Eleven Days (28 page)

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll go get him. Hester, how about you and me and Mr. Saperstein doing the talking? If it’s all right with you,” I said, looking at Hal. He was the case officer, after all. If we were going to play little games here, we might as well go all the way.

“Okay by me,” said Hal. No choice. “Good luck.” He didn’t mean it.

“Thanks.” I didn’t mean that, either. “Let’s talk to him in the kitchen, near the coffee. Why don’t I meet you in there?”

Hester and Saperstein went to the kitchen, and I walked back into dispatch and got the cell keys from Sally.

“We’re gonna talk with Traer, as long as he’s up,” I
said. “I’m going to be 10–6 as hell, so if any calls come in, give ’em to somebody else.” I have to admit that I was also a little pissed about Hal talking to Calumus and asking the same questions that I had already asked him. The fact that I wanted to talk to the partner, and original case officer, also rankled. Then, again, I was pleased about him getting the same answers. It’s always been a little problem, the state people not thinking that the county people are really competent. And this “county people” was currently hoping that they were wrong.

I got back to the cell area, and Traer was sitting at the table in the bull pen.

He got up and came toward me. “The little redhead afraid of me? Think I might corrupt her, or cast a spell?” He was smiling, but the question was serious. He probably thought he could.

“Nope.” I unlocked the door, and his eyes widened a little bit. “Come on out, Oswald, my boy. I want to talk to you.”

Traer came out, but he was suspicious. “What about?”

“Tell you when we get to the kitchen.”

I stood aside, placing him in front of me. “Take the first left, and go where I say.”

He didn’t reply, but followed orders. It had probably crossed his mind that I could be taking him out to beat him up or something. If it had, he didn’t let it show. I directed him to the kitchen, and I could tell by his walk that he relaxed just a bit when he saw Hester.

“Have a seat,” I said. “This is Hester Gorse, Iowa Division of Criminal Investigation.”

“How do you do, my dear?”

Hester just looked at him.

“And this is Detective Saperstein, New York Police Department.”

Traer stuck out his hand. Saperstein shook it.

“What brings you here?” asked Traer. He appeared a little flattered and a little intrigued. He obviously felt that
he was the reason for Saperstein’s presense. He was, of course, correct.

“You,” said Saperstein.

“I hate to disappoint you, Detective Saperstein, but I’ve never been to the Big Apple.”

“We haven’t missed you, Mr. Traer.”

I finished stuffing a pillow into the small connecting port between the cells and the kitchen, where the food was passed in to the prisoners, and where they had been seen on occasion with their ears pressed, listening to conversations in the kitchen. “Coffee?” I asked all around.

Hester helped pour. Some indication of her intense interest, because normally I don’t think she would have. She was beginning to play a role, I thought. It sure wouldn’t hurt if Traer considered her a subservient woman.

We cozied up around the table. Since I was “in charge,” I felt it would be best if I started the conversation in the right direction.

“Oswald,” I said.

“Please call me Link,” he said. “My middle name is Lincoln, and I prefer that.”

“Okay, Link. We have some information, and so do you. We’d like to trade some data.”

“I probably won’t be able to help you, but go ahead. It should be interesting, if nothing else.”

So far so good. “I know you’re aware of your rights, but I’ll tell you, anyway,” I said. I recited Miranda.

“Very good,” said Traer. “You do that well.”

“Thank you. Let’s start with this. You are a Satanist.”

“Yes.”

“As such, you are probably a pragmatist as well?”

“I like to think so.”

“And, being a pragmatist, I assume you have an interest in staying alive?”

“Assuredly.”

“Well, we have a partial ID on the man who killed Phyllis and friends.”

“I would hope so.”

“Yes. The interesting thing is, we don’t know who he is. We just know about him. No positive ID.”

“How unfortunate,” he said. He was trying to suppress it, but his interest was showing. “I sincerely hope you’re not all as inept as I’ve made out for the last few years.” He smiled.

“Well, I do, too, Link. Now, I’ll let Hester tell you how much evidence we have.”

She did, taking him step by step through the lab ID process. I watched him very closely while she talked. We weren’t taking much of a chance, even if Oswald had been the perpetrator. All this would be readily available on discovery, anyway.

