Tuesday morning was crisp, clear, and cool. The democratic campaign headquarters was already flush with activity by eight a.m. Down the hall, posters were being readied for Reed, as well as several other democratic candidates. One cursory glance, however, left no question as to who ran the show. When he was in town, the building belonged to Dexter Reed.
As was his custom, the senator had opened his office window, allowing the cold air to take over the building. Reed sat at his antique desk, in short sleeves, briskly discussing the schedule with a sweatered Terry Morrell. Nearly everyone else in the building was also wearing either a sweater or windbreaker. Dexter Reed was invigorated by the cold, impervious to its chilling effect.
Terry studied his notebook. “Don’t forget that you have a nine o’clock breakfast with Mayor Wells.”
“I hate that whining asshole. Every time I see him, he’s got his damn hand out,” Reed groused. “If this weren’t an election year, I’d tell that weasel to eat me for breakfast.”
A knock on the door interrupted his grumbling. “Come in, come in,” he said impatiently.
Julie, the senator’s receptionist, walked in. “Senator, there’s a Lieutenant Berry and Sergeant Moore from the NYPD here to see you.”
Terry Morrell quickly turned to the senator, anxious to catch any reaction. He was disappointed. There was none.
“By all means, Julie, send the gentlemen right in.”
A few seconds later, the detectives entered the office. Dexter Reed rose, meeting them at the door, pumping the hands of both men profusely. “Two of New York City’s finest, please come in. Please do come in. You gentleman have a seat.” The detectives sat in the chairs he pointed to, located beside the desk. Reed nodded toward Terry, who had remained seated. “My top aide, Terry Morrell.”
Sydney nodded at Terry. “I’m Lieutenant Sydney Berry, and this is Sergeant Ellis Moore.”
“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Reed asked with an infectious smile. “You guys out selling those Policeman’s Ball tickets?” He laughed at his own light humor.
Sydney remained stoic. “No sir, Senator. As you may or may not know, I’m in charge of the investigation into a series of knife related slayings in the Queens and upper Bronx areas over the past two months.”
The senator appeared puzzled. “No, Lieutenant, I was not aware of that. Of course, I spend most of my time at the Capital. What little time I have in New York, as I’m sure you can imagine, is tied up with the campaign.”
Ellis kept an eye on Terry Morrell, noting that the aide was clearly surprised by his boss’ response.
“With the election coming up in November, I suppose you’ve been spending a little more time here than you normally would—what with a campaign to run and what have you?” Sydney asked.
“I have been busy,” Reed agreed, “no doubt about that. The pundits, of course, say that I’ll win in another landslide, but I’ve never been one to rest on my laurels.”
“Admirable strategy, Senator.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant. Now, about these murders?”
“Yes, sir. Four young women have been brutally murdered and mutilated. The press has dubbed the killer ‘the Butcher.’ I’m somewhat surprised you haven’t heard anything about it.”
“The Butcher,” Reed said, nodding hesitantly, “now that does sound somewhat familiar. But I confess I haven’t followed it closely. Tell me, Lieutenant, what in the world would lead you to my doorstep concerning this unsavory matter?”
“Senator, three of the victims have been linked to the democratic party here in New York—one directly and two indirectly.”
Reed raised an eyebrow. “Linked to the democratic party?”
Sydney nodded. “But the reason we’re here, sir, is that the most recent victim, Patricia Swilling, has been linked to you directly.”
A cagey smile appeared on Reed’s handsome face. “By linked, just what the hell do you mean, Lieutenant?”
“Senator, we are in no way remotely accusing you of anything,” Sydney stated, trying to maintain civility. “We have simply received information which has led us to seek some answers to some questions we have. Just answer a couple of questions and we’ll be out of your hair.”
Reed smiled broadly, extending his outstretched palms. “I’m all yours. Ask away.”
Ellis prepared to take notes on the questioning.
“According to an eyewitness,” Sydney began, “Patricia Swilling had a fairly lengthy conversation with you on the night she was murdered.”
“What night was that?” Reed asked, appearing perplexed. “Do you have a picture of the young lady? You must realize that I meet hundreds of people every day.”
Sydney pulled a photo from his notebook, handing it to the senator. “She was killed on in the early morning hours of October 9, shortly after leaving your fundraiser.”
Reed studied the picture, frowned, and then returned it to Sydney. “She looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t place the face with a name.”
