Chapter 7
Over the next hour or so, Mal and I filled Clay in on the history of the letter writer, beginning with the very first letter and taking him through each of the clues and subsequent letters.
We explained to him how I deciphered the various clues and told him how Cora had discovered a commonality among the recipients of the packages I’d received: their connection to the university. After a second or two of hesitation, I went ahead and told him about our suspicions regarding who the culprit might be—at least the primary culprit—and all the connections we had made between her, the letters, the clue locations, and the people who delivered the clues. I considered keeping this information to myself, but given how much Clay had already figured out on his own, I knew it would only be a matter of time before he figured this part out, too. And I didn’t want him to think I was still trying to keep him out of the loop by holding anything back.
We also told him our theory that Suzanne Collier wasn’t working alone, and that we had no idea who the other person might be but suspected it might be someone in the Capone Club or an employee of the bar.
When all was said and done, Clay had three questions for us. One was who else besides us and Duncan knew about the letter writer. I told him that Cora, the Signoriello brothers, and Tiny knew. Clay’s second question was whether or not we thought Tad was Suzanne’s partner in crime.
“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “But my gut says no. I think Suzanne’s motivation for doing this is to make me and the Capone Club look bad, to give us a black mark so Tad won’t be so drawn to us. I’m not sure if she suspects Tad of having an affair with me or someone else in the group, but I do know that she phones him constantly asking where he is and what he’s doing, and Tad has said she’s had him tailed.”
“It doesn’t sound like much of a motive,” Clay said.
“I know,” I agreed. “But Suzanne Collier is a very wealthy and powerful woman who is used to getting what she wants and having things done her way. Tad is a big part of that and of her image overall. But we know he didn’t kill Lewis Carmichael because he was in the bar with some of the other club members at the time of that murder. We suspect Suzanne might have killed Gary herself because of some evidence we found in Gary’s car.”
I explained about the perfume, traces of Opium we found in Gary’s vehicle and the discovery that it was the only perfume Suzanne Collier wore. “But we know she didn’t kill Lewis, either,” I went on. “She had an ironclad alibi, complete with pictures in the paper. So even if Tad knows and is involved somehow, someone else killed Lewis.”
Clay frowned, shook his head, and shifted his position on the couch with a grimace. “Jealousy?” he said, his frown deepening. “You really think that’s behind Suzanne Collier’s motive for this?”
“I know it seems like a stretch,” I admitted. “But Tad is a very handsome man who is eleven years younger than Suzanne—a trophy husband, if you will. She expects him to be at her beck and call, and I know he’s been pushing back on that a lot lately, partly because of the time he’s been putting in at the bar with the Capone Club, but also because I think he’s simply growing tired of being her lackey. His resistance is bound to irritate her. She doesn’t strike me as the sort of woman who takes rebellion lightly.”
“Still,” Clay said with a dubious look, “murder? She’d have to be crazy.”
“Yes,” I said. “We have reason to think she may have some serious mental health issues.” I didn’t elaborate, and to my surprise, Clay didn’t ask me to.
A pregnant pause followed as Clay digested what we had told him so far, his brow furrowed in thought. I expected him to tell us we were overreaching and to summarily dismiss Suzanne as a suspect. But instead he said, “She won’t be easy to take down. She has a lot of money, power, and connections.”
Mal and I both nodded.
“You said these letters forbade you from getting help from the cops and specifically mentioned Duncan,” Clay said.
I nodded. “That’s right.”
“What reason would Suzanne have for that? I would think she’d encourage your relationship with him if she’s jealous of you and afraid you’ll steal Tad from her.”
I shrugged. “She’d have no reason as far as we can figure. That’s another reason I’m convinced there is a second party involved.”
“Then that’s where we need to focus,” Clay said. “Because knowing why Detective Albright was singled out might lead you to your second killer. I agree that there doesn’t seem to be any reason for Suzanne Collier to care if Albright is involved, so the reason for mentioning him specifically must point to the second person’s motivation.”
Mal and I both nodded. We’d been down this trail of thought before. Then Clay hit me with his third question.
“Why haven’t you told the others about these letters?”
