Copycat (31 page)

Tuesday, March 21, 2006
3:00 p.m.

K
itt shut the interrogation room door, heart in her throat. Joe had lied. Brian had called him, it was in the log. What could Brian have found that implicated Joe?

Kitt went in search of Sal. She learned from Nan that he and Sergeant Haas were in his office. Taking a deep breath, she tapped on Sal's partially closed door.

He called out for her to come in. “Kitt,” he said, sounding annoyed, “what can I do for you?”

“I need to bounce something off you. It's important.”

He waved her in. “Bounce away.”

She crossed to the chair in front of his desk and stood behind it, gripping the back for support. “I may have had a breakthrough in the Copycat case.” His expression altered subtly, and she went on. “I'm still wrestling with this, but it's a scenario. I have to lay it out for you.”

Both men's gazes were riveted on her. “Valerie Martin was in this morning. She claimed she lied about being with Joe the night of Julie Entzel's murder. She was his only alibi.”

Sal frowned. “M.C. was with you?”

“No. She was tracking down possible links between the three grandmother murders and the SAK.”

An angry flush climbed his cheeks, but he held his tongue. She knew what would come when she'd finished and he'd assessed what he considered “the damage.”

“I videotaped her statement.”

“Glad to hear you used
some
sense.”

No doubt he would retract that comment with her next. “From there, I called on Joe.”

He looked alarmingly like he might pop. “Alone?”

“Yes.”

Sergeant Haas stepped in. “You want to explain how you went from tracking Lieutenant Spillare's movements yesterday to—”

“Brian called Joe last night. Shortly before he called me. Joe's number was on the call log.”

That brought silence. Kitt went on. “I questioned him, brought him in, though he came of his own volition. He's in Interrogation One. Here's where it gets weird.”

She began by explaining about the Society for the Deaf calendars M.C. had found, then learning from Joe that Valerie's daughter was deaf.

“A lightbulb went off. Valerie works in the hospital pediatric ward Julie Entzel visited. She would have known of Buddy Brown, through Joe. Had access to personal information about me, including my cell phone number. And I had strongly considered during the course of the investigation that the Copycat was a woman.”

She paused. “The Copycat killings were nothing but a smoke screen to cover up the murder of her own daughter.”

“Why?”

“Freedom. She was tired of being tied down to a handicapped child.”

“The child's father?”

“He left her when they learned Tami was deaf.”

“Okay, I'll bite. Valerie Martin's the Copycat. How did she and the SAK meet?”

“Exactly what I asked myself. Where did they meet and what was the nature of their relationship? Were they adversaries, as Peanut claimed? Or were they partners? Or even lovers? And I took the logical next step.”

Sal nodded. “Which led you to—”

“Joe.” Her voice trembled slightly. “Joe knows everything about me. He knew about that night I let the SAK slip away. Which was the basis of my belief that Peanut was the SAK.”

Sal and Sergeant Haas exchanged glances. “So you're saying the original SAK was never involved in this? That the plot was hatched wholly by the two of them?”

“Yes.”

“What about the lock of hair Peanut left for you? Or the box of clippings and lip gloss found at Buddy Brown's apartment?”

“Until DNA comes back we don't know if they're for real, do we?”

“But why, Kitt?” Sal asked. “Why would he do this?”

She cleared her throat. “I don't know. To punish me.”

“I can't believe what you're suggesting,” Sal said. “You're talking about Joe here.”

“I know. A part of me, a big part can't…But it's a scenario. I had to present it.”

“If Joe and Valerie were partners in this scheme, why did she recant the alibi?”

Kitt tightened her grip on the chair back. “She found out Joe and I slept together. Joe claims she's recanting because he ended their engagement.”

“Which may be true.”

“Yes. It's all speculation and circumstantial evidence.”

“You're out of it.”

“I wish I was never ‘in it,' Sal.”

