Beverly Connor - The Night Killer

“No,” said Tammy.

“The shelters and clinics keep files on the people they see and their medical conditions-and any income they have. They also keep track of the referrals to specialists, and the volunteers who work with their clients-like nutrition or life-skills consultants. That would be you. They keep those records because they apply for grants and they have to show how their programs are serving the community.

“Pre-nine-eleven, we had a harder time getting information from banks. But much to the disapproval of people like Dr. Fallon, for example, we can now get a lot of data from banks that used to be private. So I plug names in the computer from the service agencies, like the clinics where you volunteered, and then ask the computer to find the same names on bank accounts. Then I do fancier things, like look for those names on bank accounts that have two people on the account. Then I look and see if one of the names is Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Then I do it in reverse-find who has an account with Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Sounds complicated, but it’s really very simple. It’s amazing the information I find.”

“I’m always amazed,” said Ben.

Frank pulled several pages from the file and put them in front of Tammy. Each had a small photo paper-clipped to it.

“The thing I like about Frank,” said Ben, “is he puts together a complete package when he’s working on a project. Aren’t those photographs neat, all clipped to those bank accounts? Prosecutors like that too. They like things tied up in a bow the way Frank does them.”

“Them’s not me,” said Tammy, nodding at the photographs. Her voice was sounding hoarse.

“That’s another post-nine-eleven thing,” said Frank. “Many more cameras in banks. And you notice how the banks don’t allow you to wear sunglasses inside? That’s so the cameras get a good picture that can be run through face-recognition software if we need to do that. Those wigs you wore didn’t really hide who you are, because the distance from the corner of your eyes to the margin of your nose, and so forth, is always the same.”

Diane saw Tammy’s lower lip tremble.

“Now tell us, Miss Taylor,” said Frank, “where did you put the other bodies? Surely you don’t have that many hollow trees on your property.”

Tammy Taylor sat straight in her chair, her wide gaze darting from Ben to Frank to somewhere between them.

“I didn’t kill nobody,” she said. “And you can’t prove I did.”

“Prove?” said Ben. “We only have to build a sound circumstantial case. We’ve already done that. We did that before you got here. Poor Norma Fuller’s in the hospital, her blood pressure sky-high, malnourished. You giving her those energy drinks.”

“They’re from the drugstore. Off the shelf. They’re not drugs. You can’t say I gave her drugs,” she said.

“And you thought giving her energy drinks was okay?” said Ben.

“They’re vitamins. You can read on them. They’re vitamins is all,” she said.

“Not all,” said Ben. “They spike your blood pressure. Now, for a woman with high blood pressure already, well, it’s what they call-what’s the word, Frank?”

“Contraindicated,” said Frank.

“That’s it. A woman who’s as good as a full-blown nurse would know that. See what we’re talking about?” he said.

Diane noticed that Tammy didn’t seem to be aware that she’d just admitted administering the drink to Norma Fuller. There was still a lot of uncertainty as to what part the drink played in Fuller’s condition, but until now it was only a guess what Tammy had been giving her.

“I want a lawyer,” she said.

“You can have one,” said Ben.

Frank stood up and scooped up the pages and began putting them in the briefcase.

“Oops,” he said, looking down at the pages, “I forgot to show you the account we found in Savannah-the one under the name Sarah Gleeson. That’s quite a bit of money you’ve been socking away. And these CDs, well, I’m impressed.”

Tammy glared at him. Her eyes suddenly took on a sheen, and tears rolled down her cheeks.

“If I were you, I’d ask your lawyer to make a deal,” said Frank. He and Ben left the room.

“Will you be arresting her?” asked Garnett.

“We have enough to hold her on fraud,” said Agent Mathews.

Frank and Ben walked through the door. Diane took another look at Tammy sitting at the table, silently crying.

“I think she’ll deal,” said Ben. “Frank pulled the rug out from under her there at the end. That money in Savannah and her CDs were her security. She thought she always had that to fall back on. That was a blow.”

He looked through the two-way window at Tammy sobbing.

“I’m sure she thought it was hidden,” added Ben. “She periodically took money out of one of her accounts as Tess Trueheart, or whatever name she was using, and went to Savannah and deposited it in person as Sarah Gleeson-a name with no ties to her other selves-no fancy name games.”

“How did you find it?” asked Garnett.

Ben pointed to Frank, who shrugged.

“It wasn’t hard. I found out where she took regular trips-from gas charges on her credit cards-and made a network map. Savannah was the hub. I sent her photograph to the banks in the area. She used Internet cafés to buy her CDs. Fortunately for us, she used a credit card there too.” He shrugged again.

No one asked any more questions. Diane wondered if Frank used David to help him. They both just loved a good algorithm. And David could do some scary stuff off the grid with computer searches and face recognition.

Frank smiled at Diane and winked.

“Let’s go talk with Slick Massey,” he said.

Slick was sitting in a room similar to the one Tammy was in. He was drinking an RC Cola. Diane noticed there was a second, empty bottle sitting on the table. Frank and Ben walked in and sat down.

“I have to go to the guy room,” he said.

“We won’t be long,” said Ben. “Miss Tammy has told us most everything.”

“Wha’chu mean?” said Slick.

“About the Social Security and retirement checks-the bank accounts.” Ben rattled off several of Tammy’s aliases.

“She wouldn’t have told you that stuff,” said Slick.

“How else would we know?” said Ben, looking completely innocent. “What we need from you is where you buried the bodies.”

“She wouldn’t have said we killed them, because we didn’t,” he said. “Sometimes people just die-’specially when they’re old. Their time just comes.”

“Is that what happened to all the elderly women Tammy brought to your house? Their time came?” asked Frank.

“They wasn’t healthy to begin with and they had no place to go. Tammy took real good care of them. She’d sit up at night working out a, uh, a medical plan for them. She was real good. Tammy’s smart. She told me it was good for them to pet my puppies. It was good for the puppies too. They need to be close to humans to get to be good hunting dogs. You know, some people think that keeping dogs by themselves and not feeding them much-keeping them hungry-makes them good hunters, but that’s not true. My dogs is the best around and it’s because I take good care of them. They like people and will hunt for them. They got good voices too. That’s important for Walker hounds. You want to recognize your own dog when it’s off in the woods.”

Frank and Ben glanced at each other and smiled.

“We’re glad to hear you take good care of your dogs,” said Ben.

“But, see, Tammy took good care of the old ladies too. Tammy gave them vitamins, showed them how to eat right, gave them funny movies to watch, and taught them good personal high jinks-she was good to them.”