugs, the officers would have swept her aside, but it was not. The lieutenant stood his ground, his hand holding out the warrant.

“Ms. Gibbs,” Maddie said. “The warrant is properly authorized by the court; take it and step aside. You cannot prevent this search.”

Ms. Gibbs snatched the warrant. Maddie gently led her into her kitchen.

“Sit here, Ms. Gibbs. This will take a while. Do not leave this room. If you wish, you may call your attorney.”

“I don’t have
an
attorney, Maddie,” the old woman huffed. “I guess now I should address you as Sergeant Richards. I thought you were my friend.”

“Our feelings for each other aren’t relevant. Call an attorney or not as you choose, but stay here. Do not try to interfere with the officers carrying out their duties.”

Maddie left an officer in the kitchen and went to find Harrison who had begun the search with three other officers. The warrant had allowed them to search for the victims’ clothing, body parts, any writings connected to the crimes, including computer files that might relate to past or possible future victims, sadistic or pornographic materials suggestive of the kind of mayhem in which the Beholder had engaged, and the types of tools or instruments that could have been used to mutilate the victims.

***

Three hours later, the officers left the home of Cornelia Gibbs chased by her harsh words. They had found nothing incriminating, but the lieutenant told Maddie he would pursue a warrant for Steve Gibbs as a
person of interest
. A category of warrant, the cops sometimes called suspect lite even thought they often were written on persons not considered suspects.

Maddie and Lieutenant Harrison also discussed a warrant to put a tap on the home phone of Doctor Mills Knight’s sister and his office phone, but concluded they lacked sufficient grounds. Up to this point they only had him for lying about being in San Diego the night his wife was killed. His alibi remained airtight, as did his alibi for when KC was butchered. However, the lieutenant did continue his authorization for the round-the-clock surveillance of Doctor Knight.

They would also obtain a wiretap for the phone in the home of Cornelia Gibbs. His aunt said Steve Gibbs had no separate land-based phone. Based on what they had seen in the house that appeared true. Ms. Gibbs also said neither of them had a cell phone. They had seen no chargers in the house, but the lieutenant would have someone check with the phone company.

Maddie also filled the lieutenant in on her theory that the police department was somehow connected to all this.

“That changes little or nothing,” Harrison said, making it clear he wasn’t buying a cop tie-in. “If your cockamamie theory has any merit,” he said, “Steve Gibbs working for the M.E.’s office would fit that, too.”

“It could also fit his aunt,” Maddie said. “If she’s her nephew’s alibi for Thursday nights, then he’s hers as well. Steve Gibbs is so quiet people often forget when he’s around. Who knows what he might have overheard and innocently passed on to his aunt over the dinner table? Either Steve or his aunt could have tailed you to Carmen’s house. Bottom line is we have never had any idea where Cornelia Gibbs was at any time.”

Maddie then told Lieutenant Harrison about the disappearance of Steve’s mother. Cornelia Gibbs’s jealousy of her sister’s beauty, and that she may have wanted her sister out of the way so she could raise Steve as her own.

Then Maddie told him the final point in her sketchy Cornelia Gibbs theory: “During the search we just did, I went through the room that has been left as a shrine to the dead sister. Steve’s mother’s things were still there, including the woman’s old bras still in the dresser. Size 36-C. It could be a coincidence, but all the Beholder’s victims have worn that exact size. It is possible that Aunt Cornelia is re-killing her own sister.”

The lieutenant whistled. “Maybe we should be glad KC called this guy
The Beholder,
otherwise he could have ended up being called the
36-C killer
. We need to keep that angle under wraps. I want a stakeout on this house and our people following both Steve Gibbs and his aunt twenty-four-seven. I’ll find out if we have anything on the disappearance of Steve Gibbs’s mother.”

Before they parted, the lieutenant grudgingly agreed to take a clandestine look at Dinkins and Brackett, and to try to keep track of their whereabouts. But he remained steadfast against bringing Internal Affairs into the whole mess.

“I want no rumors about the Beholder being a cop, not without you first clearing it with me. You hear me, Sergeant. Not a one.”

Maddie felt relieved to have her the-Beholder-is-close-to-our-department theory in the open. The lieutenant had seen some logic behind it, but she wouldn’t fool herself. His reaction had been far short of an endorsement. The Beholder case was the kind where the department could not risk being remiss, so every lead, even this one which he had described as “remote,” would be followed.

When Maddie stepped out of her car at the station, she was immediately rushed by a herd of agitated reporters.

Maddie hoped all her obedient years in Catholic school might qualify her for one divine intervention. It didn’t come, and the crowd kept pressing in closer. Their microphones held above their heads gave the appearance of an impromptu gathering of extraterrestrials.

“We hear you have a suspect,” someone shouted.

“What are you going to do about Katie Carson?” shouted another, as the cordon drew tighter.

This was not business as usual. Like always, the reporters wanted the story, but this time they were also frightened. The media were accustomed to being above the bloodletting and terror of the crimes they covered. They wanted the Beholder caught. They wanted to return to what they viewed as their limited special perch: spectators of mayhem.

“Once you’ve backed off and given me room to breathe, I’ll answer your questions.” Maddie crossed her arms and leaned against her car. If they intended this to be a gang bang, she was not about to be the meat.