“No,” Delion said. “Your dad told us about how he’d found out that his son was a murderer, but no, he didn’t tell us your name.”
“That crazy old pile of bones told you then.”
Savich said, “Actually, we managed to figure it out. MAX, my computer, verified for us that you were born Robert Allen DeLoach, and you attended Garrett High School here in LA. Here’s a photo of you.”
Savich laid the photo faceup on Wolfinger’s desk. Linus didn’t bother to look at it.
Sherlock said, “We also found the real Michael Linus Wolfinger. Here’s his photo. He isn’t you.”
Linus waved a hand. “The guy died in a skiing accident, nothing more. He was an orphan. Taking his identity wasn’t a problem. I wanted to work in the studio. With the year in that institution, I knew no one would hire me.” Linus shrugged. “Who the hell cares?”
“Tell us about the girl in college,” Dane said.
Linus shrugged again, his fingers were tapping on the desktop. He couldn’t seem to keep himself still. “Silly little twit, told me she wouldn’t go out with a nerd. I twisted her neck until it broke. Unfortunately my father came in before I could get rid of her body. But he helped me, told me that I wasn’t like my grandfather, that he was going to get me help. I argued with him but he told me I had no choice. For my own good, he was putting me in an institution. If I didn’t agree, he’d turn me over to the police.”
Linus looked at them again, shrugged. “I am very smart, you know. In fact, I’m more than smart. I’m a genius. That year in the Mountain Peak Institution, in the butt-end of nowhere—well, I used that year to plan out what I wanted to do with my life. It was right after that that Wolfinger died and I took on his name and his past. Dear old dad got me a job here at the studio. Then I met Miles Burdock and impressed the hell out of him, which was tough, but I told you, I’m a genius. I’ve proved it. I’ve made lots and lots of money for the studio. That’s why all the old duffers around here call me Little Shit. They’re all jealous. Hey, I’m the crown prince, the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to this place.”
He paused a moment, looked at Savich. “I don’t suppose my daddy knocked off my grandfather?”
“No,” Dane said, “but he really wanted to. He still does. How did you find out about your grandfather? How did you even know where he is?”
Linus laughed. “I was at my dad’s house last month and came across a paid invoice to the old folks’ home. I had never met my grandfather, but I did know that my dad hated him. He told me several times that he’d never put that old man in my life, never. I suppose my dad told you that?”
Dane nodded.
“I wanted to meet him, maybe find out why my dad hated him so much. I even took him a Christmas present. Do you know what I found out from that pathetic old man?”
No one said anything, just waited.
“He told me about what he’d done. At first I just didn’t believe him, it was too fantastic. But he told me stuff that sounded too real to be made up. He called my dad a coward and a wuss. Then he asked me if I was really of his blood, if I’d ever killed anyone. I told him I had. I thought the old man would crawl out of his wheelchair and dance he was so pleased.
“He cackled, blood and spittle hanging off his chin. He wagged his finger at me, told me it was in my blood, told me I had the look of him when he was young, and the good Lord knew it was so deep in his blood that now it was coming out of him. He coughed again and more blood came out of his mouth.
“I realized then that I was just like him. I told him that I’d gotten bored, and then my dad had come up with this terrific idea for a series. As I listened to him, everything came together in my mind. I knew exactly what I was going to do. I added my own ideas to the first two or three scripts, and my dad was really pleased that I was so interested and that my ideas worked so well.
“When I told my grandfather what I was going to do, he wanted all the details. He even helped me refine some of my plans. When I left, he laughed and wished me luck, said he wanted to hear how things actually went down because, he said, things never go exactly as planned, and that just makes it all the more fun. I told him he could read all about it in the newspaper.” Linus shook his head, tapped his fingers some more on the desktop.
“Jesus, it was fun, particularly that priest in San Francisco, your twin brother, Agent Carver. He surprised the hell out of me. It gave me quite a start when you first came in here.”