The Fregoli Delusion (29 page)

They met the rector, Reverend Tom
Baldwin, along with the assistant priest, the deacon, the choirmaster, and the
organist. They all were nervous and distracted.

Stone led them down to the end of
the passage. “This door leads outside to the rear parking lot,” he said,
pushing down on the crash bar. He opened the door and they all stepped out into
the sunshine. An officer moved aside, touching his hat to acknowledge the
uniforms with their silver bars and stars.

They stood in a small rectangular courtyard
marked off as a parking area. It was wide enough to include a row of parking
spaces at the back of the church, two rows in the middle, and another row
against the back of the building on the opposite side, which was the six-story
Warrick Hotel. The lot was accessed from Simpson Street, on their left, through
a laneway that ran between the rear of the church and the side of an old
three-story building facing out onto Simpson. To their right, enclosing the
courtyard on that side, was a brick wall belonging to the four-story department
store next door.

“Uniform here,” Stone said,
pointing to the officer standing next to them, “and another on Simpson at the
end of the laneway.” He pointed down the laneway to the street. “Only church
employees are allowed to enter through this door. Everyone else will have to
enter by the front and pass through the security cordon, including the VIPs.”

Hank’s cell phone vibrated. He
glanced at his watch and saw that it was 11:52
a.m
. The call display told him it was Truly.

“Donaghue.”

“Something’s come up,” she said.
“I thought I should call you.”

“Go ahead, Maureen.”

“Walter Parris and his wife
haven’t arrived yet for the private service. They were expected before now. I
spoke to a woman who says she knows you. She says she’s Mr. Parris’s mother, uh,
Mrs. Constance Parris. According to her, she called the landline and their
cells, and nobody’s answering. I tried the numbers as well and they rang to
voice mail, which means they’re not turned off or disconnected. They’re ringing
and not being answered. Not unexpected for the landline if they’ve left the
house, but unusual for their cell phones. Apparently neither of them ever turns
their cell phone off, because of their son.”

“I understand,” Hank said. He heard
the sounds of traffic in the background. “Are you calling from outside the
funeral home?”

“Yes,” Truly said. “I’m on the
sidewalk. My POV is parked down the street. I think I should go there. It
doesn’t feel right.”

“Stand by.” Hank lowered the phone
and turned around. Once again, all eyes were on him. He looked at Martinez. “We
need a patrol car to check on the Parrises. They haven’t shown up at the
funeral home and their phones are going unanswered.”

Martinez pulled out her cell phone
to call Peterson. Attorney General Perry turned to Chief Bennett. “Walter
Parris is acting CEO right now. Is it possible Holland’s going after him?”

“It’s possible,” Bennett said,
looking at Hank.

“I agree. It’s possible.” Hank
looked at Martinez.

She shook her head in frustration
and put her hand over her cell. “He’s stretched too thin. They’re still
processing latecomers, and some attendees haven’t arrived yet. He says twenty
minutes is the best he can do, unless we have positive confirmation it’s our
suspect.”

“We don’t,” Hank said.

“What about your other detective,
Lieutenant?” Bennett said. “You could send her over there to check. She’s not
really needed at the funeral home, is she?”

Hank hesitated. Martinez was
looking at him with an expression that said,
you wanted her, now you have to
play her
. He looked at Horvath, who raised his shoulder in a barely
perceptible shrug. He put the cell phone to his ear.

“Go,” he told Truly. “Proceed with
caution. Remember, he’s armed and dangerous. I’ll divert Karen over there to
back you up, and we’ll shake loose a patrol car as soon as possible. Call me on
arrival with a sitrep before taking any action whatsoever. Got it?”

“Copy that, sir.”

He ended the call, feeling as
though he were moving pieces across a chessboard in a deadly game with an
opponent whose pieces he couldn’t see.

He didn’t like the feeling at all.

