The Christine Murders (15 page)

Maybe he could phone her in Tokyo. Surely she had her cell phone on. But suppose not? He imagined trying to track her down in Japan. No, that would never do. He would have to wait until they were both back in San Francisco before he could do anything. She was safe in the meantime, far out of Luther’s reach.

But what about some other poor woman back home? This guy seemed to be killing women at random all over the city. What could he do about that?

He pulled up the calendar on his phone and went to tomorrow’s information. He would be back home early Thursday evening. Christine’s flight from Tokyo was due in about the same time. He would have to find her tomorrow night and alert her to what he had discovered. Then they both would notify the police. He wondered if perhaps she had already seen the composite herself and made the same connection he had.

He sat down on the edge of his bed, listening to tropical bird songs and warm breezes rustling the palms outside his room. In the distance, Moorea was almost totally veiled now by puffy clouds. He wondered if he was losing touch with reality, imagining some foolish disaster. A logical, sensible man by nature, he was not given to fanciful imaginings, ever. Yet now, for the first time in his life, he felt without doubt that he was on the brink of a terrible, unspeakable tragedy, one that could take the life of his dearest friend.

And for the time being, caught over five-thousand miles from home, he was utterly helpless to do anything to prevent it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

WEDNESDAY – OCTOBER 19
th
– SAN FRANCISCO

Luther phoned Christine’s apartment several times on Tuesday and again on Wednesday, each time reaching her answering machine. By Wednesday morning, deciding she was off on another trip, he thought he would take a chance and drive back to the city. He had a plan, and he thought now might be the perfect time to try it out.

He left Monterey wearing large dark sunglasses and a cap, more upset than he cared to admit over the composite he’d seen. It was featured prominently again in Wednesday’s papers, and it had been on all the television news reports. He told himself the picture wasn’t very accurate; just the same a disguise wouldn’t hurt. To be doubly safe, he didn’t shave, figuring a beard would make him safer still.

Luther left the BMW in a parking structure several blocks from Christine’s apartment complex and walked the remaining distance. Today, he would try to discover a way to get into Sutter Court.

The last time he had been there, he had noticed a café directly across the street. Small tables at the front windows offered a perfect view of Sutter Court’s main entrance. Luther went in and ordered a cup of tea. Then, seated at the window, he watched, trying to figure out any possible pattern that might offer him a chance to outsmart the building’s security system.

His attention soon turned to the underground garage. Quite a few cars had gone in. Since no one returned to the street from the garage, there had to be an elevator down there. Luther decided that the garage might be the safest and easiest way into the building, provided he could find some way to get past the locked gates, and also provided that the elevator didn’t require a card or key.

He would have to wait and watch for a car going in and then slip quickly through the gates next to it, in the driver’s blind spot. Fortunately, there was a bus stop in front that would make things easier for him. He could stand at the bus stop and watch the garage without attracting any attention.

Once he got inside, he needed to find the number of Christine’s apartment. There would be mailboxes surely, or a directory perhaps in the lobby. He would have to be very careful about meeting the manager again. Luther realized while he slowly sipped his tea that everything he was planning to do was extremely risky, yet the danger he faced exhilarated him. All he wanted was Christine.

He finished his tea and walked across the street to the bus stop. It was late in the afternoon and people were gathering there. He had calculated that it would be several more minutes before another bus was due. He would not be conspicuous. Many more cars were entering the garage now also, so all he had to do was wait for the right moment and then slip quickly down into the garage.

He stood to the rear of the group waiting for the bus, watching the street carefully, eager for another car to turn into Sutter Court. For several minutes, nothing happened. Anxiously, Luther hoped the bus didn’t arrive before he was able to make his move. The crowd at the stop was growing, meaning the bus must be due along any minute. If a car didn’t drive in soon, and if all these people left on the bus, he doubted he would be able to justify standing alone any longer.

Nervously, he continued to watch the street and the garage gates, moving slightly away from the bus passengers and closer to the building. For nearly five minutes more, there was no activity at the garage. Then Luther noticed a rustle of movement among the people gathered at the stop; change was coming out of pockets, packages were being picked up. Glancing along the street to his left, he could see the bus approaching in the distance.

Clenching and opening his fists over and over again, he cursed silently to himself. Once the bus passengers had gone, he would have to leave here. He would have to cancel his plans until another day.

Just at that moment, an SUV slowed and started to turn into the driveway. Excellent, he thought, the bulky vehicle was better than he had hoped for. As the bus crowd moved closer to the curb and the approaching bus, Luther backed further toward the wall of the building behind him. The SUV’s sole driver was waiting for the gates to open fully. Finally, he eased the vehicle into the garage, while Luther slipped neatly and discreetly into the passage next to him, taking care to stay to the right of the vehicle and turning quickly in the opposite direction from the driver once he was down the ramp and inside the garage. Behind and above him, he heard the gate locking into place again, just as the bus braked at the curb and opened its doors to pick up and discharge passengers.

He walked to a dark corner of the garage and watched for the driver of the SUV to leave. He heard a door slam and soon saw the man, carrying a briefcase in one hand and a bag of groceries in the other, walking to the farthest side of the garage, out of Luther’s sight. Then there was the ping of a bell and the sound of elevator doors opening. The man was gone, and there was no one else in sight.

Like a cat, Luther glided silently across the garage toward the elevators, where he waited for a car to return, praying that he didn’t need a key or code to operate it. But no, he was in luck again. A woman stepped out of the car when the door opened, smiling pleasantly at him. Luther smiled in return and stepped into the car, pressing the button for the lobby. He was buoyed up by the ease with which he had gotten inside the building, but now, as the elevator stopped on the lobby level, he felt his heart pounding violently again. What was he going to do now that he was here? Suppose he walked right into the manager again? How would he explain how he had gotten in?