“That’s strange, Senator, because according to this eyewitness, Patricia Swilling had a twenty to twenty-five-minute conversation with you alone on the terrace. This alleged conversation allegedly ended abruptly, when you allegedly made a pass at her.” Sydney studied Reed’s face, surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes and a hint of a smile come to the corner of his lips.
“And what exactly did I allegedly say to the young lady?”
Sydney stared evenly at the senator. “Something lewd and boyishly shallow, sir. Something so immature, I found it almost inconceivable that a man of your stature could be capable of such a thing. That’s why I rushed right over here. I wanted to give you the opportunity to deny the allegation.”
The twinkle left Reed’s eyes and his tone became as cold as the morning air. “I’ll tell you what I am going to do, Lieutenant Berry—I will neither confirm nor deny making any statement at all to the woman. As I’ve already stated, I simply cannot place the unfortunate young lady. Now, if there is nothing else…”
“Bear with me, Senator,” Sydney said evenly, “Ms. Swilling was the only victim directly connected to you, but Celia Bryant, the first victim, was last seen leaving this very building on August 13.” He took Celia Bryant’s photo from the notebook, handing it to the irritated senator. “Do you recognize her?”
He scanned the picture flippantly, then returned it to Sydney. “Never saw her before in my life. Besides, this building is used by at least ten other candidates. Have you darkened their doorsteps, Lieutenant?”
“You recall, Senator, I made it very clear from the beginning of this interview that you are in no way suspected of being involved in these crimes. I haven’t accused you of one solitary thing.”
Silence hung over the room for several seconds as the two men stared at each other, trying to read the other’s thoughts and intentions. Finally, Reed broke the silence. “Let’s get on with it then. Am I connected with another victim? Was the next girl, perhaps, my prom date?” he quipped, sarcasm dripping from his words.
Sydney ignored his attitude, once again reaching into his notebook. Bringing out the photo of Miriam Clay, he handed it to Reed. “Miriam Clay, junior at Penn State—home for the summer. She stated that she planned on spending her vacation becoming involved in local democratic politics.”
“My God, Berry,” Reed said, laughing, “this must be one slow investigation. I mean, you fellas are really grasping at straws.”
“Do you recognize her at all, sir?” Sydney asked again.
Reed made no attempt to hide his boredom with the entire exercise, glancing mere seconds at the picture, before softly tossing it across the table at Sydney. “Lieutenant Berry, you’ve got three young ladies there who I have no recollection of ever meeting.”
Sydney picked up the photo and handed it to Terry Morrell. “How about you, Mr. Morrell? Recognize her?”
Terry studied the picture much more carefully than Reed had. Ellis noted that he actually appeared disappointed as he shook his head negatively. “No sir, I’m sorry.”
Sydney took the photo, laying it beside that of Patricia and Celia. “You can’t recall meeting any of these three women, Senator?”
“Nope,” he replied crisply. The twinkle suddenly returned to his eyes as he pointed to Patricia Swilling’s photo. “Now, as far as this pretty blonde goes, you can bet your sweet ass that if I had met her, I just might have tried to entice her into spending the evening with me. You would be amazed, Lieutenant, at the number of those boyish and shallow passes this old fellow manages to complete.”
Sydney tried to remain expressionless, soaking in what Reed had just revealed about himself, almost certain that his growing revulsion for the man had to be evident on his face. After a few seconds, he stood, with Ellis following his lead. “Senator, you will call us if you happen to remember anything that might help us catch the monster who did unspeakable things to that pretty blonde?”
“Of course,” Reed answered, “of course I will.”
Sydney and Ellis walked toward the door, but Reed stopped them. “Just one little piece of advice, Lieutenant. If my name were to appear in the media connected in any way with this unpleasantness… you just might find yourself shoveling horse shit at the police stables. I will not stand for having my reputation sullied.”
Sydney smiled evenly at the cocksure statesman. “I really don’t respond well to threats, Senator. And this unpleasantness you’re referring to—is just that. It is unpleasant, unsavory and heartbreaking. My job is to find out who is responsible for this unpleasantness. And believe me, I will.” He smiled very broadly at Reed, trying to match the senator’s machismo. “As long as your statements jibe with the facts, your name will remain totally removed from our investigation.”
“See that it does,” Reed responded firmly.
Ellis opened the door and stepped out, noticing that Sydney had once again stopped to address Reed. “By the way, Senator, I’m a homicide lieutenant. I believe stable boys shovel horse shit at the police stables. Have a good day, sir.” He closed the door behind him.
“You just couldn’t help yourself,” Ellis said with a light chuckle.