35

Maureen Truly parked her Land
Cruiser behind Richard Holland’s Ferrari near the front entrance of the Parris
home. She drew her gun as she got out from behind the wheel. In front of the
Ferrari was Mary Holland’s Sunfire. To her right, the closest of the three
garage doors was open, and Walter Parris’s Lexus poked halfway out. Evidently
both suspects were here and had intercepted the Parrises as they were about to
leave. Truly figured they were probably still inside the house.

She moved up alongside the Ferrari
on the passenger side and peeked in. Nothing, other than a small black travel
bag strapped on the narrow shelf behind the passenger seat. She edged alongside
the Sunfire and saw the damage. The passenger side headlight assembly was smashed,
the fender was damaged, and the plastic bumper was partially shattered and
hanging loose from its clips. To her untrained eye, it looked like very recent
damage, but she’d leave that to the experts.

She took a step toward the front
entrance of the house and stopped as it occurred to her that the Hollands might
have entered the home through the garage with the Parrises after having blocked
their escape. Gun held at the low ready position, she trotted to the corner of
the open garage door and peeked in. No one was visible. She slid between the
doorframe and the Lexus and pivoted, pointing her gun at the door leading into
the home.

The door was open. Through it, a
staircase was visible. No one was in sight.

She walked quietly across the
garage to the door and crouched, pointing her gun up the stairs.

No one.

There were eight carpeted stairs,
at the top of which was another door, left open at about a twenty-degree angle
away from her. Praying the stairs wouldn’t creak and give her away, she headed
up.

They didn’t creak.

At the top of the stairs she
peered through the crack into what she guessed was a mud room. Listening, she
could hear distant voices. A male voice in a low monotone. A female voice
rising and falling. The male voice again.

She leaned against the door and
eased it open with her shoulder, looking at a hall tree, a row of hooks with
sweaters and jackets, boot trays with assorted footwear. A mud room. When the
door reached a forty-five degree angle she slipped through and leveled her
weapon.

No one.

From the mud room she looked into
the kitchen. The voices were slightly louder but she still couldn’t make out
the words. She entered the kitchen, peripherally aware of black,
expensive-looking appliances, an island and high stools, oak cabinetry. To the
left was another doorway. The voices were coming from that direction. She
crossed the kitchen and pressed against the wall next to the door.

The voices had fallen silent.

She hesitated, then peeked around
the doorframe.

It was a central hallway running
left to right. On the right was a staircase leading up to the second floor. On
the left was a table and mirror against the wall, suggesting the front
entrance. Straight ahead was an open double doorway into another room. She
could see the edge of a dining room table and a chair.

She crossed the hallway, glancing
left and right, then pressed against the doorframe into the dining room.

“Absolutely not,” Walter Parris
said. “It’s out of the question.”

“You’re being completely
unreasonable, Walter,” a second male voice said. “The company’s about to take a
new direction and you’re already on record as not being interested in the CEO
position on a permanent basis. All I’m asking is that you endorse me as the old
man’s replacement, that’s all.”

“Are you irrational?” Walter
Parris asked. “Do you not realize the situation you’re in? You’re wanted for
murder, man. Your career’s over!”

“Oh, it’s a goddamned frame and
you know it! Thanks to Brett.”

“Brett has nothing to do with it.”

“He has everything to do with it,
Walter. Before, it was funny when he’d say some random person was me, but this
time he’s gone too far. You have to explain to them it’s all a big mistake.
That he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I’ll do no such thing.”

“Christ, they actually had me downtown
on Saturday night, did you know that? I answered questions for hours while they
ransacked my condo. I’ve spent the last two nights in a hotel out of town, just
trying to stay out of sight until this all blows over. I can’t stand it anymore.
You’ve got to get them off my back, and you’ve got to clear the way for me to
take over the company. I won’t take no for an answer.”

“Go ahead and shoot me if you
want, Holland. I won’t do any such thing.”

“Walter,” a female voice spoke up,
“please.”

“Lisa, stay quiet,” Walter said
quickly. “Don’t get involved.”

“She’s already involved,” Holland
said. “Up to her neck, right along with you.”

