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“No, we’re not! Pink’s been in prison for years. Way before I ever moved out here.”

“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t aware the house you’re living in formerly belonged to Susan Parvel’s parents?”

“Is that true?” Jason asked the chief.

“Yep.” Gervase’s face was grim.

“No,” protested McEnroe. And then, defensively, “Well, so what if it did? The property was cheap. That was all years ago. The Pinks are all gone now. Why shouldn’t I live there?”

“I bet a lot of people could tell you why.”

McEnroe blinked at Kennedy’s stern face. He looked increasingly confused and scared.

Kennedy said, “The Parvels used to have one of those big above-ground pools. Susan used to go for long night swims during the summer. And one evening when she was out there floating in the water, staring up at the stars, Martin Pink came along and dragged her out of that pool. Her parents were out having dinner with friends. There was no one to hear her screams except Pink’s mother and brother over the hill. Pink dragged Susan into the woods where he raped and murdered her.”

McEnroe was gazing at Kennedy like a rabbit hypnotized by a cobra.

Kennedy said, “After their daughter was murdered, the Parvels had that pool taken down and planted a bed of roses in its place. Are you telling me you didn’t know any of this?”

McEnroe shook his head, but whether he meant no or you’re out of your mind was unclear.

Where was this line of questioning going? It made no sense to Jason. It was a horrible story, yes, but what was the point? He glanced at Gervase, and Gervase was smiling with sour satisfaction.

Kennedy said, “And then along comes you, Tony. You rip that rose garden right out without a second thought. And of all things, you replace it with a hot tub. A hot tub. How many young girls did you plan on luring into that hot tub?”

Gervase laughed quietly. He glanced at Jason. “Don’t worry, Agent West. You’ll be back in L.A. with plenty of time to spare.”

Chapter Five

“He’s not our guy,” Kennedy said twenty minutes later, rejoining Jason and Chief Gervase in the observation room.

“What?” Gervase’s jaw dropped. “But-but what about the hot tub? What about buying the Parvels’ old house?” He turned to the two-way mirror where they could see Tony McEnroe sitting at the table, crying.

“It’s not even circumstantial,” Kennedy said. “We’ve got nothing on him.”

The chief’s disappointment was approximate to Jason’s relief. He had been increasingly alarmed by the direction of Kennedy’s interrogation. It was comforting to know Kennedy had only been bluffing—it had been a frighteningly convincing performance given the craziness of Kennedy’s line of attack. How many young girls did you plan on luring into that hot tub? In other circumstances it would have been funny, but McEnroe had sure bought it. He believed that any minute now he was going to be arrested for Rebecca’s murder.

Gervase persisted. “He’s the boyfriend of the victim. He fought with her before she disappeared. He doesn’t have an alibi. He’s a doper. That’s plenty right there!”

“It sounds like Madigan fought with half the guests at her party,” Kennedy said. “She was alive and arguing after McEnroe went home.”

“She got mouthy with Officer Boxner when he arrived to tell her to turn down the music,” Jason said. “She was alive and well and still arguing with her guests until one in the morning.”

Kennedy gave him one of those unreadable glances.

Gervase shook his head. His disappointment and disgust were obvious.

“He’s lying about something,” Kennedy said. “But I don’t think he’s lying when he says he doesn’t know what happened to Rebecca. I think he believes she took off for reasons of her own.”

“No, I don’t buy it,” the chief said. “Why would she? It makes no sense.”

“I agree. I’m not telling you what I think. I’m telling you what McEnroe thinks.”

Gervase glared at McEnroe and then turned his hostile gaze on Kennedy. “He’s our only suspect. If it’s not him…you know what that means.”

Back to the theory of the copycat killer.

Kennedy shook his head. “It’s way too early to draw that conclusion. To draw any conclusion. There are plenty of possibilities as far as what might have happened to Rebecca.”


Tags: Josh Lanyon The Art of Murder Mystery