Clear and Convincing Proof (24 page)

Finally Milt said, “My beeper just buzzed me. Someone's coming through the backyard.” He got up and closed the hall door; the dim lighting instantly turned into stygian darkness.

They took their places in the closet and the bathroom. A hanger made a startlingly loud sound; Barbara pushed the clothes back farther. And they waited again.

She couldn't hold her breath and survive, Barbara thought, and she let it out slowly, but if she breathed it sounded like a pneumatic pump of some sort. Beside her, Frank made not a sound. What if her stomach began to growl again? She ordered herself not to think of food, not to think of her stomach, not to think of the noise her heart made. Then the bedroom door opened and the dim light was back in the room. The door was opened wider. She caught in her breath and held it as a demon walked into the bedroom.

Black, shiny, wet, reflecting light eerily from the hall, black from head to foot, it moved to the bed and stood there for a second. It was doing something, the black skein of plastic, reflecting light, revealed movement, but she could not see what it was doing.

The world exploded into thunder and light, and Sergeant Larkins lunged simultaneously. The shot echoed and reechoed in the room, and the light was blinding. Larkins seemed to swoop across the room to knock the demon onto the bed, facedown, and bat away the gun all in a single leap from the doorway.

Milt ran to the bed and jerked the top plastic bag off, and then he stared, openmouthed. Joining him, Barbara said, “It's over, Erica.”

Erica twisted in Larkin's grasp and looked at Barbara with hatred. “You're too late!” she cried. “Too late. If I can't have him, neither can she!”

Barbara pulled the covers back and picked up the wig. Erica screamed and would have fallen without Larkin's grip on her arm.

“Y
ou let me think we'd nab Darren Halvord,” Milt Hoggarth said bitterly. They were in Naomi's office at the clinic with Shelley and Frank, waiting for Bailey to deliver Annie before Barbara faced the directors with her message that Erica Castle had been arrested.

“I was afraid you'd back out if I told you I expected Erica,” Barbara said. “You've had your cap set for Darren and Annie from the beginning.”

“We knew from the start that it had to be someone connected to the clinic,” Milt said, not quite defensive, but not yielding much either.

“And I doubted that from the start,” Barbara said with a shrug. “They all act as if the clinic is a holy shrine. I didn't believe any of the regulars would des
ecrate it with an act of violence, have cops swarm all over the place, bad publicity, frightened patients and volunteers. Any one of them could have found a way to lure McIvey to some other place and pull the trigger. He jogged on the Amazon Trail on Saturday mornings, for heaven's sake. How many people are out there at eight-thirty on Saturday morning? Erica couldn't have known that, although the regulars probably did. The clinic meant nothing to her, just a means to an end, and she had never even met McIvey. That made it harder. It had to be someplace where she could find him alone, and she had no way of learning his routine, except from scuttlebutt in the clinic. It was known that Annie would drop him and take off that morning, that Naomi would wait at the house, and that Greg Boardman and other staff would not go to the clinic much before eight. In other words, that morning was the one and only time she could count on McIvey's being alone, and it was a morning made for murder. She seized the moment.”

“That's it? That's what you were counting on?” the lieutenant asked in disbelief.

“Not exactly. I talked to her. She was in love with Darren, that was apparent, and she set out to get him, reel him in when the time was right. And get rid of Annie in the process, either by framing her for murder, or…well you saw what she intended tonight. Everyone at the clinic knew that McIvey intended to drive Darren out, and she was determined not to let that happen. Erica told me she had been en
gaged for six years, then broke it off to come west. A woman who really wants that picket fence and a couple of kids does not hang in there for six years when the clock is ticking faster and faster and the big forty is coming up. She had choices when she was engaged: insist on marriage, get pregnant, get out. She got out and headed west, a new start, a house to sell, a bit of money in the bank, and then Darren came into sight. She marked him as hers and went on from there. When you're forty and fall in love, maybe for the first time, you tend to act a little crazy.”

“Guesswork,” Hoggarth said in disgust.

Barbara shrugged. “Check out the old boyfriend. Bet you a buck he's a dud, a shoe salesman, something safe like that.” At his continuing skepticism, she said patiently, “Look, Hoggarth, she is the polar opposite of her mother. Her mother was a teenage dropout, addict, prostitute, single parent, no father in sight, that whole route. Erica is squeaky-clean, worked her way through school, keeps her house as clean as a convent, impeccable reputation. She would not have become engaged to anyone who was not as straight as a ruler, and it was a dead-end relationship. Also safe, up to a point. Then she had a chance at a different life, and she ditched him.”

