The Christine Murders (12 page)

He remembered the gift he had for her. He’d specially wrapped it last night and would deliver it today.

There was so much to do, but it would all have to wait. And he had Shirley.

He turned back to her once more, this time smiling easily. “Tell me, Shirley, have you and Kenneth gotten out on the boat lately? You don’t know how happy I am to know someone who enjoys boating so much, now that I’ve lost interest. It would have been such a shame for
The Gemstone
to be neglected.”

Luther smiled while he listened, his charming self once more, as Shirley recounted the latest sail she and her husband and family had taken, even pulling out her smart phone to show him all of the pictures they had shot the last time they had spent a day on his old boat out in San Francisco Bay.

CHAPTER TWENTY

A flat gold box with a note card attached to a thick blue velvet ribbon was waiting for Christine when she and Bill returned to her apartment Monday afternoon.

Ray delivered the gift to her, and her heart began to race when Ray told her about the man who had left it with him.

“He was a tall guy, dark haired, and sounded British. Looked pretty important and acted that way, too. Is everything all right, Miss Lindsey?”

Christine forced a smile. “Yes, Ray. But, do me a favor. If he comes here again, please don’t accept anything from him. And let me know if you see him again at all, will you?”

Ray was concerned. “So he’s bothering you?”

“You might say so, yes. He was a passenger on one of my flights a few weeks ago, and now he’s started sending me things. Remember the roses last week? He sent those, too. I guess one thing I can say about him is that he’s certainly not cheap, is he?”

Ray was nodding his head, unsmiling. “Yes, I do remember those roses. In a fancy crystal vase. But it doesn’t matter what he’s sending or how much it costs if you don’t want anything from him. Thanks for telling me this. If I see him around here again, it will be the last time he comes here.”

“Thank you, Ray. I appreciate that.”

“When are you working again?” Ray asked.

“Tomorrow. I’m going to Tokyo, and Laura will be taking care of Tommy and the apartment for me, as always.”

“What a life,” Ray said, smiling now. “Well, you take care of yourself and have a good trip. Don’t worry about anything here.”

Christine, far more upset than she cared to let Ray know, closed the apartment door and brought the gift box inside to show to Bill.

***

Inside the box, beneath a crisp sheet of scented tissue paper, Christine found one long dark blue silk scarf. The silk felt cool and soft and shimmery. “How very lovely,” she said, lifting the scarf from the box and holding it up, while running her fingertips lightly over it. The silk was cool and smooth. “From France. Expensive.”

Bill took the tiny card from the package. “Shall we open this?” he asked.

“You do it,” Christine said. She placed the scarf back in the box. “Tell us what Luther has to say now.”

Bill slipped the note card from its heavy cream-colored envelope.
‘For my lovely Christine, from Luther,’
he read. “
My
lovely Christine? Good heavens, Christy, you’ve got to do something about this guy!” He dropped the card on the table. Christine picked it up and read it.

“What should I do, Bill?” she asked him. She was perplexed by Luther’s persistence. When would this stop? Perhaps he meant no harm. But just the same, he was harassing her. Worst of all, she could not rid herself of a feeling of menace connected to Luther and his lavish gifts, as if some large price would eventually be exacted from her in return.

Bill voiced her thoughts. “This is sexual harassment, Christine. There are laws against this sort of thing, you know that. You don’t like or want this man and you don’t want his gifts. Personally, I think he’s a nutcase. After all, you’ve made it obvious you are not interested in him. Do you want me to speak to him? Or would you go to the police about this?”

“The police? That would be a bit extreme, wouldn’t it? What would I say? Some guy’s been spending a fortune sending me crystal vases of roses and now a silk scarf from France? I think the police have more to do than deal with some extravagant guy with a crush on me. And no, I don’t want you to have to confront him either. At least, not now, not yet. Let’s see what happens. Maybe it will all stop.”

“But what if it doesn’t stop? Christy, please, I don’t like this, I don’t like it at all. This is beyond creepy. I didn’t like Luther when he was on that flight with us and I dislike him even more now.”

Christine watched her friend. He was clearly as upset as she was. And maybe he was right. But going to the police?

“All right, I’ll do something,” she told Bill. “I’m not sure how to handle it, but I’ll figure something out. But I’m flying tomorrow and don’t have time to do anything right now. I promise to take care of this as soon as I come home, okay?”

Reluctantly, Bill nodded. “Okay, when you get home. When we both get home again. I’ve got a Tahiti trip coming up next. And I’ll go with you, anywhere you have to go. I can back you up on any complaint, because I met the jerk also. Just as long as I know you will do something to stop him. You know, you just can’t fool around with guys like this, Christy. You never know what he’ll do next. So if you don’t do something, believe me, I will. I can promise you that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Leaving the office in Shirley’s capable hands, Luther had returned home to pack for his few days away from the city. A short time later, he carried his bag and a gift box to his car and drove to Christine’s apartment.

He hadn’t bothered to find out if she was at home. He only wanted to leave the gift today. As he’d expected, there was a resident manager on duty at Sutter Court.

He admired the neat, well-manicured building. From the street, a filigreed iron gate led into a short covered brick walkway that opened onto a courtyard complete with fountain, benches, and trees. It was a pleasant place.

At the gate, Luther rang the manager’s number and was admitted to the courtyard off the lobby. The manager who met him there was not the type one would wish to tangle with, Luther decided, carefully observing the man’s size and strength as he explained what he had come for. Obviously, Sutter Court was quite secure; it would not be easy getting inside without a key. The lobby doors opening onto the courtyard were locked; visitors at the main gate had to be buzzed in twice before they could enter the lobby. Parking for residents only was available beneath the complex, the sturdy card-operated street gate effectively blocking unauthorized entrance to the garage. Sutter Court was indeed an attractive, upscale location in one of the best neighborhoods in downtown San Francisco.

