Double Take

CHAPTER 56

Why?” Sherlock asked him when he went silent again. “Because she was older, I suppose, like the Maggie May in that old Rod Stewart song. I was her young man even though I was middle-aged then, ten years older than that loser son of hers. Yep, I slept with her, you know, and no one ever really knew about it. I kept our secret, let her keep her reputation even in death.”

Savich said, “You never told her son Thomas?”

“Yes, but not until later. He suspected, but he didn’t know for sure.”

“You said you thought Thomas was jealous of you.”

“Oh yeah, I think Thomas felt some things for his mama a son shouldn’t feel. I think he could have settled in quite naturally with all the other sicko perverts on somebody’s couch. What he didn’t realize back then, maybe he still doesn’t, is what a conniving bitch his precious mother was.”

“What do you mean?” Sherlock asked. “What happened?” He gave her another sweet smile. “After she’d slept with me maybe three months, she told me one afternoon when I’d slipped into her house and found her in the kitchen—her husband was off playing golf—that her son told her I buggered little boys for money, stuff like that. She said Thomas told her I’d made a pass at him. It wasn’t nice what she said to me, and she didn’t shut up. Then her husband came in through the back door into the kitchen and she looked like she’d swallowed her tongue. I remember as clear as day how I stood up and smiled at him, not a nice smile like I give you, Agent Sherlock, but a real mean smile. I told him flat out I was sleeping with his sweet-assed wife because he was old and bony, but hey, she was sexy and hot, and a pretty good lay, even if she was a gold-plated bitch.

“The old man threw his golf clubs at me, can you imagine? Landed six feet short, of course, since he was such a bloody wuss. I laughed at him and he came at me in a rage. I remember her screaming. I picked up one of those fancy knives she was using and stuck it in his neck. All that blood.” He paused a moment, and they saw a flash of pleasure. “Blood everywhere and she wouldn’t stop screaming, so I stuck the knife in her chest. Do you know she only made this little squeaking sound, that was all? Then I stabbed her a whole bunch of times. I don’t remember how many, I just kept going, in and out, in and out.

“They were dead, lying on that huge kitchen floor, bleeding all over the white tiles. It was a mess, I’ll tell you.

“There was no one around. It was a Sunday, you see, and the hired staff had the day off. I stood there, looking down at them, and thought about what I was going to do. I’m not stupid, so I cleaned up really good, took the knife, and left. Since the Pallacks’ house was only two doors away from mine, I could go through the backyards and not be seen by anyone.

“I thought I was home free there for a good long while, but I knew Thomas was eyeing me, like he knew I’d done it, but he couldn’t prove anything. I’ll have to give him credit though, Thomas came after me with all the money he had. He hired half a dozen investigators. It was only me he wanted, even though he pretended he was checking out all the neighbors. I think they wire-tapped my phones, talked to all my relatives, even got ahold of my credit card reports.

“One day I came home early and found the police in my basement and I knew I was in deep trouble. Thomas must have helped them get a search warrant. My lawyer told me the cops found medieval torture instruments in the basement and there was dried blood on them.”

Savich nodded.

The old man shook his head. “But it wasn’t my stuff, it was my dad’s. He was a real history nut, loved that old stuff, anything the inquisitors used, he had to have it. Everyone knew about his torture chamber, as he liked to call it—he was an eccentric. There wasn’t any blood until Thomas got some and smeared it on some of my father’s equipment. My old man was harmless.”

“They found the knife behind the radiator,” Sherlock said.

“Ha! I wouldn’t be that big a fool. That was another knife. Thomas must have gotten some blood the same type as his parents’ and rubbed it on the knife—no DNA back then, so it was easy. Then he planted it for the cops to find.”

“What did you do with the knife you used?”

“I dropped it in the Lansky River five miles away from my house. But what could I do? Nothing, that’s what.

“It was all over for me anyway, and I knew it. How can you fight being framed for a bunch of murders nobody committed at all?”