She felt a wave of sadness, of compassion for Erica, who had worked so hard to remake herself into an image of respectability, of middle-class virtue, only to see her story-book ending threatened by David McIvey. You can't really leave the past be
hind, she thought. It has molded you, shaped you, and will assert itself if aroused because it is part of you, slumbering deep within your cells.

She shook herself. “Anyway, moving on. You talked to Dorothy Johnson and dismissed her story of the demon out of hand. I listened to her and tried to make sense of what she had seen beyond the fact that the murder took place at seven-thirty or a minute later. Someone in disguise, maybe. Or someone who wanted to be seen bone-dry within minutes of the murder. Annie? No. She's not the brightest light on the tree, but she has enough sense to have chosen a better and more convenient time and place if she had murder on her mind. And she didn't turn up dry within a few minutes. She wasn't seen again for hours. The other person who turned up bone-dry in the right time frame was Erica.

“She gave a patient a cheap paperback book early on, no big deal. But then she gave a twenty-six-dollar book to another patient the morning of the murder. Why? She was in debt big time, no steady job, scraping pennies and getting in deeper day by day. But someone might have seen her old station wagon near the clinic that morning. She needed a reason to be there. So she alibied Darren, and herself, in a way that would be remembered. Why so precise about the time she claimed he left? How did she know what time would be meaningful? The time of death was not part of any news story that day, but she knew when Darren had to leave to be in the clear. He said from the start that he didn't know what time he left
that morning. She couldn't have seen him leave. She wasn't even at home when he left. She was busy shooting McIvey.”

She narrowed her eyes and said, “Picture it, Hoggarth. She was there, parked and waiting, in her demon suit probably, and McIvey came from the residence and unlocked the gate, went into the garden. She followed. Maybe she called to him to wait for her, let her go in when he did. However that went, she got close enough to shoot him through the heart. Back to her station wagon, off with the trash bags, off with the Totes boots, everything shoved into one of the bags, and then she drove around to the front of the clinic. Maybe she sat out there a minute or two to calm down, maybe not. Deliver the book, make sure Bernie noted that she was dry, and what time it was, then off to teach her class. Neat, tidy, no loose ends. No blood, no trace evidence, hair, fibers, anything. It's all in the trash bag. Toss the bag into a Dumpster somewhere, take the gun home and hide it again, and that's that.”

“This is even lousier than the case we had against Halvord,” Milt said after a moment. “What if this? What if that? Maybe something else.”

“I know that,” Barbara said, exasperated. “There wasn't a shred of tangible evidence. That's why I wanted her to show up with the gun and the demon suit. What more do you need?”

“What about Zuckerman? What exactly did she tell you?”

“Exactly that maybe she saw car lights leaving the
parking lot or the alley that morning. Maybe. From a block away. So I stayed out of sight and let Erica stew about what she had said.”

“And got Zuckerman killed,” Milt said. He was frowning at her in a way that suggested he wanted to bring charges, if he could think of anything that would stick.

Slowly Barbara nodded. “Yes. But even if I had broadcast what Bernie told me, I doubt Erica would have been swayed. She must have gone through one scenario after another in her mind. What if you guys reenacted that morning, let Bernie watch car after car leave the alley in near dark, with fog and rain? Rule out one car after another, including Annie's Mercedes, with the distinctive three brake lights. What if someone tried an old station wagon? Bingo? Maybe. I think as soon as she knew Bernie had seen something, Bernie was targeted. And she timed it for Darren's bridge club meeting. Another alibi with irrefutable witnesses. Except he didn't go that night. So I set the stage and gave directions for her to follow, and called you. And it worked. What more do you need? You have her, the latex gloves, her demon suit, the gun and an eye-witnessed attempted murder.”

He was not happy. He chewed his lip, frowning at her almost absently now. “How did you know she'd overhear you talking to Halvord?”

“I thought it very likely. I had been in her half of the house. I knew about the inside stairs. Your guys must have known about them, the way they tossed
Darren's apartment. I knew she would hear me arrive. She heard me the first time I went to the house, and she had been in the kitchen that time. I didn't think she could resist sneaking up those stairs and putting her ear against the door, and I stayed close to the door and spoke quite clearly. If we had been face-to-face, I couldn't have made it plainer that Darren would be arrested in the morning, Annie spirited out of town, case closed. I talked to her this afternoon and let it slip that Darren had no alibi for Bernie's death. That was a shock for her. And I gave her a preview of what to expect from an eager-beaver assistant D.A. determined to break her alibi for Darren last November.”

