You Belong to Me (33 page)

‘Why do people save their settings?’ Stevie asked. ‘On bank websites, especially.’

‘I guess because they don’t expect to be murdered and have a cop sitting at their PC snooping around,’ JD said, staring at the screen. What had been nearly a two-hundred-thousand-dollar balance just days before was now a big zero. ‘He wiped her out, just like the others.’

‘Looks like it was night before last. Did she have any appointments then?’

JD opened Gordon’s calendar. ‘Nothing scheduled. Lucy was right. She’d had a manicure and a pedicure that afternoon. The damage to her nails was done by her killer.’

Stevie looked over his shoulder. ‘Janet had a date that night, JD. Look, she has a regularly scheduled appointment with her manicurist every other Tuesday. She had one last Tuesday, but went again less than a week later this past Sunday.’

‘The same day she was probably snatched.’

‘Exactly. This time she lists a place and a manicurist’s name. On all the other appointments she just has ‘Mani/Pedi’. This last appointment was an emergency job. Not her usual place and on a Sunday. Not many nail places open on Sunday.’

‘So she had a date, but it wasn’t listed on her calendar. Why?’

‘I don’t know. But I’m betting whoever she met for dinner is our guy.’

JD was about to agree when Stevie’s cell phone rang.

‘Mazzetti.’ She listened a minute, then her eyes widened abruptly. ‘That’s not possible. How did he get here so fast?’ She looked at JD with a perplexed frown. ‘Guess who just showed up in Hyatt’s office? Ryan Agar.’

‘No way,’ JD said in disbelief.

Stevie held her phone flat and hit the speaker button. ‘We’re both here, sir.’

‘He is here,’ Hyatt said, ‘and upset over the death of his mother. He’s demanding to see her body. I asked him to wait until you arrived.’

‘Then he didn’t come from Colorado,’ JD said. ‘He had to have been local. Where did he come from and how did he know his mother was dead?’

‘He came from Colorado,’ Hyatt said. ‘He showed me his plane ticket. He left Denver on the midnight red-eye.’

‘How?’ JD asked harshly, having the feeling that Hyatt was drawing this out.

‘He got a call to his cell at eight p.m. Mountain Time last night from the Baltimore PD saying his mother had been murdered and could he please come and identify the body.’

JD clenched his jaw. ‘Sonofabitch. The killer called him. There’s no other way.’

Stevie’s frown had deepened. ‘Who from Baltimore PD called him?’

‘The “detective” ID’d himself as JD Fitzpatrick,’ Hyatt said flatly.

JD blinked, stunned. ‘Me?’

‘You, Detective. This killer obviously knows you’re on the case.’

JD’s temper was bubbling.
Sonofabitch killer is mocking us
. With an effort he tamped it down. ‘Where did the call to his cell come from?’

‘I don’t know yet. Both of you need to get in here right away and deal with the son.’

‘We will,’ Stevie said. ‘Before we hang up, you need to know that Mr Agar went to high school with Bennett, Edwards, and Dr Trask’s brother.’

Hyatt sighed irritably. ‘Of course he did.’

‘And Janet Gordon’s bank account has already been wiped,’ JD added.

‘Dammit,’ Hyatt hissed. ‘Of course it has. I’ll see you both in my office, forthwith.’

Stevie hung up and shook her head furiously. ‘This perp’s fuckin’ with us, JD.’

JD reined in his own fury. ‘Then let’s fuck with him.’

Tuesday, May 4, 8.10 A.M.

‘Rhoda.’ Lucy sat at Craig Mulhauser’s kitchen table as a plate of eggs and bacon was placed before her. ‘I wish you hadn’t gone to so much trouble.’

Craig’s wife bustled around her kitchen, making Lucy think of her own mother. Rarely had she bustled around a kitchen, but there had been a breakfast table and a smile over cornflakes.

But those days were long gone.
Now she just peeks at me through window blinds
. And that hurt, far more than Lucy wanted to admit. She’d managed to block it from her mind until she’d woken to the luxurious aroma of Rhoda’s homemade bread. Her mother had made bread, once upon a time. It had been their special treat.

Going back yesterday had been more painful than Fitzpatrick could ever have guessed.
At least I don’t have to go back again
. Her native guide duty was done.

‘It was no trouble at all,’ Rhoda said. ‘I always cook for Craig before work.’

From the stunned look on Craig’s face as he sat down to his own plate, that was an utter falsehood and Lucy had to smile, just a little.

‘Eat up,’ Rhoda chirped. ‘You two have a busy day.’

‘That’s for sure,’ Craig muttered. ‘Damn bodies keep piling up.’

‘I’ll work on the backlog,’ Lucy promised between mouthfuls. ‘Delicious, Rhoda.’

