Erica Spindler - Copy Cat

He looked from Kitt to M.C. “I’d say you’re mistaken.”

“Julie Entzel. She saw one of your magic shows.”

“At Highcrest Hospital.”

The color drained from his face. “I didn’t know. I saw the picture in the paper…but I didn’t recognize her as one of the kids who…”

His voice trailed off. Kitt recalled how he had said the Entzel girl “meant nothing to him.” That he didn’t even “know her.”

He looked ill. M.C. changed direction. “Let’s talk about Buddy Brown.”

He didn’t comment, just nodded. “How did he come to be working for you?” she asked.

“He contacted me. And he had some experience. So, I hired him.”

“He was up-front with you about his past?”

“Yes.”

“That didn’t worry you?”

“Look, somebody’s got to hire these guys. How can they go straight if they can’t support themselves?”

“So you consider it your civic duty?”

He frowned. “Not really. I still expect a full day’s work for a full day’s pay. I’m not a charity.”

“Where were you the nights of March 6, 9 and 16?”

“May I consult my planner?”

She said he could, and he pulled out his PalmPilot. After navigating through the menu, he said, “The night of the ninth I was with Valerie.”

“All night?”

Kitt didn’t look away, though she wanted to. He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. “I don’t normally. But Tami spent the night at her grandmother’s.”

“What about the other two nights?”

“Nothing. Valerie, Tami and I went to dinner on the sixth. I had a homeowner’s association meeting on the sixteenth.”

“You were home by what time?”

He thought a moment. “Both nights, 10:00 p.m. No later.” Joe looked at her. “Do I need to get a lawyer, Kitt?”

Riggio answered for her, quickly. A fact that once again proved the other woman didn’t trust her. “A lawyer is your right, of course. Only you know if you need one.”

A trick used to make a suspect feel as if he was incriminating himself if he lawyered-up. She had certainly used it enough.

So why did it feel so wrong now?

M.C. stood. “I’m sorry, but could you give us a few minutes?”

He looked at his watch, obviously frustrated. “How much longer do you think-”

“Not much.”

He looked at Kitt as if for reassurance. She longed to give it to him but couldn’t.

“Could I have a word with you?” he asked her. “Alone?”

“I’m sorry, Joe. That’s not possible. Not right now.”

Something passed across his features. An understanding. Realization.

Hurt.

“I think I would like to call a lawyer,” he said stiffly. “As you said, it’s my right.”

M.C. looked sharply at Kitt. “Of course. I’ll make a phone available to you right away.”

“I’d also like to call my crew foreman, so he can get started.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem.” She motioned toward the door. “The hallway, Kitt. Now.”

They exited the room and stepped away from the door. M.C. whirled to face her. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you signal him or something?”

Now M.C. had pissed her off. “That’s insulting. I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer.”

“One look at you, and he lawyered right up. What would you think?”

“I’d think he was a bright guy. For God’s sake, M.C., he lived with a detective for twenty-five years. Do you think I never talked about interrogating suspects? That he doesn’t know the techniques we use?”

M.C. opened her mouth as if to argue, but Kitt didn’t give her a chance. “If we’re going to partner, even if only for this one case, we have to trust each other. Can you do it?” she asked, throwing the other woman’s earlier question back at her.

For a long moment, M.C. was silent. But instead of answering in the affirmative, as Kitt had, she murmured, “I’ll try. Right now, that’s the best I can do.”

Monday, March 20, 2006

10:10 a.m.

M.C. had decided to get someone out to question Valerie, ASAP. She hadn’t needed to tell Kitt she wanted to make certain Joe didn’t have the opportunity to give his fiancée a heads-up-and a chance to lie for him. Nor had she needed to tell Kitt that if Valerie Martin didn’t corroborate, she would recommend an arrest.

In the end, M.C. had decided to call on Valerie herself. She had taken Detective White with her, leaving Kitt to oversee Joe’s meeting with his lawyer. Kitt supposed that displayed trust. Or not, thanks to the trusty video camera.

Kitt was acutely aware of how Joe’s being a suspect had reversed their positions on the case. M.C. was calling the shots now. Though it was as it should be, Kitt couldn’t quite quell her feeling of resentment toward the other woman. M.C. would be certain the shadow of impropriety didn’t fall over her.

Kitt glanced at her watch, wondering what was happening. If Valerie didn’t confirm Joe’s story about their spending the night of the ninth together, Joe was going to be in some very deep shit. Either way, M.C. would go for a search warrant. And Kitt didn’t see a problem with a judge granting it-even with the alibi, they had probable cause.

Joe’s lawyer hadn’t arrived yet. While she waited, she’d decided to review the transcripts of her calls from “Peanut.” She scanned the first of the recorded calls, noting the way he put words together, his choice of words.

Joe didn’t talk like this. Yes, a voice changer could alter a person’s voice. But not the way they spoke.

She narrowed her eyes, considering the content next. He had known about Derrick Todd. How? He had claimed omnipotence. Had opened their conversation with a comment about her chasing her tail.

Could “Peanut” be a cop?

It would make sense. Her history wasn’t a secret around the force. Someone nosing around asking the right questions would learn some damn personal stuff about her.

And, clearly, the SAK had understood crime-scene investigation. He had left the scenes nearly pristine; it had always seemed as if he knew what their next step would be.

Of course, it wasn’t unusual for a serial killer to be a crime-or law-enforcement buff. Some had even been known to listen to police scanners.

She switched to the second transcript. More generic. He had taunted her about the balloon. And about her mood.

“After all I’ve done for you,” he’d said.

“And what would that be? The wild-goose chase you sent me on? Thanks.”

“It may have seemed that way to you. You have to have faith.”

Have faith. In him? In the clue he had given her? Or both?

“Kitt?” She turned. Sal stood in the doorway, expression grim. “My office.”

She stood and followed him. “Close the door, please,” he said when they were inside. “Update me.”

“As I’m sure you’re aware, M.C. brought Joe in for questioning. He’s requested a lawyer. He claims an alibi for the night of the ninth. M.C.’s checking that out now.”

“I want you out of this. Immediately.”

“Yes, sir. And if the lawyer arrives before M.C. returns-”

“Sergeant Haas or I will sit in.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry, Kitt.”

“For taking me off the case?” The bitter edge in her voice didn’t surprise her. The sudden lump in her throat did.

“No, for the reason I’m taking you off the case.”

“He’s not involved, Sal.”

“You’re certain?”

“Absolutely. And not just because of my personal relationship with him.”

For a long moment, he held her gaze. Then he nodded slightly, as if in acknowledgment of her feelings. “If Joe’s cleared, you’re back in charge. I have zero choice in this.”