I felt anxiety stir and I recognized the sensation—old-fashioned guilt. I kept thinking that Ned was only able to trace Phyllis because I’d made a date with her. I couldn’t imagine how he’d done it, but the assault wasn’t a random act of violence by an unknown assailant. This was Ned’s doing, and when it was my turn to discuss the situation with Detective Altman, I’d have to tell him the whole long tale. Had I messed up? I must have, because what other explanation was there for the timing? Ned had arrived at the condominium shortly before I had. I hadn’t said a word to anyone about seeing Phyllis. I hadn’t even mentioned my destination when I left for Perdido. It had to be Phyllis who’d inadvertently leaked the particulars.
Detective Altman materialized at my side. “Sorry for the delay,” he said.
“Hang on a second,” I said and caught Erroll’s attention. “Phyllis has a car, doesn’t she?”
He seemed surprised that I’d ask. “A 1988 Olds Cutlass Supreme. Custom paint job. It’s bright red. Car’s her pride and joy.”
“Well, it’s not in the garage, so Ned must have stolen it as his way out of here.”
Altman said, “Who’s Ned?”
I removed the police bulletin about Ned Lowe from my shoulder bag and passed it to him. “This is probably the man you’re looking for. He’s her ex-husband.”
“This was circulated in the department earlier in the week,” he said. “Let me get Pat on it. You know the plate number by chance?”
Erroll said, “LADY CPA.”
Altman left long enough to pass the information along to Officer Espinoza.
When he returned, Erroll said, “Any objection if I go back to my place? I have work to catch up on.”
“Fine,” Altman said. He handed Erroll his card. “Give me a call if you think of anything else.”
Once Erroll left, Detective Altman turned his attention to the bulletin. “Does she have a restraining order out on him?”
“I doubt it. They’ve been divorced for years, but he may be operating under the belief that she has something he wants. He took mementos from the young girls he killed, mostly cheap costume jewelry from what I heard. He must have thought I had the items, but he was unsuccessful in his attempt to get into my office and studio. I guess he gave up on that plan and decided to try her instead.”
I filled him in on my initial dealings with Ned and developments to this point, keeping details to a minimum on the assumption he’d stop and quiz me if he needed clarification. “The thing is, we talked about all of this on the phone two days ago, which is when she invited me for drinks. We’d had phone conversations in the past, but we’d never actually met face-to-face and she suggested I drive down.”
“Did anybody else know you were coming?”
“Not that I’m aware. I’m sure I never mentioned it to anyone and if Phyllis did, that still doesn’t explain how Ned got the information.”
“Good you arrived when you did. Any later, he’d have finished the job.”
“If he meant to kill her, he’d have strangled or smothered her once he’d knocked her out. He wanted me to find her. That’s how his mind works. That way he has the pleasure of beating the shit out of her and putting me on notice at the same time. The bad news is Phyllis never had his trinkets, so he was wasting his time.”
“I’ve got a couple of crime scene techs on the way. They’ll dust for prints and maybe pick up latents that will tie him to the assault.”
24
I spent much of Saturday night sitting in the ER waiting room at Perdido Memorial Hospital, hoping for word about Phyllis’s condition before I made the twenty-five-mile drive back up the coast to Santa Teresa. Phyllis had been taken into surgery without regaining consciousness. She’d been a patient at Perdido Memorial on a prior occasion and the surgical team had no choice but to proceed on the assumption that her medical history was up to date. In the morning, someone would put a call through to her insurance company to determine if her policy was still in effect.
I wasn’t a family member and therefore I was technically not entitled to access, but the floor nurse, Malcolm Denning, was willing to bend the rules. Once Phyllis was out of the recovery room and transferred to ICU, he allowed me to look in on her briefly. She was heavily sedated. Her left arm was in a cast and her jaw had been wired shut. The bruised left cheek and blackened, swollen eyes looked worse, which wasn’t surprising. X rays had revealed a comminuted skull fracture, meaning it was broken in three or more sections and therefore brain swelling was a very real danger.
At my side, Malcolm said, “Someone contacted a neurosurgeon from UCLA and he’s on his way. I don’t know who’s been pulling the strings, but this doc is the best. She’ll be in good hands.”
“That’s good news.”
I gave him my business card with my office number on the front. I jotted my home number on the back. “Can you keep me informed?”
“Can’t go that far, I’m afraid. I’m not authorized to release medical information, but you can check with the desk in the morning if you want an update. You won’t learn much, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Thanks.”
As I turned to go, I saw Erroll standing at the nurses’ station. I thought I might be hallucinating, but his physical characteristics were so distinct that I knew it couldn’t be anyone else. He was wearing a dark three-piece suit, a white dress shirt, and a pair of black loafers that must have cost more than the money I’d refunded the McCabes.
I said, “Erroll?”
He caught sight of me and raised a hand in greeting. He finished his conversation, excused himself, and walked down the hall in my direction. “I was hoping I’d find you here. Can you spare a few minutes?”
“Sure.”
He took me by the elbow and steered me back to the empty waiting room, where we sat down in adjacent chairs. “I’d have been here sooner, but I had some business to take care of.”
“What sort of work do you do? When I met you this afternoon, you were in sweatpants and barefoot. Now you look like a foreign dignitary.”
He looked down at himself with a wry smile. “I’m an attorney. I have a sports management firm that represents professional athletes. Our job is to negotiate contracts and make sure they’re smart about their money so they don’t end up broke. On my way over, I stopped by the office and called a good friend of mine whose company handles personal security. He’s sending a gal who’ll park herself outside ICU and make sure Ned can’t do any more harm.”
“That’s great. I hadn’t even thought of that,” I said. “Someone told me a neurosurgeon from UCLA was on his way.”
“He’s a good friend as well. He should be here shortly, but I wouldn’t advise you to hang around. It will take him a while to do a workup.”
“You arranged all of this in the hours since I saw you?”
“I owe her. She wouldn’t be where she is if it weren’t for me. I don’t know what I was thinking when I let the guy in, but it’s a mistake I won’t repeat.”
“Security in that complex is for shit anyway. Why isn’t there a camera in the elevator?”
“The guy selling these units touted the call buttons and the resident-operated elevator key to control access. Heavy emphasis on the security guard at the gate; no mention of CCTV,” he said. “I use the place when I have business in the area, so it’s not an issue I think about.”
“She said she just moved in.”
“That’s right. Five or six weeks ago. I met her that first day and the two of us hit it off,” he said. “How do you know her? I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier.”