Rhoda beamed. ‘I can make more.’

‘No, no,’ Lucy said. ‘I won’t be able to finish this. Although I am hungry. It was a long time since my last meal.’ It was the drive-thru burger she’d shared with Fitzpatrick, eons ago. But it hadn’t been eons. It hadn’t even been twelve hours.

She’d tossed and turned most of the few hours she’d spent on the Mulhausers’ guest bed, her mind churning. Thinking about poor Kevin and the dead woman, Janet Gordon, wondering who she was.
And how I connect to her
.

But mostly she’d thought of JD Fitzpatrick, replaying the alley in her mind. It had been . . . mind-blowing.
God
. It had also been the stupidest thing she’d ever done, and she’d done some truly stupid things.
Really, Lucy. In an
alley?
God
. Even Gwyn had never done that.

What was I thinking?
She hadn’t been. The long day and the night and the going home and the music and the way he’d looked as he’d watched her play . . .
Like he could gobble me up
. And suddenly she’d had to have him.
Then
. And when he’d put his hands on her . . .
God
.

She shivered. It had been amazing.
And it can never happen again
.

‘Lucy?’ Craig asked.

Lucy looked up, saw both Craig and Rhoda watching her, concerned, and realized she’d been staring at her nearly empty plate. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Your cell phone, dear,’ Rhoda said. ‘It’s buzzing.’

It was. Flustered, Lucy grabbed it and hit the green button. ‘Hello?’

‘Where the hell are you?’ Gwyn demanded.

‘I’m at Dr Mulhauser’s house. Where are you?’

‘At my place, standing on my doormat because you have my key.’

Lucy winced. ‘I’m sorry. Why are you there? I thought you were at Royce’s.’

‘I was, but I forgot my pills. I figured you’d be here. Why are you there?’

‘I didn’t want to stay by myself last night.’

‘Oh,’ Gwyn said, deflated. ‘I guess I can understand that. I just assumed that big hot cop would stay with you.’

Lucy’s cheeks flamed. ‘That isn’t going to happen.’
Ever again
. She cupped the phone, looked at Craig. ‘I have my friend’s key. Can you drop me there on the way in?’

‘Of course,’ Craig said.

‘Okay, Gwyn, I’ll be there in twenty.’

‘Oh wait. Hold on.’ There was muted conversation, then Gwyn was back. ‘My neighbor found the key I gave her last year when she took care of my plants.’ There were sounds of a door opening. ‘Good thing she had my spare . . .’

The phone went silent.

‘Gwyn?’ Lucy strained to hear. ‘Are you there?’

‘Oh God,’ Gwyn whispered. ‘Lucy, there’s a box on my coffee table.’

Lucy’s stomach dropped. ‘Is it wrapped?’

‘Yes. With red, purple and pink hearts.’

‘And a big red bow,’ Lucy said grimly. Across the table, Craig’s face paled as he understood what had happened. ‘Get out of there, now.’

‘I closed the door. I’m calling 911.’

‘Can you go to that neighbor’s place?’

‘Yes.’ Gwyn’s voice shook. ‘Do you think he’s still here?’

‘I don’t know, but we’re taking no chances. Is Royce there?’

‘He’s waiting in the car.’ Gwyn sounded small and frightened, and Lucy’s jaw clenched. How
dare
he involve her friends?

It was supposed to be you, Lucy. You were supposed to be there
. The thought made her sick. What if Gwyn had been there alone?

‘Okay,’ Lucy said, staying calm, ‘I want you to call 911, then call Royce to come up and wait with you.’

‘Okay.’ Gwyn was crying and Lucy had to swallow her fury.

‘I’ll call Fitzpatrick, then Thorne. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ Fingers trembling, Lucy dialed Fitzpatrick’s number from memory. ‘JD, it’s Lucy. We have another box.’

‘
What?
Where?’

‘Gwyn’s place. I stayed with the Mulhausers last night, but I was supposed to be there. She’s calling 911. Can you meet us there? It’s my apartment complex, across the green.’

‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have to go into the office first.’

Lucy frowned. ‘What’s happened?’

He hesitated a moment, then swore softly. ‘Janet Gordon’s son is Ryan Agar.’

‘I don’t know that name, but let me guess. He graduated with my brother.’

‘Yes. He played on that same championship team.’

She sighed. ‘So did you call him? Do I need to do an ID with him today?’

‘Yes on the ID, no on the call. Not exactly, anyway. Somebody called Agar at ten our time last night. Told him his mother was dead.’

‘That’s impossible. Unless . . .’ Lucy’s jaw went tight as understanding dawned. ‘That motherfucker.’ She winced. ‘Sorry, Rhoda.’

