Once Shadows Fall (12 page)

T
he desk in Dr. Charles Raymond’s office was large and impressively free of clutter. In fact, it was free of everything, save for a phone and a yellow legal pad with blue lines. On the wall were framed diplomas from Piedmont College and the University of Guatemala School of Medicine. He managed to keep Beth waiting for more than fifteen minutes before he swept into the room and introduced himself.

“I’m terribly sorry, Ms. Sturgis. I was tied up on an important conference call to Los Angeles.”

Beth wondered if he would have mentioned the call if he’d been speaking with someone in Macon, Georgia.

“It’s quite all right,” she said. “Thank you for arranging the visit.”

“Not at all. We’re more than happy to work with the authorities. Terrible business about those people who were murdered. I take it that’s why you’re here.”

“Our investigation’s just getting started,” she replied automatically.

“That’s essentially what I told the reporters.”

“Oh?”

“They’re quite an aggressive lot. Still, the similarities to Pell are intriguing, wouldn’t you agree?”

“They are, Doctor.”

Her use of his title seemed to please him. Raymond tented his fingers importantly and informed her. “Both my staff and I are at your disposal. In fact, we, or should I say I, may be able to save you a great deal of time.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, obviously, I’ve had a great deal of contact with Pell over the years, which puts me in a unique position. I know the man’s mind and the way he thinks. Believe me, he’ll try to mislead you if he can.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s all a game to him—a sick game, I grant you.”

“I see.”

“Pell is what we call a classic sociopath, a person utterly without conscience. On top of that, he’s extremely bright. He may or may not help you.”

Beth already had a good idea what to expect from studying the file and newspaper accounts about Howard Pell. Nevertheless, she thanked Raymond for his advice and said she’d be careful. It seemed the fastest way to get her interview started.

Dr. Raymond further advised her, “Caution probably won’t be enough. Trust me, you need a professional to guide you.”

As he was talking, the doctor’s eyes took in Beth’s legs and then made their way back to her face. She bit her tongue and decided not to comment.

“That’s very generous of you.”

Raymond smiled benignly. “What I’m saying is, I’m offering my services, Beth. May I call you Beth?”

Only if I can call you a pig
, she thought.

“Of course, Doctor,” she smiled.

“And I’d like it if you would call me Charles.”

“I’ll certainly discuss your offer with Chief Ritson, Charles.”

“Do you know, I’ve called him twice since the story broke, but he hasn’t returned my calls yet.”

“I’m so sorry. I’ll be sure to mention it,” Beth said.

That seemed to mollify him. He nodded, then noticed some lint on his sleeve and flicked it off. Despite the office being cool, he had a sheen of sweat on his forehead. Raymond was in his late fifties, and somewhat overweight. The beard he wore was reminiscent of Freud, as was his pattern baldness.

“I’d love to give you a tour of our little facility,” he said, “if you have the time.”

“Thank you, Charles. Unfortunately, I’m somewhat pressed at the moment. Perhaps on my next visit. May I see Pell’s visitor list?”

Raymond was disappointed but said he understood. He then surprised her by asking, “How long do you think we’ll need for the session?”

“I’m sorry,
we
?”

“Well, naturally I assumed you’d want me present. As Pell’s doctor, the therapeutic relationship I’ve developed with him over the years will save you scads of time.”

“Again, that’s very kind, but I prefer to conduct interviews one on one.”

“I must warn you, the man’s into mind games. Something I can easily see through. It’s a matter of experience, really.”

“If I get confused, I’ll call you in,” Beth said, glancing at a clock on the wall. “Or I can consult with Jackson Kale later.”

“Kale? Yes, I heard his name mentioned on the radio. No disrespect to a colleague, but he’s only a psychologist. I’m a clinically trained physician.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Beth said. “Now if you could take me to him, I’d like to get started. We can pick up the visitor list later.”

A brief look of annoyance crossed Raymond’s face, but he managed to conceal it and shifted topics. “Very well,” he said, shaking his head. “Perhaps you could join me later for a glass of wine. We’ll go over what you’ve learned.”

