Tyrese nodded his agreement. “He may not have meant to do it. He may not even remember doing it, or believe he did.” Tyrese glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Did you pick up on any deception with him, Mack?”
I shook my head. “Either he was honest the whole time or lying the whole time, because the basic quality of his voice didn't change significantly except for that one weird episode when he went all limp after I mentioned his daughter. His voice made me taste nuts and the taste turned bitter when his emotions did, but other than that it stayed the same but for that one episode.”
“That was a creepy moment,” Tyrese said. “It was like the guy had died and then reanimated or something.”
We all nodded and then Mal said, “There may be a problem with your lie detecting tricks, Mack. What if Tyrese is right? What if Schneider did kill those girls but has no memory of doing it? If he doesn't know he did it, saying he didn't do it wouldn't be a lie to him, right?”
Tyrese rolled his eyes. “Oh, man, I hadn't thought about that, but you're right.”
I shook my head and said, “I understand what you're saying, but I'm not sure it matters because there's another aspect of this that makes me think Schneider didn't do it.”
“What's that?” Mal asked.
“The sexual assault. If Schneider killed those girls because he thought they were Viet Cong spies, or soldiers or whatever, why would he rape one of them? And why was Lori the only one who was sexually assaulted?”
Both men thought about this for a moment. Then Tyrese said, “Maybe it started out as a sexual assault but then escalated into one of Schneider's episodes when the girls fought back.”
Mal added, “Plus it certainly wasn't unheard of for soldiers in that war to rape young girls in the villages they seized. Maybe the sexual assault was part of whatever scene Schneider was reliving.”
Both points were valid, and I cursed under my breath.
Mal gave me a puzzled look. “What? Do you feel so sorry for Schneider that you want to exonerate him?”
“No, but I was hoping we could eliminate someone from the suspect pool. So far all we've done is come up with reasons why any of them could have done it.”
“Which, no doubt, is why the case was never solved,” Tyrese pointed out.
“I wish we could find out more about Schneider's psychiatric illness,” I said to no one in particular. “We should come back and bring Sam with us next time, see what his take on Schneider is.”
“Sam?” Mal said.
“Sam Warner. You met him last night. He's one of the Capone Club members and he's also a doctorate student in psychology.” Mal still looked lost so I elaborated. “He was the short, kind of pudgy guy with the glasses and longish brown hair who was sitting next to Carter. The two of them have been friends since they were kids.”
I saw dawning on Mal's face and he nodded. “Okay, now I remember him. Is he a practicing psychologist?”
“He doesn't have his own office yet or anything like that,” I said, “but he does provide counseling services as part of his school clinicals, and he also volunteers at a crisis center. He's a very bright and insightful person, and I'd be curious to see what he thinks about Schneider as a suspect.”
Tyrese said, “Just promise me you won't go back to Schneider's place unless you have me, Nick, or Duncan with you. That guy strikes me as a ticking time bomb and you'd be foolish to mess with him unless you have someone there to protect you.” He glanced over at Mal with an apologetic look. “Not to say you can't take care of yourself, man,” he said, “but I think this Schneider guy is too dangerous to be around without a cop of some type.”
“No offense taken,” Mal said. “And I totally agree. Mack shouldn't be doing any of this unless she has a cop with her.” He shot an amused side glance at me as Tyrese signaled for a turn and looked the other way. “Promise the man,” he said to me with a wink.
“I promise,” I said dutifully. “And since we have you for the day, Tyrese, let's make the most of it. Who's next on our list of suspects?”
Chapter 17
Our trip to visit TJ, the plumber who had been to Lori Gruber's house the day before the girls disappeared, was temporarily waylaid. Both Mal and I had to pee and neither of us had wanted to use the bathroom in Schneider's house, so we decided to stop back at the bar, both for a potty break and so I could make sure everything was on track for opening at five.
Tyrese parked down the street a ways, and as we approached the bar I saw that the Signoriello brothers and Coraâwho as usual was carrying her laptopâwere all waiting outside. Since it was only a minute or so before five, I unlocked the doors and let them in.
Cora pulled me aside right away and said she needed to talk to me in my office about a confidential matter. Tyrese took the cue, bellied up to the bar, and ordered a club soda. As I started to head to my office, Cora turned to Frank and Joe and said, “You two come along, too.”
“What about Mal?” I asked Cora.
“He can come.”
Curious, I led the group into my office. Cora immediately settled into my chair behind my desk and opened her laptop, plugging it into a wall outlet nearby. Frank, Joe, and Mal settled in on the couch while I took the chair opposite Cora.
“What's up?” I said.
“Duncan wants to talk to you,” Cora said. She was tapping away on her laptop and after a few seconds she turned it around so I and the others could see the screen. To my surprise, Duncan was on it.
“Hey, Mack,” he said. “I had Cora set up a videoconference so we could talk face to face without actually being together.”
“You can see me?” I said, amazed by the technology.