Hoggarth's face darkened and she said, “Oh, come on. You know as well as I do how that plays in court. I made sure that she understood that her testimony would have been discredited one way or another. Tonight was going to be her only chance to get rid of Annie and clear Darren. I arranged the meeting so the coast would be clear for her. She had to act now or it would all have been for nothing.”

She stood up and stretched. “This is pure speculation, understand, but I think she intended to try to make Annie's murder look like suicide. Shelley gave the signal that Darren was in the directors' room with the others, and she asked him to close the blinds, so that if Erica was watching, she would know that he was covered this time. Your guy said she came from the garden to the residence. No doubt she had been watching and was reassured on
that point. She believed Annie was heavily tranquilized—if not asleep, then too dopey to be a problem. Shoot her at close range, get her fingerprints on the gun and leave it with her.” She regarded him thoughtfully. “And you would have bought a suicide, wouldn't you? A confessional suicide.”

“Maybe,” he said. They both knew he meant yes. Clearly he was not satisfied, but before he could raise another objection or ask another question, Barbara said, “When Erica was a little girl there was a shooting in her mother's apartment. You might check the records, see what kind of gun was used then, if it was her mother's. I suspect that Erica got her hands on it years ago and has held on to it ever since. Maybe her mother gave it to her and told her to use it if one of her johns got too familiar. Maybe it's on record in Cleveland.”

There was a tap on the door and Shelley hurried to open it and slip out. She reappeared almost instantly. “Annie and Bailey are here,” she said.

“Tell them to go to the directors' room. I'll be along in a second.” She looked at Hoggarth. “Was there anything else?”

“After I talk to Castle,” he said. “I'll want to see you after I get a statement from her.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” she said. “You know where to find me.”

“Sometimes,” he said. “Sometimes.” He went to the door, glowered at her another second and left.

When the door closed behind him, Frank said, “I
believe he thinks you might be holding out a thing or two.”

She shrugged. “He has all he needs. Ready? Let's get this over with.”

While Milt and Sergeant Larkins had struggled with Erica, getting her out of the demon suit, Barbara had picked up the diary pages from the bedside table where Erica had put them. Frank, who missed very little, had seen her do it. He didn't say a word, simply followed her out and to the directors' room.

 

Naomi and Annie both wept when Barbara told them it was over. She kept the report short, with few details. Greg Boardman looked disbelieving and then bewildered. “Why? What for?” he asked no one in particular. And Thomas Kelso said in his terrible rasp, “Who the hell is Erica Castle?”

“She must have been crazy,” Naomi said. She was holding Annie in her arms. “She said she wanted to apply for Bernie's job and I said it was hers if she was sure. She must have been insane.”

Darren sat as silent and unmoving as a carving, his gaze intent on Barbara. She ignored him. “We may never know why she did it,” she said. “Maybe all killers are insane. Tonight she went to the residence with the gun and shot a dummy in Annie's bed, thinking it was Annie asleep there. If the gun checks out with ballistics, that's all they'll need to charge her and bring her to trial.”

Thomas Kelso said, “You should have taken me up on my offer. Since you won't be needed to defend
anyone, no clients, I think your payment for tonight's entertainment will be scant.”

Greg Boardman stood up. “I think the whole board of directors will determine that, Thomas.”

Kelso looked at him in surprise and then nodded. “Call that meeting sooner rather than later.” He turned back to Barbara. “I knew you could do it, you understand. Now I'm going home.”

Before they disbanded, Barbara took Annie aside and gave her the diary pages. “I'll get the diaries over to you tomorrow. Might be a good idea to make sure they all get burned this time.”

“I will,” Annie said with elaborate emphasis. “It's really over? No one suspects me anymore?”

“It's over. You're above suspicion again,” Barbara said with a smile. “You realize the estate might still be held up while they deal with the first Mrs. McIvey's claim.”

“I don't care about that. Can I tell Greg and Naomi that we can go ahead with the foundation? Would that be okay now?”

“You can go ahead.”

Annie flung her arms around Barbara and hugged her hard. “Thanks. Thank you more than I can say.” She left with Naomi and Greg.