Lilith: a novel (3 page)

They were in Alan’s Explorer now, leaving the downtown parking garage. The next stop would be Robert Billings’ mother’s home. That meeting would be far more emotional than this one had been. Last night Robert Billings’ mother had been inconsolable. Alan would have liked to have avoided talking to her so soon. But in any murder investigation, time is of the essence. Understandable emotions of the grief-stricken aside, they couldn't delay gathering the information that might ultimately enable them to catch Robert Billings’ killer.

“Do you think they were holding anything back?” Maribel asked, seated beside Alan in the front passenger seat.

“No,” Alan said. “What they told us was basically that Robert Billings was a peculiar loner who kept to himself, who spoke to his coworkers only when necessary. That fits the pattern of the other killings, doesn't it?”

“It does,” Maribel agreed.

The Columbus victim, Harold Markey, had been a 36-year-old graphic artist. The other previous victim, 34-year-old Scott Green, had worked as a purchasing agent at a Dayton manufacturing firm.

After deciding that sleep was a hopeless cause this morning, Alan had gone online on the shared Ohio law enforcement database, and reread the case investigation notes compiled by the police agencies in Columbus and Dayton.

Both Markey and Green had been moderately prosperous but socially isolated men who were mildly overweight. Both had engaged in online dating. Both had communicated at various times with an unknown and so far untraceable individual who alternately used the names Lilith, Lilly, and Elizabeth—plus several other similar-sounding names.

And both men, within a day or two of their deaths, had withdrawn similar sums from their bank accounts. Markey had withdrawn $15,000, and Green had withdrawn $20,000.

Markey and Green had also been quiet loners. All three men had existed in their environments without really being a part of them. This, Alan saw, had made them eager to trust in the promises of nonjudgmental romantic acceptance that Lilith had likely dangled as bait—regardless of whether “Lilith” was in fact a man, a woman, or some combination of people.

Alan finished up a verbal summary of all this just as he was guiding the Explorer onto the exit ramp that would take them out of the downtown district.

“All of this is leading me to believe that even if there is male involvement, the brains behind Lilith is a woman,” Maribel speculated.

“How so?” Alan asked, while keeping half of his attention on the congested interstate traffic.

Alan and his partners had been informed two weeks ago that they were going to be given responsibility for leading the Lilith investigation if there was another killing. 

The three of them had therefore reviewed the case histories and notes in advance. Alan, Dave, and Maribel had all agreed that the killer would have had to use an actual woman to ensnare the victims. She might have been employed, or she might have been coerced. But a living, breathing female accomplice would be essential. Pictures alone wouldn't be enough to gain the trust needed to convince educated men to withdraw large sums of money and let down their guard.

Most men would know that anyone could post pictures of a woman in an online profile. The Internet was filled with billions of untraceable photos after all, and a disproportionate number of them were photos of attractive women.

“Here’s what I’m getting at,” Maribel said. “When we discussed this case earlier, we acknowledged the need for female involvement, but we always assumed that a man was calling the shots, didn't we?”

Alan shrugged. “I suppose. To some degree or another. Most serial killers are men. Most murders are committed by men.”

“Criminal justice 101,” Maribel said. “Women have too much empathy to do something like this.”

“I suppose we did engage in a bit of tacit reverse sexism,” Alan allowed. “But still, these killings point to male involvement.”

“Why? Because men are inherently more violent and brutal than women? That might be true, across the aggregate of society. But a serial killer is an anomaly by definition.”

“And the vast majority of serial killers are male. But we both know that there have been—and will continue to be—exceptions. But tell me, what makes you think that Lilith is an authentic
female serial killer
, versus a male serial killer who is making use of a
female accomplice
?”

“Here’s why: A male killer who was trying to lure other men over the Internet would appeal to the lowest common denominator.”

“In other words: sex.”

“Exactly. But these men weren’t lured simply with the promise of sex. For one thing, they were all reasonably well-educated men. If some beautiful woman on a conventional dating site had picked them out and propositioned them, they would have seen through the ruse.”

“Maybe that’s where the money comes in,” Alan suggested. “Maybe ‘Lilith’ is a killer who uses female photos on dating sites to get men talking. Then the next step is a sexual proposition—only for money.”

“No,” Maribel said, “that doesn't work, either.”

“And why is that?” Alan did see several holes in his theory. But he wanted to see which flaws Maribel had identified.

“To begin with,” Maribel said, “the amounts those men took out of the banks in Dayton and Columbus were too large for only sex to be involved.”

“Okay. And?”

“And that leads us to the next point: These men were emotionally committed to the situation. This wasn't about ‘scoring with a hot babe’. They believed that they’d found true love. A horny man isn’t going to put ten or twenty grand on the line. But a man who believes he’s found the woman of his dreams just might.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this, Maribel. But go on.”

