let’s start from the beginning,” Mike said once they were seated in a booth. “What’s your name, and why did you hire a private detective?”
“My name is Tanda Grail,” the woman answered, running a hand through her hair. “If the name sounds familiar to you, it should. My brother Don was the first victim of that maniac.”
Mike hid his surprise, but not his interest. Don Grail had been found dead a week earlier in his rental car, starting the chain of bodies that hadn’t yet stopped. Mike had only been working the case since the fourth victim, which was why he hadn’t recognized the first victim’s sister.
“And you hired a private detective because the police weren’t getting anywhere with finding your brother’s murderer,” Mike suggested. As a guess it was the next thing to a certainty, and Tanda looked at him with defiant gray eyes.
“It’s been a whole week and the bodies just keep piling up,” she challenged, bleakness behind the defiant tone.
“After the third body was found I knew you would never catch the killer, so I went shopping for someone who might. Saxon’s agency was recommended to me by a friend, so I called them. After explaining that they couldn’t do anything to interfere with the police investigation, they sent Saxon to look around. After being here only a day and a half he called me last night to say he discovered something totally unexpected, and would give me a full report this morning. When I got here and saw all those police cars…”
“You knew that someone had noticed his discovering that ‘something unexpected,’” Mike finished when she didn’t. Frustration was climbing high and trying to smother him, but losing his temper would have been a waste of time. “I wish to hell people would learn to call the police first and their favorite gossip partners second. The morgue would have a lot fewer bodies that way.”
“We were supposed to talk to the police together,” she offered, at least having the decency to look embarrassed. “That way he would not be acting behind my back, and I’d be there to explain why he was here. The agency said police departments don’t like having private investigations into cases they’re working on.”
“But we do enjoy being given leads when we’re at a dead end,” Mike said, trying to sound a bit more reasonable. The woman had lost her brother, after all. “Was there anything else Saxon told you last night? Any comment at any time, no matter how unrelated it sounded? Did he keep any files, take any notes?”
“He had a file with the newspaper articles on each of the murders,” she said. “I supplied that, and the first day he was here he double-checked the papers to be sure I hadn’t missed anything. He kept a small notebook, where he wrote down directions and things.”
“And about what he told you?” Mike prompted, leaning on the table with both arms. “Is there anything you can add to what you’ve already said?”
“Saxon laughed and said it was the purest kind of luck.” The frown on her face was one of concentration, and somehow, Mike noticed, the expression made her look unexpectedly attractive. “Saxon said if it had been anyone else who was sent here—well, the implication was no one else would have spotted what he did. What I don’t understand is how he could have let the murderer get close enough to kill him. He didn’t strike me as a stupid man, so how did it happen?”
“There are any number of reasons why he made the mistake,” Mike said, glad to see that she was already shaking off the guilt. “Even professionals get caught by surprise, especially if they underestimate their quarry. Saxon seemed to be a fairly big man, and almost certainly believed he could take care of himself. If you depend on greater size or even superior ability when dealing with a psychopath, you need to have your head examined. Ready for that coffee yet?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am,” she answered, giving him a tentative smile. “I still feel responsible for Roger’s death, but you’ve made it a little easier for me. Thank you, Lieutenant Gerard.”
“Call me Mike,” he said, gesturing to a waitress for two of something to drink. When the woman held up the coffeepot Mike nodded, then looked at Tanda again. “I can understand how impatient you felt, but now there’s a way for you to help. Are you willing?”
“Of course,” Tanda agreed with raised eyebrows. “No matter what you happen to ask for in the way of that help, I’ll give it if I can. I was willing long before this.”
“But before this we didn’t have something for you to be willing about,” Mike countered, leaning back to let the waitress put a cup in front of him. Once they both had coffee and the woman was gone, he continued, “Roger Saxon saw something while he was here that turned him into a victim. Aside from the murderer, you’re the only one who knows where he went. Will you help me to retrace his movements?”
“Try and stop me,” she said, now looking doggedly determined. “But what about the second half of the problem? From what Roger said, it was something he originally learned elsewhere that gave him the real hint. How do we find out what that something was?”
“I do that finding out, by contacting his agency,” Mike answered quickly. Tanda was faster at understanding than he’d thought she’d be, and he was pleasantly surprised. “We’ll certainly have to go back years in his life, and simply hope we get lucky. If the incident wasn’t something he was publicly involved in…”
“We may never find it,” she summed up glumly when he let the sentence trail off. “But retracing his movements could give us a clue about what to look for, so let’s get started with that. When he got here day before yesterday, he registered at the motel then called for directions out to my place. He showed up about half an hour after the call.”
“Where is your place?” Mike asked, pulling out his notebook and a pen. “Close enough so that he might have stopped somewhere on the way?”
“Not really,” Tanda replied. “I have a place on Old Stage Road, and for me it’s only a fifteen-minute drive. For a stranger to find it you can add at least five minutes to that first fifteen, and another five if he didn’t leave the instant he hung up. If he stopped somewhere, it had to be on the way and at a place where he could be in and out.”
“I’ll drive it myself, and look for any possible stopping places,” Mike said, making a note. “How long did he stay?”
“About an hour or so,” Tanda estimated as she tasted her coffee. “I gave him the file of newspaper articles, and then he questioned me about my brother. It was the logical place to start, and I was expecting it. He also asked if I recognized any of the other victims from their pictures in the newspaper, and I said I didn’t.”
“And what did he ask about your brother?” Mike said. “Try to remember as many of the questions as you can.”
“Since my brother lived out of state, he asked how long he’d been here,” Tanda said, now staring down at her coffee cup. “I said Don got here August first, just the way he always does. He’s come back every August first for the last five years as a vacation of sorts, I guess. Then Roger asked me why my brother hadn’t been staying with me. That was when I had to admit I wouldn’t have let Don stay with me.”
Mike watched her as she fell silent, remembering reading parts of the statement she’d made when her brother’s body had first been found. It would have been nice if Mike could have spared her the need to go through the whole thing again, but Tanda Grail seemed determined not to hide anything at all.
“Don—Don