Truly thought about the cell phone
in her pocket. She should’ve called Donaghue before entering the house, but
she’d had to confirm they were here, first of all. Which she’d now done. They
were in the room beyond the dining room. Probably the living room. Holland
obviously had a gun and was holding the Parrises hostage. The best thing would
be to withdraw. Go back down into the garage and call Donaghue from there. Wait
for assistance. It was the best tactic, because she didn’t know what to do on
her own.

She took a step backward.

Something very sharp jabbed into
the small of her back and an arm went around her neck.

“Going somewhere, hon?” Mary
Holland purred in her ear.

36

For Karen, it was a very simple situation
to read. Parked in the looping driveway in front of Walter Parris’s house was
Mary Holland’s Sunfire, Richard Holland’s Ferrari, and some piece of ex-hippie
junk that just had to belong to Truly. Parris’s Lexus was parked halfway out of
his garage, and the big iron gates down at the end of the driveway had been left
open. Simple: the Parrises had been on their way to the funeral home, Parris had
opened the gate, probably with a remote in the garage, he’d opened the garage
door, started to drive out, and stopped dead when one or more of the Hollands jumped
out, waving that ludicrous plinker Holland had used to kill Jarrett.

She called it in to Hank and told
him she figured they were all inside having a pow wow. He told her a patrol car
was en route and that she should wait. She said thanks, gotta go, talk to you
later, and went through the garage into the kitchen.

Voices were coming from the
hallway on the left so she crossed the kitchen and slipped through the door. On
her right was the staircase up to Brett’s suite and the other bedrooms. In
front of her was the dining room. The voices were louder. She went into the
dining room and saw a door on the right from which the voices were coming. She
walked casually through the door, gun-first.

“Well, well,” she said, “how come
I didn’t get invited to this party?”

Mary Holland turned around, using
Truly as a shield, knife to her throat. Behind them, Richard Holland pointed
his gun in the general direction of Walter Parris, who stood next to him. Lisa
Parris sat on a loveseat on Karen’s right.

It wasn’t a living room, as she’d
anticipated, but a kind of recreation room with a full bar, a widescreen
television, a music center, and various other entertainment set-ups. Behind
Richard and Walter were open French doors that led outside to a patio and,
beyond that, an Olympic-sized pool. A great place for a party. Come in here,
get your drink, shmooze a bit and listen to the music, then wander out to watch
the hunks jump off the diving board and show off their six-packs. A lifestyle
she could get used to, without trying too hard.

“Well, hello there, Detective
Stainer,” Richard said, touching the muzzle of the Ruger to his temple in an
ironic salute. “Somehow I’m not surprised you’d show up. But I think you’d
better put down that gun and sit over there with Mrs. Parris while I finish my
business with Walter.”

Karen took a step forward. “You’re
toast, Holland. Time to pack it in.”

“Don’t come any closer!” Mary
Holland warned, tipping up Truly’s chin with the edge of the knife blade.

Karen looked at Truly. She looked
odd in uniform, a little stiff and frumpy. Her eyes, though, were very calm.
They looked back at Karen with complete trust. It was a little disconcerting.

“Please, Stainer,” Richard said,
“put that thing down. I need Walter to sign some documents, and then we’ll get
out of here and let you all go. No fuss, no muss. Sound good?”

“I’m not signing anything,” Walter
said. “I told you that already. Diane Benson’s taking over the company and
that’s all there is to it. Now get out of here and let us go mourn the loss of
our friend.”

Richard grinned, holding up a set
of car keys in his left hand. “You’re not going anywhere, Walter, until you do
exactly what I tell you to do.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind. It’s
out of the question.”

“Please, Walter,” Lisa said.

“Yes,
please
, Walter,”
Richard mocked.

“It’s his due!” Mary Holland said.
“His birthright!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking
about,” Walter said, “but I can assure you, Mary, your son has no claim to the
title of CEO. Never has, and never will.”