“Yes, I can,” he said with a smile. “I can see the others in the room, too. Hi, Joe, Frank, Malachi.”
The men all mumbled their hellos in return. I saw the brothers exchange perplexed looks.
“Do Frank and Joe know about Mal?” Duncan asked.
“They do not,” I said. The brothers turned in unison and eyed Mal curiously. “Mal is a cop, an undercover cop,” I explained.
“Hunh,” Joe said.
“I knew it,” Frank said, elbowing his brother.
“Duncan, I'm not sure this is smart,” Mal said, looking uncomfortable. “Bringing in untrained people might place Mack in greater jeopardy. Or me, for that matter.”
“Duncan isn't bringing them in, I did. I told them about the first letter and showed it to them before I told Duncan about it. They're trustworthy,” I said. “I promise.”
“We are,” Frank said, and Joe nodded his vigorous agreement.
“I haven't updated the brothers or Cora on the subsequent letters,” I added.
“You can bring them up to speed in a minute,” Duncan said. “Frank, Joe, it's imperative that no one else know what Mal really does.”
“No problem,” Frank said. “Our lips are sealed.” Again Joe nodded his agreement. Then Frank looked at Mal and said, “I'm glad Mack has someone looking out for her.”
Joe said, “So are the two of you really dating, or is that part of the subterfuge?”
“We're not really dating,” I said quickly. “And Duncan and I are still together,” I added, wondering if it was true.
“Is there a reason for this little party, Duncan?” Mal said, sounding a little irritated, though I wasn't sure what had him riled.
“There is. I've got some more information about those letters Mack has been getting. Let me recap to bring everyone up to speed. I did a little digging into a man who calls himself Apostle Mike. He sent Mack a signed letter that basically labeled her and her curse, as he called it, an abomination and a sin against God.”
“Do you think he's the one sending the letters?” Frank asked.
“There is a strong possibility,” Duncan said. “This guy is definitely a fringe operator and his church is basically a cult that operates from a compound about twenty miles south of the city. That in and of itself doesn't alarm me all that much with regard to Mack and the letters, but one of the other cops here who has had dealings with some members of the church who left it said that this Apostle Mike has some strong feelings about the occult. Rumor has it he has targeted some Wiccan groups and might have attacked some of their members. He's also spoken out against things like the Harry Potter books because he believes anything that even hints at magic is pure evil. Given the publicity that's been out there about Mack, including some of the hype that called her ability things like black magic, ESP, and such, it's not hard to imagine why he targeted her with the letter he supposedly signed. The question is, has he targeted her with more than that?”
“When you say he attacked some Wiccan believers, just what do you mean?” Mal asked. “Is this guy violent?”
“They haven't been able to pin anything directly on him,” Duncan said. “He doesn't commit the crimes himself. He uses his members. But there has been some violence. One woman who is fairly vocal about her involvement with the Wiccan faith had her home broken into and ransacked. There was pig blood splashed all over, the furniture was slashed, that sort of thing. Another woman in the same Wiccan group was attacked while walking home from her job and beaten pretty badly.”
“How do you know it's their involvement with the Wiccan faith that made them targets?” I asked.
“Because notes stating so were left at the scene in both cases.”
“Notes, letters . . . I'm seeing a pattern here,” I said. “Any similarities between those notes and my letters?”
“Not really,” Duncan said, “but that doesn't rule Apostle Mike out. Both the notes left at the scenes of these other crimes and the Apostle Mike letter could have been written by anyone, one of his followers, for instance.”
Mal said, “Were they able to determine any identifying information from the notes, or find any trace evidence?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked.
Duncan's gaze shifted from Mal back to me. “Have you had any more ideas about that last letter you got?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Where is it? What did it say?” Joe asked. “Maybe we should have a look at it, see if we can interpret what it says.”
“That's just it; it doesn't say anything,” I told them. “All that was on it was a date and time, nothing else. But the paper had been altered.”
“Altered how?” Frank asked.
“I smelled champagne and beer on it, and the paper was kind of wavy, as if it had been soaked in the stuff.”
“Maybe it was Miller beer,” Joe said with a half laugh. “Aren't they the ones who advertise themselves as the champagne of bottled beers?”
“Now it's just the champagne of beers,” Frank said. “You're aging yourself, Joe. That ad campaign was back in the fifties.”
I gaped at the brothers for a few seconds and then walked over to Joe, grabbed his head between my hands, and planted a big kiss on his forehead. “Joe, you are brilliant!” I said.
Everyone in the room was staring at me with confused expressions so I explained. “Joe is absolutely right that Miller used that slogan back in the day to advertise their Miller High Life and they still use the modified version. I think I understand now why the sheet was soaked in both liquids. The Miller plant here in town offers tours of their facilities free to the public. My dad and I took some out-of-town friends on it a few years ago. It's interesting, particularly if you're interested in beer history, and you get some free beer samples at the end. I'm betting that somewhere along that tour is where we'll find our next clue.”