Why me?
Beth thought. Like any attractive woman, she had long experience in dealing with persistent men. The best way to deflect them was to smile pleasantly and say how lovely that would be if she could find the time. Which she did.

Dr. Raymond led her down a long olive-green corridor to a room with a metal table that was bolted to the floor. At opposite ends of the ceiling were two small cameras. The far wall was taken up by a mirror, which Beth guessed was used for observation.

Two men were waiting for them. One was a short, powerfully built man in black hospital scrubs, while the other was tall and wore a brown sport coat.

“This is Dr. Cairo,” Raymond said, introducing the sport coat. “He’s worked with Pell quite a bit. I asked him to be present in case you have any questions. And this is Ron Curry, our psychiatric nurse.”

Dr. Cairo was probably in his early forties and had brown hair and blue eyes that rarely blinked, something she found disconcerting.

“We’ll be bringing Pell in in just a minute,” Cairo said. “Here are the rules: Stay in your chair at all times and do not get close to him. Ron will have to lock your gun in the safe until your interview is over.”

“That’s fine,” Beth said, handing over her weapon to the nurse.

“Also, if you have anything sharp, like a knife or a pen, please give it to him,” Cairo said.

Beth did as asked.

Cairo continued, “I assume you’ve brought a tape recorder.”

“I have.”

“It’s fine to use it. We have recording equipment that will pick up everything being said in the room along with cameras for video.”

“I saw them.”

“We’ll try to give you as much privacy as possible, but one of us will be in there at all times.”

Beth started to protest, then changed her mind when he quickly added, “It’s for your own safety.”

“Agreed.”

“Very good,” Cairo said. He nodded to the nurse, who relayed the order over his walkie-talkie.

In the room, Beth took a seat facing the door and watched as two uniform officers, each holding one of Howard Pell’s arms, led him in. He was shorter than she imagined and not physically imposing in any way. Both wrists were manacled and secured to a chain that ran around his waist. Once seated, a second chain was attached from his waist to the floor. One of the uniforms checked to make sure it was properly bolted and then both exited the room. She noticed they both exercised a great deal of caution around the man sitting across from her.

“Dr. Pell, my name is Elizabeth Sturgis. I’m a detective with the Atlanta Police. Thank you for seeing me.”

“Obsession.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re wearing Obsession. Not the perfume. The cologne, I suspect. My wife was partial to it. Am I right?”

Beth kept her expression neutral. According to the file, Pell had decapitated his wife and kept her head in a jar.

“You’re very perceptive, Doctor,” she said.

Pell inclined his head at the compliment.

“Are you comfortable?” Beth asked.

He responded by lifting the chain securing his arms. “As comfortable as circumstances permit.”

“May I get you something to drink?”

“A soft drink, if you please.”

Beth turned to the nurse. “Is that possible? If there’s a charge, I’ll pay.”

“I’m not permitted to leave the room, Detective.”

“Would you call someone, please?”

Curry didn’t seem happy but used his walkie-talkie to relay the request. Beth turned back to Pell.

“Doctor, I’m here investigating three murders that occurred several days ago.”

“Yes. A terrible situation,” Pell said. “I heard about it on the news.”

“I was hoping that—”

“I could help you?”

“Yes.”

“Do tell me what happened. It sounds ghastly.”

Beth reconstructed the scene in the field, finding the tunnel, and the discovery of Betsy Ann Tinsley’s body in a shallow grave.

Pell listened attentively, nodding occasionally as Beth spoke, and then said, “You took photographs, of course? May I see them, please?”

Beth opened her briefcase and removed the crime scene photos. She was about to hand them to him when Curry instructed, “Please don’t lean any closer, Ms. Sturgis. Just spread them out so he can see them.”

A thin smile appeared on Pell’s face.

“The staff here tends to be alarmist.”

“I understand,” Beth said. “Can you see the photographs all right?”

“You haven’t been a detective very long, have you, Elizabeth?”

“Excuse me?”

“A detective. A crime fighter. A caped crusader for law and order, without the cape.”

“Five years, Doctor.”

“And what were you before that?”

“That’s not really relevant, Dr. Pell. If you’d just take a look—”

“You want my help, don’t you?”

