“What? Is he trying to make the ‘perfect woman’?” Charlee asked in a disgusted tone.
“Maybe. But it really feels like something more. Helen would be more qualified to judge on this than I would, but he kept flip-flopping. Like a bipolar disorder stuck in overdrive. One minute it would be like he was worshipping her. He’d say things like ‘She’s almost perfect,’ then he would suddenly shift into an abusive mode and scream at her, saying things like ‘You’re not her.’”
“Any idea who ‘her’ is?” Ben asked.
“No clue.” I shook my head again. “Except that she’s probably who he is dressing them up to look like. But I can’t even tell you what that is. I never actually saw how he had Burke made up. Just bits and pieces of the outfits, although he mentioned something about makeup.”
“You mentioned somethin’ about that earlier, right Chuck?”
“Yeah. So far all the victims have had smeared makeup on their faces that they don’t recall putting on in the first place,” she answered then offered thoughtfully, “You know, all of the victims have pretty much resembled one another. More than just their size and hair. I mean, not dead ringers or anything, but close enough that at a distance they could be mistaken for one another…”
“‘Specially if he did a makeover on ‘em?” Ben added the question more as a comment.
“Exactly,” I agreed. “They must fit the profile of the woman he is trying to re-create. Maybe it’s a former girlfriend who dumped him, or even a wife who passed away.”
“Yeah, for starters.” Ben ran down his own huge list, “Or it could be a woman that works in ‘is office, or at the deli down the street, or the star of ‘is favorite TV show. Could be a model out of a magazine…maybe even his sister or ‘is mother…”
“Maybe the first few, but this is definitely sexual in nature. I’d rule out siblings or matriarchal figures.”
“What rock you been hidin’ under?” he retorted as he hooked the van through a light that was somewhere between yellow and red. “Ever hear of Oedipus? This guy’s a whack job. If he’s really fucked up, this might be ‘is way of doin’ Sis or Mom, or both for that matter.”
“I’d rather not think about that, Ben,” I said.
“Yeah, well it kinda comes with the territory. If it turns out ta’ be a lead, then we hafta look at the big picture, not just what we wanna see. Anyway, this is all fine and wonderful, but it doesn’t really get us any closer ta’ who this asshole is.”
“Sorry,” I told him. “I’m just telling you what I saw.”
“I’m not complainin’. I’m just tellin’ it like it is. I’m sure ya’ woulda said somethin’ already, but I gotta ask-I don’t suppose ya’ saw ‘is face, did’ya?”
“No, just shadows.”
“So that’s a dead end,” Charlee chimed in from the back.
“Is there anything else that could help?” Ben pressed.
I concentrated for a moment but drew a blank. I was still fighting off some severe emotional effects from the entire episode. On top of that, the nagging feeling that I was being watched had returned, and it was starting to occupy my mind to the exclusion of all else.
“Maybe… I don’t know… It kept fading in and out, so I’m not sure I’m remembering everything.”
“Ya’ mean like you were talkin’ earlier about feelin’ the effects of the Roofies?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied with a distracted note in my voice.
I was tilting my head down and to the side, shifting oddly in my seat while trying to get a look in the side view mirror. My concentration on the task must have completely taken over because I suddenly felt something thump my arm and I jumped.
Ben’s voice flooded into my head. “Hey, ground control ta’ Rowan. You wanna answer me?”
“What?”
“I asked ya’ what the hell you’re doin’ with the contortionist act?”
“Are we being followed?” I answered his question with a question-something he absolutely hated.
“Do what?”
“I don’t know, Ben,” I shrugged. “I’ve just got this weird feeling. Like I’m being watched. I had it back at Heather Burke’s apartment too.”
The color drained from my friend’s face. This was only the second time I’d seen him go this pale, and the first had been only a few days ago at the Yule celebration. He quickly looked into the rear view mirror then at both sides, dwelling long enough to get a good scan of the area behind us.
“You see anything, Chuck?” he asked Detective McLaughlin.
She made her own inspection, twisting in her seat to get a better view, then settled back facing front and said, “Nope. Nothing.”
“So, Row…Is this like one of those Twilight Zone things?” Ben finally asked.
“I think it might be,” I acknowledged, disturbed by the way he was suddenly acting. “Why?”
“Do ya’ know who it is that’s watchin’ ya’?” he pressed.
“No. Do you?” I pressed back.
“Exactly what are you two talking about?” McLaughlin interjected.
“No. Why would I?” Ben shot back, ignoring Charlee altogether.
“You’re lying, Ben,” I told him. “I can tell.”
“Hey,” Charlee spoke up again, “is someone going to tell me what’s going on?”
We had arrived at our destination, and Ben pulled the Chevy into a space, then cranked it into park, and twisted the key off.
“Just forget it,” he commanded as he levered his groaning door open. A cool gust of wind made a beeline for the interior of the van and dropped the temperature a few degrees.
“Not this time, Ben,” I returned. “Something’s going on, and it involves me. I can tell.”
“This isn’t the time, Row,” he answered sternly.
“Well then make it the time,” I demanded.
“Rowan…”
“It’s got something to do with the phone call the other night, doesn’t it?”
“Dammit, Rowan…”
“Tell me, Ben.”
With an angry huff he yanked the door shut and turned to face me. “Goddammit, white man, haven’t we argued enough today?”
“I’m not arguing,” I returned. “I just want to know what’s going on.”
“Just trust me, Row. You don’t need ta’ be hearin’ this right now. I’ll tell ya’ when things settle down.”
“It is about me then,” I retorted.
“Yeah, it’s about you. Now leave it alone.”
“Then tell me what it is!” I demanded again.
“I’m serious, Row.”
“I am too!”
“All right. All fuckin’ right!” His voice rose slightly as he struggled to contain what seemed to be as much fear as anger. “You wanna know what it is so damn bad, then I’ll tell ya’. That call the other night was from Mandalay.”
The name told me that the call couldn’t have been good. Constance Mandalay was a mutual friend, but she was also a special agent attached to the FBI’s Saint Louis field office.
“She was callin’ about a murder in southern Missouri,” Ben continued. “It’s been kept outta the news so far, but everything points to a single suspect, up to and includin’ a partial set of fingerprints found at the scene.”
“Me?” I asked, not fully grasping what he was telling me.
“Hell no, not you, ya’ moron,” he returned. “Eldon Andrew Porter. You were fuckin’ right, okay? The sonofabitch ain’t dead.”
CHAPTER 24
I was stunned, but not by what Ben had just revealed.
I wasn’t at all surprised that Eldon Porter was still alive. I had, of course, been the one person who believed that all along. What caught me completely and utterly unprepared was that Ben would keep this fact from me.
I sat for what seemed a lifetime, silently gathering my thoughts and staring back at my friend. He was correct with his earlier comment. We had already argued more than enough for one day, but at the moment, I couldn’t help feeling as though I’d been grievously betrayed.
The silence was finally broken by Detective McLaughlin clearing her throat and then unlatching the sliding door on the van. “I’ll see you two inside” was all she said before climbing out and yanking the door shut on the rumbling slides.