Show of Evil

Salzman lifted his glasses, propping them on his forehead as he studied the card. 'DA, huh? What's your interest in Stampler?'

'I defended him,' said Vail. 'Before I became a prosecutor.'

'Huh,' said the psychiatrist, lowering his glasses. 'That's kind of a sticky wicket, isn't it?'

'I think you could say that,' said Vail with a smile.

'Well, tell Molly I'll see her later. Will you two be around for a while?'

'No, we'll be leaving shortly. Thanks for your help.'

'Not much help, I'm afraid, but it was nice to see you,' Salzman said, and left the office.

When Molly came back, she said, 'I have a little information for you. Jean says she got a request for a recommendation for Rene about two months after she left. It was from City General Hospital in Terre Haute. I just talked to the personnel director there. He says she worked there for four months, left around the first of the year. They've had no further contact with her.'

'So she was there at the time of the Balfour kill,' said St Claire.

'And it was just a nervous breakdown, she didn't show signs of any other mental problems?' Vail said.

'Maybe,' said St Claire, 'she was an adroit liar, as Dr Lowenstein would say.'

'You really think she was psychotic?' Molly asked.

'I'm askin' you, ma'am,' St Claire said, and smiled.

Molly lit another cigarette, considered his question carefully before she answered. 'If she was, Orin didn't detect it,' she said finally.

'Where did she come from before she worked here?' Vail asked.

'Accordin' to her record on this sheet, she came here from Regional General Hospital in Dayton, Ohio. General housekeeping,' St Claire answered, checking the computer printout. 'You also got a picture of her, if that's what this here checkmark means.'

'I'll have Jean pull it,' Molly said.

'May I show you something?' St Claire said. He led them into her office. 'Got a couple of hair pins?' he asked Molly.

She laughed. 'Afraid I don't use them.'

'How about paperclips. I need two.'

He took the two paperclips she gave him and straightened them out, then inserted them into the bookcase lock. Working with both hands, he moved the two wires around until he felt the tumblers in the lock. He twisted both clips and the door clicked open. It took about thirty seconds. He reached in, took out one of the tape boxes, and removed the tape, then put the empty box back. He turned to Molly and handed her the tape. 'When's the last time ya looked at one of these, Doctor?'

'I have no idea,' Molly answered. 'I haven't looked at them since I got my ticket. Four years, maybe longer.'

'She was workin' at night, had a key to the office, came in, popped the lock, took a tape, maybe two or three, returned them the next night. Nothin' to it. You never woulda known the dif, 'less a'course you happened to check the particular box she borrowed. That's if it was Hutchinson, a'course.'

'You think she knew how to pick a lock?'

'No big secret, ma'am. I mean, it ain't some inside cop thing. I read it in one of those books, y'know the kind? 101 Things You Always Wanted to Know How to Do But Nobody'd Tell You kinda books? Point is, she coulda got into the tapes, she was missin' for two months before she applied for work in Terre Haute, and she had mental problems. Nobody else here fits the bill except Tribble.'

They returned to the sitting room. The personnel director had sent 3x5 colour mug shots of Rene Hutchinson and Tribble to the office. Molly handed them to Vail and then turned over the photograph of Linda Balfour's body, which was lying facedown on the table. She stared down at it.

'You think a woman is capable of this?' she asked.

'Ma'am,' said St Claire, 'I think a woman can do anything a man can do but sire a child - and I ain't even too sure 'bout that any more.'

Thirty-Two

Angelica Stoddard was short and resembled her mother. She had a trim, tight body, good posture, and blue eyes so pale she almost looked blind - a striking young woman in an extra-large sweater that hung down halfway to the knees of her bleached-out jeans. She wore jogging shoes with white sweat socks that sagged over the tops and a black felt hat over ash-blonde hair. The hat was pulled down almost to her ears. She looked sombre and walked quickly with her head down. Venable fell in beside her. Angelica paid no attention at first but finally turned and looked up at Venable.

'Hi,' said Venable, 'I'm Jane Venable. I'm your mother's lawyer. Can we go somewhere and talk for a few minutes?'

'Not here,' the young woman answered in a whisper, looking around furtively.

'Anywhere you say.'

'Anywhere but here,' Angelica said.

Venable had her car drive them to a coffee shop off campus. They found a table in the back of the small cafe. Angelica ordered cappuccino and Venable had black coffee.

'Why did you come to the school?' Angelica Stoddard said. 'Why didn't you call first?'

'I tried, but I couldn't get through.'

Angelica's shoulders sagged. 'Oh, yeah, it's a hall phone,' she said, shaking her head. 'It's always busy. I'm sorry I said that, but I… I'm so embarrassed by all this. I know it's wrong, but I can't help it.'

'It's okay, Angelica. It's absolutely understandable, you don't have to apologize to me.'

'What do you want?'

'I need your help.'

'To do what?'

'I want you to come with me to see your mother.'

The young woman looked shocked. 'I can't do that,' she said urgently, but still speaking almost in a whisper. 'She absolutely forbids me to—'

'Angelica, she must put up a fight.'

'You don't know my mother. Once she makes up her mind…'

'Look, for God's sake, she's not deciding what kind of car to buy, her life is on the line here.'

'What can I do?'

'Tell her to defend herself.'

'She won't listen to me, and she won't change her mind. I know her, Ms Venable. I talked to her. They let her call me. She kept saying, "This is the only way." '

'You've got to go with me to see her and back me up.'

'She'd kill me!' Angelica said, then quickly added, 'Figuratively speaking, I mean.'

'Angelica… do they call you Angel?' The young student nodded. 'Angel, you tell her you and your dad need her. She can't just stand by and get maxed out by the state. If she'll put up a fight we can win this case. Do you want her to spend the next twenty years in state prison?'

'No! Oh no. Oh God, what's happening to us?' Angelica shook her head and started to cry.

'Trust me,' Venable said. 'Just do exactly what I tell you to do and trust me.'

Vail had secured wiretapping permits for the pay phone in the hall outside Vulpes's door and in his room. The two electronics experts in the investigative department had set up a listening and watching post in an empty loft across the street from the halfway house. One of them, Bob Morris, had graduated from electronics school and had attended the FBI academy. His partner, Reggie Solomon, was a classic nerd, who was interested only in the mysteries of electronic surveillance. A second team comprised of Randy Dobson, a young, lean detective who wore baggy khakis and an Atlanta Braves T-shirt under a leather jacket, and Kirby Grosso, a tallish, raw-boned woman wearing a jogging outfit - the two best shadows on the DA's investigative staff - was on standby in a car a block away. Grosso had a Hi8 videocamera secreted in her athletic bag so she could videotape Vulpes without being detected.

They watched Terry bring Vulpes to the halfway house and help him carry his belongings to the second-floor room. Vulpes had a large old-fashioned leather suitcase, a stereo, TV, and VCR, his tool chest and two large cardboard boxes of books and tapes. They listened on the monitor when Vulpes entered his room, and Morris, using a 500mm telephoto lens, videotaped him through the open window of the room. They heard the supervisor running down the rules and regulations, the most important of which was a 10 P.M. curfew that was strictly enforced. The supervisor, whose name was David Schmidt, had a pleasant, reassuring voice.