When she’d finished, Traer said, “That’s all very basic, of course, but you have done your task efficiently. My compliments.”

“Now,” I interjected, before Hester could take his head off, “Hester ran the descriptors through the VICAP system, to check to see if there was any other crime that fit this description.”

“Oh?”

“And it turned out that there was.”

His eyes widened again. I decided that that was about all the emotion he would ever permit to show through. He didn’t say anything, but he leaned forward a bit.

“A few years ago, in Ohio. Nearly the exact MO.” Okay, so I lied a little. He was a Satanist. All’s fair … “We have information,” I said, “That indicates that this unknown killer wants your whole group. Especially you.”

I let that sink in.

“That’s why we have two reserve officers here tonight, Link. To make sure he doesn’t get you while you’re our guest.”

He had to have noticed, and the other two prisoners were bound to have told him that it was unusual to have
the reserves wandering back into the cell area. He’d probably thought it was to keep him in.

“I see.”

“We have a twofold interest here,” I told him. “One, we don’t want another murder or two in the county. Makes us look bad.”

“I can understand that,” he said.

“And, number two, we want to get the killer. Not getting him makes us look bad, too.”

“We wouldn’t want that.”

“That’s where you come in.”

He sat back. “You want me to be the bait? If so, I’m sorry to disappoint you.”

Hadn’t even occurred to me. But not a bad idea.

“No, not at all. You see, the only person we know who may be able to ID the killer is Rachel.”

“Ah.”

“We have a lead that we’re going to follow up today,” said Hester. “A connection from Ohio to here. But the information won’t give us enough to hold the killer, although we think that it will identify him.”

“Yes.”

“Only Rachel can do that,” she said.

“I have one question,” said Traer.

“Sure,” I said.

“Who is this Rachel?”

“Cut the shit, Oswald!” said Saperstein.

“Pardon?” said Traer with an innocent look.

“You heard me. Rachel is your breeder and the mother of the sacrifice. Don’t try to stonewall me, asshole. You know who she is and where she is. And trying to stall us, you’re going to get somebody else killed.”

“I’m sorry,” said Traer, “but I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

“The hell I am,” said Saperstein. “Your whole plan is shot now, anyway. The ultimate goal—the suicide of the whole coven, except for you. The enhancement of your reputation … You’re gonna look pretty silly in the eyes of that other coven you have going. The important one, the one that’s going to make you famous. The whole thing’s been blown, with the killer stalking your group. You have no power to protect them, no power to stop him. Your reputation is going downhill. Been contacted by your other following yet? They laugh?”

I hadn’t the foggiest idea what the hell he was talking about. But Traer did. He didn’t say anything, but Saperstein was hitting home.

“You can only win by talking with us. And that’s the only way you can. Your reputation can be enhanced by doing a little time for the killing of Cynthia Larsen. A few years you’ll walk out, if not sooner. You know that. Walk right into an influential, rich coven and make the big bucks. You’ll be famous. But your original coven gets knocked off, or worse, turns on you because you can’t protect them—you’re done.”

Traer was thinking.

“Your ego strong enough to stand that? A second-rate Satanist, no high-priest status except with some teenagers? A little sixteen-year-old pussy once in a while? Shit, you can’t even talk to her after you screw her—just a dumb kid. Impress her, impress nobody. And some young stud takes her away from you. You get no money, no high standard of living, preaching to a bunch of little kids in a three-room apartment. What you gonna do, drive a cab? Write a book on how you failed as a Satanist? Come on, Traer. We’re the only chance you got for fame and fortune. You cooperate with us, give up Rachel, you got it made. Your rep is enhanced in the joint. Your important coven waits for you, like the second coming. You can write your own ticket. Make Anton La Vey look like a piker. You know it. We know it. Piss on Rachel and the rest of that group. But do it our way. Otherwise, you lose all around.”

Saperstein stopped. He stared at Traer, long and hard.