Sydney shrugged his shoulders. “Senator or janitor, an asshole is an asshole.”
◆ ◆ ◆
The ride back to the precinct was spent exchanging views on the meeting that had just transpired. Sydney’s driving had always scared the hell out of Ellis, so the burly detective kept one eye on his boss, one eye on the traffic rushing by, and both hands on the dashboard. Sydney laughed at Ellis’ typical response to his driving prowess. “Good lord, Ellis, you’re gonna give me a complex.”
“Hot damn, Syd, the way you zip in and out of traffic makes me feel like I’m on a damn roller coaster—and you know how much I hate roller coasters. You remember the story I told you about losing my lunch over on Coney Island.”
A mischievous laugh escaped Sydney. “That would be a good way for me to find out if you’ve been sticking to your diet.” He sped up, again shifting lanes.
“Slow this damn car down or you’re gonna be wearing what I had for breakfast!” Sydney chuckled, easing up on the gas. Ellis relaxed a little, finally removing his hands from the dash.
“What did you think about the esteemed senator from New York?” Sydney asked.
“That’s one cool operator. He may know more than he’s telling us, but he’s in his re-election mode. He feels like he’s untouchable, so why let his name become involved.” He turned to Sydney. “I am kinda surprised you lost your cool with him. He strikes me as a nasty person to have as an enemy.”
“Yeah, I know I let him get to me,” Sydney said, shaking his head ruefully. “But you saw how the bastard baited me. When he made the perverted comment about Patricia Swilling, I wanted to slug him. And did you notice the sickening smirk on his face when he said it?”
“I’d bet every last dime I own that he remembered Patricia Swilling very well,” Ellis said.
“Oh, without a doubt. And it’s very obvious that he’s proud of his womanizing.”
“Ain’t the guy married?”
Sydney nodded. “Yeah, but I don’t remember much about the lady. Seems like she was kinda plain. Thin, light complected, kinda mousey—if I remember correctly. Hell, I only saw her briefly in one of his television ads.”
“Well, damn,” Ellis said, “he sure doesn’t try to hide his prowling ways.”
“Like you said a minute ago, he feels untouchable,” Sydney agreed. “All bullshit aside about his arrogance, and disregarding the fact that he’s a major asshole, can you see him being a viable suspect?”
Ellis sucked on his front teeth, a habit he had when in deep thought. Finally, he shook his head negatively. “I don’t buy him being a killer. A fucking senator? That’s too damn crazy for me to digest.”
“Now, buddy, we’ve both been at this way too long to let anything surprise us. He came across as one coldblooded bastard to me. Way too soon to rule him out in my opinion.”
Ellis leaned forward in his seat. “You know, we need to get that aide of his alone. His face was wide open. Every lie that Reed told lit that kid up like a pinball machine.”
Sydney registered surprise. “You sure about that? Can’t say I noticed. But then again, I was zoned in on Reed.”
“Positive,” Ellis said, nodding emphatically. “I watched his reaction throughout the entire interview. Judging by what I saw, I think Reed was lying about Patricia Swilling.” Ellis frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
“What?” Sydney asked.
“I’m pretty sure that Morrell couldn’t place Miriam Clay. It was obvious that he wanted to though.”
“He did go over that picture closely,” Sydney agreed. He tilted his head at Ellis quizzically. “If you thought the kid knew something, why didn’t you question him?”
“Hell, Terry Morrell’s got the job of a lifetime. He’s not gonna risk it by letting something slip to us—not with Reed sitting right there. Nah, we need to get Mr. Morrell down to the station, away from the honorable Dexter Reed. Much easier to gain his trust that way.”
“I agree, Sarg. The only problem you got is that they’re leaving tomorrow morning.”
“Which gives me the rest of today to get him to the precinct,” Ellis stated with determination.
“Piece of cake.”
Ellis grabbed his stomach. “Damn, you coulda gone all day without mentioning cake.”
“I’m sorry, buddy—how about piece of bran muffin then?”
“After I pass that lieutenant’s exam, you’re gonna buy my ass one humongous chocolate cake.”
“With a humongous side order of vanilla ice cream,” Sydney added enthusiastically. “You bet your sweet ass I will.”
“You can bet your sweet ass I’ll eat it, too.” He then closed his eyes, lost in food fantasy heaven. “Then you’re gonna take me over to Walt’s Dog House.”
“That shit will kill you graveyard dead.”