Joe was blushing with pride. Everyone else sat silent, digesting what I'd just said.
Finally, Duncan said, “I guess that makes as much sense as anything else. But I still want to bring Mack down to the station and let her listen in and watch while I question this Apostle Mike guy. I had hoped to do it tonight since the staff around here is bare bones on Sundays, but I couldn't make it happen.”
“I still don't like the idea,” I said. “If it is Apostle Mike who's behind this, and you bring him in and question him, he's going to know I involved you. I don't want to risk that.”
“We'll question him about something unrelated, like these assaults. And I'll have one of the other officers question him rather than Jimmy or me, just to be safe.”
“I don't know . . .” I said. “I'm not sure what I'd be able to pick up if you're questioning him about something unrelated to the letters.”
“We can try to bait him into revealing something,” Duncan suggested. “In the meantime, I'll see if there's a way we can tie him or anyone in his group to the mailing of those letters.”
“Okay,” I said, still hesitant. “Just promise me you'll be careful not to show your hand.”
“I promise.”
“Anything new on Lewis's case?” I asked. “Anything come up on the autopsy?”
“Unfortunately, no. We know he was stabbed to death with a large knife of some sort. He was also beaten about the face.”
“That's up close and personal,” Mal said, wincing. “Have you found any connection between this Lewis guy and Apostle Mike?”
“Not so far.”
“So where do we go from here?” I asked.
“I'm not sure how long it will take to set up an interview with Apostle Mike. I'll let you know when it's set to go, and I'll think up a way to sneak you in here. In the meantime, you might as well do the Miller tour. Maybe it will buy us some time.”
I looked at my watch. “I doubt they're running the tours this late on a Sunday. In fact, I think they're closed. So I'll have to try for tomorrow.”
Duncan nodded and said, “Mal, what time tomorrow can you be free to go with her?”
“I'm supposed to work all day at the construction site, seven to four.”
I racked my brain. “I don't think they do evening tours there, but I'll check the times online once we get done here.”
“No need,” Cora said, taking out her smartphone and tapping at the screen. “On weekdays they do the tours every half hour between ten-thirty in the morning and three-thirty in the afternoon.”
“That explains the deadline,” I said. “The tour takes about an hour, an hour and a half with the sampling time at the end thrown in, so if someone did the last one, they'd finish at around five. And that was the time in the deadline!”
Duncan sighed. “I don't want you going there alone, Mack.”
“There's a small chance I might be able to go with her,” Mal said. “The site I'm at right now is all outside work and if the paper is right, the weather forecast is for snow tonight and tomorrow. Lots of it. And we typically get called off if it's snowing hard.”
“Then we need to pray for snow,” I said. “Though I have to say, this little warm spell was a treat.”
Cora was tapping at her phone screen again. “Mal is right. According to the forecast on one of the local stations, there's a winter storm warning in effect. They're calling for ten to twelve inches of lake effect snow to fall sometime between midnight tonight and ten tomorrow morning.”
“Then let's tentatively plan for Mal to go with you,” Duncan said. “And if he has to work for some reason, how about the three of you go along? There's safety in numbers.”
“Free beer?” Joe said. “Hell yeah, I'll go.”
“Count me in,” his brother said.
“Me, too,” Cora added.
The brothers gave me their home phone numberâthey considered cell phones “newfangled contraptions”âand made me promise to call them tomorrow if I needed them before the bar opened.
When that was done, Duncan said, “Now that that's settled, I wonder if I could impose on all of you for one more thing. Would you mind stepping out so I can talk to Mack alone for a few minutes?”
“Sure,” Cora said, getting up and heading for the door.
The brothers both nodded and followed. Mal lingered for a few seconds, an odd look on his face, but eventually he got up and left, too.
“How are you holding up?” Duncan asked once we were alone.
“Okay, I guess.”
He frowned then and said, “About this evening . . .”
“You can't come.”
He sighed and I did the same. “I'm sorry,” he said. “Things are crazy right now. It was all I could do to get a couple hours of sleep and find the time to chat with you here.”
“I understand,” I said, wondering if I did. “I just wish you could be here more. Or we could be anywhere more.”
“Me, too.”
“Is there any hope on the horizon?”
“Of course there is.”
His placating attitude annoyed me. Not that long ago, I was afraid to speak out and declare my feelings, but I decided that now was the time to do so. I needed to make him understand my stance on things. “I'm not going to lie to you to, Duncan,” I said, bracing myself. “This situation has me more than frustrated. I invested my time and money in expanding the bar and hiring on extra staff so I could have more free time, more of a life. And I hoped to be spending a lot of it with you. But I'm afraid that what's going on now is a sign of things to come.”
“It won't always be like this, I promise. But there's no getting around the fact that my job is quite demanding at times, as is yours.”
“I get it, but I don't have to like it.”
“I'm sorry, and I promise I'll make it up to you. Can you hang in there?”
“It doesn't look like I have much choice,” I grumbled, hating that I sounded so needy.