2:11 p.m.
Fifteen minutes later, when I arrived at the third floor conference room, I was pretty certain Margaret’s 2:00 meeting would have started already, but something had delayed them and they were still waiting to begin.
Oh, I was overjoyed.
Detective Dunn was sitting at the table, along with Lien-hua, two agents from yesterday’s meeting, and Lieutenant Aina Mendez, who’d probably come because of the connection between Cassandra’s abduction and the fire on the base. Officer Geoff Rickman stood in the corner talking with a man wearing a lieutenant’s badge. I suspected he might be Graysmith.
I took a seat, and a few moments later Ralph entered and settled into the chair beside me. “Well,” he said quietly. “How did it go with Tessa?”
“About as well as I expected.”
“She at the airport?”
“Yeah.” I glanced at my watch. “In fact, the plane’s probably boarding right about now. She’s got a layover in L.A. so she won’t get to Denver until almost seven o’clock tonight. I guess I’ll talk to her then.”
“Her bags’ll probably end up in Europe.”
“Maybe.”
“Good luck with all that. Let me know how things work out.”
“I will.”
I noticed that Officer Rickman wore his watch on his right wrist, and when he sat down, he picked up his pen with his left hand. The discarded leather glove at the arson site was from a left-handed person… Aina mentioned that a police officer’s prints had been found on it… I saw Ralph’s eyes shift toward the door, and then I heard Margaret enter, her heels clattering over top of, and then taking over, the quiet conversations happening all around the room.
I would have to follow up on Rickman later.
Margaret chose to stare at me while the people around us took their seats. “Dr. Bowers,” she said, her teeth gleaming. “FBI Director Rodale told me all about your tactfulness in dealing with the SDPD.
Congratulations. You’ve kept your reputation firmly intact.”
“Thanks, Margaret. I’ve been listening to these self-help podcasts.
It’s good to know they’re paying off. If you ever want to know the link, just say the word.”
She drew in a tight breath, looked at the clock on the wall, and then strode to the head of the table. Cleared her throat. “We have a lot to do, and we don’t have a lot of time to do it.” She paused and gazed around the room like an irritated librarian until everyone had stopped shuffling papers and had turned their attention to her.
“So far the only thing tying Neville Lewis to Cassandra Lillo’s abduction is his presence in the vicinity of the crime. But as you know, that’s not enough. In order to get a conviction we’ll need either incontrovertible eyewitness testimony, a confession, or ir-refutable physical evidence.”
“Cassandra doesn’t want to testify,” Lien-hua said. “She doesn’t even want to look at a lineup. She was quite traumatized. I’m not convinced she’s going to change her mind.”
“Without Cassandra we don’t have an eyewitness,” grumbled Detective Dunn.
“Wait, maybe we do,” I said. “Let’s bring in the woman who led us to the warehouse. Randi. Let’s talk to her.”
Ralph spoke up, “We’ve been trying to find her. Surprise, surprise, she seems to have disappeared.” “All right,” said Margaret impatiently, “we’ll work on that, but for now let’s move on to confession. Mr. Lewis says he’s afraid to talk to the police.”
Dunn grinned. “Of course he is. He knows if he talks to us we’ll get the truth from him and send him away to a prison full of guys who are always thrilled to have new mates to play with.”
“No, Detective,” Margaret said. “You missed my point. His lawyers say he doesn’t trust the police for his safety, that after he was in their custody at the warehouse, they failed to protect him.”
She glared at Lien-hua. Something passed between them. “They say that after he was cuffed and read his rights, one of the federal agents assaulted him. His lawyers brought in a doctor who says he has a bruised rib.”
Ralph leaned over, and I heard him whisper to Lien-hua, “That really was a nice kick.”
I don’t think Margaret heard his comment, but she cleared her throat once again regardless. “With all due respect to the San Diego Police Department, so far all of their efforts to get Lewis to talk have been unproductive. However, in return for not pressing charges against Agent Jiang or filing a civil suit against the FBI or the SDPD, Mr. Lewis’s lawyers informed us this morning that he would talk, but only to Agent Jiang. He requested her by name.”
That’s what Lien-hua had told me on the phone while I was at Balboa Park talking with Tessa, but it didn’t make sense. “How does he know Lien-hua’s name?” I asked.
