The Red Queen Dies (23 page)

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Authors: Frankie Y. Bailey

BOOK: The Red Queen Dies
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“If he did, he never contacted us … unless he and Rachel talked.”

“We understand that it was Dr. Kincaid who persuaded Mr. Thornton to fund the science camp.”

“Yes. They met at a fund-raiser and she had a chance to make our pitch for funding in person.” Lockhart reached for the glass. She took a long sip. “Sorry, I should have done this inside. It's getting hot out here.”

Baxter said, “We won't keep you much longer; then you can have a dip in the pool.”

McCabe said, “Only a few more questions, Ms. Lockhart. Do you think Dr. Kincaid might have told Ted Thornton about the incident?”

“She was really worried that the mother might push the lawsuit. But the rest of us wanted to wait and see what happened before we talked to Thornton. After all, he wasn't a member of our board.”

“Did the rest of the board tell Dr. Kincaid not to involve Mr. Thornton?”

“I don't know if we told her that specifically. We talked about it and agreed that we should wait. She never told us that she had told him.”

“And I gather the girl's mother calmed down and decided not to sue.”

“Actually, that was kind of strange.”

“Strange how?” Baxter asked.

“We were there for our emergency board meeting when the mother came in and pitched her fit. She said she had already spoken to a lawyer. We were bracing ourselves to be served with papers in a lawsuit the next day.”

“But you weren't?” McCabe said.

“No, not the next day or the day after. We couldn't decide if we should contact her. We were afraid if we did, we'd get her all stirred up again. We even wondered if she might turn up at the closing event for the camp.”

“The presentations that the girls were doing?”

“Yes. We thought she might turn up there and make a scene in front of the other parents. But nothing. Finally, we decided we had no choice but to try to contact her before we closed down operations, to see what she intended to do. But we couldn't reach her. The telephone number we had was no longer working. No one responded to the e-mails we sent. Finally, Rachel and the camp director went to the address we had on file. The landlord said crazy mama and her two children had left the day after she'd stormed into our board meeting. She took off without leaving a forwarding address.”

“And she didn't contact the group again?”

“No. That was the last we ever heard of her.”

“You mentioned her two children,” McCabe said. “Do you know anything about the other daughter? The older sister?”

“No, only that she and her boyfriend went to pick up the younger sister when she called.” Lockhart took another sip of her tea. “Rachel said something about the landlord telling her that the older sister took care of the younger one when the mother was gone.”

“Gone where?” Baxter asked.

“I suppose he meant gone out. To work, or wherever she went.”

McCabe said, “You've been really helpful, Ms. Lockhart. Is there anything else you can tell us? Something we haven't asked?”

Lockhart shook her head. “I just hope this murder case you're working on didn't start with what happened at our science camp. How could it have?”

McCabe said, “We don't know that it did. All we know right now is that the camp is where our two victims came in contact. But that may have nothing to do with the reason they were killed.”

“I hope not.” Lockhart sighed. “But I had a bad feeling when we closed down that somehow that wasn't going to be the end of it.”

*   *   *

“Okay,” Baxter said after they had ended the transmission. “We've got a mother who rants and raves, possibly while under the influence. Threatens a lawsuit but by the next day has taken off with her two daughters in tow.”

“It would really help if we had the woman's name.” McCabe leaned back in her chair and twirled around. “What about the schools? Maybe we can get them to cooperate and go through their files. We know the daughter had an unusual first name that could have been a combination of her parents' names. Maybe when the mother packed them up and moved, they left town. In that case, we're also looking for a student who didn't go back to school that fall.”

“Sunday afternoon,” Baxter said. “We aren't going to be able to do anything about the schools until tomorrow.”

“And in the meantime,” McCabe said, “about all we can do is add what Lockhart gave us to the file and walk it through one more time.”

“Okay, let's start from the top.”

They were staring at the images and notes displayed on the wall when McCabe remembered the to-do list she had made when she was out running. She picked up her ORB and hit the playback.