Karen had to hand it to Walter. He
wasn’t afraid to be arrogant and condescending even in the most difficult of
situations. She admired his courage while sizing up the layout. Mary Holland
was almost the same height as Truly. All Karen could see of her was the top
right quadrant of her head, her right arm and knife hand, and her right leg
from the knee down. It was more than enough real estate for Karen to take her
shot, of course, but she couldn’t be sure the knife wouldn’t twitch up into
Truly’s throat after impact.

As for Richard, he was about a
dozen feet behind his mother and Truly, head and shoulders visible above them.
Another easy shot. She considered moving sideways to get a full view of him,
but decided instead she’d rather keep Mary between them, in his line of fire. She
couldn’t be sure the sonofabitch wouldn’t shoot his own mother to get to her,
but he obviously wasn’t good with guns and probably didn’t realize the .22LR
fired by the Ruger was such a pathetic load it wouldn’t perforate his mother’s
body and make it all the way to Karen. Hell, it probably wouldn’t even make it
to Truly.

“My claim,” Richard was saying,
“is based on my abilities and you know it, Walter. I’m smarter and hungrier
than anyone else, Diane Benson included. And that homo Forrestall.”

“It doesn’t take intelligence to
take advantage of the misfortunes of others,” Walter said.

“Unless you’ve created those
misfortunes in the first place. Then it does.” Holland waved the gun at Walter.
“It was fiendish but simple. Ten grand, a private investigator with no
scruples, and a gun bought on the street with no questions asked. Forrestall at
least understood what he had to do.” He waved the gun again. “I’d hoped you’d
take the easier road and just sign your name on the dotted line. At least I’m
not asking you to off yourself, Walter.”

“You’re a murdering fraud,” Walter
said, “and you’re going to pay for what you’ve done.”

“He’s not a fraud,” Mary said. “I
had an affair with Herb, Walter. Richard’s his child. He’s Herb’s heir, and the
company belongs to him.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Walter said.
“You’re deluded.”

“It’s the truth!”

“Actually, Mother,” Richard said, “Walter’s
correct. You
are
deluded. You may have had an affair with him, but I’m
not his son.”

Mary turned around, trying to see
his face while keeping Truly between herself and Karen. “You’re his son! He
acknowledged it! He paid for your education! He hired you into the company so
you could learn everything and some day take over for him.”

“Mother, Mother, Mother.” Richard
gestured with his gun, reminding her that Karen was still pointing her weapon
at them.

“Don’t Mother me,” Mary said. “I
worked and slaved my whole life to raise you, got you through all the heartache
in high school, saved and scraped for everything, and now it’s time for it all
to pay off. Walter, sign those documents or I’ll slit this woman’s throat, I
swear to God!”

“I’m not signing anything,” Walter
said.

“Did you ever ask yourself,”
Richard said, “why you had to live in that dumpy little house all those years
and drive dumpy little cars and pay all your bills by yourself without a single
dime from him?”

“I wouldn’t take his damned money!
I told him that! Only for you. Only for your education so you could become
somebody. That was all.”

“He wasn’t my father,” Richard
said, almost sadly. “Oh, I believed you, all those years growing up. I believed
all your stories. I thought I was the bastard Edmund in
King Lear
:
‘Edmund the base shall top the legitimate. I grow, I prosper. Now gods, stand
up for bastards!’ That was me, all through school, when I got the internship at
Jarrett, and when I started working my way up the ladder. That was what drove
me, motivated me.”

“So it should,” Mary said. “You’re
his son.”

“I’m not, Mother. Aren’t you
listening? He had a DNA test done last year. Took a glass from me at a party
and sent it off for testing. Didn’t say a word about it until after he
announced to us all that he was stepping down and that Diane was the star of
the succession plan. I went in to see him privately and confronted him about
it. He laughed in my face! He took the report out of his filing cabinet and
practically threw it at me. ‘Read it and weep,’ he said. ‘Your DNA’s about as
closely related to mine as a baboon’s. Now piss off and get back to work before
I fire your ass right now.’ That’s what he said to me. Word for word.”