Sherlock said, “When did you tell Thomas Pallack that you’d slept with his mother?”

The old man laughed. “When I was being marched out of the courtroom between two guards right after the guilty verdict. Up dashed old Thomas, got right in my face. He looked wild with triumph, and I knew he wanted to gloat, and so I whispered it right in his face, and then I sang ‘Maggie May’ and licked my lips. He leaped on me but the guards pulled him off. I remember it so clearly, I could hear Thomas breathing hard as I laughed at him while the guards yanked me out of there.

“But hey, I’ve got lots of friends in here and the world is safe from me. I’m feeling tired now. I’d like to sleep so I can get back to the poker game later with Moses. He’s quite a gamer, old Moses, just a bit lame on the strategy. Can’t bluff worth a damn.”

Savich said, “Mr. James, we appreciate your filling us in on what happened, but the real reason we came to see you—” He saw the old man’s eyelids droop, and he added quickly, his voice sharp and hard, “Did you know Thomas Pallack finally married? Nearly three years ago.”

Courtney’s eyes popped open. He looked surprised at that. “Isn’t that something. No, I didn’t know. There isn’t much news in here. I’m surprised, I’ll admit it. It was always his mama, always. I thought he’d go to his grave mourning her, having wet dreams about her.”

Now that they had him focused again, it was time to back up.

Sherlock asked, “Did you know Thomas Pallack claims to have spoken through a medium to his dead parents every Wednesday and Saturday since shortly after you killed them all those years ago?”

That perked him up. “A psychic? Nah, you’re putting me on. He found someone—a medium, right?—who talks to dead people? Now, isn’t that interesting? He’s wigged out, has he?”

Savich said, “Whatever Thomas felt for his mother, it appears he really loved both of his parents. He claims they give him advice, that they care about what he’s doing, are always there for him.”

The old man snorted. “Dead people there for him. Now, what’s wrong with that picture? Well, his daddy wasn’t there for him. Never. And Thomas never gave a rat’s ass what his daddy thought or felt. Like I told you, he loved his mama—way too much.

“So, he got married, did he? He finally found someone to replace her. Imagine that. I wonder what maggoty rotted old Maggie May thinks about that?”

Replace her?

“I wonder what Thomas’s wife looks like.”

“A moment, Mr. Jones.” In that instant, Savich felt a rush of adrenaline. He saw Sherlock’s hand shaking slightly, knew she felt it too. He opened his briefcase and handed the old man a color photo, not of Charlotte, but of Christie. But it didn’t matter. He stared down at the photo along with Courtney James.

Courtney twisted his head up to look at Savich. “What the hell is this, Agent?”

“A photo of Thomas’s new wife, like I told you.”

“No, no, come on now, I’m not that old. I remember so well Maggie’s swingy dark hair, those bright blue-green eyes of hers. And her white skin, so soft—” Courtney James fell silent, and simply stared and stared at that photo. Finally, he said, his voice bewildered, “My God, that’s Maggie May, but a lot younger. And the clothes and the hair can’t be right. You’re telling me this is Thomas’s wife, Agent Savich?”

“It is indeed, Mr. James,” Savich said.

“I don’t get this at all.”

“We’ll let you know when we figure it all out,” Savich said. “I promise you that. You’ve been of immense help to us. Thank you.”

“You gonna nail that pissant Thomas for something?”

Savich only smiled, shook the old man’s hand. Sherlock squeezed his thin forearm, let him touch her hair once more, took Savich’s arm and turned to leave the hospital room. They heard Courtney James say to Warden Rafferty, “I never believed in reincarnation before. What do you think?”

The warden said, “I don’t know, Courtney. I haven’t really thought about it. What do you think?”

“I just don’t know anymore. I’ll tell you, Warden, that photo— it was Maggie May, and how can that be?

“And all that psychic crap about Thomas speaking to his dead parents. That fair to creeps me out.”

“It does me too, Courtney.”

The old man closed his eyes a moment. “I’d sure like a glazed Krispy Kreme about now.”