The Devil's bed

chapter
nineteen

Ibelieve it was very soon after he discovered the incest that he killed his grandfather and his mother,” Dr. Hart said.

“Whoa. He confessed to that?” During the story, Stuart Coyote hadn’t touched his coffee. It no longer steamed in the cup in his hands.

“Another inference of mine.”

“Killed them in anger? A sense of betrayal? What?” Coyote asked.

“Where his grandfather was concerned, I think David considered it justice, retribution. In his world, there was no law but the law of his grandfather, and death the only recourse.”

“And his mother?”

“Anger at her betrayal is certainly a possibility. But I’m more inclined to think he believed he was setting her free.”

“Anger’s got my vote,” Coyote insisted. “Christ, who wouldn’t have been pissed?”

The patient who’d been working in the little garden in the courtyard stood up. Dirt circled the knees of his pants like brown patches, and he made a brief effort to brush himself clean. He looked down at the flowers he’d tended, then stared up at the sky that was fractured by wire mesh.

“Keep in mind that David’s understanding of the world came largely from what he experienced in that dreadful house,” she said. “His knowledge of what was beyond his basement he’d acquired largely from his reading and the radio. It would be as if you or I were trying to understand the cannibals of Borneo simply from reading textbooks. I think he was more outraged by his mother’s suffering than by the incest. The killing ended her pain and his grandfather’s tyranny. In his mind, the act was reasonable and justified.”

“How did he kill them?” Bo asked.

“He blew up the house.” Her brown eyes strolled between Bo and Coyote. “Swift and terrible.”

Bo shook his head. “This all seems predicated on believing what he’s told you. Do you have any facts that support his story?”

“Facts?” She smiled patiently. “He was placed in St. Jerome’s Home for Children after he was discovered outside the burning remains of an isolated farmhouse in Isanti County. Investigators found explosives and other related materials in the barn. They determined David’s grandfather was a man they’d been attempting to trace for some time, a man who called himself Short Fuse. In letters to the media, he’d taken responsibility for nearly a dozen bombings over a three-year period. All this was almost a quarter of a century ago, but I’ve checked the newspaper accounts. As far as I can tell, no suspicion ever fell on David. He was quite clever, even then.”

“Is he criminally insane?” Bo asked.

“I would have expected his childhood experiences-neglect, abuse, exposure to incest-to contribute to psychosis. However, in David’s case, I believe what resulted would better be characterized as an alternative reality. He is, in many ways, predictable because he lives according to an ethos. Not one many people would necessarily condone, but certainly understandable.”

“Help us understand,” Bo said.

“All right. You or I might consider killing someone in a fit of anger. We don’t because we’re conditioned to believe it’s wrong to kill. In war, however, to kill becomes the moral imperative. For God, for country, for our comrades. And we hold in high esteem those who kill best. Think of David Moses as existing internally in a state of perpetual warfare. He kills not out of cruelty, but because it is in complete accord with the world as he understands it.”

“If that’s true, why hasn’t he killed more?”

“He intimated that he has. Many times.”

“A serial killer?” Stuart Coyote asked.

“Not if I’ve interpreted correctly what I’ve pieced together. A hired killer, Mr. Coyote. An assassin.”

“A hit man?”

“Dr. Hart,” Bo put in, “you said that before the killing in Minneapolis, Moses had no criminal record, is that right?”

“None that we’re aware of.”

“Men who do that kind of work are generally well known to law enforcement.”

She didn’t seem at all inclined to withdraw her conjecture.

“You believe all this?” Coyote asked incredulously. “Don’t you think it’s possible he fooled you? Or maybe that he was so deluded he made it all seem convincing?”

“With a man of David’s intelligence, anything is possible. You indicated you’d seen the scars on his arms.”

Bo nodded. “Self-mutilation?”

She shook her head. “Cicatrization. Ritual scarring. If I’ve put his story together correctly, he carries a scar for each killing. Those of least importance are on his appendages. The greater the import, the nearer he puts them to his heart. Another thing. He’s very sensitive to sunlight. He prefers to wear sunglasses even indoors. He’s been checked. There’s no medical foundation for such a sensitivity. But to David, it’s real.”

“I asked you a question you never answered,” Bo said. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

“Most patients are dreary repetitions of an unhappy theme. David Moses is different. I looked forward to our sessions. He’s charming when he wants to be. When he deigns to be communicative, a conversation with him can be delightful and challenging.”

“But is he dangerous?” Bo persisted.

“If he’s truly delusional, he’s fully capable of living out his delusion. If he’s not, then he knows well how to kill.” She paused and seemed to consider whether to say the rest of what was on her mind. “David doesn’t belong out there. Out there, heisdangerous. But in here, he’s a rare creature, and I would hate to see him destroyed.”

They leaned against their cars in the visitor lot of the Security Hospital. It was late morning, already hot. They’d given the program director all the information they had on the man who was probably David Moses. Helen Wardell had called the Nicollet County sheriff’s office, and two detectives were on their way to the Security Hospital.

Coyote said, “I was inclined to laugh when Dr. Hart said Moses might be a hired killer. But I’ve been thinking. A decade-long blank in his history, that’s pretty suspicious.”

“With this guy, I’m beginning to think anything is possible,” Bo answered.

“Could someone have actually hired David Moses to kill Jorgenson?”

“I think it’s more likely that he has his own agenda.”

“He’s driving Luther Gallagher’s truck. We should take a look inside Gallagher’s house.”

“You mind handling that, Stu?”

“Fine by me. When the sheriff’s men get here, I’ll see if we can’t get a warrant. While I’m at it, I’ll check out activity on any credit cards Gallagher has. Might tell us where he, or Moses, have been lately and what they’ve been up to.”

“My own instincts are telling me that Gallagher’s dead. And if David Moses is as clever as Dr. Hart believes, we’re not going to find the body easily.”

“Let’s see where we stand after I’ve had a look at his place. What about you, Bo?”

“I’m going back to the office, see how quickly we can get hold of Moses’s military service record. It might help in uncovering some of that missing history. I’d also like to find out about the fixation on Tom Jorgenson. What’s the connection between Moses and him?”

“If he’s whacked out, he could have seen Jorgenson on television and just fixated.”

“You know where St. Jerome’s Home for Children is, Stu? Less than ten miles from Wildwood. I don’t think that’s a coincidence. Dr. Hart said David Moses never completed high school. He dropped out and joined the service. I’m going to look into his time at St. Jerome’s. I’d like to know who signed his enlistment papers and why.”