“That’s why I came,” Beth said. “If you’re not going to—”

“Then kindly answer my question. It’s not complex. Whatever did you do before you were a police officer?”

Jack Kale’s warning about not revealing personal information came back to her. Pell sat there calmly waiting for an answer, the half smile still on his face.

She made her decision. “I worked for a travel magazine.”

“As?”

“An associate editor, Dr. Pell.”

Pell shut his eyes and took a deep breath before pointedly looking at the fourth finger on her right hand for a wedding ring.

“Why did you leave, may I ask?”

“I was ready for a change.”

“Was the work too mundane?”

“It was interesting enough.”

“A change,” he repeated.

“Something like that,” Beth said. “I’ve seen
Silence of the Lambs
and read the book. Your Lector impersonation’s excellent. Very impressive. If I’m wasting my time, please tell me now.”

Pell raised an eyebrow and studied her. Seconds ticked by. Beth finally had enough and reached for the photographs.

“The scarecrow’s cross is facing the wrong way,” Pell said.

Beth’s hand froze. “That’s what Jack Kale said.”

“Ah, clever Jack Kale. The television mentioned him. To tell the truth, it was actually him I was expecting.”

“Dr. Kale’s consulting with our department,” Beth said.

“He’s quite a terrible man, you know,” Pell said. He was about to say more but stopped when the door opened and Charles Raymond came in carrying a Coca-Cola. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Raymond managed to look both petulant and annoyed at the same time. Pell didn’t bother to turn around.

“Good morning, Dr. Raymond. Your aftershave precedes you. You really must do something about that.”

Raymond glanced at Beth and then handed the drink to Curry and left again. The nurse cautiously placed it on the table within Pell’s reach.

“Thank you,” Pell said softly.

Curry didn’t respond. He resumed his place at the door.

Beth waited until he finished drinking and then asked, “Why is Jack Kale terrible, Dr. Pell?”

“Because he tried to eviscerate me. Did, actually.”

“What do you mean?”

“He sliced my stomach open and pulled my intestines out.” Pell unbuttoned the top of his jumpsuit and opened it up, revealing a lateral scar going all the way across his stomach.

Beth stared at it for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“As if that wasn’t enough, he tried to frame me for that poor agent’s murder,” Pell said.

“His partner, Constance Belasco,” Beth said.

Pell smiled thinly again. “You’ve done your homework. Wasn’t this in the file?”

“Some of it.”

“That’s what keeps you ahead of the men in your department. You have to work harder than they do. Am I right?”

“Another woman’s been kidnapped, Doctor. I was hoping you could give me some insight about the killer, since he seems to be imitating you.”

“Why should I?”

“Because it might save her life.”

“Is that what drives you, Elizabeth? You want to save the life of a woman you’ve never met? What is she to you?”

“A human being who needs help.”

“Most people need help,” Pell said.

She was aware of his attempt to manipulate her. But as long as he kept talking and believed it was working, that was fine. The main thing she needed was information and to understand the mind of whomever was out there killing people. She was willing to put up with the games for as long as it took.

“I can’t help most people,” she told him. “But I may be able to save this one.”

Pell took another sip of his drink, watching her over the cup he held. He’d changed since his file photo. He was thinner now and his hair was completely gray and close-cropped. Pell finally spoke.

“How is it you know your killer has another woman?”

“Because he left clues for us to find,” Beth said.

“Tell me about them.”

Beth did, leaving nothing out. When she was finished, he said, “You and your associates believe the murders were done by someone imitating me, correct?”

“Yes.”

“But Jack Kale doesn’t subscribe to that theory, does he?”

“He hasn’t said so directly,” Beth said.

Pell seemed to find that amusing. His smile was as substantial as a wisp of fog.

When nothing more was forthcoming, Beth prompted, “Can you help me, Doctor?”

Pell turned the cup of soda first one way and then the other, arranging it on the table as if its position was important to him. She was ready to conclude the trip had been a waste of time when Pell continued, “Have you asked yourself why the killer left his clues at the Historical Society?”

“What do you mean?”