CHAPTER TEN
New York City
Suzanne hadn’t met SSA Tony Presidio before, but she certainly knew him by reputation. Though he was no longer with the Behavioral Science Unit, he was greatly respected within the Bureau and often consulted on cases outside of his field office. He wasn’t a large man, an inch shorter than her five foot nine and trim.
“I appreciate you taking the time to come to New York.” She led him through the maze of cubicles and hallways of the New York regional FBI office.
“I’m hoping I can help.”
Suzanne opened the door to a small conference room. She tossed her stack of papers on the table and motioned for Tony to sit. “We have a mutual friend, I heard. Lucy Kincaid.”
He smiled. “One of my students. She’s one of the reasons I’m here. She’s concerned about her name being in the victim’s files.”
Suzanne slid over a thin folder. “This is all Weber had on Lucy, but as you can see, she planned on digging around.”
Tony opened the file and skimmed it. “Weber wanted to play up the FBI’s use of civilian consultants. I found out last night from national headquarters that she filed an FOIA for Lucy’s FBI file.”
“They wouldn’t have given it.”
“No. She’s an agent; basic information would have been released—hometown, college, training—nothing else. But the information is out there; it’s just a matter of who talks.”
Suzanne eyed him suspiciously. “You’re not suggesting that Lucy had anything to do with the murder?”
“You ran her when you learned her name was in the file.”
Suzanne nodded. “I ran everybody, but I didn’t believe she had anything to do with it.”
“You ran her boyfriend as well.”
“Doesn’t mean I think he did it, either. Just covering all bases.”
Tony raised an eyebrow. “I assumed they passed.”
“Rogan was in Sacramento; Lucy was at Quantico. I wouldn’t say it was impossible that one or both of them could have come here, killed her, and covered their tracks, but that’s a lot of travel, hacking, falsifying documents, and convincing more than one person to lie.”
Tony laughed. “Good to know they’re cleared.”
“I made you copies of all Weber’s files on the Cinderella Strangler case—who she talked to, who she met with, her ideas—but the research for her previous books is stored at Columbia University. Their manuscript preservation program, something like that. Detective DeLucca is tracking down the research assistant now.”
“Good. I’ll take everything back with me to Quantico—if that’s all right with you.”
“Less paperwork for me? You can have it.”
“I went to the scene last night when I arrived, and concur with the detective’s report. Staged to look like a robbery. Do you have her phone records?”
“Just calls—we’re getting a warrant for her text messages; it’s going to take a day or two. We also have e-mails. Nothing that indicates who she was meeting at Citi Field or why. Except”—Suzanne flipped through papers—“this note on her desk.”
She gave him a copy of a sticky note that had a time written down.
“‘Nine thirty—RB.’”
“I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It was the last thing she wrote on that pad of paper, but she didn’t take it with her. Maybe wrote it down when she was on the phone with someone, or got an e-mail, or as a reminder to herself. But she was killed close to nine thirty on Tuesday night.”
“‘RB’—initials?”
“Probably. We’re running the initials through her address book, e-mails, phone lists. We have eight possible IDs so far, but half of those are outside of the greater New York area. NYPD is interviewing the others.”
“Can I see the list?”
Suzanne pulled it up on her cell phone. “DeLucca e-mailed it to me this morning.”
Tony looked. “Just names?”
“For now.”
“If she was meeting with someone, at night, even at a place she felt safe, it would be someone she’d worked with before or met before. Probably someone with information she wanted on the Cinderella Strangler.”
Suzanne nodded. “That was our thought. You said you knew her?”
“I was lead agent on the Rachel McMahon kidnapping in Newark. Weber was a reporter. We didn’t get along, but I didn’t have to deal with her directly—that’s why we have a media information officer.”
“Don’t I know it,” Suzanne mumbled. She would never live down the one time she spoke to the press and earned her “Mad Dog” moniker. And, by Tony’s expression, he knew all about it.
He said, “She was tenacious and liked scandal, always went for the most salacious details of any investigation she covered, but I never knew her to fabricate her stories, or lie about key facts.”
“Did you read the book she wrote about your case?”