Ellis’ eyes glazed over as he leaned back, staring at the roof of the car. “Ah, but what a way to go, my man. What a way to go.”
◆ ◆ ◆
Sydney and Ellis stopped by Warren’s desk after arriving at the 108th. After filling him in on the meeting with Reed, they learned that Warren had made no progress on connecting Teresa Chandler with the other victims. Ellis moved on to his desk, planning to attempt to reach Terry Morrell. He had just finished dialing Reed’s office, when he suddenly stopped, hanging up the receiver.
Sydney turned to see what had captured the detective’s attention. It was Terry Morrell, just walking in the front door. Noticing the detectives staring at him, Morrell mumbled something to Gert, then made his way over to them. As he drew close, Sydney extended his right hand, which the young man shook nervously.
“Mr. Morrell, good to see you again. What brings you over to this side of town?” Sydney asked in a friendly tone. Before Terry could answer, Sydney led him over to Ellis’ desk. “You remember Sergeant Moore? Ellis, why don’t we move to my office.” He looked at Terry Morrell. “That alright with you, Mr. Morrell?”
Terry nodded, rubbing his hands together like an anxious bridegroom. “Sure,” he said softly, “that would be fine.”
Sydney led the young man to his office, Ellis bringing up the rear, closing the door behind him. Ellis sat beside Morrell, smiling at him. “I was dialing your number just as you walked in.”
Terry seemed genuinely surprised. “My number? Why would you be calling me?”
Ellis smiled good naturedly. “I watched you during the talk we had with the senator. It seemed to me like you might have been a little surprised by some of your employer’s answers to our questions.” He studied Terry’s face before adding, “I wanted to get you down here, so as not to embarrass you or put you in an awkward position with your boss.”
Terry took a deep breath, still fighting his nerves. “I appreciate that, sir.” He looked at Ellis, then across the desk at Sydney. “Actually, I’ve been debating whether or not to come see you for a few weeks now.”
Ellis caught Sydney’s eyes, silently raising an eyebrow in acknowledgment. “For weeks? Why Mr. Morrell?” Ellis asked.
Sydney realized that Ellis was taking the lead in the questioning, so he opened his notebook, preparing to take notes.
Terry cleared his throat, beginning to really work his sweating palms, rubbing them together roughly. “I think you might have some idea why.”
Ellis chuckled lightly. “Humor me, I’m kinda slow,” he said, pointing at Sydney, “and the lieutenant over there, he ain’t as sharp as he used to be. Spell it out for us.”
Terry rubbed his brow, then ran his hand through his feathered brown hair. “It’s a pretty long story.”
Elis leaned back, crossing his legs. “We’ve got all day, Terry—can I call you Terry?”
“Please.”
“Well, then, Terry, we’re all ears.”
Sydney looked at the young nervous kid in the straight back, uncomfortable chair. He wished that he had an overstuffed, leather office chair for this potentially important guest. He had a sudden inspiration. “Terry, before you start, how about trading seats with me. My damn back’s been giving me fits—and the Doc says I need stiff support. Hell, this might take a few minutes. Do you mind?”
“No sir, not at all,” he responded, rising and making his way around Sydney’s desk. They made the switch, leaving Terry sitting across from both detectives, killing two birds with one stone. One, Terry was then able to make eye contact with both Sydney and Ellis, and two, Sydney’s chair might ease the kid’s tension somewhat. Terry sank into the soft leather, easing his neck against the soft back of the chair. “Man, I’ve got to get me one of these,” he said with a slight smile. “My bed’s not this comfortable.”
Ellis laughed. “The lieutenant spends a lot of time on his behind. Me, I’m too busy for a chair like that.”
Terry smiled, then brought his mind back to the matter at hand. “I guess I’ll just start at the beginning.”
Sydney prepared to take notes, which Terry noticed, but appeared not to mind. “I went to work for Senator Reed right after college. Harvard was his alma mater, so he offers a two-year apprenticeship to the top graduate—assuming that student passes the interview and his politics are correct.”
“That’s how he chooses each succeeding top aide?” Ellis asked.
“Yes, sir. He pays this top grad a small salary for the two years, plus he has always helped his aides get set up with good jobs afterwards.”
Ellis whistled. Terry nodded. “Yeah, believe me, I was thrilled to be chosen. The competition was very tough.”
“I’ll bet it was,” Ellis noted. “Finishing first in your class at Harvard is pretty damn impressive.”