This question was a tough one for me to answer. “I’ve considered doing so several times,” I told him. “But in the end I felt like they would be safer not knowing. If they were aware of what was going on, they’d all be up in arms and working to investigate it, trying to figure things out. And I’m afraid doing that might rile the letter writer. Besides, the cops have been pretty adamant, warning them to stay out of the cases involving Gary and Lewis’s deaths because they don’t want anything to interfere with any evidence that might be uncovered.”
“They already suspect something is going on with you, Mack,” Clay said.
“I know,” I said with a sigh. “It’s come up in conversation already that the deaths of Gary and Lewis might be connected to me somehow. I used that talk as an opportunity to suggest to the group that perhaps they should back away from it all if they felt they were in jeopardy. Of course, no one did.”
“They don’t think they’re in jeopardy,” Clay said. “I’ve overheard some of the talk. They think you’re the one in jeopardy.”
“She is,” Mal said. “Everyone is until we can put a stop to this craziness.”
Clay cocked his head to the side and smiled at me. “You don’t think the members of the Capone Club deserve to know they’ve been targeted?”
I shot Clay an irritated look. “Yes, and no.” I let out a frustrated growl. “Believe me, Clay, I’ve been agonizing over this thing from day one. Am I making the right choice by not telling them? I have no idea. All I know is that I have to keep solving these damned riddles until we can put Suzanne and whoever she’s working with behind bars.”
“If Duncan is processing items for evidence unofficially, it’s not going to help speed things up. You need legal, concrete evidence against Suzanne.”
“That’s the problem,” Mal said. “So far there hasn’t been any. There’s been a dearth of viable evidence with these letters . . . no fingerprints, no usable DNA, no usable trace evidence other than things that have been intentionally included as part of the puzzles Mack has had to solve.”
“There was one piece of evidence from the Public Market that may or may not have been accidental,” I explained. “But other than that . . .” I shrugged and shook my head.
Mal added, “While the circumstantial evidence points to Suzanne Collier, we aren’t one hundred percent sure it’s her. And since she has a rock-solid alibi for at least one of the murders, if we can’t find out who her partner is, there’s no chance of pinning any of this on her.”
I scoffed. “And there’s the possibility that whoever is helping Suzanne is a member of the Capone Club,” I said. “That’s another reason I haven’t been willing to tip my hand.”
“I think you have to tip it,” Clay said. “You’re letting this person, or these people, manipulate you. You’re letting them call the shots. You need to switch things up, change it around, take charge. Force whoever it is to show their hand.”
“And just how am I supposed to do that?”
“I think you need to have your own version of the OK Corral. Gather all the parties together and have a showdown.”
“That sounds dangerous,” I said.
“No doubt it will be,” Clay said. “But you have plenty of cops you can involve to provide protection. You’ve got Mal here, and if you’re going for a showdown, there’s no reason why you can’t bring Duncan in. Plus, you’ve got a couple of cops who participate in the Capone Club: Tyrese and Nick.”
I nodded slowly, giving thought to what he was saying, and debating whether or not I should tell him and Mal about my own suspicions when it came to cops, specifically Jimmy Patterson, Duncan’s partner. After a moment of mental debate, I decided there was so much out on the table already that there was no need to hold back. “The problem with including any cops in this is that I fear one of them might be the person who is helping Suzanne.”
Mal shot me a look of surprise, Clay merely looked intrigued.
“Who?” both men said at the same time. They looked at one another and then back at me.
“And why?” Mal asked. “Tell us what evidence you have that points to a cop, any cop, being involved in this.”
“I have no evidence,” I admitted. “All I have is a gut feeling, a concern.”
Mal acceded my concern with a grudging nod. “I’ll admit, your gut reactions are a hell of a lot stronger and more reliable than most people’s. But I still want to know what’s behind this particular gut feeling.”
“I want to know who you’re referring to,” Clay said impatiently. He shifted his position on the couch, leaning forward and toward me, wincing in the process.
“It’s Jimmy Patterson, Duncan’s partner,” I told them. “He’s had it out for me from the first time I met him, and he told Duncan dozens of times that working with me was a big mistake. He thinks I’m a fraud or some type of charlatan, and he’s questioned my abilities all along, just like the letter writer has. He has knowledge of police procedures, evidence collection and processing, and access to the cases. If Duncan did anything official, Jimmy would know. He also knows the people involved in the Capone Club. And his anger over Duncan working with me would explain why Duncan is mentioned specifically in the letters.”
