The Caller (13 page)

‘We received the first letter a month ago.’

‘Yes. And she’s had more seizures since then.’

There was a knock on the door.

‘Yes,’ said Julia. ‘This will be Mary,’ she said to them. ‘Come in, Mary.’

Mary Burig squeezed through the tiny gap she made for herself in the door and closed it behind her. She was dressed in a pale pink oversized cardigan, a blue silk tank, jeans and flip-flops. With her head bowed, her hair – black and shiny, parted in the center – hung down in front of her face.

‘Hi Mary,’ said Julia. ‘Come on in. Sit down.’

Mary raised her head slowly and looked first at Danny. Something caught in his chest.

‘Hi Mary,’ said Joe. ‘I’m Detective Joe Lucchesi.’

‘Oh, hi,’ she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

‘Detective Danny Markey,’ said Danny, half standing.

‘Hi.’

‘Take a seat, Mary,’ said Julia.

‘We met Stanley Frayte earlier,’ said Joe. ‘He was mailing a letter for you. We have your letters here. Did you write these?’

‘Yes.’ She frowned. ‘How many do you have there?’

‘Three,’ said Joe.

‘But I sent you fifteen.’

‘Fifteen,’ said Danny. ‘You’ve been busy.’

She smiled. ‘Can I see the one you have there?’

Mary took the plastic bag with the napkin and stared down at it, slowly reading through it, her head bent, her hair falling down to cover her cheeks. She shifted in the chair, pushing her feet back underneath it, crossing her legs at the ankles. Several minutes passed. Joe looked towards Julia Embry who gave a tiny shrug. He gave her a small smile and waited. Lights flashed across the bottom of Julia’s phone. Her focus stayed on Mary, whose hair was now covering most of her face, until she tucked one side of it back behind her ear and they could all see the tears streaming down her face. When she looked at Julia and then Joe, the pale eyes that had seemed so shining and clear were now dark with fear and confusion.

‘Mary, does this letter mean anything to you?’ said Joe.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’

Someone had brought Stanley Frayte a Coke and some chocolate. The can was crushed as small as it could go and the chocolate wrapper was twisted tightly and rammed into the hole. He jumped when Danny and Joe walked back in.

‘OK, Stanley, we spoke with Mary’ said Joe. ‘She’s confirmed what you told us. So we’re done here for now. You can go home.’

‘Thank you,’ said Stan.

‘Hey, why don’t we give you a ride?’ said Joe.

‘You sure?’ said Stan.

‘Not a problem,’ said Joe. ‘Back to Tuckahoe?’

‘No. My van’s at the clinic.’

‘Sure, OK.’

Joe had asked a lot of people if they wanted a ride home after spending hours grilling them in a small interview room. They often said yes because they felt it was a test. Maybe if they said no, it would be like they had something to hide. Sometimes they
said no because, innocent or guilty, they just wanted to get the hell out of the station house. It looked like Stan thought he was passing a test. When they got to the car, he glanced at the milkshake stain on the hood.

‘Don’t ask,’ said Joe, throwing Danny the keys.

They got in and drove the short journey to 21st Street. Joe turned in his seat to talk to Stan.

‘So how long you been an electrician?’

‘Eight years,’ said Stan.

‘Really? You like it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Stan, ‘yeah I do.’

‘What did you do before that?’

‘I drove a truck.’

‘My father was a truck driver. What was your route?’

‘I delivered a lot to Riker’s Island.’

‘No shit. With who?’

‘Barbizan Trucking.’

‘Did you give it up because of all the Frayte jokes?’

Stanley smiled. ‘Something like that.’

They pulled up outside the clinic.

‘Here,’ said Joe. ‘Here’s my card. If you think of anything else or if you need anything, let me know.’

‘Sure,’ said Stan. ‘Thanks for the ride.’

‘Thanks for your help today.’

Stan walked over to the van. In the rearview mirror, Joe could see Julia Embry standing at the front door, waving to Stan to come in.

‘Your father’s a truck driver,’ said Danny, taking a right out of the clinic. ‘How many jobs have you given Giulio over the years?’

‘Hey, it’s the only time I get to see him as a regular guy,’ said Joe.

‘Jesus, you’re cruel.’

‘So what do we make of Miss Mary?’ said Joe.

‘Those eyes,’ said Danny.

‘Mary’s?’

‘Yeah. They’re like those dogs. What are they called? Those wolfy dogs.’

‘Huskies.’

‘Yes. That’s it.’

‘Down, boy.’

‘It’s just her eyes I’m talking about. You gotta admit, they were really something.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I mean, not that the rest of her …’

‘You’re not right, Danny. The girl looks like she needs to be wrapped up in cotton wool and, I don’t know … let nowhere near you, that’s for sure.’