Terry laughed wryly. “For the record, I finished second. Fortunately for me, the guy ahead of me was president of the Young Republicans, so needless to say, he wasn’t considered.” Terry frowned, shaking his head. “Then again, maybe I should have said unfortunately for me. Anyway, at the time, I was one thrilled son of a gun.”
“Top aide to a senator, that’s pretty heady stuff for a young man just out of college,” Ellis said.
“In retrospect, I think that Reed does it that way for just that reason. I think he wants a young, wide-eyed kid—someone who’ll be mesmerized by the position. I believe he thrives on the ‘kid in the candy store’ look that comes over guys like me. His ego gets pumped by watching our reaction to it all.”
Ellis and Sydney nodded, hanging on the kid’s every word. “That was how long ago?” Ellis asked.
“One year ago, next week.”
Ellis tilted his head at the young man. “Sounds like maybe the magic has worn off for you—at least a little bit.”
“The first few weeks I worked for Reed, I thought he walked on water. The charisma of the man was awesome. Have either of you heard him speak to an audience?” They both shook their heads negatively. “He would take a crowd and have them eating out of the palm of his hand,” Terry said, obviously dazzled by Reed’s oratorical skills. “I’ve seen the man capture the emotions of the most stodgy, stoic senators on Capitol Hill.”
“When did your opinion of Senator Reed begin to change?” Ellis queried.
“By the end of the first month, I began to feel that he was pompous and self-important. By the end of the second month, I was aware of his carousing and general mistreatment of women, even though he’s one of the leading public advocates of the feminist movement.” Sydney stopped writing, his interest peaked by the direction in which Morrell appeared to be headed. Terry’s gaze went from detective to detective. “By the end of the third month, I thought the honorable Senator Dexter Reed was the biggest asshole I had ever met.”
Ellis resisted the urge to smile. “What about now, Terry? What do you think of the senator now?”
“Now,” he said, leaning forward and staring intently at both detectives. “Now I think that he just might be crazy. I’ve even entertained the absurd thought that maybe, just maybe, Dexter Reed is a serial killer everyone refers to as the Butcher.”
Silence hung over the room, thicker than London fog. Ellis and Sydney stared at each other in stunned silence, a silence which Ellis finally broke. “Terry, do you realize what you’re saying? You are talking about a United States senator brutally slaughtering young women.”
“I know,” Terry said, nodding his head glumly. “I fought it for quite a while, but the pieces all just seemed to fit.”
“What pieces?” Sydney interjected skeptically. “How did they fit?”
“Like I said before, I noticed early on that Reed had no respect for women. He only sees them as sexual conquests to feed his massive ego.”
“I assume you’ve met his wife?” Ellis asked.
“Only two, maybe three times. She was very quiet and reserved. She lives at their estate in Queens, where he probably sees her three or four times a month.”
“Any children?” Sydney queried.
Terry shook his head negatively.
“What insight can you give us into his sexual practices?” Ellis delved.
“I believe that whatever statement your witness gave you about Reed’s proposition to Patricia Swilling, probably sums up his cavemen approach to picking up women,” Terry answered, shaking his head in disgust.
“You’re kidding,” Ellis said. “You’re saying that he routinely makes lewd, suggestive remarks to women he has just met?”
“Dozens of times that I’m aware of. Most of the women were in their twenties. Hell, a few of them were eighteen and nineteen-year olds.”
Sydney frowned, leaning forward. “It seems like some of these women—or girls—would raise a stink, make a scene, something.”
“He was usually pretty slick about when and where he propositioned them. Also, like he said, you would be amazed at the percentage of women who take him up on his offers.”
“Power and money can be very potent aphrodisiacs—especially to young impressionable girls,” Ellis noted. “That may be why he chooses the young ones. He could be playing on the fact that they’re usually naïve and gullible.”
“That could be a small part of it,” Terry replied skeptically, “but my honest opinion is that Reed is just a very sick man. I can remember riding by high schools—even middle schools. The bastard would drool over twelve and thirteen-year-old girls.” Sydney and Ellis shook their heads in disgust at the new revelations about a man they already disliked.
“Anyway,” Terry continued, “Reed has had one-nighters with several different women during the time I’ve worked for him.”
Sydney felt a need to propel the questioning forward. “Okay, he’s a sexual dynamo, with possible deviant tendencies. Now, convince us that he makes that huge jump to being a serial killer.”
“That’s just it, Lieutenant. That’s why I’ve been hesitant to come forward. I don’t have any concrete proof. None whatsoever.”
“What do you have then?”
