Death in the Secret Garden (14 page)

Tommy Lark, who had been leaning against the doorway with his arms folded, took two steps toward the bed. Without a visible gesture the man's movement seemed menacing. ‘I think your memory will improve as you work,' Tommy said softly. ‘Start making the list, Baby.'

There were sixty names on Baby Dumpling's final list. Rocco crossed off the obvious phony ones such as Ulysses S. Grant, a Don Juan, and four Bill Clintons. He underlined several: E. Rashish, M. MacIntire, and Jamie Martin.

‘How did Jamie afford Ashley on what we pay him?' Rocco wondered aloud.

Lyon wondered if M. MacIntire had worn his clerical collar.

Ten

Rocco drove the cruiser with his usual one-handed grip. He flipped the notebook from his breast pocket. ‘Read that list of Ashley's customers again while I phone the lab about those ballistics.' Lyon went through the list line by line while Rocco made his call. ‘What's the ballistics match for the specimen we sent over today?… OK, thanks.' He abruptly ended the call. ‘The slug is damaged. They can't make a positive match with the other two.'

‘Then we could have a copy-cat murder,' Lyon said.

‘That's a possibility. Maybe we had better have another look at Congressman Bill Tallman's autopsy report. It's possible that someone just might have wanted Ashley out of the way.'

‘That's going to stir up more hornets for Bea.'

‘Can't be helped. The good canon's on Ashley's list, isn't he?'

‘A similar name,' Lyon answered. ‘I can't believe the canon was dallying with our departed redhead. M. MacIntire certainly does not stand for Canon Mead MacIntire of Saint James Church.'

‘This could be a first,' Rocco said. ‘A sexually crazed, bird-watching canon.'

‘Who's a serial killer?'

‘That seems to be what we've got here.'

‘How many victims does it take to make a serial killer? We have three, do we go for four?'

‘That isn't funny.'

‘Then stop the nonsense about the canon. One simple way is to ask him if he knew Ashley.'

‘That has to be done, although it would be a hell of a lot more politically expedient if you did it.'

‘Look at the good news. Spook wasn't on Ashley's list,' Lyon said.

Rocco grimaced. ‘I doubt that he's capable of performing after his years of substance abuse.'

Lyon laughed. ‘What desk clerk would let him in the lobby, much less allow him on an elevator to go up to a room?'

Rocco slowed the cruiser as they exited the bypass and drove toward police headquarters. They passed the green with its gazebo and hanging tree. He turned right at the Congregational church.

‘Oh, my God!' Rocco said as they neared the police services building. ‘Look at that.'

An assortment of vehicles clogged the street. A television van squatted directly in front of the building. It extended its microwave tower and slowly rotated it toward Hartford. The logos on two other cars marked them as belonging to the
Hartford Courant
newspaper and Channel Seven. Other vans and sedans were not so readily identifiable. A disgruntled group of men and women milled around the sidewalk in front of the building. Jamie Martin, a nightstick clutched across his chest, barred any entry.

‘Whatever number it takes to make a serial killer,' Rocco said, ‘I believe we have reached it.' He pulled the cruiser in the drive and drove around to the rear of the building. They entered through the back door. Their hope for a quiet sanctuary in Rocco's office was shattered when he opened his door. ‘Jesus H. Christ,' Rocco said.

Lyles Stanton, the town's First Selectman, had expropriated Rocco's desk. He immediately clasped his drumming fingers together as he looked expectantly at the chief.

Lyles, an allstate insurance agent, had run unsuccessfully for elective office five times before his surprise win. He had always laughed at his past defeats, and chortled that he didn't care, name recognition was the secret of insurance sales. A snow-filled winter, which caught the town short of sand and plows, had swamped the incumbents and saw Lyles elected. He seemed to prefer the precise answers found in underwriting manuals, because he always looked bewildered when faced with official town decisions.

Standing to the side of the First Selectman was Captain Norbert of the state police. The shortish captain, whose barrel chest strained against a heavily starched white shirt, stood at a rigid parade rest.

‘Hey there, Chief,' Lyles boomed in his best insurance agent greeting. ‘Come on in and take a load off.'