“You know I’m right. The murder of Cynthia was a calculated risk, and you know it. That’s why you made the tape. To show the other coven. You aren’t a real Satanist, are you? You’re just out to go up the scale, and this was the right way at the right time, wasn’t it? You’re an act, and you took the ultimate risk to get the bucks and the influence. You got caught. But you can still make your rep—unless you fuck up now, unless the other coven finds out that they can get killed, tracked down, and you’re the magnet for the killer. They’ll drop you like a hot rock.”

He paused for breath. “You’re done unless you cooperate with us, and you know it.”

I was amazed. So, apparently, was Hester. Saperstein had kept such a low profile the last few days … he must have been grinding this out all the time. And listening to him, I would have cooperated, myself. Impressive.

“I’m not quite certain I understand you,” said Traer, but the conviction was lacking.

“Shit,” said Saperstein. “You understand. You just hate to think that you can be outthought. Don’t you?”

Silence.

“Your ego can’t handle having a dumb cop get ahead of you, can it?” Saperstein’s voice was heavy with sarcasm. “You with your little law degree from Iowa—an educated man.”

Traer still didn’t speak.

“If it’s any help, I got my LL.D. from Harvard.”

Surprised me. But it was apparently all the salve that Traer’s ego needed to enable him to capitulate.

“I’d like some time to think.”

“We haven’t got much time, if we’re gonna get the killer,” said Saperstein. “We have to find Rachel right away. Otherwise, he gets away from us, and he’s real good at hiding.”

“Some time, just some. I have some things to consider.”

“We’ll give you ten minutes,” said Saperstein. He looked at me. “You got someplace where he can be alone for a few minutes?”

I escorted Traer to a small cell we used for the occasional second woman prisoner or juveniles. Locked him in, told Sally where he was, so she could activate the surveillance camera in that area. She gave me a surprised look but didn’t ask any questions. “Talk to me really quick, soonest, will you?”

“Now all right?”

“Yes.” She lowered her voice. “Thought you should know. Hal called the boss.”

“His boss?”

“No, ours. About as soon as you went to the kitchen.”

“No shit …” Calling Lamar at this hour? Even if he wasn’t happy with me, that seemed to be taking it too far.

“And Lamar looks like he’s coming in. He came up on the radio about two minutes ago.”

“Thanks, kid.” I grinned at her. “I owe you.”

I went back to Hester and Saperstein in the kitchen.

“Jesus, Bill,” I said, “I didn’t know you knew so much about him.”

Hester shook her head slowly from side to side and chuckled. “You want to tell him?”

Saperstein grinned. “Sure.” He handed me my coffee. “Sit down, Carl.”

I sat.

“Pure bullshit.”

“What?” I asked.

“Pure bullshit, I was guessing. Well, at least, for a lot of it.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. At least, the part about the other coven was a guess. The part about him walking in a few years was an outright lie.”

“You’re obviously pretty close.”

“Yeah. Well, I have to admit, I’ve got him figured out. He’s just not like the dyed-in-the-wool Satanist I’ve dealt with before. But I’ve met his type, too. Lucifer’s flimflam man. There are lots of them out there.” He sipped his coffee. “His con is no different than any other con. He just uses Satan as a vehicle instead of séances, or a cure for cancer or AIDS.”

“How did you know?” asked Hester.

“The tape.
Too
many flourishes. What we saw was a practice session. I’m sure the tape where they killed Cynthia is around someplace. Not with this group, but
with the other one. A practice session for good old Oswald. The rest of the coven was playing it for real.”

“You think he’ll tell us where Rachel is?”

“Sure. No doubt in my mind.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I used to work bunco for a while, before I got transferred to homicide. I’m right.”

I shook my head. “But, to kill a baby just for that …”

Saperstein shrugged. “I’ll tell you the truth. It was a chance he took, for sure. But he made it, didn’t he? The only thing that exposed him was our killer. Nobody else knew about it. He figured that in a rural area like this, he could hide the fact forever. The cops aren’t sophisticated, the courts wouldn’t believe them if they were.” He smiled. “Nothing personal.”

I shrugged.

“The only people who knew were dedicated. To Satan, or to themselves. They all participated, so they all shared the guilt. Look at Elizabeth Mills—you think she’d crack? You think she’d let her husband slip up?”

“That gives him a motive to kill our four victims, you know.”