Mary Clark - The Lost Years

The sound of Lillian’s gasping sobs became a crescendo of terror that echoed throughout the cavernous room.

78

Wally Gruber did not know why the detective who was driving him to the New Jersey prosecutor’s office suddenly stepped on the gas and turned on the flashers. “I’m in no hurry,” he chided them. “I’m enjoying the ride. In fact I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stop for coffee on the way.”

He was sitting in the backseat of the van, shackles covering his wrists and legs, and separated from the front area by a locked grille. There were two other detectives escorting him, one in the front passenger seat and the other sitting next to him in the secured section.

None of the three detectives answered him. Wally shrugged his shoulders. They’re not too sociable today, he thought. So what? He closed his eyes, concentrating again on the face that might get him back on the street much sooner. He had made bets with some of his fellow inmates. In fact they had a pool going. The odds were up to four to one that he wasn’t bluffing about seeing the killer of that professor.

They weren’t in the parking lot of the courthouse long enough for him to get a decent breath of fresh air before he was in the elevator going up to the prosecutor’s office. He was taken straight to a room where there was a guy sitting at a computer who stood up as they entered. “Mr. Gruber,” he said, “I am Detective Howard Washington. I will be working with you to formulate the composite.”

“Call me Wally, Howie,” Gruber replied cheerfully.

Washington ignored the invitation. “Please sit down, Mr. Gruber. I will explain to you exactly how we’re going to do this. I am informing you that this process will be videotaped. I will first take a detailed description from you of the person whom you have indicated you saw, then I will be using the computer to show you images of various head and facial parts, such as the forehead, eyes, nose, and chin, as well as head and facial hair.”

“Don’t stress over any facial hair, Howie. He didn’t have any.” Wally sat down next to Washington and leaned back in the chair. “I wouldn’t mind a nice hot cup of coffee,” he said. “No milk. Two sugars.”

Simon Benet and Rita Rodriguez had just come into the room. Simon felt his blood boil as he listened to Wally’s nonchalant comments. He felt Rita put a restraining hand on his arm. I’d love to deck this guy, he thought.

“I’m going to start with some very specific questions with regard to the person’s physical appearance. I will be taking notes as you speak. I’m going to start with our initial checklist.”

The questions began. “Male or female… color of skin… approximate age… approximate height and weight…”

When Detective Washington had completed the preliminary questions, he started putting up multiple images on the screen.

Wally began shaking his head, then said, “Hold it. That’s the way the hair looked when he pulled the scarf down. You’re hitting the nail on the head.”

Simon Benet and Rita Rodriguez looked at each other. From Wally’s description they already knew how the composite would come out. The question burning in both of their minds was, where and when had Gruber seen this face? Was it the night Jonathan Lyons was shot or was it from a picture in a newspaper after Lyons had died?

They waited until Wally Gruber, looking at the current composite on the screen, said to Detective Washington, “You did a good job, Howie. That’s him.”

Simon and Rita stared at the screen.

“It’s as though Greg Pearson sat for the picture,” Rita said as Simon nodded in agreement.

79

After she called Lloyd to tell him that Mariah might be missing, Alvirah rushed to shower and dress, leaving the half-eaten Danish on her plate. Her heart pounding with anxiety, she dressed in her lightweight running suit, swallowed her vitamins, and hastily put on some light makeup. Just as she was finishing, Lloyd phoned to say that Mariah’s car had been found.

“I’m on my way to the prosecutor’s office,” he said tersely. “That guy Gruber should be there by now. If he’s on the level, saving Mariah’s life may depend on the description he gives to them.”

“Lloyd, I have had my suspicions,” Alvirah said. “And since yesterday I’m ninety-nine percent sure that I’m right. Albert West told the prosecutor’s office that Charles Michaelson was trying to sell the parchment, but then I made Albert call his source, who admitted that the so-called tip came from an anonymous phone call. I think the person who made that phone call was trying to set Michaelson up. I just don’t believe Michaelson or West is involved.”

Warming up to her theory, Alvirah paced back and forth across the bedroom as she spoke. “That leaves Richard Callahan and Greg Pearson. My gut tells me Richard is not a killer. I knew he was holding back on something, and then I realized it’s as plain as the nose on your face. He’s so in love with Mariah that he’s been willing to spend most of his own money to try to get that parchment back.”

Hoping she was getting through to Lloyd, Alvirah said, “Lloyd, I can’t be one hundred percent positive until we see that composite, but that leaves only Greg Pearson.”

“Alvirah, hold on. I’m Kathleen’s attorney. With the exception of Mariah, there’s nobody who wants to get the real killer more than I do. So even if everything you surmise is true, I can tell you right now that no jury would ever convict Greg Pearson on evidence that consists primarily of Wally Gruber’s identification. Pearson’s attorney would annihilate him on cross-examination.”

“I agree with you. I understand what you’re saying. But he has to have a place where he’s kept the parchment. He’d never be dumb enough to hide it in his apartment or office or a safe-deposit box. But if he thought that Gruber had identified somebody else and he was out of the woods, he might feel comfortable going to wherever that parchment is hidden.”

Pleading her case to Lloyd, Alvirah tried to keep her voice from rising too much. “And you know, I think even the detectives are pretty convinced that Lillian had the parchment under her arm when she got on the subway. She had to be going somewhere to meet someone. I think it was Greg. Think about it. Rory could have let him in the house that night. She knew where Jonathan kept the gun. Rory could have easily left it out somewhere for him. She’s an ex-con who skipped parole. Maybe Greg found out about her secret past and threatened to expose her if she didn’t cooperate. And then he had to get rid of Rory because she was a danger to him.”

“Alvirah, what you’re saying makes sense, but why would he go after Mariah?” Lloyd said.

“Because he was crazy about her and could see that Mariah was crazy about Richard. I could always tell that he was jealous. He never took his eyes off her. Add that to his being terrified that he would be identified from that composite. I think all this probably sent him over the edge. My opinion is that the only way we have any hope of finding Mariah is to make Greg Pearson believe the composite shows someone else so he’s sure he can come and go without anyone watching him.”

Alvirah took a breath. Her voice passionate, she added, “I’ve got to talk to Simon Benet. If that sketch is of Greg, Simon has simply got to lead him into believing that he’s in the clear. After that, Greg has to be followed around the clock.”

“Alvirah, as much as you’re helping, I don’t think that Detective Benet will tell you about the results of the composite,” Lloyd said. “But, as Kathleen’s attorney, he will tell me. I will absolutely convey to him everything you have said, and I will call you back right after I speak to him.”