Terry paused for dramatic effect. “I can tell you for certain that at least three of the four murdered women actually met Senator Dexter Reed.”
Ellis frowned. “I saw you look at Miriam Clay’s picture. I could tell that you couldn’t place her.”
“Right, but what you didn’t do is show us a picture of Teresa Chandler.” Sydney and Ellis both stared in surprised silence. “Yeah,” Terry continued, “he knew Ms. Chandler much better than Swilling or Celia Bryant. Miriam Clay, I couldn’t place.”
“Damn,” Ellis said, summing up his and Sydney’s surprise.
“That’s not all,” Terry continued, his eyes darting from Ellis to Sydney, then back again.
“Go on,” Sydney prodded.
Terry took a deep breath. “Patricia Swilling, Celia Bryant and Teresa Chandler had one other thing in common.”
“Which was?” Ellis asked impatiently.
“They each rebuked Reed in some way—and I think they may have paid the ultimate price for it.”
Sydney turned to a fresh page in his notebook. “Alright, Terry, tell us everything. We need to know every last detail.”
Terry held up his index finger. “Victim one, Celia Bryant, came to the office and asked to meet with Reed. She was a local big shot in the pro-choice, feminist movement.”
“Was this the day she was killed?” Sydney asked.
“No, this was the day before she was killed. Reed had an appointment that afternoon, so he set up a meeting with Mrs. Bryant for late the following day.”
Ellis interjected, “We talked extensively with Celia Bryant’s husband. He made no mention of a meeting with the senator. A wife meets with a United States senator, but doesn’t even mention it to her husband? That strikes me as odd.”
Sydney mulled it over. “Could be the guy wasn’t crazy about her politics—or maybe it was a sore spot in the marriage.”
“Sorry, all I know is exactly what I just told you. Reed took one look at her and it was like he had to have her.”
“What gave you that impression?” Sydney asked, looking up from his notebook.
“Right after she left his office that first day, he said something like ‘I’m gonna get me some of that.’ He’s always saying things like that.”
“What happened the following day?” Ellis queried.
“Everything was going along smoothly,” Terry continued. “They made polite chit-chat for fifteen or twenty minutes, then Reed asked her to come into his office. She did. He closed the door. They were in there for about another ten or fifteen minutes or so, then the door burst open. She came storming out of his office, fuming. She was pissed. Her face was red. She looked ready for war.”
“What happened next?” Ellis prodded.
“After she ran out the front door, I went into Reed’s office to see what had happened. It didn’t take me long to piece together the facts. His face was red and swelling—where she had obviously slapped him silly. He was sitting in his chair, cussing and ranting like a madman. ‘Stupid blankety-blank bitch! Who the hell does she think she is? Little tramp slapping a blankety-blank United States senator. Uptight dyke doesn’t know how to take a freaking compliment.’ I’d never seen him that angry. It was ugly to watch.”
“Did Reed tell you what he had said to her?” Ellis asked. “What this so-called compliment had been?”
“He didn’t go into it,” Terry answered, shaking his head, “and I didn’t ask. I assumed it was a pretty blunt proposition. He doesn’t believe in beating around the bush.”
“So, what happened next?” Ellis queried.
“Not much,” Terry said with a shrug. “Reed composed himself within a few minutes, then acted like nothing had ever happened. He can switch gears like no person I’ve ever seen.”
“Okay, so we’ve got a guy calling Celia Bryant every name in the book, totally enraged,” Sydney noted, “then she turns up dead a few hours later.”
“Exactly.”
“So what time did Reed leave the office that afternoon?” Sydney asked, still scribbling notes.
“I wish I knew,” he answered glumly. “He was still there when I left at a little after six.”
Sydney shook his head, frowning at the jumbled puzzle. “See, now, that poses a problem. If Celia Bryant left Reed’s office well before he did, how would he abduct and murder her?”
“You guys are the detectives,” Terry replied, shrugging. “The next afternoon, I showed Reed the paper with Celia Bryant’s picture plastered all over it. The cold bastard looked at it, then spouted off that ‘the little cock tease must have teased the wrong fellow.’ Can you believe that’s what the miserable excuse for a human being had to say? A woman, a wife and mother is slaughtered, and that was his sickening observation.”
Sydney and Ellis shook their heads disgustedly. “What about victim two, Miriam Clay?” Sydney asked. “You are positive you’ve never seen her with the senator?”
“Positive. I even did a little snooping around the office to see if anyone else recognized her. If she ever did come by the office, she made no impression on anyone.”