David Burig sat on a short wooden bench in the grounds of Colt-Embry. Mary was beside him, facing him, her legs curled under her body. Her eyes were red and tired.

‘Mary, Mary, Mary,’ said David. ‘What am I going to do with you?’

‘Go to a movie?’ she said.

David smiled and hugged her. ‘Sending letters to the cops. You really thought you could help them.’

He could feel her nod against his chest.

‘You have a good heart,’ he said, rubbing her hair. ‘Remember the little kid around the corner who cried all the time and I used to say to him, “would an ice-cream make it better?” and he’d say, “yes” and I’d say, “well, when you’re at the store, will you get me one too?” Your little face – you’d laugh, but you felt so bad for him at the same time.’

She smiled. ‘I remember him. You were so mean.’

David pulled her away gently and looked at her. ‘Do you want to talk about these things? I don’t know if you do. I don’t know if I’m upsetting you.’

‘I do,’ said Mary. ‘Because I remember them. They mean that I had a good life. And people loved me. And I did things myself.’ She stared down at the ground. ‘I know I’m not intelligent any more.’

‘God, that’s heartbreaking,’ said David.

‘But it’s the truth,’ said Mary.

‘Look at you,’ he said, ‘you’re just so pretty and you look …’ He trailed off. ‘You made me laugh so much, Mare.’

‘And I don’t any more.’

‘Don’t say that. You do make me laugh. You
cheer me up. You remind me that the world is good and pure …’ He stopped, because sometimes she reminded him that the world was a terrible place.

‘Look at your shirt,’ she said.

He looked down. ‘What?’

‘It’s shaking. Is your heart beating really fast?’ She frowned and reached out her hand.

‘No,’ he said, quickly taking hold of it. ‘That’s just the breeze.’ He smiled.

Mary looked at him. ‘Do you get tired of visiting me?’

‘No, no, no,’ said David. ‘Please don’t tell me you think that. It’s you and me, Mary. It always was. And always will be, OK?’

She nodded. ‘Thanks.’ She paused. ‘I’m sorry about the letters.’

Joe and Danny were pulling up at the car wash on Columbus Avenue when Joe’s phone rang. He pulled it out and flipped it open.

‘Joe? It’s Rencher. This Mary Burig broad? She was admitted to Downtown Hospital nine months ago, GSW to the head from …’ he paused, ‘… a twenty-two caliber automatic.’

Julia Embry had been paged to reception in the main clinic by the time Joe and Danny arrived back. She leaned over the desk to the receptionist. ‘Send Magda to the coffee shop when she comes in. Thank you.’

They took a quiet table in the corner and got coffee.

‘I’m sure you know every shooting is reported to the police in the ER,’ said Joe ’so when we ran Mary’s name, it came up.’

Julia nodded. ‘I didn’t know if it was relevant.’

‘I don’t know if you’ve been watching the news or reading the papers, but The Caller is killing his victims with a similar weapon …’

‘Oh my God,’ said Julia.

Joe nodded. ‘It’s looking like Mary could possibly have been a victim.’

‘But weren’t the victims all male?’

‘So far, yes,’ said Joe. ‘But it’s too much of a coincidence that Mary has been sending in these letters, she seems to have some information about the crimes and now she has an injury just like the other victims.’

‘I suppose you need to speak with her again.’

‘Yes,’ said Joe. ‘How was she when we left?’

‘She was down, frustrated that she couldn’t help. And scared. She’s back at her apartment now. I can take you over there.’

‘We don’t want to do anything to upset Mary,’ said Danny. ‘We just think there might be more information there that could be useful. If we can jog her memory in any way …’

‘OK. First, you can speak with Magda. Here she is. I called her when all this happened with Stanley earlier. She said she needed to come in.’

Magda walked towards them with a blue canvas tote bag clutched to her stomach.

‘Hello, detectives. My name is Magda Oleszak, Mary Burig’s support worker.’

She took a seat in front of them and pulled the bag onto her lap.

‘Hi,’ said Joe. ‘How you doing?’

‘Here,’ she said, reaching in, taking out a large brown envelope. ‘These are from Mary.’

‘She asked you to give this to us?’ said Joe, taking the envelope.

Magda shook her head. ‘No. I mail letters for her sometimes. But she writes so many I can’t mail all of them. Like the one she wrote to welcome the new Pope. Or the ones to you. She saw the news conference. Lots of people saw it, but they don’t send you letters. When I came back from Poland, I heard she told you she mailed you fifteen letters. She didn’t. She has problems with her memory. But she did write these other things that I can give you now. She writes sometimes before she has a seizure. Stan will tell you that. He arrived one day after she had a seizure and her papers were on the floor all around her.’

