Sharon Green - To Die For

“Well, to begin with, are you your brother’s heir?” Mike asked, very aware of how the question sounded. People who were in line to inherit big sometimes did things to hurry along that inheritance, but Tanda Grail didn’t seem to realize the implication.

“As a matter of fact, I have no idea,” she answered, looking surprised. “It hadn’t occurred to me to think about it, not when there were so many other things…Did I mention that Don had been married, but had become a widower? For all I know, he had a child, and the child is his heir.”

“His permanent residence was outside a small town in California,” Mike said, pulling out his notebook and a pen. “The police there told us he lived alone with a couple of servants. If there’s a child, there should be some record of it, so we’ll have to get in touch with the locals again. Do you know if he used a lawyer from around here at all? Who handled the purchase when he bought his house?”

“You’re making me feel very useless,” she said with a sigh. “Not only do I know too little about my brother’s death, I know even less about his life. How can I possibly be of any help, when even simple questions are beyond me?”

“You do all right for someone without any answers,” Mike told her quickly, meaning every word. “You didn’t have to know the details of your brother’s life to find that key. It’s a clue that will probably turn out to be a lot more important than knowing who his lawyer is. Don’t forget we have a bet going on the point.”

“I didn’t realize there was a bet involved,” she said with a smile that warmed her soft gray eyes. “You can’t have a bet without stakes, and we never discussed stakes.”

“Don’t you know there are certain standard stakes?” Mike asked, finding that her smile warmed more than her eyes. “In matters of this sort, the loser buys dinner for the winner. You aren’t going to try to back out of the bet, are you?”

“No, I won’t back out,” she assured him with a gentle laugh. “Even if I lose. Do you make a habit of going to dinner with murder suspects? I know no one has said it out loud, but my being involved with two of the victims has to mean I’m a suspect.”

“Eighty-five percent of all serial killings are committed by men,” Mike told her. “In some ways these murders don’t fit the standard pattern, but the department shrink has assured us there’s a definite ritual involved that isn’t being faked. She’s certain all the victims were killed for essentially the same reason, and very possibly by someone they knew. Did you know any of the other three victims?”

“No, thank God,” she answered with a shudder, the smile long gone. “Two in five is too many. Is it my imagination, or do you and your people expect even more murders?”

“We’re hoping there won’t be any more, but once people like this start, they don’t stop again until the imagined job is finished.” He grimaced and shook his head. “They never kill just because they get a kick out of it, or because they have a grudge against someone. There’s always a very special reason, one that’s completely logical to them. And compelling, which is why they don’t often stop by themselves. Others have to stop them, which is where I come in.”

“And let me say how glad I am that you do,” she remarked, but this time her smile didn’t make it all the way out. Mike realized immediately he’d said too much, and Tanda Grail was really shaken.

“Look, as long as you don’t deliberately involve yourself in this, you should be fine,” he said, leaning forward to touch her hand. “Always make sure your doors and windows are locked before you go to bed, don’t leave the house without doing the same, and especially don’t arrange to meet anyone in a deserted place alone for any reason. All the victims but Saxon had apparently gone to meet someone, and even he might have been expecting his visitor. If anything happens to frighten you, just pick up the phone and call me. That’s my home number at the bottom of my card.”

Handing her one of his cards seemed to help, and after she looked at it her smile was better.

“As an amateur detective, I’d say this tells me you aren’t married,” she ventured. “The invitation to dinner was a clue that can’t always be relied on, but handing out your home number to a strange woman usually clinches it. Am I right?”

“Absolutely,” he confirmed with a grin. “Men with wives do tend to keep their home numbers to themselves, even though that doesn’t always apply to cops. Which is why, all too often, cops aren’t men with wives or women with husbands. It takes a special kind of patience to put up with our crazy hours and spotty home life.”

“Not to mention the possibility that the person you’re chasing could catch you instead,” she added, sober again. “That must be terrible for some women, the ones who don’t stop to think about it. I mean, perfectly ordinary people are killed every day, in traffic accidents, or when someone goes suddenly berserk and starts shooting everyone in sight. At least your people are armed and can defend themselves. An accountant, say, in his car and about to be run off the road by a drunk driver, isn’t and can’t.”

“That’s a very good point,” Mike said, surprised and pleased. “You sound as though you’ve had occasion to think about it. Does that mean you used to date a cop?”

“For a while,” she answered with a nod, toying with her coffee cup. “We even started talking about marriage, but then he was accepted on a force in Vermont. He came from there and really wanted to go back, but it would have meant leaving my father here all alone if I went with him. He finally decided to go alone, and I stayed here.”

“I’m sorry,” Mike said, reaching out to touch her hand again. “My former wife thought being married to a cop would be no problem at all, but it didn’t take long before the life got to her. She grew to hate it when I was called out in the middle of the night, or wasn’t home on time for a meal even when I’d promised to be. I was only a sergeant at the time, but a detective sergeant is on call twenty-four hours a day. I moved heaven and earth to be sure I’d be home for our second anniversary, but when I walked through the door with her present she wasn’t there. A week earlier I’d had to miss a barbecue with some friends, and her note said that that time had been the last straw. The next time we saw each other was in divorce court.”

“That must have been horrible for you,” Tanda said, sympathy in those soft gray eyes. “These days not being married seems to mean being lucky enough to miss the divorce experience, but some people do it right. My parents wanted to be together, and when my mother died my father was glad the pain was his rather than hers. He missed her terribly, and wouldn’t have wanted her to miss him like that. Mike…is there any chance you’ll catch this murderer before he does it again?”

“All we need is a little luck,” he assured her, going back to the topic now that she was ready for it. “Saxon was obviously killed to silence him, but I have the strangest feeling that the ritual used means something very specific. Once this is all over, we’ll find he somehow fits in with the other victims.”

“I wish it was already over,” she said, running a hand through her dark blond hair. “You asked about Don’s house. Does that mean you intend to go there, to look for clues? Is that why you need to find his lawyer?”

“A team has already been out there, but yes, I do intend to go again,” Mike said. “We now have a key to match to a lock, and the logical place to look for it first is in your brother’s house.”

He didn’t add that he also wanted Don Grail’s lawyer in order to find out if the man had done more for his client than help buy a house. That could be considered official police business, at least until he knew whether something had been done that might upset Tanda. She was upset enough, and Mike wanted very much to keep from adding to it.