Sydney pressed on. “Let’s see… that brings us to Teresa Chandler…”
“I know what you’re thinking,” Terry said, “two beautiful wholesome women, then Reed goes after a topless dancer? Well, Teresa Chandler was definitely not your typical topless dancer.”
“What do you mean?” Sydney asked.
“Most exotic dancers look road weary, worn around the edges. Teresa was different. She was one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. After meeting her for the first time, I remember thinking that she could have easily been successful at anything she set her mind to.”
“What was Reed’s reaction to her?” Ellis asked.
“He was obsessed with the woman at first sight. He sent a note to her dressing room, asking her to join him for a drink. A few minutes later, she came out and sat at our table. She blew us both away, talking world politics like a scholar. She named every member of the Supreme Court, for God’s sake. Can either of you do that?”
“I can name like two,” Ellis admitted with a snort.
“Clarence Thomas… that woman… what’s her name?” Sydney said, grappling to remember.
Terry laughed, nodding his head. “See what I mean? You wouldn’t even remember Thomas if he hadn’t been crucified over the sexual harassment stuff.”
Ellis smiled, nodding his head. “But you say Teresa Chandler knew them all?”
“Rattled them off one after the other,” Terry answered. “She was a cool blend of brains and beauty.”
Sydney stopped writing. “So they had a fling?”
“Not right away. He worked on her that weekend, but she played hard to get. The guy was nuts for her and wasn’t about to give up. We made an unscheduled return here the following weekend. On that Friday night, he finally convinced her to go out with him. I believe they ended up spending that night together.”
Sydney checked his notes. “So that was the weekend she was murdered?”
“No, that was the weekend before. He spent Saturday night with her—and also a good part of Sunday.”
Ellis frowned. “We questioned the personnel at the nightclub where she worked. No one mentioned that she was seeing Reed.”
“Reed called the manager right after he read about the murder. He sweet talked the guy into forgetting that he had any involvement with Teresa whatsoever.”
“The guy went along with that?” Sydney asked.
“You’d be amazed at the influence Reed wields.”
“Let’s get back to where you left off,” Sydney said. “Reed went back to DC, then what?”
“If that low-life could ever be in love, it was with Teresa Chandler. For the third straight weekend, we came back to New York. He was like a high school kid. He just had to see her.”
“She was killed on Saturday, the eighteenth,” Ellis noted.
Terry nodded. “Reed went to the club on Friday night, expecting to pick up where they had left off. Little did he know that Teresa had a surprise for him.”
“A surprise?” Sydney asked.
“She sent a note to the table, asking Reed to come back to her dressing room. He was gone for maybe five minutes, then came back out, alone and furious.”
“What happened?”
Terry flashed a wry grin. “Teresa Chandler dumped him on his senatorial ass.”
“Just like that?” Ellis asked, very surprised.
“Yep. He stomped out of the place. She caught me before I could leave, telling me that she felt the relationship was doomed. He wasn’t going to leave his wife and she sure as hell wasn’t going to keep being the other woman.”
“What did Reed say when you caught up with him?” Ellis prodded.
“He said ‘that’s what I get for trying to make a lady out of a whore.’ He never said another word about her.”
“Ever the gentleman,” Sydney stated sarcastically.
Terry nodded. “Anyway, she was killed the following night. And let me tell you… this one really shook me up. It was the first time I gave any thought to the possibility of Reed being involved.”
“How did he react to the news?” Sydney asked.
“Teresa’s death appeared to get to him a bit. At least, he led me to believe it had. Of course, this was also the first victim he knew he couldn’t play ignorant with me about. Then, like I stated before, he called the manager.”
“Which brings us full circle,” Sydney noted. “Patricia Swilling—tell us everything you can recall about their brief meeting.”
Terry nodded seriously, concentrating, taking his mind back. “When he started showing interest in her at the fundraiser, I became petrified. I shaded the two of them while they were talking in the main dining room, but then he took her out on the terrace. I still managed to remain in visual contact of them, which afforded me a great vantage point when the pass took place. She walked out, pale as a ghost. I asked if I could help her, but she ignored me. She grabbed her friend, then got the hell out of there.”
Sydney scratched his head, nodding. “Her friend gave us the same scoop. She even said that a young man was ‘very concerned’ about Patricia after the encounter with the senator.”
“That had to have been me. I was the only person who spoke to her after the incident.” Terry bit his lip, mulling over his next statement. “I decided to follow them, feeling that I had to be certain that she made it home safely.”
