Chapter 55
I GOT TO SEE Gary Murphy again on the first of October. “New evidence” was the stated reason. By that time, half the world had talked to Nina Cerisier. The “accomplice theory” had a life of its own.
We were using S.I.T. to scour the neighborhood around the Cerisier house. I’d tried everything from mug shot books to Identikit drawings with Nina Cerisier. So far, it hadn’t helped her find a likeness of the “accomplice.”
We knew it was a male, white, and Nina thought he had a stocky frame. The FBI claimed to be intensifying their search for the pilot in Florida. We’d see about that. I was back in the game again.
Dr. Campbell walked me down the maximum-security corridor inside Lorton Prison. Inmates glared out at us as we passed by. I glared back. I’m a good glarer, too.
Finally, we arrived at the cell block where Gary Soneji/Murphy was still being kept.
Soneji/Murphy’s cell, the entire corridor, was well-lighted, but he squinted up from his cot. It was as if he were peering out from a darkened cave.
It took a moment for him to recognize me.
When he finally did, he smiled. He still looked like this nice, small-town young man. Gary Murphy. A character out of a nineties remake of It’s a Wonderful Life. I remembered his friend Simon Conklin telling me how Gary Murphy could play any role he needed to. It was all part of his being in the Ninety-ninth Percentile.
“Why did you stop coming to see me, Alex?” he asked. His eyes had an almost mournful look now. “I had nobody I could talk to. Those other doctors don’t ever listen. Not really, they don’t.”
“They wouldn’t let me see you for a while,” I told him. “But it’s worked out, so here I am.”
He looked hurt. He was nibbling on his lower lip and staring down at his canvas prison shoes.
Suddenly, his face contorted and he laughed loudly. The sound echoed through the small cell.
Soneji/Murphy leaned closer to me. “You know, you’re really just another dumb bastard,” he said. “So f*cking easy to manipulate. Just like all the others before you. Smart, but not smart enough.”
I stared at him. Surprised. Maybe a little shocked.
“The lights are on, but there’s nobody home,” he commented on the expression that must have been on my face.
“No. I’m here,” I said. “I just underestimated you more than I should have. My mistake.”
“Caught up with reality, have we?” The terrible smirk remained across his face. “You sure you understand? You sure, Doctor-Detective?”
Of course I understood. I had just met Gary Soneji for the very first time. We had just been introduced by Gary Murphy. The process is called rapid cycling.
The kidnapper was staring out at me. He was gloating, showing off, being himself for the first time with me.
The child-murderer sat before me. The brilliant mimic and actor. The Ninety-ninth Percentile. The Son of Lindbergh. All of those things and probably more.
“You okay?” he asked. He was mimicking my earlier concern for him. “You feeling all right, Doctor?”
“I’m just great. No problem at all,” I said.
“Really? You don’t seem okay to me. Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Alex?” Now, he seemed deeply concerned.
“Hey, listen!” I finally raised my voice. “F*ck off, Soneji. How’s that for reality testing?”
“Wait a minute.” He shook his head back and forth. The wolfish grin had disappeared just as suddenly as it had appeared a moment before. “Why are you calling me Soneji? What is this, Doctor? What’s going on?”
I watched his face, and I could not believe what I was seeing.
He’d changed again. Snap. Gary Soneji was gone. He’d changed personas two, maybe three times in a matter of minutes.
“Gary Murphy?” I tested.
He nodded. “Who else? Seriously, Doctor, what’s the matter? What is going on? You go away for weeks. Now you’re back.”
“Tell me what just happened,” I said. I continued to stare at him. “Just now. Tell me what you think just happened.”
He looked confused. Totally baffled by my question. If all of this was an act, it was the most brilliantly awesome and convincing performance I had ever seen in my years as a shrink.
“I don’t understand. You come here to my cell. You seem a little tense. Maybe you were embarrassed because you haven’t been around lately. Then you call me Soneji. Completely out of the blue. That’s not supposed to be funny, is it?”
Was he serious now? Was it possible he didn’t know what had happened less than sixty seconds ago?
Or was this Gary Soneji, still play-acting with me? Could he be slipping in and out of his fugue state so easily, and so seamlessly? It could be, but it was rare. In this case, it could create an unbelievable mockery of a courtroom trial.
It could even get Soneji/Murphy off.
Was that his plan? Had it been his escape valve right from the beginning?