“What I’m getting at is that you don’t make an intelligent man fall in love by posting a few pictures on the Internet and sending some text messages. That requires the creation of a complex, multilevel illusion.”

“And a coerced female participant, or one who was simply hired for that purpose, wouldn't have been able to pull off the illusion very well,” Alan said, completing the thought.

“Exactly. Whoever this Lilith is, Alan—and I’m pretty certain that Lilith is a she—she was able to credibly interact with the victims for a sustained period of time. She was exploiting not just their sexual vulnerability, but their emotional vulnerability as well.”

“I thought men were supposed to be crude, cave-dwelling brutes who only think about sex and professional sports,” Alan countered, half seriously.

“Not at all,” Maribel said. “I learned that in a human sexuality course I took in college. Men can be just as emotionally vulnerable as women, but they are emotionally vulnerable in different ways. And remember what Yeats said.”

“Yeats?”

“William Butler Yeats. The poet. Haven’t you ever heard of him?”

“Vaguely, perhaps,” Alan said. Poetry wasn't his strong suit.

“Yeats said,
’I have known more men destroyed by the desire to have a wife and child and to keep them in comfort than I have seen destroyed by drink and harlots.’
"

“I see,” Alan said. And now he did see. Lilith—whoever Lilith actually was—gained the victims’ trust. As Maribel had implied, there were limits to what any man—even a socially awkward man like Robert Billings—would do to acquire sex.

But for the siren song of true love, a man would do almost anything. He would willingly fall for an illusion that created the
feeling
of true love. Then he would not only put money on the line—he would also let his guard down.

And then, if Lilith was the one behind the illusion, he would wind up dead.

“You heard what Robert’s coworkers said about him,” Maribel went on. “They all thought he was an oddball, a loner. He couldn't readily achieve what everyone wants through the normal social mechanisms, and that’s what made him vulnerable. Just like the gay men of Russia.”

“’Gay men of Russia?’” Alan asked. “How are they related to Robert Billings?”

“You’re aware that Vladimir Putin despises homosexuals, right?”

“Yes, I’ve heard about that on the news.”

The Russian leader seemed to be bent on reestablishing Russia’s place in the world, not as a revamped version of the Soviet Union—but as Holy Russia, an imperial, ultranationalist power along the old czarist lines. And the Romanov czars, Alan recalled, were all hard-line social conservatives.

“Well, that’s the way it is for gay men in Russia,” Maribel said. “They can’t make connections through normal mechanisms. So many of them migrate to shadowy Internet venues. And sometimes they end up talking to men who are really members of rightwing groups posing as gay men. These imposters lure the gay men to remote locations, and then they beat them up and humiliate them. Often they force the gay men to make ‘confessions’ on video, and these are uploaded to sites like YouTube.”

“I didn't know that,” Alan said.

Robert’s mother lived in the northern part of Cincinnati, not far from where her son had lived. Like Robert, Genevieve Billings lived in an old house that had seen better days.

When Genevieve answered the door, two things were immediately apparent: The woman had not slept since the following night, and she was still nearly catatonic with shock and grief.

“I’m still processing it all,” Mrs. Billings said blankly. “I just—I just can’t believe that anyone would want to do this to my son.”

They were sitting in Mrs. Billings’ living room. The victim’s mother occupied a rocking chair. Genevieve Billings was, according to the information Alan had, sixty-three years old. But she could have passed for seventy-three—and maybe even eighty-three. The events of the past twenty-four hours had taken their toll. Mrs. Billings had been the first one to find Robert, after all. After he failed to answer his phone, she had gone over to his apartment with some slight anxiety, but certainly not expecting the scene that greeted her.

Alan and Maribel were seated across from her now, on a threadbare sofa. The living room was a mishmash of old furnishings. Genevieve Billings was obviously not prosperous.

“Tell me,” Mrs. Billings said imploringly. “Why would someone do this? Robert didn't bother anyone. So tell me
why
. Can the two of you do
that
?’

“We can’t tell you exactly why yet,” Alan began. “And we’re still a ways off from being able to tell you who did that to your son. But at this point we believe that Robert was targeted by a serial killer.”

“A
serial killer
? But—they usually go after women and children, don't they? My Robert was a big boy—a grown man.”

“This serial killer is different, Mrs. Billings. This killer goes after grown men. But this isn’t a typical serial killer, driven only by passions. The motive here is money.”

“Money? But my Robert didn't have any money. Not a lot, anyway. I mean, he might have had forty or fifty thousand dollars saved. But that’s not exactly a fortune, is it?”

“This killer takes money from his victims in smaller increments than that—usually ten or twenty thousand dollars.”

“Oh, my.” She brought her hand to her mouth. “But Robert kept all of his money in the bank. I don’t know for certain how much money he kept in his house, but it wouldn't have been more than a few hundred dollars.”

