Act V (32 page)

Still holding the point of the knife
below her throat, he grabbed her elbow and guided her to the
bathroom. “There are no windows in there,” he told her after
closing the door, “and no mirrors to break, so just pee and get it
over with.” She did what he said, hoping that she could find a way
to set him off balance or steal his knife when she came out of the
bathroom. She took as long as she dared, stretching her legs,
moving them to get the feeling restored as much as possible. She
wouldn’t be able to run from the guy, but she’d move as fast as
possible if she got a break. Finally, when she heard impatient
noises coming from outside the bathroom door, she washed her hands,
turned the knob and stepped out.

“
Let’s go for a walk,” he
said, surprising her with a tight grip on her upper arm. “I’d like
for you to see my collection.”

Glynnis chilled to think what kind of
collection this maniac might have, but if it meant being free from
her bonds long enough to buy her time, to reason through what was
happening, then she would view the collection.

She had to keep him talking. The topic
was vile and she didn’t want to hear it, but it would serve her
purpose and might give her some insight into this man who held her
captive. “Did our production of Macbeth really inspire the Itzen
murder like you said in the letter?”

“
Oh Glynnis, you are an
inspiration in so many ways, but I’m afraid that was just a way to
get the press involved. Itzen inspired his own murder.”

In her mind, Glynnis had called him a
maniac, but he had been completely lucid, completely sane, while
he’d been with her. How could he discuss this so calmly? He had
committed at least four murders, possibly five, and he was talking
about them as if he had been discussing Sunday lunch. There was
none of the frantic, irrational behavior one expected in someone
who had killed so many people. It was as if those murders were
simply bridges that had to be crossed to get to the other
side…wherever that was.

“
You see,” he began, leading
her forward, still holding the knife. “Itzen deserved to die. He
was just plain evil. He stood in my way and treated me like
yesterday’s garbage. He had to die.” This was spoken with anger and
bitterness, the first she’d seen from him. And Glynnis recalled the
rage she’d felt associated with Itzen’s murder, unlike all the
others. “The Macbeth thing…that was only window dressing, a nice
way to convince the police that The Bard was killing via
Shakespeare. They had to believe there was a theme
here.”

“
There wasn’t?”

“
I see you bought into it
too.” He gave a disappointed lift of the eyebrow. “I had higher
aspirations for you Glynnis.”

“
You mean the Shakespeare
deaths were all planned that way, just to make you look
crazy?”

“
Glynnis, surely by now you
know I’m no psychopath; a sociopath perhaps, but that’s not
important here. The others had to die to convince the police and
the press that there was a serial killer stalking Clearview.” He
opened the door at the end of the hallway. “Please come
in.”

The darkened room was filled with
pedestals of different heights. Many held display cases. On the
opposite end of the room, a cot had been placed. On the cot, lay a
body. Dorsey.

Chapter 28

Brice and Addy had already searched the
most obvious spots with no luck. It was dark now, and this was
beginning to look like the worst possible scenario. If he had
Glynnis, and Brice believed he did, then there couldn’t be much
time left. He would kill her just like the others. They had to find
the one person who might be able to tell them where he’d
gone.

*****

She tried to go to him but was stopped
by the threat of the knife. “No, no, no,” her captor said. “Let him
sleep. He’s had a rough day, raping and killing you and all.” He
laughed and Glynnis wanted to throw up. Dorsey was breathing
shallowly. She could hear him and relaxed a bit. He was alive. She
had to wake him up, somehow but she didn’t dare to call him or make
a lot of noise. She would have to find a way to do it with some
discretion. “Did you drug him?”

“
Nothing he couldn’t sleep
off if he had the opportunity,” he whispered. “Dorsey loves his
bottle.”

She nodded, knowing it was
true.

“
The wonderful thing about
using chloroform,” he said, “is that it dissipates in the blood
stream after a while. The police won’t find any trace of it. Don’t
worry about him,” he said, guiding her toward a display. He’ll be
alive after you’re gone, for a while anyway.”

