‘So,’ Brody began grimly. ‘Your case.’
A heavyset man in his early sixties with a quick temper, not unlike a darker version of Mick Johnson, Chief Brody was evidently not in a good mood either.
‘We’ve got two bodies, both cut up like rag dolls. No arrests. No suspects. We’ve got a leading psychiatrist getting death threats. And as one of the victims, her patient, was a hot piece of ass with a married, billionaire boyfriend, we’ve got the press all over it like mold on a stinking cheese.’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Goodman, looking at the floor.
‘But it gets even better,’ Brody went on, glaring at both detectives. ‘We’ve also got a leak! The internet’s going crazy with trash talk about some zombie killer on the loose. This morning they were covering this zombie nonsense on the NBC 4 news! I mean, what the hell, boys?’
‘The leak could be from the ME’s office,’ Johnson said defensively.
‘Do I look like I care where it’s from?’ Brody countered.
Johnson pressed on: ‘Jenny Foyle found skin cells under the first victim’s fingernails that were a DNA match for hairs found on the second victim. Both belonged to a junkie called Brandon Grolsch, whom we believe to be deceased. That tallies with what Jenny found, sir. The dead cells under the nails.’
Chief Brody sighed deeply. ‘So you’re telling me your chief suspect – your only suspect – is dead?’
‘Brandon Grolsch isn’t a suspect,’ said Goodman. ‘He died of an overdose eight months ago. Our working theory is that the perp had access to Brandon’s corpse. That he deliberately planted Brandon’s DNA on the bodies, knowing that Grolsch was officially still “missing”, in hopes we’d pin the murders on a dead man and stop looking.’
‘That’s one of the working theories,’ muttered Johnson.
Chief Brody grimaced. ‘What’s the other one?’
Goodman’s face echoed the question. Last he heard, he and Johnson were on the same page about this.
‘It doesn’t involve zombies, does it?’ asked Brody.
‘No, sir. It doesn’t.’ Johnson cleared his throat. ‘It involves Dr Nicola Roberts, the psychologist at the center of all this.’
Goodman rolled his eyes. Johnson ignored him.
‘Detective Goodman and I have spent the four days sifting through Dr Roberts’ patient records and session notes, among other things. We both agreed that she was the obvious link between the two victims. Goodman felt – feels – that Dr Roberts herself may have been the killer’s target.’
Brody’s eyes narrowed. ‘But you don’t agree?’
‘No, sir, I don’t,’ said Johnson. ‘Dr Roberts’ notes on the first victim, her patient Lisa Flannagan, reveal as much about Roberts herself as they do about Flannagan. We know she was d
eeply disapproving of Lisa’s affair with Willie Baden, and of her abortion, and that she was less than sympathetic about Lisa’s struggles with Vicodin. The tone of Roberts’ comments struck me as odd for a therapist, someone whose job is to listen without judging. But these notes are full of judgment, sir. And they’re full of rage, too.’
Chief Brody turned to Goodman. ‘You’ve read them, Detective. Do you agree?’
Goodman shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. It was true that Nikki’s notes on some of her patients, including Lisa, could seem unduly hostile at times. Then again, they were never intended to be read by outsiders, but were merely personal musings, aide-memoires to help with future sessions. More importantly, the picture Johnson was painting of Nikki pointedly failed to mention his own rage towards her, his relentless twisting of the evidence to try and make Nikki look guilty and paint her in the blackest possible light.
‘The notes do make judgments, sir,’ he admitted grudgingly.
Johnson let out a mocking laugh. ‘Judgments? Roberts makes it abundantly clear that she’s morally repulsed by this young woman. She talks about Lisa Flannagan needing to be “made accountable” for her actions, about the suffering she’s caused Baden’s wife and others. It’s a theme that runs through a lot of the notes.’
‘What’s a theme?’ the chief asked, confused.
‘Nikki Roberts has a grudge against mistresses,’ Johnson said matter-of-factly.
‘That’s a stretch, Mick,’ Goodman jumped in.
‘Is it? I don’t think so,’ said Johnson, warming to his theme. ‘So anyways, her notes got me thinking about why she might bear that particular grudge,’ he continued, ‘and I realized, it must have had something to do with her husband.’
‘Isn’t the husband dead?’ Chief Brody sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. He could feel a headache coming on.
‘Yes, he is.’ Johnson sounded excited, as if he was moving towards some sort of punchline. ‘Dr Douglas Roberts was killed in an unexplained auto accident on the 405 last year. But guess who he was with when he died?’