“No. It came out five years after Rachel McMahon was murdered, and I didn’t want to relive that tragedy. Public Relations reviewed it and said there were no factual errors.”
“You looked at the reports, you knew the victim, are you thinking any differently than DeLucca and me?”
Tony took a moment to ponder, and Suzanne both appreciated his concentration and worried that she had missed something.
“The killer wanted the police to think robbery, but because we know that Weber had a meeting scheduled with ‘RB’ I think it’s clear it wasn’t a random robbery. But I don’t think this ‘RB’ knew anything about it. It was a trap.”
“There were no defensive wounds on the victim. Nothing to indicate a struggle or that she fought.”
“Because either she knew her attacker, or he acted quickly. No discussion, no hesitation.”
“Which holds with the preliminary coroner’s report.”
“I saw that.” Tony flipped through his notes and read, “‘One six-inch thrust into the lungs and heart.’”
“Some knowledge of anatomy.”
“Perhaps. Or self-educated. The lack of hesitation tells me he planned on killing her, there was no other purpose of the meeting.”
“He.”
“Most likely a male. During my flight I went through the Cinderella Strangler case and Weber’s previous books and numerous newspaper articles. There are many potential suspects, but I can narrow it somewhat.”
“I wasn’t a fan of psychology in investigations until I worked with Lucy six months ago.”
Tony smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which looked sad and reflective. “You use psychology all the time. Most good cops do. Interviewing suspects, using what they say, what they don’t say, their body language, all as cues in how you question them. How hard you need to push. Assessing how reliable a witness might be. Knowing whether someone is lying. Most cops will say it’s experience, or their gut. It’s really psychology they learned simply by doing their job.”
“So you can narrow it down?”
“It is definitely someone who feels they or a loved one was damaged by what Rosemary Weber wrote.”
“Wrote. Past tense.”
“Yes. I don’t think her killer has anything to do with the Cinderella Strangler book she was writing.”
Suzanne wasn’t certain she believed that. “You’re going to have to do better.”
“When we spoke yesterday, you said she’d just started researching the case. She was gathering files, hadn’t interviewed anyone, hadn’t spoken to the victim’s families. No one knew what angle she was taking, or how she planned on writing the book.”
“I can guess. Others may have, too, and not liked it.”
“But there’s nothing tangible.” Tony paused again, looked at his papers, but Suzanne didn’t think he was seeing anything. “I did a cursory assessment of the victims’ families and nothing popped up to indicate that any would resort to violence, especially before the book was written. If anything, they’d want to use Weber to immortalize their daughters, to show the world their girls are loved and greatly missed. But,” he continued, “after the fact, it could be a survivor or a family member who was upset with what was said, and wants to take it back. Or perhaps upset with how they were portrayed. Lucy is reading Weber’s three published books now to assess exactly that—anyone who was portrayed in an embarrassing manner.”
“But not just her books. It could be an article or something else she wrote.”
Tony nodded. “The problem with this theory is that I’d expect to see some sort of verbal or written threat to Weber before she was killed.”
“Except that the killer was extremely careful—so far, we have no physical evidence linking the killer to the crime. No hair or fibers, no blood, no security footage.”
“Well planned and premeditated. The killer doesn’t want to be caught.”
“Most don’t.”
“I wonder.…” His voice trailed off.
“What?” she prompted.
“Was Weber his first victim, or were there more?”
“But if it’s personal, would there be more?”
“Possibly. I keep going back to the manner of death. The killer did not hesitate with the stiletto. Even the choice of weapon is interesting—why a stiletto knife and not a gun? A wider blade? It’s not as intimate as strangulation, but it’s far more intimate than a gun.”
Suzanne’s phone vibrated. “It’s Detective DeLucca.” She answered. “What do you have?”
“Just met with the faculty advisor for Weber’s research assistant. Up to interviewing the kid and grabbing all her research?”
“When and where?”
“Butler Library, twenty minutes.”
“Thirty.” She hung up and turned to Tony. “Why don’t you join me?”
*
It was just past noon when Suzanne and Tony met up with DeLucca outside of Butler Library at Columbia University. Suzanne introduced the two men.