“Well, I’m just speculating here…” Margaret blew a channel of stiff air between her teeth, making the sound of a machine leaking steam. “Maybe his lawyers told him her name while they were encouraging him to press charges against her for assault and battery. Now, if we could get back to the reason we’re here, we need to make a decision-will we accept their offer or not?”
“That’s easy,” Lien-hua said. “We accept. I’ll talk with him. I’ll find out what we need to know-” “Excuse me,” said Detective Dunn. “We arrested this guy in our jurisdiction. This is a local law enforcement matter. We’ll take care of it on our own.”
“I’m afraid it’s not as local as it appears,” Margaret said. “Tell them about the DVDs, Detective Dunn.”
He sat staring. Wouldn’t respond.
“Go on,” said Margaret. “Tell them that your criminalists found seven DVDs in the back room of the warehouse, each with the video of another woman wearing a red evening gown drowning in that tank.”
I heard shocked murmurs ripple around the room.
Margaret’s eyes left Dunn and she addressed the group as a whole once again. “So far we’ve been able to identify women from three different states, based on missing persons reports since November.
We’re working to identify the other four women, but this is un-equivocally not a local law enforcement issue. This is a federal matter.
And that’s why the FBI has taken over jurisdiction of the case.”
Seven murders since November would be an average of one murder every week or two, a remarkably high number. Usually serial killers have a cooling off period in between crimes. But not always.
Jeffrey Dahmer, who killed seventeen people, Gary Ridgeway, who killed at least forty-eight, and the nineteenth-century Chicago busi-nessman Herman Webster Mudgett who may have killed over two hundred, all averaged a victim or more per week during certain months of their criminal career. I was thinking of these grim statistics when I noticed that Dunn’s hands, which had been lying flat on the table, were now curled into tense fists.
“Margaret,” I said. “Were the videos posted online?”
“I was getting to that, Dr. Bowers,” she said tersely. “The answer is yes. The cybercrime division is removing the links, shutting down the sites, but I’m afraid that already, over four hundred thousand people have watched those women die.”
Twenty-first-century rubbernecking. Just thinking about it made me sick. “Did the criminalists find DNA, fingerprints, any physical evidence tying Lewis to the crime?”
Margaret shook her head stiffly. “The water from the tank you blew apart washed away any evidence from the area surrounding the scene. Imagine that? And Mr. Lewis was smart enough not to leave fingerprints on the DVD cases or the cameras. We tried voice recognition with the video of Cassandra but came up dry since the only audio was heavy breathing. Right now, to build our case, we need this man’s confession.”
“Then it’s settled,” Lien-hua said. “I’ll do it.”
“Then it’s not happening here at police headquarters,” Dunn said, “unless we can have an observer, namely me, present.”
“Well, then,” said Margaret. “We’ll move Lewis to the FBI field office.”
The lieutenant, whom I assumed to be Graysmith, finally spoke up. “I’m not sure FBI Director Rodale would appreciate how this investigation is being handled, Executive Assistant Director Wellington.” He laced the words assistant director with rich sarcasm.
Hmm. Maybe I could learn to like this guy after all.
“I’d like a few things clarified…” he continued, “since the matter will likely come up this weekend while Director Rodale and I are on the links in Phoenix. Just so I’m clear, explain to me why we can’t have one of our detectives present for the interrogation of a suspect who lives in our city, kills in our city, and was apprehended in our city? I’m a little fuzzy on that part of this whole deal you’re striking with the suspect’s lawyers, and I want to have my facts straight when Director Rodale asks me to fill him in on the case.”
Margaret gave Lieutenant Graysmith’s words a moment of quiet deliberation, tapped the table twice with her index finger, and said,
“All right. Dunn, you observe. Lien-hua interrogates. And we put this guy away. I’ll have his lawyers draw up the papers relinquishing his rights to file any charges.” She glanced at her watch. “The interrogation will start promptly at 3:35 p.m., exactly fifty minutes from now. In the meantime, I want everyone in this room pulling up whatever they can on Mr. Neville Lewis so that our interrogator can go in prepared. This meeting is adjourned.” And then, as people stirred from their chairs, Margaret added, “Agent Jiang, I’d like you to remain for just a moment.”