“Dammit, Kitt!” He leaned forward. “By the books, you promised me. I should suspend you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Obviously, he wasn't ready to let her off the hook. “What the hell were you doing talking to Valerie Martin, anyway? Didn't you learn anything from screwing up the SAK investigation? The minute she walked through that door, you should have turned it over to M.C. or somebody else.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you run straight to the suspect, tipping him off. Who do you owe alleg—”

Nan buzzed in and he snatched up the phone. “What!” he barked into the receiver. “Say again?”

Scowling, he laid a hand over the mouthpiece and looked at her. “Did you authorize someone named Danny coming up?”

“Danny?” she repeated, confused. “Coming up where?”

“Here, the bureau. He appeared in the office, looking for you.”

A confrontation with her friend was the last thing she needed right now.
“I did not,” she said, standing. “I'll get rid of—”

“Stay where you are, Detective! You're not off the hot seat quite yet.”

He told the secretary to have him wait, then picked up where he had left off. “Whom do you owe allegiance to, Kitt? Your job? Or Joe?”

“I'm here, aren't I?”

And I feel as if my heart is being torn from my body.

“Let me ask you this, Kitt. What do
you
believe?”

She gazed at her superior officer, considering her answer. What did she believe—with her gut? The part of her that, if she could filter out the static, never let her down?

Problem was, she couldn't filter it out. She couldn't separate her head and her heart. Her heart's call was too loud.

She shook her head. “I can't be objective, Sal.”

Sal narrowed his eyes slightly, then looked at Sergeant Haas. “Send Allen and White to pick up Valerie Martin.”

The other man got on it without comment, and Sal stood. “Time to visit with Joe.”

Tuesday, March 21, 2006
3:35 p.m.

K
itt found Danny in the hallway outside the VCB, pacing. When he saw her, he stopped pacing, expression almost comically relieved.

She drew him away from the door. “What are you doing here, Danny?”

“I had to talk to you face-to-face.” He lowered his voice. “Before it was too late.”

“Too late for what?”

He shook his head. “Give me another chance. The other night, I blew it. Coming on to you like that, I—”

“I don't have time for this right now.” A fellow officer passed, sending them a curious glance. “I told you that earlier.”

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”

She thought of Sal and Sergeant Haas, reviewing Valerie's recorded statement, preparing to question Joe, and she shook her head. “No, Danny, there's not.”

He stiffened. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are. But I'm working and you shouldn't be here.”

“You need me.” He grabbed her hands. “You need us. I'm worried about—”

“Give it a rest, will you?” She pulled free of his grasp. “I'm fine. You're the one who's acting like he needs help.”

And he was. She had always thought of Danny as someone who had learned from his mistakes and then grown up—fast. He'd seemed mature. Steady. Now she wasn't so certain. Now it was almost as if he was two people: the supportive friend and the jealous lover.

He flushed. “Forget about it. I tried to warn you.”

She watched him walk away, then called downstairs, to CRU. She told them he was coming down and asked if they would escort him out of the building.

That done, she headed for the interview rooms, checking her messages on the way.

There was one from M.C.

“Kitt, it's M.C. I think we've got him. A clown performed at a party at Rose McGuire's assisted-living community. I'm going to contact the other families, see if they remember a clown. I'll keep in touch.”

A clown? If Valerie's accomplice was the clown, Joe
was
innocent.

She dialed M.C. and got her voice mail. “Got your FYI. Any more on the clown angle? I'm at the PSB. Major developments on this end. Call me.”

As she ended the call, Sal emerged from the viewing room, nodded in her direction, then headed toward room one. They were ready to begin.

She joined Sergeant Haas. He didn't glance her way. He had his eyes fixed on the video monitor. She did the same.

Sal entered the interrogation room. “Hello, Joe,” he said. “It's good to see you.”

“I wish I could say the same, but considering the circumstances—”

“Understood.” He pulled out the chair across the table from Joe and sat. “How've you been?”

“Frankly, Sal, it's been a rough couple of years.”

“I know that. I'm sorry.” He paused. “I need to ask you some questions.”

“Kitt said you would.”