DeLucca said, “Weber brings on a research assistant for each project through the university’s grad program. Prof Duncan Cleveland is the faculty advisor for the program. It’s a win-win for the student—they get a stipend and college credit. Weber’s current assistant is Kip Todd, and Cleveland says he’ll be here. He has a small office on the sixth floor.”
“What do we know about him?” she asked as they walked up the wide steps to the main entrance.
“Grad student, got his undergrad in Buffalo in English Lit with a minor in communications. The victim picked him from nineteen applicants to be her assistant—according to Cleveland, she was demanding but fair, and liked to mentor.”
“We should talk to her former assistants,” Tony said.
DeLucca opened the heavy door and Suzanne stepped into the air-conditioned foyer. The cool air raised bumps on her skin. “I have the list. One is in the city; one has relocated. Kip Todd is her third.”
“I thought she was working on her fourth book?” Suzanne asked.
“She wrote the first book while she was working as a reporter in Newark. Sex, Lies, and Family Secrets.” DeLucca rolled his eyes.
Tony said, “Unfortunately, I’m very familiar with that case.”
“Suzi said you were one of the investigators.”
Suzanne punched DeLucca in the arm. She hated when he called her Suzi in public.
Tony stopped them and said quietly, “Have you identified the ‘RB’ Weber wrote she was meeting the night she was killed?”
“I have uniforms checking them out right now.”
Suzanne said, “Tony thinks it was a setup, that the killer used the meeting to get her alone.”
“Seems too dumb,” DeLucca said. “Too easy to trace.”
“Meaning,” Tony said, “that the killer isn’t the RB she was supposed to meet.”
DeLucca considered his theory. “I can see that. But how would the meet be set up? Wouldn’t she recognize the voice? There were no e-mails on her hard drive, though I have techs going through deleted messages now.”
“Any of the RBs on your list affiliated with the Cinderella Strangler investigation?”
“Yes,” DeLucca said, pulling out his notepad. “Rob Banker. He was the lead reporter covering the investigation for the Times and according to Detective Panetta, he seemed to have inside information.”
“A leak from NYPD,” Suzanne said.
DeLucca shot her a nasty glance, but she didn’t care. He had called her “Suzi.”
“Wherever the information came from, he had it,” DeLucca said. “The other three don’t appear to have any direct involvement with that case.”
“A fellow reporter—I can see Weber meeting him in a parking lot,” Tony said.
“He lives in Queens—not far from Citi Field. But why would he set her up?”
“I don’t think he did—I think the killer used his name.”
“Too many what-ifs,” DeLucca said. He pulled out his phone. “I’ll check him out myself, as soon as we’re done here.”
He sent a message, then pocketed his phone. “We can’t find Weber’s phone, but she uses a digital planner that she backed up on her computer. The last back-up was two nights before she was murdered, and there was no scheduled meeting.”
“What was her last appointment?” Tony asked.
“The morgue,” DeLucca said. “She made a notation to pick up files. We checked with the staff, and she’d filed an FOIA for the official autopsy reports of all Cinderella Strangler victims.”
“I talked to Panetta this morning,” DeLucca continued, “and she’s been hounding him. He keeps sending her to you, Suz, since it became an FBI case when your SWAT team took out the suspect. She’d pulled the initial police reports of each Cinderella Strangler victim from the responding precinct.”
Tony said, “I’m going to talk to the librarian and ask them to pull the archived manuscripts and catch up with you.”
Suzanne and Joe went up to the sixth floor and asked for directions at the information desk to Cleveland’s grad student office. They found Kip Todd sitting at a table with several books open in front of him. He was twenty-six, attractive, blond. By the way his legs were folded under the table, he was at least six feet tall and rail thin. He glanced up when they entered, surprise in his eyes.
“Mr. Todd? Detective DeLucca, NYPD, and Special Agent Madeaux, FBI. We have a few questions about your employer.”
He blinked rapidly, then sighed. “I’m still in shock.” He closed his books after marking his place. “Professor Cleveland said you’d probably want to talk to me.”
Suzanne sat across from Kip while Joe stood. “You spent a lot of time with her. Whatever you know may be helpful in finding out who killed her,” Suzanne said.
