Superposition

^{CHAPTER 30}

I called Terry Sheppard from prison and told him what I had learned from Peyton, particularly how the police had been given my name by an anonymous caller. Terry doubted it would do any good with the verdict this late in the game, but if new information came to light, he said, it could certainly help with the appeals process. That wasn’t very encouraging, but I left him to it. He said he would track the information down, but I was left with the distinct impression that he wasn’t in a great hurry. It was evening, and I knew there wasn’t much hope of getting any New Jersey state cops assigned to the case on the phone, and not much hope, even then, of getting them to help. They wanted me put away; they weren’t going to admit to anything.

So I was surprised when only two hours later I was pulled out of my cell and brought to meet two visitors. The visitors were Terry and an investigator he had put on the case—introduced only as Bill, someone he said he hired often. Bill apparently knew his business, because he’d already somehow gotten a hold of a recording of the anonymous tipster’s call. They both looked exhausted.

“Looks like you were right,” Terry said. “They did originally act on the basis of a tip. Unfortunately, that fact is not obviously significant to the case, which hangs more on forensic evidence than on eyewitness testimony. If the police had found the tipster, that might just mean they would have one more person to speak against you.”

“But who was it?”

“We don’t know,” said Bill, who looked a little like Terry, but without the mustache. I wondered if they were related. “She didn’t leave a name, and the call was traced back to a pay phone at the Lakehurst Diner Restaurant.”

“She?” I asked, remembering Peyton’s ghost.

“Yes, it was a female caller,” Terry said.

“When did this call come in?”

“2:07 PM. After you found Vanderhall’s body, but before the New Jersey cops connected with the Media cops. Probably about the time you were down in that bunker.”

“Well, can I hear it?” I asked.

“Hear what?”

“The recording of the call.”

“Not much to it,” Bill said. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and pressed a few buttons. A female voice spoke out of it.

“Yes, I’m calling with information about a murder.”

“Can I have your name, please?” asked another female voice.

“It’s about Dr. Vanderhall. He was killed last night, and I saw who did it.”

“Let’s start with your name, please,” the voice said calmly.

“Don’t you want to know who the murderer is?” the caller asked.

“I’d like to know who you are. If you’re afraid, we can protect you, but we can’t protect you if we don’t know who you are.”

“It was Jacob Kelley. He was the murderer.”

“We will certainly look into that. Now, can you tell me your name?”

Bill shut off the recording. “The caller hung up after that. Not much to go on, except that she fingered you for the crime. So it’s probably someone who knows you.”

“I know who she is,” I said dully.

“You recognized the voice?”

“As soon as she spoke,” I said. “Didn’t you recognize it?”

Terry bit his lip and slowly shook his head. “No… though it sounds a bit familiar.”

“It’s Jean Massey,” I said. “Jean Massey is the murderer.”