Luther had left Christine’s gift with the manager, returned to his car, and headed south out of the city. He had decided to go to Monterey. He loved Monterey. When he first came to California, and before he’d met Alyson, he had gone there regularly. Monterey had always been a place where he could relax and allow himself to maintain a stable frame of mind. Lately, that was becoming harder for him to do, as he felt himself gradually slipping into a life totally controlled by the darkness and demons that had tortured him since childhood. Now, he feared he was reaching a point where he could no longer control himself; just consider what had been happening since he’d met Christine, what he had done to those three women he’d so foolishly picked up.

Luther swerved at the sharp sound of a car horn next to him. He had narrowly avoided colliding with another car. Dear God, why couldn’t he get himself under control!

Forcing himself to concentrate on his driving for the rest of the journey, he reached the Sandpiper Inn near Cannery Row and registered under a false name. No one, not even Shirley, knew where he had gone. He had told her he would keep in touch, but he had lied to her. He hated doing that to Shirley, but he had no choice right now. He would make it up to her later on.

Once in his room, he could smell the delicious sea air and watch seagulls swoop above the water not far below. Here he could be peacefully alone with his thoughts of Christine. He wondered if she had received the scarf yet. He would have her wear it on their first date. He smiled thinking of that and what was to come.

He turned on the television just in time to catch the top story of the day. At a press conference, the police had released a composite of a man seen with the last two murder victims shortly before their deaths.

Luther froze in his seat as he watched, looking at the drawing and listening to the description. He should have known this would happen. He should have known the police would eventually get a description from those waitresses at the Mark Hopkins and Jaycene’s.

He calmed down somewhat as he studied the composite more closely. Although a pretty fair likeness, the picture didn’t fit him exactly. His face was too angular, his hair looked thin, and his expression was too solemn. He did not believe that anyone who knew him well would recognize him from that drawing. And why should anyone suspect him anyway? As far as the description of his clothing, extremely well-dressed men were commonplace in San Francisco. If this was all the police had to go on, he was safe enough.

So there was no real need for alarm, yet. Luther flipped the set off and sat in semi-darkness, looking out at the blackening sea. The lights along Cannery Row were pleasant, soothing. Later, he would go out and take a walk. He would be all right. But he must stay away from any other women, no matter how much someone reminded him of Christine. He couldn’t risk anything else happening. He wanted and needed only Christine, and he would have her soon enough, if he just played his cards right and controlled himself.

***

Christine, busy preparing for her morning flight to Tokyo and the next few days she would spend away from home, didn’t have time to watch the news on Monday night; therefore, she never saw the police drawing of the man they believed might be responsible for the three recent murders in the city.

***

Bill Arnett, celebrating a friend’s birthday with a group of flight attendants, arrived home well after midnight and never saw the nightly TV news either.

***

Snug in her bed with a good book, Kenneth already asleep next to her, Shirley Lao turned on the eleven p.m. news, lowered the sound so as not to disturb her husband, and followed the serial murder story avidly. With a feeling of revulsion, she studied the composite on the TV screen. There was something about the drawing that alerted and disturbed her even more than it should have. Why?

She turned off the set and went back to her book, praying silently that this terrible man would be caught before there were any further killings.

Then, shortly before midnight, Shirley turned out her light and slid down under the covers next to Kenneth, still thinking about that picture and feeling strangely disturbed and frightened before she finally drifted off into a nightmare-peppered sleep.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

TUESDAY – OCTOBER 18th

Tuesday morning in San Bruno, south of San Francisco, Antoinette Bauer put her two children on a school bus and returned home. Her husband had already left for work, and it was now time for Antoinette to get ready to go to her job.

Instead of preparing for work, however, Antoinette made another cup of tea and began reading the morning paper for a second time. She looked at the pictures of the three murdered women, finally coming back to the composite of the suspect. If I had only met him, even once, she thought, how much easier this would be. If I had even seen a picture! But Alyson had been so odd about letting anyone know much about him.

Antoinette drained her cup and then folded the paper in two. The drawing still faced her. She had to make up her mind soon about what she would do today. Finally, she picked up her cell phone.

“Ellen? It’s Toni here. Listen, I’m not going to come in today. No, nothing like that. I’m just not feeling completely up to par. Right, yes, something is going around. I’ll be in tomorrow, for sure. Okay, thanks.”

Then she checked for a number in San Francisco. She was going to take a leap and call the San Francisco police. Maybe she was being foolish. Maybe she would be wasting everybody’s time. Was there really a connection?

She opened out the newspaper again and studied the pictures of Kelley, and Ann, and Susan. They all looked frighteningly like Alyson. Too much like her, in fact.

Picking up the phone again she tapped in the numbers quickly. She would let the police decide whether this was worth following or not.

Her call was answered immediately. “May I please speak with Lieutenant Kinsella?”

There was the dead silence of the hold button for what seemed an eternity, but finally a man’s voice came onto the line. “This is John Kinsella. May I help you?”

Antoinette hesitated, beginning to lose her nerve. “Oh, well, yes. My name is Antoinette Bauer, Mrs. Bauer, and I wonder if I could see you today. It’s about the murders of the three women. I realize how very busy you are, but what I have won’t take too long.” There, she’d committed herself.

“What sort of information do you have, Mrs. Bauer?”

“I want to tell you about something that happened a few years ago. A friend of mine was murdered. I don’t know whether her death has any connection with the present murders, but I’d feel better if I could speak with you, and show you some things. I live in San Bruno, but I could leave here right now and be in the city in less than an hour.”