“I really liked Rosemary. She was tough, but I learned so much.”
“You were her assistant for the book she was currently researching?”
“The Cinderella Strangler—” His eyes widened. “You’re Suzanne Madeaux. Oh, wow. Rosemary really wanted to talk to you. She said without you her book wouldn’t happen.”
“Then it wouldn’t have happened.”
Kip looked at her quizzically.
Suzanne said, “It’s up to my boss’s boss, and they usually assign a media rep to work on these things.”
Joe said, “Did you know who she was supposed to meet at Citi Field last night?”
Kip shook his head. “I didn’t know anything about the meeting, but that’s not strange. She assigned me specific projects.”
“Like?”
“She had me pulling records. Do you realize that four different morgues handled the victims and the suspect, depending on where they were killed?”
“I’m aware,” Suzanne said.
“That’s a lot of groundwork. Then verifying all the information—Rosemary was a stickler for details. Everything had to be verified and reverified.”
“Where were you Tuesday?”
“Tuesday I went to the Jacobi Medical Center, in the Bronx. Yesterday, before I knew she was killed, I was taking pictures outside of the suspect’s art gallery.”
Joe asked, “What about Rob Banker?”
“The Times reporter? They were friends.”
“Was he consulting on this particular book?”
“She talked to him about it. I wasn’t part of those conversations.”
Suzanne asked, “Did you or Ms. Weber contact anyone involved in the Cinderella Strangler case who seemed agitated or angry about the prospect of their lives being dragged through the mud?”
“Rosemary handles these situations carefully. She’s very fair. Have you read her books?”
“No,” Suzanne said. And she didn’t want to, though she thought she might have to now. Lucy was reading them; maybe Suzanne could rely on her analysis.
Joe asked, “Did you go with Ms. Weber on the interviews?”
“She hasn’t even gotten that far. She sent preliminary communications to the key people in the case—like you,” he said to Suzanne, “and Detective Panetta, the reporters who documented the investigation. The guy Barnett.”
Barnett, who’d been a key suspect in the Cinderella Strangler case, would not want to be the subject of any true crime book, not when it would drag his younger brother through this mess again. Barnett had a temper as well. But Suzanne didn’t see him stabbing Rosemary Weber and stealing her ring and phone to make it look like a robbery. And why would she meet with him in the parking lot of a baseball stadium? Still, Suzanne would talk to him. If he thought that Weber was a threat to his younger brother, he might hire someone to kill her. It didn’t feel right to Suzanne, but she’d have to confirm it one way or the other.
“How did the meeting go with Barnett?” she asked.
“She talked to him on the phone; that’s all I know. She didn’t give me any notes to transcribe.”
“Notes?”
“She records everything; I transcribe them. But she hasn’t done any interviews yet. The only things I’ve transcribed were her notes to herself.”
“Does she use a tape recorder? Her phone?”
“A small tape recorder. She has several.”
No tape recorder had been found on Weber’s body.
Suzanne asked, “Did Ms. Weber ask you to research a consultant on the case, Lucy Kincaid?”
Kip shook his head and Suzanne was relieved; then Kip said, “She mentioned her, but didn’t ask me to do anything. Why?”
“Kincaid’s involvement wasn’t part of the public file.”
Kip said, “Rosemary knew everyone. And I mean everyone. She knew things she probably shouldn’t know. You should read her books—you’ll know what I mean.”
Joe said, “I’ll need all your notes and files.”
“Why?”
“Part of the investigation.” Joe slid over his card. “To my attention, please.”
Suzanne asked, “Did Rosemary receive any threatening letters or e-mails?”
“Not that I know of. But she had a P.O. box and she handled her own mail. There was this one guy, though, up at Rikers, who kept sending her letters. Every week. He wanted her to write a book about his crimes and prove he was innocent. She laughed over them and threw them away. Said she got hundreds of letters from prisoners claiming they were framed, but this guy was the most persistent.”
“Do you remember his name?”
Kip shook his head. “Sorry.”
“If you remember anything else that may be important to the case, please let us know.” Suzanne gave Kip her card to go with Joe’s. “No matter how small.”
Leaving, Joe said, “What do you think?”