“Ask Sharon's mother if she knows what the movie was,” her voice said. “Check on Nabokov and Albany visit.”

“What movie?” Baxter said. “And who in Albany?”

“Nabokov, the author of
Lolita
. Remember Ted Thornton mentioned that Nabokov stopped here to hunt for butterflies?”

“So what?”

“So I don't know what. We've got two young women who were students in a science camp. We've got Vivian Jessup, who played Alice when she was a child. Then there's Lewis Carroll, whose reputation has occasionally been besmeared because of those photographs he used to take of young girls. And Ted Thornton, who mentioned the author of a book about a man obsessed with a child.”

“So are you suggesting—”

“No, I'm just saying we should make sure we've eliminated something that might be staring us in the face.”

“There's nothing about how the women were killed to suggest a sexual motive.”

“No. And Ted Thornton probably mentioned Nabokov when he was talking about the mayor's initiative because it's really arctic that a famous author came to Albany to go butterfly hunting.…” McCabe frowned. “What did Greer St. John say about making insects and flowers for the show that she and her mother were planning?”

“She said this year they were doing
Through the Looking Glass
instead of
Alice in Wonderland.
” Baxter grinned. “I went over to my folks' house yesterday to see if they still had my kid sister's copy of the books.”

“You did?” McCabe said.

“The way you've been going on about Alice, I wanted to be able to hold up my side of the conversation.”

“Then I should have gone back for a look at
Through the Looking Glass
, too, because I only vaguely remember the whole thing with the insects and the flowers.”

Baxter grinned. “Got you covered. I found the chapters in question on the Web.”

He brought up the node that they wanted.

McCabe stood up and moved closer, staring at the illustrations. “Okay, we've got flowers that talk. Tiger-lily, who tells Alice that flowers can talk ‘when there is anybody worth talking to'…”

“Great line,” Baxter said.

“And Rose and Tiger-lily discuss Alice's color and the fact that her petals don't curl properly.”

“And a Daisy has a line about the bark of a tree going ‘bough-wough,'” Baxter said.

“Clever nonsense designed to delight a child,” McCabe said. “And we're probably wasting valuable time.”

“I don't know,” Baxter said. “I enjoyed reading about the looking-glass insects again. Had to go make myself a snack when I got to the Bread-and-Butterfly.”

“Who lives on ‘weak tea with cream in it,'” McCabe read, quoting the Gnat.

“There is one thing,” Baxter said. “The flowers that the killer left at the first two crime scenes.”

McCabe turned and looked at him. “A red poppy at the first, a tiger lily at the second. There are no poppies in
Alice.
But there is a poppy field in
The Wizard of Oz.
Dorothy falls asleep there.”

“Hold on a minute.
The Wizard of Oz
?”

“Sorry. You missed that conversation. And I was too busy arguing my point about the phenol to bring it up during the task force meeting.”

“To bring what up?”

“The conversation Pete Sullivan and I had when Lieutenant. Dole and I were in the Comm Center having a first look at the Jessup crime scene on the cam. Pete and I were discussing where the crime scene was in relation to the police kennel and horse stables and the community garden. And he mentioned the ‘yellow brick road' out there—”

“Oh, yeah, I remember something about that. The bricks in the old bridge road.”

“I wondered out loud to Pete if there might be some link to the case.
Alice in Wonderland. The Wizard of Oz.
But, as Pete pointed out, Vivian Jessup's body was not left on our yellow brick road.”

“But,” Baxter said, “since we're having our literary hour, we might as well have a look at Dorothy's poppy field.”

“And get it out of the way,” McCabe said. She did a quick search: “Dorothy. Poppy field.”

The chapter came up on the wall.

McCabe said, “I had forgotten that. The title of the chapter.”

“I never read the book. Just saw the movie when I was a kid.”

“If you think about it,” McCabe said, “it's kind of a scary story for kids.” She read the title of the chapter out loud. “‘The Deadly Poppy Field.'”

Baxter got up and they stood there reading the chapter together.

