Savich said, “Ty, so Sherlock’s hair doesn’t burst into flames, start with how you’d drive from Montana to eat her garlic toast and the salad. Go.”
Ty, no slouch, said, “Forget Montana. I’d sail over from Hawaii, Sherlock. I gotta say, your amazing Caesar salad left your husband’s pathetic attempt at lasagna in the dust.”
Sala said, “Your garlic bread, Sherlock, it was so good I didn’t want to eat anything else, especially Savich’s excuse for lasagna. What I said, ah, I was only being polite.”
Sherlock looked from one to the other, nodded. “Well done, both of you. Dillon, don’t you dare laugh,” and she threw one lone remaining crouton at her husband. “Yeah, yeah, you’re the king. And now I’ll have to listen to these two go nuts over your coffee.” She rose, hands on hips. “But you wait. In a little while, if I think you’re worthy, I’m going to let you try my apple pie. Picture it, hot and bubbling straight from my magic oven, topped with French vanilla ice cream.”
After the table was cleared and kitchen cleaned up, they adjourned to the living room with cups of Savich’s amazing coffee and Savich with his tea, which neither Ty nor Sala complimented since they weren’t stupid and they wanted Sherlock’s apple pie.
Sherlock said, “Let’s begin with Victor Nesser. We need some new eyes and perspectives on this problem. To catch you up, some more specifics about what happened in Winslow. Cindy Wilcox, the teenager who saved herself, said Victor was like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, one minute respectful and nice, but as soon as he stepped into her apartment, he turned into a monster, screaming at her, cursing her, intent on killing her.” She drew a deep breath. “Dillon believes he understands what it all means and how it’s related to everything else that’s happened.”
Savich said, “Sala, remember the girl’s mad laughter you heard at Gatewood?”
“Not something I’ll easily forget.”
Savich leaned forward. “It couldn’t have been Lissy, she’s dead. I’m the one who killed her, so I didn’t understand what was going on. Dr. Hicks believes Victor was broken after Lissy died. His losing Lissy so devastated him that his mind fragmented. Now, given what happened with Cindy, I can think of only one answer. The only way Victor could deal with her loss was to integrate Lissy into himself.”
“A split personality?” Ty asked. “A Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?”
Savich nodded. “I think the only way he could survive was to keep Lissy alive. I think Victor becomes Lissy and then himself again. That’s what Cindy told us, if you think about it. And that means they were already together in the psychiatric hospital. There’s nothing in any of the doctors’ records, which means Victor was able to hide it from them. And now, on the outside, Victor and Lissy each have his and her own scores to settle.”
Sala was shaking his head. “But the laughter, Savich, it sounded like a girl, a real girl, not a guy trying to imitate a girl.”
Savich took a sip of his Earl Grey tea. “That must mean she literally takes him over, that Victor becomes Lissy—not only her voice and the way she speaks, but also her way of looking at things, everything. I can’t explain it and neither can Dr. Hicks, but what other solution could there be?”
Ty said, “So Victor is somehow channeling Lissy Smiley? He becomes her?”
Savich said, “It’s tough to come to grips with it, but consider what happened. Victor stops for dinner at the diner in Winslow, Virginia. The pretty young waitress, Cindy, sees his big wad of hundred-dollar bills when he pays the check, and yes, obviously Victor wants her to see the money. She flirts with him, invites him back to her apartment. She wants to persuade him to take her with him and share all his money for a while.”
Sherlock picked it up. “It would have pissed off Lissy, and that’s why she appeared, tried to kill Cindy. Dillon hasn’t said it, but Lissy was a natural-born killer, a psychopath without a shred of conscience or remorse for her victims.
“Cindy described Victor’s voice becoming higher, crazy mad, out of control. She said he even looked different, his face changed, his eyes darkened. When Cindy kicked him, he screamed she’d kicked him in the staples, and he grabbed his belly and went down in pain.”
Ty’s eyebrow went up. “What staples?”
Sherlock said, “Lissy had major surgery to repair a ruptured duodenum. Her incision wasn’t healed yet when she died, and the staples were still in.”
Sala said slowly, “So Victor’s Lissy stayed frozen in time, so now when she takes over, she is exactly as she was before you shot her?”
“Evidently.”
“Now my brain is ready for a vacation. Or apple pie.” He looked hopefully at Sherlock.
“All right, maybe all of you are worthy enough. Dillon, come help me. Let these two geniuses think about this.”
Savich was carrying a tray with ice cream and plates on it and Sherlock the apple pie like a trophy for the winner when they came back. Sala breathed in the smell of hot cinnamon and wanted to weep.
Ty said, “Forget these unworthy men, Sherlock, marry me instead. I’ll give you my all, which admittedly isn’t much, but I promise I’ll always be there for you.”
“Hmm. All right, I’ll consider it.” Sherlock began cutting pie slices. “If Astro were here, he’d be bouncing around like a tennis ball, barking his head off.”
Savich spooned the ice cream atop each slice and handed out the plates.
After a bite, Ty closed her eyes in bliss. “I hated Dillon’s lasagna. It was swill. Now, this pie is ambrosia.”
“I wouldn’t give Savich’s lasagna to my cat,” Sala said, “and that’s saying something. If given the chance, Lucky would eat my socks out of the hamper.”
Sherlock laughed and patted his shoulder. “Music to my ears. Now, listen while you eat, okay? Sala, you dealt with Victor, plus you heard Lissy’s laughter. You already know something about her. Let me emphasize: Lissy had no self-control. If she thought of something, she did it, no mental brakes, no thought to consequences. It was always about the pleasure of the moment, and it often involved killing someone.”
Savich said, “Now, Nesser. He was sent to live with his aunt Jennifer Smiley when her sister, Victor’s mother, and his father, a Jordanian, decided to return to Amman. Jennifer’s very young daughter, Lissy, seduced Victor. From that night on, he loved her to his soul, would do anything for her. Let me emphasize here, Lissy drove the bus.
“Did Lissy love Victor as much as he loved her? Yes, I’m sure she did. Victor was damaged before Lissy, and he was destroyed after she died.”
60
* * *
Sherlock said, “Sala, let me ask you this. Which of them do you think murdered Octavia? Victor or Lissy?”
Sala said without pause, “It was Victor. It felt like a man’s anger.”
“And which one decided to lock you in a closet to die?”
“It had to be Victor, of course, who dragged me unconscious up to the third floor at Gatewood. As to which one decided to leave me to die in that closet, I don’t know, but I did hear a girl’s crazy laughter in there. So maybe it was Lissy.” He closed his eyes a moment, and Ty saw he was stiff as a board, back in that closet reliving the hopelessness, the knowledge he was going to die, and of course the guilt that he hadn’t saved Octavia. She lightly touched her hand to his arm.
Ty decided it was time to turn off the guilt spigot. Turn off the horrible images of him left in that closet to die. She leaned over and jerked his pie plate away.
“Wait! Oh, no you don’t!” And he was back. He waved his fist at her, ate the last bite of pie off his plate.