The elevator door opened onto a small lobby with highly polished tile and trees and plants arranged attractively in large containers. A full glass wall offered a pretty view of the courtyard. Two comfortable couches stood near the windows, and there were framed watercolors of city landmarks on the richly papered walls. There was nobody in sight.

A few feet from the elevators, a hallway led to an office. Next to the elevators were the mailboxes, with an alphabetical directory above listing last names and apartment numbers. Just what he had hoped for.

He stepped to the directory and scanned the names until he found Christine’s apartment number: 608. Marvelous! He could not believe how easy this had been, or how lucky he had been today.

He walked across the lobby, intending to leave now through the courtyard. He had done enough for one day. Then, as he neared the glass doors, he saw two women walking toward him from the front gate. With them was the building’s burly manager. The three, talking as they walked, did not notice Luther standing inside the lobby watching them.

In a panic, he dashed back to the elevators. A car was waiting, and he got in and took it to the sixth floor. He would have to wait here for awhile before venturing back to the lobby to make his exit. In the meantime, he would find Christine’s apartment. He began counting off the numbered doors along the hallway. He had really not intended to come this far today.

The thickly carpeted hallway was very quiet. Luther turned the corner toward number 608 and was within a few doors of the apartment when 608’s door opened and a young girl came out carrying a plastic garbage bag. She passed Luther and continued along toward the elevators. Luther watched her go along the length of the hall and turn.

It was then that he looked back at the door of 608 and noticed the girl had left it partially open. With hardly any thought at all, he dashed inside. In the distance along the hallway, he heard a door slam and footsteps coming back. She was returning.

Shaking and nearly sick with fear, Luther realized what an insane move he had made. What would he do now? How did he know who else might be in the apartment? Blindly, he made his way from the small foyer and through the apartment to a bedroom, pulling open the first door he came to and slipping inside.

He found himself in a large walk-in closet, with a light that went on when the door was opened and off as he closed it quietly behind him again. His heart was pounding and thudding so violently that he was sure he would collapse. His body was soaked with perspiration. What had ever possessed him to run into the apartment? Who was the girl and what would he have to do to her if she caught him here?

With a shaky hand, he opened the closet door ever so slightly, just enough to prevent the light from going on. From somewhere outside, he could hear the girl talking. That meant there was someone else here. He must have been seen then. But why weren’t they looking for him? Perhaps the girl was on the telephone, calling for help. Desperately, he strained to listen, picking up shreds of her conversation. She was speaking to someone, but he heard no replies.

“Good heavens, Tommy, what’s got into you now? What’s wrong with you? Settle down,” she was saying.

Tommy? Who was Tommy?

Now he could hear the girl’s voice again. “Just calm down. I have to go now, but I’ll see you later tonight. I have lots of studying to do, so I’ll be able to stay with you a long time.” Her voice lowered so that Luther could hear no more of what she was saying. Whoever it was she was speaking to certainly wasn’t offering any conversation in return.

It seemed like hours instead of the few minutes it actually took, but at last Luther heard the girl calling a final goodbye and then there came the sound of the front door opening and closing once more. She was gone. But who was Tommy? Was he still in the apartment?

Hardly breathing, Luther stood rooted in the closet, trying to stop his body from trembling and mopping his brow with the back of his hand. What a foolish, dangerous thing he had done, trapping himself in here. How was he going to get out now? He stood, shaking, looking out through the crack of the door at the darkening room beyond. Evening shadows were filling the room. There was not a sound from anywhere inside the apartment.

Then, as he stood there, frozen with fear, the door began to pull slowly open. Someone knew he was here. He backed farther into the closet, pushing himself in among Christine’s clothes. He was aware of the scent of perfume on her clothing.

The door was opening slightly more now. Just as Luther was sure his heart would stop, the door opened fully and the overhead closet light flashed on. The space was flooded with bright light and Luther saw, standing on the floor a few feet from him, a large ginger cat. The cat stared up at him indignantly and then let out a long menacing hiss.

Luther, weak with a rush of relief, fell to his knees and laughed slowly. So this was Tommy. Christine had a cat, a large ginger-red cat that was very obviously not pleased at finding a stranger in his territory.

Luther stood up, and the hissing cat turned and ran out into the apartment. Luther disliked cats, and all other animals, in fact. His mother loved cats, and had kept many. She had always seemed to care more for them than she did for him, always yelling at him when he went anywhere near her cats. And all because he’d drowned two kittens when he was seven. For some reason, neither Mother nor Father had ever forgiven him for that. He walked out of the closet now, leaving the door partly open.

The cat was peeking in at him from the hallway. Luther ignored him. Let the silly thing hiss and spit at him if it wished. He was safe, for the time being. Safe, and alone inside Christine’s apartment. He still realized what a precarious position he was in, but the situation had really been offered to him, dangled before him as if it was meant to happen, and look at how well it had eventually turned out. He deserved praise for his bravery.

He had wanted so much to get inside this apartment. Well, here he was, and it all had been so easy. How clever he was. He felt giddy with happiness, filled with new energy and purpose.

Forcing himself to calm down, he began to inspect the neat, comfortable apartment. Now that he was here, he would find out everything he could about Christine Lindsey’s private world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Luther wandered through the apartment, examining everything he found. Christine had excellent taste. Her apartment was nicely furnished, and extremely feminine.