“Hi, Daddy I knew you'd call.”
“Am I that predictable? Never mind. You two getting ready for bed, I hope? Ask Damon to get on the other line.”
“I'm already on. I figured it was you, Dad. You are kind of predictable. That's a good thing.”
I caught up with the kids briefly Damon tried to wheedle me into letting him buy a CD with a parental advisory label. No sale there, and still no word from him on the mystery girlfriend. ,Jannie was gearing up for her first science fair and wanted to know if I could hook her friends up to a polygraph. “Sure thing. Right after we hook up you and Damon.”
Then Jannie told me something that bothered me a lot. “That writer was here again. Nana chased him off. She gave him a good tongue-lashing, called him a 'disgrace to his profession.' After I finished with the kids, I talked to Nana, and then I ordered room service, Finally I called Jamilla in San Francisco. I was making the calls in reverse stress order, I knew, leaving the hard ones for last. Of course, there was also the issue of time zones to consider. ”This whole Mary Smith thing has gone national in hurry“ Jamilla said. ”Word up here is the LAPD isn't even close to catching her."
“Let talk about something besides work,” I said. “That okay with you?”
“Actually I have to leave, Alex. I'm meeting a friend just a friend,” she added a little too quickly “Don't worry about it.” But that sounded to me like code for worry about it.
“Sure, go,” I said.
“Talk to you tomorrow?” she asked. “Sorry I have to run. Tomorrow, Alex?”
I promised, and then hung up. Just a friend, I thought. Well, two calls down, one to go.
The really hard one. I picked up the phone again and punched in numbers I knew by heart.
“Hello?”
me. Alex."
Christine paused - another undecipherable response. “Hi,” she finally said.
“Could I talk to Alex?”
“Of course. Hang on, I'll get him. He just finished his dinner. He's in the playroom.”
I heard a rustling and then Christine's muted voice. “It Daddy” The word gave me a strange pang - warm and gretf at the same time.
“Hi, Daddy” A whole lot of mixed feelings intensified at the excited sound of his voice, but mostly, I just missed him like crazy I could see his small face, his smile.
“Hey pup. What's new?”
Like any three-year_old, Little Alex wasn't quite up to speed on the whole phone thing. It was a quick conversation, unfortunately After a particularly long pause, I heard Christine again in the background.
“Say bye-bye.”
“Bye-bye.”
“See you soon,” I told him. “I love you, buddy”
“Love you, Daddy”
Then Little Alex hung up the phone on me. With a dismissive click, I was back in my room, alone with the Mary Smith case, missing all the people I loved more than life itself.
That was the exact thought in my head - but what did it mean?
Mary, Mary
Part Three
JUGGLING ACTS
Mary, Mary
Chapter 47
MARY SMITH SAT on a park bench while her darling little Ashley monkeyed her way around the playground. Good deal. The exercise was just enough to tire her out before Mary had to pick up Brendan and Adam from their playdates; hopefully it was enough time to let Mary's brain cool down from another impossible day She looked at the brand-new diary on her lap, admired its nice heavy paper and the beautiful linen cover.
Journals were the one big splurge in her life. She tried to write a little every day Maybe later, the kids would read these pages and know who she really was, besides Cook, Maid, and Chauffeut Meanwhile, even the journal had conspired against her. Without thinking, she had written tomatoes, baby carrots, cereal, juice, diapers on the first page. Shoot! That just wouldn't do. She carefully tore it out. Maybe it was silly, but she thought this book as a sacred place, not somewhere you wanted to put a shopping list.
She suddenly realized Ashley was gone! Oh my God, where is she?
She was right there a second ago, and now she was gone.
Had it been just a second? She tensed. Maybe it hadn't. Maybe it was longer than a few seconds.
“Ashley? Sweetie?”
Her eyes quickly scanned the small, crowded playground. Several blonde mop tops on swings or running around, but no Ashley The whole place was enclosed with a wrought- iron fence. How far could she have gotten? She headed toward the gate.
“Excuse me, have you seen a little girl? Blond hair, jeans, a red T-shirt?”
No one had, though.
Oh, dear God, not this. No. No.
Just then Mary spotted her. Her heart nearly burst. Ashley was tucked behind a tree near the corner of the playground. She coughed out a little laugh, embarrassed with herself for getting this nervous so quickly God, what is wrong with me?
She walked over to her. “What are you doing over here, sweetness?”
“Playing hide and seek,” she said. “Just playing, Mommy”
“With who, for gosh sake?” She fought to keep her tone in check. People were starting to stare.
“With you.” She smiled so sweetly Mary could barely stand it. She bent low and whispered against her soft cheek. “Ashley , you cannot run off like that. Do you understand? If you can't see me, then I can't see you. Okay?”
“Okay”
“Good, now why don't you go and try the jungle gym?” Mary settled down on another bench away from the gathering storm of disapproving stares. A young mother reading the L.A. Times smiled over at her. “Hello.”
“You must not be from around here,” Mary said, giving her a quick once-over.
The woman's voice was slightly defensive. “Why do you say that?”
“First of all, no one around here is that friendly” Mary answered, then smiled. “Second of all, it takes an outsider to know one. I'm a Vermonter, myself.”
The other woman looked relieved. “Baltimore,” she said with a hand to her chest. “I heard everyone was friendly out here in California. They stop their cars and let you cross the street, right? You don't see that in Baltimore.”
“Well, that's true.”
“Of course, you don't see this, either.” She held up the front page of the Times.
HOLLYWOOD MURDER INVESTIGATION CONTINUES “Have you heard about this?” the woman asked. “I guess you must have.”
“It's hard to miss these days.” “It just makes me so sad. I know I should be afraid, too, but really, I'm just so sorry for those families.”
Mary nodded solemnly “I know So am I, so am I. Isn't it awful? Those poor, poor children. It just makes you want to cry your eyes out.”
Mary, Mary
Chapter 48
ACCORDING TO THE STATISTICS I was reading at my desk, something like 89 percent of known female serial killers used poison, suffocation, or lethal injection on their victims. Less than 10 percent of various killers employed a gun as their weapon of choice, and none I had found on record used a knife.
Is Mary Smith the exception that proves the rule?
I didn't think so. But I seemed to be all alone on that.
I scanned the deskful of clippings, photos, and articles spread out in front of me like pieces from several different jigsaw puzzles.
Aileen Wuornos was a shooter. In 1989 and '90, she killed at least seven men in Florida. When she was arrested, the media dubbed her America's first female serial killer. She Was probably the most famous, but nowhere near the first. Almost half of those on record were black widows - husband- killers - or else motivated by revenge. Most had some relationship with their victims.
Bobbie Sue Terrell, a nurse, injected twelve patients with lethal doses of insulin.
Dorothea Montalvo Puente poisoned nine boarders in her home so she could get their Social Security checks.