Eight Perfect Murders(69)

Knowing she’d moved into her dead sister’s house in Rockland, Maine, Marty paid her a visit. He broke into her house when she’d been out—probably terrorizing a staff member at some local bookstore—and hid in her bedroom closet. He wore a clown mask with a large, hideous mouth, full of sharp teeth, and when Elaine Johnson came home, he waited patiently. He could hear her puttering around downstairs, oblivious to his presence. Eventually, she came upstairs to the bedroom, and went straight to the closet, opening it up. All he had to do was stand there, then take a step toward her. She turned white, then pawed at her chest, then did exactly what he’d been hoping she’d do. She died of a heart attack.

“Why’d you leave the books?” I said.

“I wanted them to come to you, at some point at least. I knew that the murder of Elaine Johnson was absolutely foolproof. There’d be no way any coroner would consider it a suspicious death. So I left the books, just hoping to muddy the waters. Hoping someone in law enforcement somewhere would be smart enough to put it all together.”

“Someone did,” I said.

“And you panicked and came running to me for help. I never thought that would happen, but I was thrilled when it did. It was good to hear your voice, asking me for a favor.”

“You could have ended it there. You’d gotten what you wanted.”

“No. What I wanted was to complete the project, but I wanted you along for the ride. And that’s what we have, now, the two of us. Do you want to hear the rest?”





Chapter 29




“After you told me that the FBI had paid you a visit, I knew that someone had finally noticed. I knew that the closer things got to you, the faster you’d try and figure out who I was. So, just to delay the inevitable, I handed you Nick Pruitt.”

Marty told me that it was true that Pruitt had made a formal complaint against Norman Chaney after the house fire that killed Chaney’s wife, Pruitt’s sister. And for that reason, Marty had already checked Pruitt out before I ever asked him for information on Chaney’s death. Pruitt was a recovering alcoholic with a few arrests on his record, someone Marty thought was the perfect candidate for the murder based on Malice Aforethought. If Pruitt suddenly died of alcohol poisoning, who would suspect it was a murder? He had a verifiable past as someone who abused alcohol.

After Marty and I had drinks at Jack Crow’s Tavern on that Wednesday night, Marty went to a liquor store and bought a bottle of scotch to take to Pruitt in New Essex. “He just let me in. I’d shown him my gun, of course. Told him I needed him to take a few drinks. Once he started, he actually couldn’t stop. It wasn’t that hard to convince him to drink almost the whole bottle. I’d laced it with liquid benzos, just to be sure.”

He smiled. “After Pruitt was a dead end, I figured I could push you toward thinking Brian Murray, or even Tess, was involved. Did it work? Did you actually notice the brand of scotch?”

“I did,” I said.

“That pleases me,” Marty said, as though I’d just complimented him on his sweater.

“How well do you know Brian and Tess Murray?” I said.

“Tess I just met tonight. Played a little hide-and-seek with her around the house before you got here. I know Brian pretty well, just through the store, but over the past few years I’ve gotten into the habit of stopping by that hotel bar he likes and having a few with him. I actually saw you with the two of them on Tuesday night. I knew Tess was back because of Brian’s broken arm. And now it’s all set up. Police’ll find Brian’s dead body in his home—I’m thinking a pillow over the face with a gun fired into it—and Tess will have disappeared. We can even pack a suitcase for her. It will be just like Red House Mystery. One dead body, one fleeing murderer. All we need is a good place to hide her body.”

“What’s wrong with her, with Tess?” I said, glancing toward where she was still sleeping curled up on the sofa. She hadn’t moved.

“I slipped some of that benzodiazepine into the coffee she was drinking. Put it in her port, as well, and I think she had some of that. There’s a good chance she took enough to put her over, but if not, I don’t think it’ll be a problem finishing her off. Something gentle like a plastic bag over the head should do it.”

I think we’d both gotten used to hearing the steady snoring coming from Brian in the downstairs bedroom, but suddenly we both heard a loud grunting snore, so violent that we both looked at each other. Marty picked the gun up off his thigh and turned his attention in that direction. “Sleep apnea,” he said. “I doubt he’ll wake himself up, but let’s go have a look.”

He stood up and I could hear his knees pop. “You, too,” he said, pointing the gun toward me. I stood, as well.

Together we walked to the guest bedroom at the end of the hall, me first, with Marty behind me. The door had been left open a crack, and I pushed through. It was dark inside, but a small amount of light came through a window so that I could see Brian, lying on his back above the sheets of the bed. Tess had left his clothes on, but his pants were unbuttoned, his belt hanging loose. I watched as his chest fluttered a little, rising and falling fast, then he let out another explosive snore. I didn’t know how it hadn’t woken him.

“Jesus,” Marty said from behind me. “Let’s put the motherfucker out of his misery.”