As Joe sliced through the envelope, the contents spilled out: receipts, Post-Its, strips of newspaper margins, toilet paper, magazines, floral notelets, Rolodex pages, greeting cards, the pale cream interiors of cereal boxes. Every surface Mary could
have found to write on, was covered with text and stuffed into envelopes.

‘It was distressing for her,’ said Magda. ‘Mary tries to make sense of what she has written and she can’t. Not all of it. I see her crying, I see how I can make that go away and I do it. I take these writings away. For her. Stan did not know this. So he mailed those letters to you. And now …’ She shrugged. ‘You can make no sense of them too.’

‘Have you read through these again?’ said Joe.

‘I never read them the first time,’ said Magda. ‘I still don’t like reading in English.’

‘Does anyone mind if I take a look at her letters?’ said Julia.

Joe handed them to her.

‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘I can see how these could be difficult to understand. Mary’s thought patterns are disassociated – you can tell from how she’s written all this. It probably made sense to her at the time but the order is all out of whack.’

‘There’s a lot there to take in,’ said Joe.

‘Don’t forget Mary’s long-term memory is strong,’ said Julia. ‘It’s very hard for her that, since the attack, she has difficulty forming new memories. She’s aware that she can’t do everything she used to be able to do. I wish I could be of more help, but ultimately, only you know what you’re looking for. The best I can say is to
scrutinize these again and see is there anything that means anything to your investigation. To me, Mary talking about her swimming classes in Astoria Park is no big deal, but if you knew the killer swims fifty lengths a day there, then that could be important.’

‘I looked at some of the drawings,’ said Magda, shrugging. ‘But, no. They’re weird.’ She pointed to the cereal box. ‘On there.’

Joe flipped over the box and saw angry black mouths staring back at him, some of them big, some of them small, all of them wide open with ragged teeth. Joe passed it to Danny.

‘Did she talk to you about this one?’

Magda shook her head. ‘This was after a seizure. I found it on her writing desk. I can’t show her that. It’s too creepy.’

Danny shrugged. ‘Thank you for bringing these to our attention. We’ll take a look at all this, it might not mean anything, but we’ve got to check everything out.’

‘Yes. Probably nothing,’ said Magda. ‘But you’re here now, so maybe we could go and see if Mary can help you.’

‘If you don’t mind,’ said Julia. ‘I’ll leave you to it. We’re in the process of setting up a second clinic upstate and I’m under a lot of pressure.’

‘That’s not a problem,’ said Joe.

* * *

Mary sat on the corner of her bed with the pages spread out in front of her. Magda sat beside her with a hand on her arm. Joe and Danny stood beside her. She had been this way for fifteen minutes. No-one spoke.

Eventually, Mary looked up. ‘Something to do with mouths, hurting people’s mouths. I don’t think he can help it.’ She pointed to her drawings and the place where the ink was so heavy and black, it had soaked through the card.

The light in the front room was on when Joe got back. Anna walked into the hall as soon as she heard the car. Her face was white.

‘What is going on?’ she said.

Joe walked by her into the kitchen. ‘What? With the case?’

‘I just got a call from Paris. The police came to the house.’

Joe didn’t move. ‘What?’

‘To my parents’ house. Three flics call to the door. My mother was frightened. She thought we’d had an accident or something. They say to her, “is everything OK?” Then they walk all around the garden. And ask can they come in the house to look too. She’s seventy-five years old. She didn’t know what to do. I don’t think she even asked them for ID—’

Joe turned around. ‘I told your parents to always ask for ID if people are calling at the door.’

‘That’s it?’ she said. ‘You told them that. What about telling them the police might call at the door! Why were they there?’

He walked over to her. ‘After everything that happened last year, I asked them to look in on your parents every now and then. That’s it.’

‘But what have my parents got to do with anything?’

‘They’re part of our family. Duke Rawlins targeted my family. You had nothing to do with what went down between me and him and Riggs, but that didn’t matter to him.’

‘I don’t understand. Did you think my parents weren’t going to tell me?’

‘I didn’t think the cops were going to knock on the door. I thought they were just going to take a look around without raising any suspicions.’

‘Do Giulio and Pam get these visits too?’

‘Let me take care of them. I’m in the same country. But yes, I did put a call into Rye PD, let them know our situation.’

Anna shook her head. ‘We’ll never be free of this.’

‘We are free,’ said Joe, pulling her into his arms. ‘It’s over. I am not going to let someone like him ruin our lives. He is not going to come after us so soon. He’s not going to risk that. We’re the worst place he could be right now. New York is the worst place.’

‘I don’t think anything would ever stop that man getting what he wants.’

‘Honey,’ he said, pulling her closer. ‘Listen to me. He’s not coming back.’