“You already know that your fiancée was in this morning.”

“My ex-fiancée. Yes.”

Sal inclined his head in acknowledgment. “She told Kitt she had lied about you and she being together the night of March 6.”

“Actually,” he said, voice steady, “she's lying now. We were together all night.”

“Can you prove it?”

He thought a moment. “No. But she'll get over this. She's angry. And hurt.”

“Because you broke your engagement?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I'm still in love with Kitt.”

Joe had told her that himself, but hearing it spoken that way to Sal took her breath away.

“Tell me about Valerie. What she's like?”

“She's patient. A good mother. A real down-to-earth person.”

“That doesn't sound like the kind of woman who would be vindictive. Or lie to the police.”

“No, it doesn't.” Joe glanced down at his hands, then back up at Sal. “For her to do this…I must have really hurt her. I don't know how else to explain it.”

“Kitt tells me Valerie's daughter is deaf.”

“That's right.”

“It must be tough to communicate with her?”

“Not really. She reads lips and signs. The casual observer wouldn't even realize she was deaf.”

“What's she like?”

“She's a sweet kid. Shy, though. Because of her handicap, I guess.”

“Does she make her mother's life difficult?”

“More than most kids? No. Though, before she could sign, she was wild. Flew into rages. Broke things, would hit Valerie.”

“That's rather bizarre.”

“The doctors said the behavior was the result of frustration at not being able to communicate. I didn't know either of them then.”

Sal sat silently, gaze on Joe, as if weighing what Joe had said. Judging its validity. Kitt knew it was an interrogation technique, used to undermine a suspect's confidence, make them sweat a little.

“Here's the problem, Joe. We link you to one of the victims. We link you to Buddy Brown. Now you have no alibi for the nights of any of the Copycat killings.”

Joe frowned. “In a couple of days, Valerie will have a change of heart and tell the truth. I know she will.”

“What if she doesn't?”

For the first time, Joe looked uncomfortable.

Sal leaned slightly toward him. “Just tell me, Joe. Was it her plan?”

“What plan? Whose?”

“Valerie's plan to kill the girls to cover up the murder of her own daughter?”

Joe stared at Sal, face the picture of shocked disbelief. Watching, Kitt thought he couldn't feign that.

Or could he?

“That's crazy! Valerie's not a killer! She's a good mother. She loves her daughter. This is—It's outrageous.”

“Maybe she set you up, Joe. Have you thought about that? That this was her plan from the start? You taking the rap for her?”

Joe looked directly into the video camera, expression anguished. She could almost hear his thoughts:
Kitt, how could you?

Kitt stared at him, her life—their life together—flashing before her eyes. Everything they had been in the past—and all that they still could have been.

What had she done?

“Well, Joe? What do you think? You going to take the rap for this?”

Joe looked directly at Sal. “I want my lawyer.”

“Of course.” He pushed away from the table and stood. “By the way, Joe. You heard about Brian Spillare?” When Joe nodded tersely, he asked, “I wonder, why did he call you last night?”

“He didn't.”

Sal flipped open the file folder on the table in front of him and pulled out the call log. He slid it across to Joe. “This says he did.”

Joe stared at the log. Kitt saw the exact moment he saw his own number, because he went white. “I want my lawyer,” he said again. “I'm not going to say another word until then.”

Sal handed him his own cell phone. “You need a phone book?”

“No, I've got it.”

Kitt watched as he dialed. He was calling Kurt Petroski, his corporate lawyer and the man who'd supported him during the search warrant. She hoped Kurt had the good sense now to tell him he needed a criminal lawyer. A good one.

She continued to watch after Joe finished the call and Sal left him to wait for the attorney, something plucking at her.

She reviewed Sal's questions and Joe's responses.

Until she learned to sign…

She signs quite well….

What had Peanut told her the last time they spoke?

“The victims are talking to you.”

“My God,” Kitt said.

The sergeant looked at her sharply. “What?”

Kitt stood. “That's it. The victim's hands. They're posed in sign language.”