This admission really peaked Ellis and Sydney’s interest. “So you just took off after them?” Ellis asked. “Tailed them in your car?”
“It wasn’t easy either,” he answered, nodding his head. “She was flying, driving real recklessly, zipping in and out of traffic. She dropped her friend off, then went straight home to her apartment. At least, I assumed it was her apartment. Then I high-tailed it back to the fundraiser to make sure Reed was still there.”
“And was he?” Sydney asked.
“Yes, sir. I made sure he’d been picked up by his driver, then I went to my apartment.” He struck the arm rest of the chair sharply. “Dammit! I should’ve followed the sonofabitch! The driver probably let him out near her apartment—or Reed could have driven himself back later that night.”
Sydney put his pen down, staring across at the agitated young man. “Terry, do you have any direct evidence that would place Dexter Reed at any of the crime scenes? Anything at all?”
“Not one damn shred,” Terry glumly responded without hesitation.
“We could build a circumstantial case against him,” Ellis offered weakly.
Sydney shook his head emphatically. “Nope—absolutely not. We can’t do a damn thing without more than we have here. We have to place him at a crime scene. A United States senator? We’d be laughed right out of court.”
“We could confront him with this new information we have,” Ellis said.
“He’s too cagey,” Sydney said, frowning. “Why tip our hand if there’s nothing to gain? We’d be better off keeping him off guard for as long as possible.” He turned to Terry. “We appreciate you coming down here, Mr. Morrell. This information could be very helpful. There is one thing I would like to stress to you though.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Senator Reed is innocent of these crimes… as far as we know. While you have managed to convince me that he is most probably a class A, number one jerk, I’m still far from convinced that he’s a serial killer.”
Terry fought his temper. “So… it’s just business as usual? Reed and I go back to Washington tomorrow, then in a couple of weeks, he comes back here and another girl dies? That’s the way it is?”
“Unless we come up with something between now and then, our hands are tied.”
Terry’s features hardened noticeably. “He’ll slip up sometime. When he does, I’ll be there. Somehow, someway, I will put a stop to this insanity.”
“Hey, man,” Ellis quickly interjected, “if you’re right about the senator, you had better be damn careful.”
Terry rubbed his jaw, then both temples, trying to massage away a growing headache. “So… promise me that you guys are definitely gonna follow this thing up.”
Sydney rose from his chair, Ellis and Terry quickly following suit. “Of course we are,” he responded. “And we can count on you to let us know if anything out of the ordinary occurs?”
“I’ll put you on my speed dial.”
Sydney pulled out one of his cards. “Call myself or Sergeant Moore anytime. We’ll drop everything to help you in any way we can.”
Terry took the card, making his way to the door. Ellis suddenly stopped him. “I almost forgot to ask you something, Terry. It could really save us some time.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ve placed Reed in town at the time of three of the murders, but you never said for certain whether he was here on the weekend of August 27.”
“Oh yes,” Terry answered, nodding, “Reed and I arrived that afternoon. Miriam Clay was murdered later that night. Another in a long line of too many damn coincidences.”
“Alright, thanks for coming down,” Sydney said in closing. “And, Terry, don’t be a hero. You just give us any new information and let us do the police work.” Terry nodded, shaking hands with the two detectives, then walked out, closing the door behind him.
“What the hell do you make of all that?” Ellis asked.
“Hell if I know,” Sydney answered, an irritated frown on his face. “I do know that we have to guard against taking everything the kid says as gospel. We need to check out whether or not Reed was definitely in town for all of the murders.”
Ellis nodded in agreement. “I’ll get right on it. I’ll find out without alerting the senator that I’m doing it.”
“Also,” Sydney added, “you need to do a background check on Terry Morrell. The way I see it, we’ve got two pretty good persons of interest.”
“I believed every word the kid said. I think the boy was genuine.”
“Everywhere the senator was, Terry Morrell was,” Sydney stated flatly, “so we can’t rule anything out.”
Ellis opened the door, looking back at Sydney. “If you were a betting man, which of the two would make the better suspect?”
“As you well know, since you win half my paycheck every Thursday night, I am a betting man. To answer your question, I don’t buy either one of them as our boy. Everything points to Reed, but I just cannot bring myself to swallowing it.”
“Well, Syd, being the detecting geniuses that we are, we should eliminate them through the investigative process.”
Sydney chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. “I like the way you think, Sergeant Moore. I do like the way you think.”