Brenda Novak - The Perfect Murder

S.Costas: Did he give you anything new to go on today besides letting you know that he was a cop-and that he remembers your anniversary?

BrownEyedGirl: Just more of the same.

S.Costas: The same what?

BrownEyedGirl: Flirting. Compliments. What you’ve read before. He tells me he wishes we’d gotten together. That his life would’ve been different if we had. His comments are getting more and more explicit, of course, and-Oh boy, he just signed on!!!!!

Sebastian sat up straighter.

S.Costas: Malcolm?

BrownEyedGirl: Yes! He’s sending me a message. It says, ‘Hey, you still up?’ Should I respond?

Would it be smarter to play hard to get? Probably. But Sebastian was getting low on patience. And money. He had to press forward before circumstances forced him to give up.

S.Costas: Definitely. He might be ready to suggest a time and place.

BrownEyedGirl: I have to tell you, I’m beginning to have second thoughts about setting up a meeting.

S.Costas: Why?

BrownEyedGirl: Because I’m afraid of what you might do if you have the chance. I’d hate to see you shoot him and then spend the rest of your life in prison.

S.Costas: Don’t worry about me.

Only three years younger than he was, Mary was lonely after her divorce. But, contrary to what Constance believed, their relationship had never even bordered on the romantic.

S.Costas: Just see what he wants.

She didn’t get back to him right away.

Anxious to learn what was going on, he got up and paced until the words It’s no good appeared on his screen.

What did that mean?

S.Costas: He won’t meet?

BrownEyedGirl: No. He says he’s had one hell of a night and he’ll be busy the next few weekends.

Son of a bitch.

S.Costas: Okay. Then I need you to do one more thing for me.

BrownEyedGirl: What’s that?

S.Costas: Let me take over from here.

BrownEyedGirl: What do you mean?

S.Costas: I want to be the one communicating with him. There’s no need for you to have anything more to do with this. It’s not safe.

And it was too frustrating working through a third party. They were so close and yet they couldn’t pin him down.

BrownEyedGirl: How do I let you take over?

S.Costas: Simple. Give me access to your account. I’ll be you for the next week or two, see if there’s anything I can do to convince this bastard to trust me.

BrownEyedGirl: You’re crazy. He’ll be able to tell you’re not me. You don’t write like a girl.

S.Costas: I can fake it.

Sebastian had read the transcripts of their instant-message sessions. At least the ones Mary had saved. If he wasn’t sure how to respond to a certain question, he could look back through the pages she’d given him to see how the subject had been handled before. Or he could contact her. If he couldn’t reach her in time, he’d sign off and blame it on a faulty connection. Already convinced he was in contact with his ex-girlfriend, Malcolm wouldn’t suspect a thing-provided Sebastian didn’t say something obvious or stupid.

BrownEyedGirl: But this is my only e-mail address.

S.Costas: I’ll open another account for you, and I’ll forward anything that comes in on this one that isn’t related.

BrownEyedGirl: You don’t understand. E-mail is my life right now. With two little kids, I can’t get out of the house to meet people.

She was purposely ignoring the solution he’d offered, didn’t want to be cut out of the loop. This was the one thing that kept her occupied at night-hearing from Malcolm and then reporting on it. Sebastian actually called her some nights and they formulated her responses together.

S.Costas: I shouldn’t need it for very long. Like I said, I’ll forward anything that’s unrelated. AND I’ll pay you $1000 for the inconvenience.

Thinking of his nearly empty bank account, Sebastian grimaced, but he knew if anything would smooth the way, this would. She lived on a very tight budget.

BrownEyedGirl: You don’t have to pay me. You know I’d do it just because we’re friends.

S.Costas: You could use the money, and I’m happy to help.

He didn’t think it would be difficult to persuade her to accept. She thought he was rich.

BrownEyedGirl: If that’s what you want. But you have to keep me up-to-date, okay? I’d like to know what’s going on. I’ve nursed this thing along for weeks and want to see the end.

Sebastian could certainly understand that. Okay, he said, and she gave him her password.

Several hours later, Sebastian was still up, keeping an eye on Mary’s buddy list while rereading the transcripts of her and Malcolm’s previous online sessions. If he had the opportunity, he wanted to be sure he could pick up the conversation with full knowledge of everything that’d been said before.

He’d put on a pair of boxers and a T-shirt, but hadn’t been able to relax enough to sleep. Malcolm was signed on. He’d been on for most of the night. Sebastian imagined him chatting with other women, stringing them along with compliments and promises of flowers, just like Mary.

How could he bring this bastard out of hiding?

Sebastian was dying to initiate a conversation, to see what he could do now that he had control. But it was nearly four in the morning and Malcolm knew Mary had children she had to get off to school. She also worked, which meant she was rarely up this late.

“Don’t break the pattern,” he warned himself. But he couldn’t continue to nudge Malcolm along at a leisurely pace; he needed to draw him out, make him commit.

Ignoring caution, Sebastian clicked on the WhosYourDaddy screen name. Brandon just woke up with the flu. Poor kid, he typed.

No, kid should be baby. Baby would sound more feminine. Using the backspace key, he made the change. And now I can’t go back to sleep.

He sent it, but there was no response. “Come on,” he murmured. “Forget whatever porn site you’re on and take the bait. Don’t you care about poor little Brandon?”

Sebastian adjusted his chair so he could stretch his legs. He’d been sitting too long. “Of course you don’t care about Brandon,” he said, settling in again. “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

After another five minutes, he made a second attempt. I keep thinking about you. Maybe that’s the real reason I can’t sleep. I get so lonely at night.

He waited…and waited. No response.

With a curse, he turned to the transcripts and skimmed through the exchanges he hadn’t reread. A lot of these conversations had taken place last September before Mary realized she was dealing with someone other than WhosYourDaddy represented himself to be, but they offered insight to the man’s psyche.

WhosYourDaddy: Are you as hot as you were when you were sixteen?

BrownEyedGirl: You don’t know?

WhosYourDaddy: I haven’t seen you for years.

BrownEyedGirl: I’ve sent you pictures. You’re the one who hasn’t sent me any pics. Where are they, by the way?

WhosYourDaddy: I lost my camera. I’ll get one taken soon, though.

Sebastian paged through to find the Xeroxed picture Malcolm had eventually sent. It was of a man handsome enough to be appealing but regular enough to be believable-a smart choice, and probably no one Malcolm even knew. Sebastian’s guess was that Malcolm had taken a snapshot of some random guy and used the picture to satisfy Mary’s curiosity. Or he’d bought a stock photo.

Setting it aside, he went back to reading.

BrownEyedGirl: Do it tomorrow. I want to see who I’m talking to.

WhosYourDaddy: You know who you’re talking to.

BrownEyedGirl: No, I don’t. I still can’t remember meeting you at Joe’s party.

WhosYourDaddy: You really know how to hurt a guy’s ego. I guess I didn’t stand out.