“If this fits the pattern, Mrs. Billings, then Robert withdrew a large amount of money from his bank account in recent days.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” she stammered. “I suppose I could check with the bank, but—”

“There’s no need for you to worry about that,” Alan said. “We are capable of following up with Robert’s bank for that information. What we’d like to get from you is any information you might have about Robert’s personal life. Had Robert recently spoken to you of any new friends? Specifically—any female friends?”

“Why, yes,” Mrs. Billings said immediately. “As a matter of fact, Robert had recently been talking about a woman whom he met on the Internet—through that online dating thing. Her name was ‘Lilly’.”

Alan and Maribel exchanged a knowing glance. They had just hit pay dirt—maybe.

“Did you meet this Lilly, Mrs. Billings? Did she ever stop by here, or were you ever introduced to her when she was at Robert’s house?”

“No,” she replied. “I never did. Robert was almost—well, secretive about her. To tell you the truth, I was almost beginning to wonder if Robert had made her up.”

“Would you mind elaborating a bit?” Alan prodded gently.

“Not at all. I feel a little bad, talking about Robert this way, but—after what happened—I suppose that it doesn't make any difference.”

“No,” Maribel affirmed. “It doesn't. Remember, our job isn’t to judge Robert. Our job is to find his killer.”

“Okay,” Mrs. Billings began. “My Robert well—he never did very well with the girls. Even when he was in high school, he never attended those school dances. Robert was never very good around people to begin with, and around girls—well, he was just plain awkward around them. And there was the problem of his weight. Robert was always a little on the pudgy side. I always told him: Robert, dear, you need to get away from the computer and the television set sometimes. You need to get some exercise.”

“And so he tried online dating,” Maribel said, in a tactful but obvious attempt to get to the point.

“That’s right. For a long time Robert kept it a secret, you know. I think he was planning to keep it a secret if nothing came of it—then he wouldn't have to be embarrassed.”

“But instead he met ‘Lilly’,” Alan suggested. “And so he had something to talk about.”

“Yes. He told me one day that he had met this wonderful woman named Lilly on the Internet—on one of those dating sites.”

“Did he say which one?” Alan asked hopefully.

Mrs. Billings sighed. “No. He didn't mention any particular website. And I’m not familiar with them, anyway. So I didn't think to ask.”

“But Robert never brought Lilly by to meet you. Even though you asked to meet her, I would assume.”

“Of course I asked to meet her. My son was in his thirties, and this was the first time that he had a girlfriend. I was very encouraging, you know. I wanted Robert to have a normal life.”

Genevieve paused, and looked down at the floor. Alan was sure he knew what the woman was thinking: Robert was never going to have a normal life now—not any life at all.

“I know this is painful for you, Mrs. Billings. We’re almost done. But we need to hear all of this. Please.”

“Okay. Robert said that Lilly was very shy, and that she had a lot of personal problems.”

“What sort of ‘personal problems’?” Maribel inquired.

“He didn't say. And when I tried to draw him out, he just—clammed up. He got a little angry, to tell you the truth. He said that I wouldn't understand.”

“Did Robert reveal any other personal details about Lilly—like where she was from, or what sort of work she did?”

“Robert said that Lilly worked as a ‘freelancer’.”

Freelancer.
That was about as vague as a career description could possibly be.

“Okay,” Alan said, concluding that Mrs. Billings was unlikely to be the source of a breakthrough. Clearly Mrs. Billings had never met Lilith, and Robert had been secretive about her.

“Thank you so much for your time today, Mrs. Billings. Detective Flynn and I realize how difficult this has been for you.”

“I think that the difficult part is still ahead of me,” she replied.

There was nothing Alan could say to this. She was probably correct.

“Is—is Mr. Billings still alive?” he asked delicately. He did not like the idea of this woman being left alone after what had happened.

“’Mr. Billings’?” she asked, with an unexpected undertone of rancor. “He might be, for all I know, but I haven’t seen or heard from him in more than twenty-five years.”

That fit the pattern of Green and Markey. Both of them had been raised by their mothers, more or less. Neither had had a strong male role model while growing up. Alan didn't know if this common factor was going to be significant in the investigation, but he mentally filed it away.

“Maybe you have a neighbor,” Alan suggested, “a relative in the area who could stay with you.” Alan had the impression that Robert Billings had been an only child, so he didn't ask if Mrs. Billings had any other children.

They made their departure then. As Mrs. Billings closed the door behind Alan and Maribel, she spoke one last time. Alan and Maribel had already turned to go, but they turned back around when they heard Mrs. Billings speak.

“Catch them,” she said. “Please. Catch whoever did this.”

“We will,” Alan said. “Believe us, Mrs. Billings: We will.”