Rocco ignored the invitation and turned angrily toward the state police officer. ‘What in the hell are you doing here, Norby?'

‘The First Selectman will explain,' Norbert said without modifying his stiff stance.

‘What in the hell does that mean, Lyles?' Rocco demanded.

‘I must explain that this decision was based on thorough discussions with the state attorney general, the state police, and the other selectman.'

‘What decision?' Rocco demanded in a voice far too loud for the small office.

‘You've been dumped from the serial murder case, Herbert,' Norbert said.

‘Bull crap!'

‘You're way out of your league, traffic jockey,' Norbert answered.

Lyles attempted to soothe the breach with conciliatory mews. ‘It has been suggested that since we now have three killings, our facilities would be stretched far beyond our small-town capabilities. The state police can afford to send in a team of trained investigators. I have also discussed this with our police board and they agree.'

‘No way can you shut me out!'

‘We can and we have,' Norbert retorted. ‘You got space in here for a couple of my men?'

‘Take the whole damn office! Your first order of business will be the exhumation of Congressman Bill Tallman.'

Norbert blanched. ‘The governor's husband?'

‘You got it.' Rocco ripped the badge from his shirt and plunked it on the desk. ‘I quit.'

‘You're going to put my sister on welfare,' the state police officer said.

‘How in the hell my wife came from the same gene pool as you is a greater miracle than the immaculate conception,' Rocco said as he strode from the office.

They were halfway down the hall when Jamie Martin caught up with them. ‘Spook is back, Chief. He's in his tree house with firepower.'

‘What?'

‘Spook's armed and dangerous,' the young patrolman said excitedly.

‘That was a rhetorical what, Jamie,' Rocco said. ‘Take it from the top and tell me exactly what happened.'

‘I was waiting out by his tree like you ordered. He snuck up on me, Chief. He came around behind me and pressed a gun against my neck. He snatched my service weapon from my holster and climbed into his tree house. I radioed Captain Norbert, who sent two guys to guard the tree until the SWAT team arrives.'

‘Oh, Jesus,' Rocco said.

‘They'll kill him,' Lyon said.

The First Selectman followed by Captain Norbert rushed down the hall. ‘We'd like you to reconsider, Chief Herbert.'

‘Done,' Rocco said as he snatched the badge from the Selectman's hand and sprinted for his cruiser.

Rocco stood sheltered behind a tree ten yards from the tree house. He cautiously leaned out from its protection and cupped his hands around his mouth. ‘Corporal Williams, report down here at once!' No answer. ‘Front and center, soldier.' He snapped back behind the protective trunk.

A few yards away, Lyon had taken the added precaution of stretching prone behind his tree. ‘Where did he get a weapon?' he yelled over to Rocco.

‘He was in the bank when Wiff's gun disappeared.' Rocco leaned out from behind the tree and called again. ‘You hear me, soldier?'

‘Yeah,' was the faint answer. ‘Martin says I killed Ashley and you're going to fry me.'

‘Did you?' No answer. ‘Did you waste the redheaded woman?' Rocco yelled.

‘I don't know. They stuffed me so full of pills up at the VA that I been stoned for days. I don't know what's been happening.'

‘Did you do Boots and the Styles woman?' Rocco yelled.

‘I don't remember, Captain. Maybe I did … Probably I did.'

‘You wanted to show them a good time. They turned you down so you killed them. Right?'

‘Yeah, that's probably the way it went,' was the faint reply from the tree.

‘Do you believe that?' Lyon asked Rocco. ‘You're the one who said that Spook's been on substances so long that he couldn't make it.'

‘He didn't have to consummate anything. Maybe he just thought about it and said something to the victims. You can imagine how they would react. They either laughed or were horrified. Either way might have been enough to drive him over the edge.'

‘Move it! Move it! Move it!'

Lyon recognized the authoritative commands of Captain Norbert coming from the road behind them. The SWAT team had arrived.

Men in full battle gear began to infiltrate through the tree line. They wore camouflage fatigues, helmets, flak jackets, and carried enough armament for the Tet Offensive. Their orchestrated movements were performed with little sound except for an occasional metallic clink. They assumed protected positions and aimed automatic rifles toward the tree house.