“I don’t believe it.” Mary began
to cry. “He was tricking you.”

“He spat in a plastic cup for me,
Mother. The arrogant fuck. He spat in a cup and handed it to me and told me to have
my own test done. So I did. He was right. I’m not his son.”

“How could he?” Mary cried. “How
could he?”

“So you know the rest, Mother.”
Richard looked at Karen. “She knows the rest, but you don’t. And you won’t.
I’ll get what I want from Walter here and that’ll be the end of it.”

“Of course I know the rest,” Karen
said. “You took your old man’s gun and confronted Jarrett on the bike path.
What you couldn’t have by inheritance you’d take by threatening his life,
right? Only he laughed at you again, didn’t he? He looked at that pathetic vintage
popgun of yours and laughed in your face all over again. But you couldn’t take
it. You felt that rage, didn’t you? When things don’t go your way? He was
turning away in complete contempt, he was going to get back on his bike and
ride away, leaving you standing there like an idiot, so you let him have it. A
lucky shot, right in the temple. Then you picked up your brass, grabbed his
wallet, took the cards out and threw it under the bush to make it look like a
robbery, and took off. Didn’t you?”

The anger began to boil behind his
eyes. “You’re signing everyone’s death warrant here, Stainer. You should shut
up and let sleeping dogs lie.”

“Then who should see you but that
poor nutcase, Brett Parris. And he takes your picture. So you knocked him down
and took his camera. But like the idiot that you are, you left it in your
mother’s garage right where we could find it. Not very detail-oriented,
Holland. That’s what they say about you at work, and man, they ain’t kidding.
We got your fingerprints on the camera and we got your pictures on it, too.”
She grinned at him. “Surprised? Thought you deleted them? Well, they were still
there, and our techies pulled them out. You take good pictures, Holland. Nice
and clear. Gun and everything. The jury’s gonna love them, right before you get
sent away to a lunch date with the needle.”

“You son of a bitch,” Holland said.

Karen looked at Truly, who was
still staring at her with those calm, trusting eyes.

Karen winked.

The corners of Truly’s mouth
lifted up, very slightly.

Karen stepped toward Mary, who
instinctively moved the knife from Truly’s throat to point it at Karen.

“Don’t come any closer!” Mary cried.

Amateurs
.

Karen fired a .40-inch Smith and
Wesson round into the underside of Mary’s forearm, about an inch from the elbow.
It punched through the arm and sent the knife flying through the air away from
Truly. Karen fired a second round above them as both women fell to the floor
but, damn him, Holland had already begun to move as she’d stepped forward, and
the round flew out through the open French doors into nowhere, which was
precisely where Richard Holland was at the moment.

Karen knelt down, ignoring Mary’s
howls, and dragged Truly clear. “Okay?”

“Wow,” Truly said. “Wow. That was
something. Wow.”

“Are you hurt, Maureen?”

“I’m okay. Wow.” She twisted
around, half-rising from the floor to look behind her. “Did he get away?”

“Maybe. Shut her up. Tie a
tourniquet or some fucking thing. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Thanks. You’re incredible.”

“Shut up, Maureen.” Karen stood up.

Walter Parris was on the love seat
with his wife, protecting her with his body. She was crying.

“You okay?” Karen asked.

Walter nodded and looked at the
open French doors.

Karen bolted through the doors out
into the patio, gun-first.

No one.

She looked left and saw a fence
that enclosed the pool. She looked right and saw the garage. She went right,
running through the open back door into the garage.

The Lexus was gone.

She remembered the keys that
Richard had held up, jingling them, when pressuring Walter to sign his idiotic
documents. She ran through the garage out into the driveway. The Ferrari was
still trapped between the Sunfire and Truly’s Land Cruiser, but the Lexus was
nowhere in sight.

She punched the air angrily with
her gun.

“Goddamn it all to
hell
!”