“I think I need to talk to Barnett and you need to check out her P.O. box and this guy from Rikers.”
“Motive?”
“I don’t see Barnett killing her, but he’s very protective of his brother, and leave no stone unturned, right?”
“If this prisoner wrote her every week, someone at the prison knows who he is. What about the assistant?”
Suzanne raised an eyebrow. “Motive?”
“Maybe she was going to fire him, or she pissed him off. His professor said he had no complaints about his job with Weber, but you never know. I’ll run him, but he seems to be what he is. In the meantime, I’m going to head over to the morgue. Want to come?”
“No. I’ll talk to Barnett and let you know what I learn.”
“Dinner?”
“No.”
“I’ll see you at seven. Same place.”
“I said no, Joe—and this time I mean it.”
I hope.
“Where’s your FBI buddy?”
Suzanne had almost forgotten about Tony Presidio. She glanced at her watch, then looked at the map of the library. “Manuscript archives.” She and Joe found the reference desk and asked about Tony.
The clerk looked nervous. “He’s with the head librarian in the storage basement.”
“Please take us down there,” Suzanne said, and showed her badge.
It was a maze to finally locate Tony. He was talking in a low, angry voice to a middle-aged female librarian.
“You have protocols, but you’re saying they weren’t followed?”
The librarian said, “I don’t know what happened, sir. I’ve called the director. I’m sure they were misfiled.”
“But according to your records, they’ve never been viewed since Ms. Weber donated her archives to the library.”
Suzanne approached. “What happened?”
Tony gestured to two boxes on the floor next to him. “They can’t find one of Weber’s boxes, but according to their computer, no one has looked at it since it was donated three years ago.”
“Which box?”
“The Rachel McMahon murder.”
“Security cameras?”
“We have live cameras that are monitored by campus security, but don’t keep internal backup tapes,” the librarian said.
“And we don’t know when it went missing. Anytime in the last three years,” Tony said.
He seemed unusually angry about the misplaced file box, but Suzanne didn’t know him well enough to know if that was par for the course. She gave the librarian her card and said, “If it turns up, call me immediately.”
“I’m assigning two of my best archivists to search for it,” she said, eager to please.
“Thank you.”
Suzanne walked out with Joe and Tony.
“It’s about that case,” Tony said.
“We don’t know that,” Joe said. “Why would the killer wait so many years to go after her?”
“I don’t know, but she made a lot of enemies after she wrote that book, particularly in law enforcement.”
“Are you saying a cop killed her?”
“No. But she highlighted the flaws in the investigation, which all stemmed from erroneous information that the victim’s family provided. By the time we sorted through the truth and lies, Rachel was dead. In fact, she was dead before anyone knew she was missing.”
“Maybe the research assistant knows where it is,” Suzanne said.
Joe glanced at his watch. “I have to talk to the M.E. Call me if you find anything.” He left, and Suzanne turned to Tony.
“Do you have any other information about why you think it’s connected to McMahon?”
He shook his head. “It’s odd that all three manuscript files were submitted three years ago, shortly after her third book came out, and only that one is missing.”
Suzanne led the way back to the sixth floor. Kip Todd was still sitting where she’d left him, but he wasn’t working. He was staring at the wall in front of him.
He seemed startled to see her again so soon.
“More questions?”
Suzanne introduced Tony. “We just came from Manuscript Archives. One of Ms. Weber’s boxes is missing.”
“Missing?” Kip’s brows pulled together in confusion. “How?”
She didn’t answer. “Did you check out any of them?”
He shook his head. “No.”
“Did anyone ask you for the files? Or tell you they were looking at them?”
Again, Kip shook his head. “I’m sorry. I can help look for them; I’m familiar with manuscript archives.”
“The librarian is handling it.”
“Which box is missing?” Kip asked.
“The first—Rachel McMahon.”
Tony said to Suzanne, “I still have my notes. I’ll go through them when I get back and contact the other investigators if we need more information.”
Suzanne thanked Kip again, and they walked out. “Are you coming back to headquarters with me?”
“I’d like to speak with Rob Banker.”
“Right after I verify that Wade Barnett had nothing to do with this.”