“That’s about as circumstantial as you can get,” Mal said with a frown, and Clay nodded his agreement.
“I know, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t behind it,” I countered.
“Okay, okay,” Mal said, pulling at this chin. “He has a motive, he has the means, but has he had the opportunity?”
“I don’t know,” I told him. “Since we know Suzanne isn’t responsible for Lewis Carmichael’s murder, that’s the window of time we need to check. Is there any way to find out if Jimmy has an alibi for that period of time? I can’t very well ask Duncan to look into it.”
I looked at Mal, waiting for his answer. Clay looked at him too, his expression expectant.
“I suppose I could try to do some sniffing around,” Mal said. “But I don’t work in this precinct, so I don’t have an easy way to get the information.”
“We need to make a list of suspects,” Clay said. “And that means anyone who is an employee of the bar, or a member of the Capone Club, or connected to you and the Capone Club in some way. Then we need to focus on the ones who don’t have an alibi for Lewis Carmichael’s murder.”
I thought back to what Duncan had said about Lewis’s time of death and shared what he had told me. “The first letter I received was postmarked three days before I opened it. I’m not sure exactly when it arrived, because I was avoiding opening my mail back then. There were too many weird letters and reactions to all the publicity. Based on that, one could assume that Lewis was killed on the day the letter was postmarked, or before. However, the exact time of his death became apparent because he was wearing a watch, one that displayed the date on it. It was broken in the scuffle that took place—Lewis was beaten around the head and face pretty badly in addition to being stabbed—so we know he died on the day the letter was postmarked at eleven thirty-two in the evening. The one thing we aren’t sure of is when his body was dumped onto the frozen riverbed beneath the Fonz statue, but given that the letter could have reached me and been read the very next day, it seems logical to assume that it happened sometime that same night.”
“Meaning his body was there for three days?” Clay said.
I nodded. “Based on the time of death, we know certain people in the Capone Club couldn’t have killed Lewis because they were in the bar at the time of death. That includes Cora and the Signoriello brothers, though I don’t need their presence to know none of them could have done it. I trust those three with my life. Holly and Alicia were both there too, as was Tad. And Missy, Billy, Rich, and Debra were all working, so they couldn’t have done it either.”
“Who wasn’t there, Mack?” Clay asked.
“Sam and Carter weren’t there. They had been in earlier but had left by then. Dr. T wasn’t there, and the two cops who participate the most, Nick and Tyrese, weren’t either. Kevin Baldwin wasn’t there, but Duncan said something about him having a solid alibi because he was on duty in the garbage truck, running his route, at the time of the murder. They were doing extra shifts on the garbage pickup because the snowstorm had kept them from doing their usual routes on time. Tiny—he’s Cora’s current boyfriend,” I added for Clay’s benefit since I didn’t know if he knew Tiny, “also wasn’t there. And of course, none of the newer members were present because they hadn’t joined the club yet. That list includes Greg Nash, the Realtor, Stephen McGregor, the high school physics teacher, and Sonja West, the salon owner.” I paused and arched my brows at Clay. “And then there’s you, of course,” I said with a sly smile.
“I do have an alibi for the time in question,” he said. “In fact, my alibi just left. I was interviewing Anthony Dixon about his plans for a gubernatorial run that evening.”
As soon as he said this, I wondered if Dixon’s political goals might have been behind the rushed timing and Dixon’s seemingly reluctant acquiescence to the working arrangement the two men had proposed today. “I suppose that will do,” I said with a smile, noting that the taste of Clay’s voice indicated he was telling the truth.
“Who is left among your employees?” Clay asked. I saw that he was writing, taking notes on what I was saying or perhaps making a list.
I hesitated, not wanting to entertain the possibility that any of my employees might have something to do with this. Clay must have sensed my reluctance because he looked up from whatever he was writing and said, “The sooner we can eliminate them, the better. Once we have this list established, we can start crossing names off, assuming we can definitively rule them out.”
He was right, but it didn’t make the task any more palatable. “Basically, my day staff: Pete, Jon, and Linda. And I suppose we have to consider Teddy Bear and Curtis Donovan. Neither of them was hired on yet at the time, so I doubt they’ve got anything to do with it.”