She looked away from Dorsey who, it
seemed, wouldn’t be a whole lot of help. Maybe if she could drag
this out long enough, he would waken. He could help her. “What do
you collect?”

“
Weapons.” He seemed pleased
that she’d asked. He flipped a light switch and the whole room
brightened. There was no natural light coming in at all. On each
pedestal sat a sword, gun, knife, mace or killing instrument of one
kind or another. All lethal, and from what Glynnis could tell, many
were ancient. “I call this the trophy room. I started this
collection years ago, when I first became interested in warfare.
Kept it to myself though. People don’t understand when a person
collects weapons. Collect stamps, or coins, or music boxes; that’s
fine. But God forbid you should collect something used to kill or
maim. Then you’re psychotic. Nobody knows it’s here. As a matter of
fact, you’re the only person I’ve shown. You should feel honored,
Glynnis.”

He walked her to the closest display.
It was a sword, engraved with the likeness of a dragon, its wings
forming the guard, its tail, the handle. Glynnis took in a sudden
breath. “I see you recognize this one,” he told her, touching the
blade with a lover’s caress. “It’s a sixteenth century long sword,
not a recreation. It’s the real McCoy.” He whispered as if bringing
her in on a secret. “I had to wrap the handle in a towel to protect
it and use a hammer to drive it all the way through. I’m not sure
how they managed it in the old days.”

“
You used it to kill Claude
Danning.” She felt revulsion growing in her but refused to let it
show. She tried for mild admiration instead. If he felt she admired
him she’d have a chance, not a big one, but a chance. “I can see
why you didn’t let it stay at the scene. It must be
valuable.”

“
Extremely. I could have
used a modern day fake, but I was going for authenticity.” He
looked at her with curiosity. “This doesn’t upset you?”

Upset me! It terrifies me.
If I didn’t want to get away from you so badly I’d curl up into the
corner right now and dissolve into hysterics.
“It upsets me. I don’t like to see anyone hurt. But I’m more
curious than upset. Why Danning? What did he do to you that made
you want to kill him? Why the scene from Hamlet?”

“
You are smart. I thought
you were, but after seeing you with Timmons and the cop, well…who
knows? I killed Danning because he fit the bill. He married his
brother’s widow just like Claudius. He didn’t murder his brother
like his Shakespearean counterpart, but you can only take a
metaphor so far.” He continued to caress the steel blade. “He was
owed some kind of retribution…and perfect for me. I needed a victim
to convince the police they were dealing with a
psychotic.”

She didn’t completely understand, but
she was beginning to. “And the two newlyweds?”

“
Ah, Romeo and Juliet. I had
to steal the dagger to use on the girl. I didn’t have the right
one. That one wasn’t exactly the right period, but not too many
would know the difference.” His face reflected a bit of regret. “I
almost hated to kill them. They hadn’t really done anything to
deserve it, but they were the stepping stones I needed. Besides, I
knew the little Shultz prick from years gone by. I never liked him
or his brother. Now the girl, she was a nice little piece, but she
had to go too. Whoever heard of Romeo dying without
Juliet?”

I hated to leave that dagger behind,
but it wouldn’t do to have somebody find it in my possession. I’ll
buy one like it to add to my collection soon.”

He pointed to another box. It held a
battle axe, abraded by time, but still vicious looking. “This is
one of my favorite pieces, but I don’t think it would have held up
to actual use.”

Dorsey moved on the couch, only a bit,
but it was movement. “Why did you kill Sandra Fitchwell?” She spoke
suddenly, hoping to distract him.

“
Ah, you are smart. The
police think it was an accident.”

Not all the
police.

“
I knew she could lead me to
you, but she wouldn’t tell me the easy way. I had to coax it out of
her. It was a shame. I liked her.”

Glynnis felt sick. “So you killed her
and ran her car into the lake.”