Captain Norbert's bantam figure sank to one knee behind the tree between Rocco and Lyon. He raised a bullhorn to his mouth. ‘You in the tree house. Come down at once! That is a state police order.'

‘No Cong takes me alive!' was the answer.

Lyon cringed. ‘Oh, God.'

‘You are under arrest! Throw down your weapon and climb down immediately,' Norbert commanded.

‘Rot in hell!' Spook yelled back.

‘Give him one,' Norbert said to the SWAT member kneeling next to him holding an M-79 grenade launcher.

‘HE or gas?' was the reply.

‘You fire any high explosives and I'll pound your ass,' Rocco promised.

‘The situation is out of your hands, Herbert,' Norbert said. ‘The perp has defied an official police order. I have him on resisting.'

‘Get the hell out of my backyard,' Rocco answered.

‘Blow the sucker out of his tree,' Norbert commanded the officer with the grenade launcher.

It took two strides for Rocco to cross to the other tree and pull his weapon from its holster. ‘You launch anything at that man and you will pay for it, so help me God.'

‘What do I do, Captain?' the officer asked in a tone that indicated he fully believed Rocco was capable of blowing his head off.

‘Do nothing,' Rocco said as he walked away from the protection of the trees and began to climb the ladder to the house.

‘Get away from there, damn it!' Norbert yelled after him.

‘I'm bringing him down.'

It was hardly a minute before two weapons were thrown through the trapdoor. While everyone else's attention was drawn to the trapdoor, Lyon picked up the police service revolver and stuffed it inside his shirt. He handed the plastic machine gun to Captain Norbert. ‘I think they sell these play guns at the discount stores for a buck ninety-eight,' Lyon said.

‘We were told he had a machine gun,' Norbert said defensively. ‘We were prepared for a machine gun.'

Rocco and Spook climbed down from the tree house.

‘You're standing for drinks at Sarge's place again, right, Captain?' Spook said as he was thrown to the ground and handcuffed by the state police.

‘Let that man go!' Rocco ordered. Two troopers ignored the command and hustled Spook toward a cruiser.

Rocco and Norbert verbally resumed their continual jurisdictional battle. Lyon walked back to the road where Jamie Martin was manning the police barricade that closed off the street. The young officer gave Lyon a two-fingered salute.

‘This yours?' Lyon said as he handed the officer his weapon.

Jamie blushed. Both men were aware of the shame felt by a disarmed officer. ‘Thanks,' he said in a near whisper.

‘You knew Ashley Towers professionally?' Lyon asked.

Jamie's red hue deepened. ‘I never busted her, no, sir.'

‘I mean in other ways.'

‘You and the chief talked to the escort service, huh?'

‘We did,' Lyon said. ‘A J. Martin appears on her list of clients.'

‘I'm engaged to a great girl, Mr. Wentworth.'

‘I heard that, Jamie. The Dockery girl, right?'

‘We're getting married in October.'

‘That's great, Jamie, but it doesn't answer my question.'

‘Jeannie is a very normal and passionate person, but she won't … She really feels strong about …'

‘Full love-making before marriage,' Lyon finished the young officer's thought. He was a little surprised that there were still young women who felt like that.

Jamie seemed relieved that Lyon had stated the problem. ‘Yes, sir. And I get really frustrated, you know. One day I had this overtime check. It was like found money. I knew Ashley worked escort, and so I called for her. Just that once, Mr. Wentworth. Honest to God.'

Lyon was about to turn into the drive at Nutmeg Hill when a familiar dark Pontiac passed him. Mead MacIntire sat stiffly at the wheel. Lyon followed the other car.

Mead turned up the dirt access road that led into the state forest. He parked his car at the small parking area near the head of the overgrown trail that followed the ridge line. He left the car to face Lyon with a quizzical look.

The Episcopal priest was not wearing his traditional dark suit with clerical collar. In its place he wore khakis with a red down vest. Binoculars and a camera with a long lens were hung from his neck. He stood stiffly by the side of his car as Lyon approached.

‘Are you following me?' Mead asked while his beatific smile animated his face.

‘Mind if I walk a way with you?'