Eight Perfect Murders(44)

“I didn’t,” I said. “I think she honestly believed that since I’d written the list, since I’d read all the books on it, that I was the expert. She thought I might be able to notice something in Elaine Johnson’s house. Also, I knew her. I mean, I’d known Elaine Johnson.”

“So what did you find out? From your visit to her house?”

“What I found out—what we found out, Agent Mulvey and myself—was confirmation that someone really is using my list to commit murders, and that quite possibly it has something to do with me—”

“Quite possibly?” Agent Berry said, his jowls quivering.

“Elaine Johnson was someone I knew, someone who used to come into my bookstore all the time. It’s clear that her death signifies my involvement. Not my immediate involvement, but the fact that whoever is doing this either knows me, or wanted me to find out about this, or is somehow framing me.”

“You discussed all this with Agent Mulvey?”

“Yes, we talked about all the possibilities.”

Agent Berry looked down at his notebook. “Just to confirm, you discussed the murders of Robin Callahan, Jay Bradshaw, and Ethan Byrd?”

“Yes,” I said.

“And you discussed the murder of Bill Manso?”

“The man killed near the train tracks? . . . Yes, we did.”

“What about Eric Atwell?” he said, looking up at me.

“We talked about Eric Atwell a little bit, because of his relationship to me. But we didn’t discuss him as a victim in this particular series of crimes.”

“And what was his relationship to you?”

“Eric Atwell’s?”

“Yes.”

“It’s clear that she wrote all this down,” I said. “I don’t know why you can’t just speak with her or consult her notes.”

“We just want to hear it from you,” said Agent Perez. I’d noticed that any time she spoke Agent Berry would shift on my sofa, uncomfortably, as though he had an itch he was too embarrassed to scratch.

“Eric Atwell had been involved with my wife at the time of her death. He’d gotten her hooked on drugs, and the night she died in a car accident she’d been driving back from his house.”

“And Eric Atwell was murdered, correct?”

“He was shot, yes. It was my understanding that the police thought it was a robbery. And it was pretty clear that Agent Mulvey didn’t think it had anything to do with the ‘Perfect Murders’ list.”

“Okay, one more,” Agent Berry said. “Did you two discuss the death of Steven Clifton?”

I paused, stunned for a moment. Steven Clifton was the name of the science teacher who had molested Claire Mallory back when she was in middle school. I had never heard Gwen mention him. I shook my head and said, “No, I don’t know that name.”

“No?”

“It’s not familiar,” I said.

“Okay,” Agent Berry said and flipped a page in his notebook. He didn’t seem concerned that I hadn’t heard of Steven Clifton. He asked, “Did Agent Mulvey ever confide in you her suspicions about who might be responsible for these murders?”

“No,” I said. “I mean, that was why she had come to me. She was trying to find out if there was anyone in my life—any customers, any ex-employees—whom I might suspect.”

“And was there anyone?”

“There wasn’t,” I said. “Isn’t. At least not that I could think of. Elaine Johnson was probably the oddest customer who used to come into the store, but she’s obviously not guilty.”

“You told Agent Mulvey that you currently have two employees working for you?”

“That’s right. Brandon Weeks and Emily Barsamian. The only other person who occasionally works in the store is my co-owner, Brian Murray.”

Both agents wrote in their notebook. Wind buffeted the window of my apartment. “Is she okay?” I asked, the words coming out spontaneously.

Agent Berry looked up, his lower lip between his teeth. He said, “Agent Mulvey has been suspended from the agency. I need to let you know that she has been informed that she can no longer make any contact with you.”

“Oh,” I said. “Why?”

The agents glanced at each other, then Agent Perez said, “I’m afraid we can’t talk about that. And any information you can provide from here on in should be provided only to me or to Agent Berry.”

I nodded. They looked at each other again, and Perez said, “Would you be willing to come back with me to the office and give a full statement?”



I followed Agent Perez to Chelsea in her car, and she was the one who questioned me, in a plush, small room with a recording device plus two cameras mounted high in the ceiling. We started at the beginning: the origin of the list, the books I’d chosen, Gwen Mulvey and the questions that she’d asked. She wanted to know everything about our interaction, all the details we’d talked about. Agent Perez didn’t ask about Eric Atwell again, or about Steven Clifton, and I was relieved, although it had occurred to me that she was maybe holding some cards close to her chest. The interview took the entire morning, and I felt strangely guilty, as though I were cheating on Gwen Mulvey with this new agent, telling her everything that we had talked about. I kept wondering why she’d been suspended from the agency, and what it had to do with my list, and what was happening. Toward the end of the interview I did ask Agent Perez one last time if she could tell me anything more about Agent Mulvey.