He said, “So the Lion passes out from the poppy fumes and the Scarecrow and the Tin Woodsman have to leave him there in the field because he's too heavy to carry. And they're sorry that they have to leave him to die because he was a ‘good comrade' even if he was ‘cowardly.'”

“But they have been able to rescue Dorothy,” McCabe said. “And they carry her to safety.”

Baxter said, “Read that last line. ‘They carried the sleeping girl to a pretty spot beside the river, far enough from the poppy field to prevent her breathing any more of the poison of the flowers, and here they laid her gently on the soft grass and waited for the fresh breeze to waken her.'” He grinned. “Think L. Frank Baum's trying to tell us something, partner?”

McCabe told herself not to get too excited. But a tingle went down her spine. “Okay. Vivian Jessup was left to sleep by a river … a stream … the Normanskill. And she had been put to sleep by a poison.” She stared at Baxter, giving him a chance to stop them both from getting carried away. “But she didn't breathe the poison. She was injected with it. And Vivian Jessup played Alice, not Dorothy.”

Baxter shrugged. “Alice. Dorothy. What's the dif? Both little girls are wandering around in wacky worlds. Maybe our killer likes both books.”

“Or is as wacky as a fruitcake himself.”

“I think that's drunk as a fruitcake,” Baxter said.

“That would be rum cake, Michael.” McCabe smiled at him. “Think we're punch-drunk.”

“Or on a sugar-substitute high. But I also think we just might be onto something.”

“Maybe,” McCabe said. “The water might explain why Jessup's body was dumped where it was. But he didn't move the first two bodies.”

“Because it was too late to save them,” Baxter said.

“Except he's the one who killed them. And there's nothing to indicate he tried to revive Jessup.”

Baxter shook his head. “I give up. You're determined to shoot down my brilliant theory. Ready to order a pizza and get some protein?”

“Yeah,” McCabe said. “I think we need it.” She went back over to her desk and sat down in her chair. “When we try running this particular theory by the task force tomorrow morning, Agent Francisco…”

“Guess we'd better work on it some more.”

“The movie that the TA showed the girls that day at the science camp. I had a note to myself that we should ask Mrs. Giovanni if she knew what it was.”

“We can be pretty sure it wasn't
Lolita,
” Baxter said. He was on his ORB, ordering the pizza. “Are you an anchovies, woman?”

“No,” McCabe said. “But I don't mind if you have them on your half. Pepperoni for me.”

“You going to call Sharon's mom?”

“Might as well. Even though the odds that she'll know the answer to the question aren't that good. But, since it was a science camp, I think we can rule out movies about little girls in fantasy worlds.”

“Not necessarily. They might have been studying special effects.”

*   *   *

“The name of the movie?” Mrs. Giovanni said, sounding puzzled and looking confused. “I don't know. Is it important?”

“Probably not,” McCabe said. “Don't worry about it. We'll be in touch if—”

“Oh, no, wait!” Mrs. Giovanni waved her hand to make sure McCabe wouldn't cut her off. “Wait. They might be able to tell you at the library.”

“The library?” McCabe said.

“I remember Sharon said the teaching assistant told them she was late that morning because she'd had to wait until the library opened to pick up the movie. It was an old black-and-white movie and the teacher couldn't find a copy to buy.”

“Any idea which library?” Baxter asked.

“Which library?” Mrs. Giovanni looked confused again. “The … I assumed she meant the one on Washington Avenue. That's the one Sharon used to go to. But I don't … She could have meant one of the branches.”

“We'll find the right one,” McCabe said. “The movie itself—did Sharon say anything about what the movie was about?”

A pause, then a nod. “Ants. The movie was about ants.”

“Ants?” Baxter said.

“Sharon said that girl who was teasing the other girl … when the teaching assistant went out into the hall to talk on the phone … the mean girl asked the poor girl she was teasing if she'd like some big old ants like that in her pants. And then she whispered something in her ear. That was when the other girl ran out of the room.”

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