14th Deadly Sin

CHAPTER 88

HUBBELL HAD BEEN processed and was slouching in a small gray chair at a matching metal table in the small gray room we call Interview 2. Inspectors Michaels, Wang, and I took seats at the table, and Joe stood outside the two-way mirror with Brady. Brady wore a mic so that he could wirelessly fire comments and questions directly into my ear.

I was up to speed on Hubbell’s arrest for raping Tina Strichler twenty-five years before and his sterling record of good behavior while incarcerated at Pelican Bay and, later, at Corcoran. Hubbell’s personally inked “star map” of his homicides was now spread out on the table.

He’d even thoughtfully provided a key to the murders on the back of it: names, locations, and the date of each.

Wang and Michaels were there to watch and share in the glory—if there was any glory—and I would be happy to hand off this serial killer collar to them.

I formally introduced myself to Hubbell, introduced him to the other cops in the room, and told him I appreciated his coming in to talk to us. I said that without a trace of sarcasm.

But still, he laughed.

“That was a hell of an escort I got.”

“First-class treatment, Mr. Hubbell. Nothing but the best for you. You’re kind of a superstar, aren’t you?”

He laughed again. Oh, man. He was enjoying himself.

“Mr. Hubbell, you’ve told us that you killed five women in locations you’ve starred on your map of San Francisco. This is that map, right?”

Hubbell said, “You mind getting me something to drink?”

Wang took Hubbell’s order. “What can I get you?”

“Got any Mountain Dew?”

“One frosty-cold Mountain Dew coming right up.”

I was sitting directly across the table from Hubbell, and after he slugged down his soda, I said, “Are we ready now?”

“I have one other request.”

I said sweetly, “Tell me.”

“I want to go back to Pelican Bay. If you promise me that, I’ll tell you every single thing.”

“Why Pelican Bay?”

“I want to go home.”

Brady spoke in my ear. “Tell him that your CO gives you his word, and that we’ll get a commitment from the DA in the morning.”

I repeated that to Hubbell. I expected him to say, “Well, I guess this can wait until I hear from the DA.”

But he said, “OK. Just promise to do your best.”

“I promise,” I said, and that was all Hubbell needed. He was eager to talk about his attenuated five-year killing spree, and I’ve got to give it to Joe. He had been right from the beginning. Clement Hubbell killed on the anniversary of his conviction for rape. He called it a celebration of the start of his wonderful life in prison.

As for the murders themselves, with the exception of Tina Strichler, Hubbell said they were killings of opportunity.

“It was a test of my skill,” he told me, leaning over the table, really wanting me to understand.

“I selected a knife from my collection. I looked for a woman who was in a good place to be killed. Sometimes they were alone. Sometimes I’d see one in the thick of a crowd. Like the one I killed at the race last year. I gave myself twelve hours to do the job and earn another star for my map. And then, once I was back home, I would wait for news of my perfect crime.” He grinned. “And I’d think about it for another year.”

“But you couldn’t tell anyone? That must’ve hurt,” I said.

“Sure. That’s true,” Hubbell said. “I missed having a cell mate.”

“So Tina Strichler was the only victim you knew?” I asked.

“Bettina Monroe. The only girl I ever loved. Raping her, well, she was my first. I held a knife on her, but it was just a turn-on. I wasn’t going to kill her. I didn’t even think of killing her. I thought she might be willing to date me. I know you want to laugh, Sergeant—”

“No, no. I’m just surprised that you cared for her.”

“Yes. Until I raped her, she didn’t know I was alive.”

“And so why did you kill her?”

“I was leaving the police a clue,” he said.

“Because?”

“It was time.”

At the end of an hour, Clement Hubbell had told us in great detail about each of the murders he had committed. He never asked for a lawyer. After a while, he put his head down on the table and nodded off. Wang woke him up, and Michaels charged him with five homicides. Before he was taken out of the room, Hubbell thanked me. That was a first.

“You’re very welcome,” I told him.

I left the box and found Joe and Brady waiting for me.

“Good job, the two of you,” Brady said. “All is forgiven. Don’t ever put me in this position again.”

He shook Joe’s hand. He shook mine. He squeezed my arm.

All in all, it was a good day to be a cop.