Rhoda Mulhauser looked concerned and fascinated all at once. ‘That’s okay.’

‘It gets better,’ Fitzpatrick said. ‘The caller said he was me.’

Lucy bit back another curse. ‘He’s playing with us. Where is the son?’

‘In Hyatt’s office. I have to go check him out. I’ll let Hyatt and Drew know about the box. We’ll have someone there as soon as possible. Do not go into Gwyn’s apartment yourself.’

‘I’m not stupid, JD,’ she snapped.

‘I know,’ he said quietly. ‘I’m sorry. I wanted to . . . Never mind. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’ll send one of the others out right away.’

Never mind
. What had he wanted to say? Or do? Lucy stood up, putting him out of her mind as best she could. ‘Thanks for breakfast, Rhoda. Craig, we need to hurry.’

‘I’ll stay with you at your friend’s place until Fitzpatrick arrives,’ Craig said.

‘Actually, you’ll be needed in the morgue to do an ID. Next of kin of last night’s victim has come from out of town. There’ll be lots of cops at Gwyn’s. I’ll be fine.’ She softened her refusal with a smile. ‘But thank you.’

Tuesday, May 4, 8.40 A.M.

Ryan Agar was a big, quiet man. His face was tanned, and even though he was only about forty, he looked much older. It was his eyes, JD thought. They were desolate.

He sat at a table in one of the interview rooms, an untouched cup of coffee in front of his folded hands. ‘I’d like to see my mother.’

‘We’re making the arrangements,’ JD said. ‘We weren’t expecting you this early.’

Agar met his eyes. ‘So I hear. You’re not the man who called me.’

‘No, sir,’ JD said. ‘We’re tracing that call now. How did that other man sound?’

‘I don’t know. His voice wasn’t as deep. Had more of an accent.’

‘What kind of accent, Mr Agar?’ Stevie asked.

‘Not southern, but not northern. Definitely not Midwest. Why would he pretend to be you?’

‘We don’t know,’ JD said. ‘Do you know anyone who’d want to hurt your mother?’

‘My mother was not a milk-and-cookies kind of woman. Not many people liked her unless they wanted something from her. But to murder her? That I don’t know.’

‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Stevie asked.

‘Last Christmas. I make a yearly pilgrimage.’ His voice had grown sardonic. ‘We have dinner at a fancy restaurant. She gives me a gift which I cannot use and tells me how well I’m looking. We exchange pleasantries that mean nothing and then I go home.’ His eyes unexpectedly filled with tears. ‘Please tell me she didn’t suffer.’

JD and Stevie exchanged a glance and Agar’s face crumpled. He bowed his head as silent sobs shook his massive shoulders. JD placed a box of tissues at his elbow and he and Stevie patiently waited for the initial storm to pass.

‘We’re sorry for your loss,’ Stevie said softly when Agar’s shoulders finally stilled. ‘We know this is a hard time for you, but we need to ask you some questions.’

Agar lifted his head, his glare harsh. ‘Do you have any leads?’

‘We do,’ Stevie said, ‘but only because your mother isn’t the first victim. Mr Agar, do you know a man named Russell Bennett?’

For a moment Agar froze. Then he swallowed. ‘The name sounds familiar.’

‘He was found dead yesterday morning,’ Stevie said. ‘Many of his injuries are similar to those we found on your mother. Do you know if they knew each other?’

Agar frowned, his confusion feigned. ‘It’s possible. She knew a lot of people.’

‘Mr Agar,’ Stevie said, ‘you went to high school with a Russell Bennett.’

He swallowed again, harder this time. ‘Oh. That Russell Bennett? I kind of remember him. We lost touch after high school.’

‘What about Malcolm Edwards?’ JD asked softly. ‘Do you kind of remember him?’

Agar’s eyes flickered wildly. ‘Why?’

‘Because he disappeared two months ago. He’s thought to have been lost at sea.’

‘I don’t see what that has to do with my mother or me.’

‘Edwards and Bennett both had their bank accounts wiped the day they were last seen.’ JD let the statement hang and watched as realization dawned in Agar’s eyes.

What color remained behind his tanned face slid away. ‘My mother’s accounts were wiped? All of them?’

‘At least one,’ Stevie said. ‘These men and your mother are connected. They all came from your hometown, they all had their accounts wiped, and they’re all dead.’

Agar moistened his lips. ‘Why?’

‘That’s what we want to know,’ Stevie said, her voice dropping to a menacing murmur.

‘There’s one more connection, Mr Agar,’ JD said coldly, when Agar didn’t reply. ‘Bennett was a plastic surgeon. He did at least one procedure for your mother. And if we’re not mistaken, he visited her apartment on more than one occasion.’