“Still, we need to be thorough,” Clay said, scribbling away.
“Oh, and Gary was off that night,” I added with a grim smile. “Though I suppose we can safely rule him out at this point.”
“So,” Clay said, consulting his notes, “our list includes Jimmy, Sam, Carter, Dr. T, Tiny, Nick, and Tyrese from the older members of the club, and Greg Nash, Stephen McGregor, and Sonja West from the newer members. And we have Linda, Pete, Teddy, Curtis, and Jon from your staff.”
“As for my employees,” I said, “I think you can put Pete and Linda down low on the list. Pete has been working with us for years, and I can’t see him doing this for any reason. And Linda is a small-built woman. Duncan told me Lewis was beaten pretty badly, and I don’t think she has the size and strength to pull it off.”
“She could have had help,” Clay tossed out. “Or used something to beat him with.”
Mal, who had remained quiet through this run of suspects, said, “We also have to consider that the second person might not be someone we know. Maybe Suzanne hired someone to do her dirty work, and maybe that person has been coming to the bar on a regular basis, sitting among the other customers, watching everything that’s gone on.”
This idea was disturbing. I did a quick mental scan, looking back over the past couple of weeks to see if I could recall a newer customer who had started coming in regularly. No one came to mind. Then I had another idea.
“You know, I’m inclined to think that the second person isn’t a hired gun,” I told the men. Both of them raised their eyebrows to me in silent question. “Think about it. Hiring someone runs the risk of money exchanges that could be dangerous, and if the culprit was arrested, what’s to stop them from ratting her out? I don’t think Suzanne would risk that kind of exposure. Plus, if she did kill Gary herself, why? Either she had a personal grudge with him, which I doubt, or she had to do it in order to reassure whoever she was working with that she wouldn’t turn on them. A quid pro quo kind of thing, you know? She had to get her hands just as dirty as the second person’s were.”
“I’m inclined to agree with you,” Clay said. “Suzanne would have wanted to work with someone she knew, someone she felt she could trust.”
“And doing it that way also makes it harder to pin all of this on any one person,” Mal said. “They both have alibis for one of the murders.”
My brain spun with possibilities, while my heart reeled over the idea that someone I knew, someone I trusted, might be out to kill me. A shiver shook me, and I shrugged back into my coat.
“I need to think about all of this,” I said, getting out of my chair and grabbing my crutches. “Can you give me a copy of that list you just made, Clay?”
“Hold on, and you can have the original,” he said. He then took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of the list. After checking to make sure it was legible, he handed the paper to me, and I tucked it into my pants pocket.
“I’m going to head back to the bar for now,” I said, “but I’ll be in touch. I’ll let Mr. Holland and Mr. Dixon know my decision by tomorrow.”
As I headed for the door, Mal got up and followed me.
Clay shifted on the couch where he sat, watching us. “Have you thought about bringing Holland in on this?” he asked.
“I did think about it,” I admitted. “But I’m not comfortable with that yet. I need more time.”
“I know all of this is uncomfortable for you, Mack,” Clay said. “But ignoring it won’t make it better. I think it’s time you quit playing defense and went on the offense.”
“That’s easy for you to say. You don’t have other people’s lives depending on you.”
“And you do,” Clay said. “That’s why you need to tell the others what’s going on. Let them make their own choices regarding their safety. If you continue to keep this to yourself, you can’t win. Sooner or later the group will find out, either because someone else will die or because you’ll figure out who the culprits are. And when the group finds out what’s been going on, they’re going to be ticked off. They’re probably going to be angry anyway, but at least by telling them now you might be able to mitigate the damages. They trust you, Mack, and by keeping this from them you’re betraying that trust.”
I whirled on Clay, my building anger and frustration reaching explosive levels. “You don’t think I know that?” I snapped at him. “Do you think this has been easy for me? I’ve agonized over this ever since that first letter came. Maybe I haven’t handled things perfectly, but I’ve done what I thought was best. If that means the group ends up hating me, I’ll deal with it when the time comes. In the meantime, until you’ve walked a mile or two in my shoes, it might be better if you kept your advice to yourself.”
With that, I opened the door and hobbled out with what little indignation my crutching gait allowed me.