“Syphilis?” exclaimed Bailey.
King picked up two pictures from his desk. “When Michelle and I were in Remmy’s bedroom, Savannah showed us this picture of the twins when they were infants. She couldn’t tell them apart.” He picked up the other photo. “This is a picture of Bobby Jr. shortly before he died, which Mason showed us. The change in his features, the manifestations of the hydrocephalus and the problems with his teeth and eyes are very apparent. It was passed through to him by his mother when he was in the womb.”
“Hutchinson’s teeth, mulberry molars, optic nerve atrophy,” said Sylvia as she stared at the young man’s photo. “Yet how did Remmy contract syphilis?”
“From her husband. He was contagious either when he impregnated Remmy with the twins or had intercourse with her during the first or second trimester of that pregnancy.”
“And syphilis can cross the placenta,” said Sylvia in a hushed tone.
“Exactly. Bobby Jr. eventually became brain-damaged and suffered the other effects because it wasn’t treated. He later died from cancer, but I’m sure the syphilis had severely weakened his body.”
“But why wasn’t it treated?” asked Sylvia.
“I’ve had a very awkward conversation with Remmy about that. She said that when her son started exhibiting strange symptoms, Bobby refused to take the boy to the doctor. He wouldn’t even acknowledge he was ill. He probably wouldn’t even admit to himself he had syphilis, because apparently he never went for treatment either. Anyway, by the time Remmy sought medical help, it was too late. The disease had done irreversible damage. Remember, this was over thirty years ago, and the level of medical knowledge wasn’t nearly as far along as it is today. She’s lived with that guilt for years.”
“It’s hard to believe a woman like Remmy wouldn’t have taken her son to a doctor immediately,” said Michelle.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” said Sylvia.
“I think there’s a lot we don’t know about Remmy and her relationship with her husband,” said King. “A woman who talks with adoration and pride about her husband but doesn’t wear her wedding ring and doesn’t care if she gets it back? Those are some deep waters we’ll never plumb entirely.”
“But they had Savannah years later and she’s okay,” pointed out Bailey.
“Bobby was no longer contagious by then, and Remmy had received treatment for syphilis years before.” King put the photos away and continued. “Now, historically, one major way the disease is spread is through sexual intercourse with prostitutes. As we know, Bobby had the reputation of consorting with such women. He contracted the disease from a prostitute and passed it to Remmy, who unwittingly passed it to Bobby Jr. He and Eddie weren’t identical twins, but fraternal, so they didn’t share the same amniotic fluid. That’s probably why Eddie wasn’t infected.”
“And Eddie found out about this?” asked Bailey.
“Yes, although how I’m not sure. But I think he’s been harboring this knowledge for a long time. A powder keg waiting to blow. I think Eddie too felt enormous guilt. He knew it was only by luck that he escaped that same fate. From all accounts he loved his brother very much.”
“So Rhonda Tyler was—,” began Williams.
“Eddie’s way of symbolically punishing the prostitute who’d infected his father all those years ago and thus doomed his brother. Tyler had the great misfortune to come across Eddie at some point.”
“The unusual wrinkling on Bobby’s aorta and the brain lesions,” said Sylvia. “All that points to syphilis,” she said in a very chagrined tone, putting a hand over her eyes.
“You weren’t really looking for it, Sylvia,” said King kindly. “And those things could be caused by other diseases as well.”
Michelle picked up the explanation. “Steve Canney had to die because his mother had an affair with Bobby that produced Steve. His mother was dead, so Steve had to be sacrificed in her place.”
“Eddie is devoted to Remmy,” said King. “I’m sure he saw the bastard child as a direct slap against her. Janice Pembroke was simply in the wrong place, wrong time.”
“One tick off,” said Bailey.
“Right. Same with Diane Hinson. One tick off, to cover his tracks and to further break the connection between the victims.”
“And Junior Deaver?”
“Eddie thought he’d stolen from his mother. That was enough. When he found out he’d been wrong, he took it out on Sally. You can see his sense of fair play and justice, however twisted. The mud prints in their foyer should have told me it was him. Savannah said she never moved away from the doorway, but there were muddy prints all over. They were from Eddie’s boots, not Savannah’s. He was cutting it tight. He had no idea when Dorothea would come out of the drug’s effects, and he had to take the morphine too. He probably didn’t even notice the mud. As we could tell from the beating he gave Sally, he was slightly crazed.”
“Slightly!” exclaimed Williams.
“And then he set up Harold Robinson to take the fall. Why he picked him I don’t know.”
“Wait a minute. The man the little boy saw was Eddie?” asked Michelle.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t Eddie just kill him too?”
“He might have thought if the boy believed it was his dad, it would help to seal Robinson’s fate further. That actually happened. Or maybe despite all he’s done, he couldn’t bring himself to kill a child. As I said, Eddie is a very complex man.”
“You mean a monster,” said Williams.
“Does Dorothea know?” asked Sylvia.
Bailey nodded. “I told her. Remmy and Savannah joined me in giving her the news. That’s one stricken family, let me tell you.”
“But why did Eddie impersonate famous serial killers?” asked Williams.
King inclined his head at Bailey. “I think that was directed at you, Chip.”
“Me?”
“It would make sense if he wanted to flaunt his superiority. Beat you at your own area of expertise.”
“But why? We were friends. I saved his life.”
“No, you blew his kidnapping scheme out of the water.”
Bailey came right out of his chair. “What?”
“I’m convinced he arranged his own kidnapping. He hired the man you killed. He wanted to punish his father for the death of his brother two years before, and the only way the twenty-year-old college student could think to do that was by smashing him in the wallet to the tune of five million dollars. I’m sure he was the one who was burning the money after you killed his partner. He didn’t want his father to get it back. But he ran out of time. He had to tie himself back up and play dumb when you got there. I told you he’d been harboring this hatred for his father a long time.”
“Unbelievable,” said Bailey as he slowly sat back down. “That’s unbelievable,” he said again. “And all these years he’s pretended everything was great and he was really hating my guts?”
“Eddie is a consummate actor and liar. And let’s put it this way: consider yourself very fortunate you weren’t found with a watch around your wrist.”
“Jesus!” the FBI agent said.
“But, Sean,” said Williams, “it’s been twenty years between the kidnapping and all these murders. What set Eddie off?”
“I believe it was his father’s stroke. Perhaps he felt Bobby would die before he could show him his version of justice. I don’t know that for sure, but the timing I think is beyond coincidence.”
“So what now?” asked Michelle.
Williams answered, “Eddie’s being arraigned tomorrow at the courthouse.”
“No doubt his trial will get a change of venue,” said King. “If it goes that far.”
“What, you mean insanity?” asked Williams. “No way. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.”