“
That’s how I found out that
you were the psychic. I wish I could keep you with me Glynnis. I’ve
always admired your work, but you already know enough to convict me
many times over. Still, we’ll enjoy ourselves before you have to
go.” Glynnis felt queasy.

Dorsey groaned and moved again. This
time he heard the sound and turned toward Dorsey. She spoke
quickly, “What about Itzen?”

That did it. He was back to bragging.
“Oh well, he was really the only one I truly wanted to kill. You
see, he really was Macbeth. He killed the Pizza King, or may as
well have. I watched him drive the poor man into bankruptcy just to
get rid of the competition. He left behind quite a legacy, my
stepfather.”

*****

Addison pounded on Rosalind Itzen’s
front door. He rang the bell again. Brice was ready to kick the
door down, but it wouldn’t have helped. Finally, a very tired-eyed
Mrs. Itzen opened the door.

“
Detectives, did you find
out something about my husband’s murder?”

“
Yes, Ma’am. May we come in?
We really need to ask you some very important
questions.”

*****

“
You’re Graham Itzen’s
stepson?”

He smiled and it made her want to run.
“Dylan Michaels at your service.” He gave a quick bow. “My
stepfather has been teaching me the pizza trade for as long as I
can remember. I wanted to be a writer, or maybe an actor, but he
said there was no future in it. Do you know that I’ve learned every
part of the pizza business from the bottom up. I was ready to take
over, be the CEO, if I’d wanted to.”

“
Dylan? Why did you kill
him?”

He slammed his hand into the top of the
pedestal nearest him. “That man was supposed to be my father, but
he never cared about me.” This was the first bit of temper he’d
shown. Glynnis flinched but stayed put. “All he cared about was the
business. Did I show you the sword I used? It’s called a howling
wolf. It was the real thing during Shakespeare’s time, though not
really Macbeth’s time. It doesn’t matter. It did the job. It took
me a couple of strokes to get all the way through.” He touched the
blade and Glynnis felt time stand still.

Just the thought of Dylan
Michaels standing over his stepfather’s body and hacking at it with
the broadsword, then lifting the decapitated head made her legs
weaken.
Please let Dorsey wake up. Oh dear
God, please.

Michaels saw her face. “If you’re
waiting for your fiancé to rescue you, it might be a
while.”

“
No, no I just…I was just
wondering what happens now? I mean, aren’t you afraid that somebody
will trace this all back to you? I mean…the house…the
weapons?”

He shrugged, “I’ll move the weapons out
when I finish with you two. There’s another storage facility and a
rather large van waiting already. This house and these weapons have
never been under my name. There’s no way to trace them to me. As to
my stepfather’s company, I was going to sell it and open up my own
business, maybe I’ll deal in equipment for theatre. I don’t know.
There’s a small glitch in the plan. My stepfather changed his will.
He left it all to my mother, the silly woman with her bridal
boutique. I’m sure he thought it would be the ultimate slam to a
stepson he hated, but he didn’t know he was doing me a
favor.”

“
A favor?”

“
Oh yeah. I was mad when I
found out, but now the police don’t have a motive if they decide to
pin it on me, and as for my mother, when this settles down and the
required five year waiting period is over, I’ll get her to sign the
whole mess over. Wouldn’t want to tax her sweet brain with too much
business. Then I’ll sell the place. I’ve waited this long, a few
more years won’t matter.”

He turned to her and placed the back of
his fingers gently across her face. “You’re the only part I’m going
to regret.”

It was always the back of
his hand, never his fingers.
He’s trying
not to leave prints.
“Then don’t kill
me.”

He laughed.

“
No, really. I’ve hated
Dorsey Timmons since the day he broke up with me. I’d be glad to
testify against him.” She was lying and he wouldn’t have to be a
great judge of character to see that, but she had to try. “The
police already suspect him. All I have to do is say that he did
it.”