Chapter Fifteen
The grilling that Ruthie and Peter were subjected to a few hours later was nothing like they had experienced during the grand jury investigating Frank Henderson a few years before. At least in that case, the teacher had humiliated them, albeit in a sexual way. This time, the police had it in for them.
No one could quite believe that they had it so carefully planned out, that they knew who the attacker was or might be, and that was the night he would make his move. Furthermore, their claims to self-defence seemed preposterous given how brutally they retaliated. Was it really necessary to use a crowbar and a garrotte to kill Dick Proctor? Wouldn't a kick in his private parts have been enough, disabling him just long enough for the cops to book him and get an arraignment for trial? It wasn't like he was facing the death penalty; Hawaii didn't have one – hadn't for decades, in fact.
However, as Ruthie and her husband repeatedly told their interrogators, a gun had been pointed to their heads. Given the viciousness used to maim or kill all the other victims, they would have been foolish not to do something to vindicate their friends; for, in similar circumstances (Peter pointed told the police), they still would have done the same thing. They couldn't take the chance that the gun might be a fake, or that it might be unloaded, or even that he might be bluffing. Given the threats they had faced in earlier points in their lives, their actions were totally justified.
Finally, nine hours later, the police cleared them of any wrongdoing and were told they could go back to their vacation plans. But Peter and his wife had had enough. Even if they were in the right, they still had blood on their hands and they needed to cleanse themselves as fast as they could. They'd take the red-eye back to Los Angeles, that night; which is exactly what they did, along with Lucy, Roxanne and Michaels.
Happy to return to Glen Oak and to their now marital bedroom at the Camdens, Peter and Ruthie made love. When they let go some time later, however, both burst into tears as the realization of the past few weeks came flooding into their heads.
Word about the extraordinary turn of events spread throughout the family, for later the following day, the other married couples in the clan found their way to the manse. Of course, Kevin and Lucy didn't have to go far; they lived a few bedroom doors down from her sister and brother-in-law. The others had flown in during the interim. It was a bittersweet homecoming for all. On the one hand, the five pairs – Matt and Sarah, Mary and Robbie, Simon and Deena, Lucy and Kevin, and now Ruthie and Peter – were all pregnant, and had become so within a short time frame of each other. This left the prospect the women might all give birth very close to each other.
On the other hand, though, Ruthie and Peter had gone through the kind of trauma no vacationing honeymooners deserved to undergo. So the others were there mostly to comfort the newest members of the club, and to reassure them that things could only look up from there on in.
Most of the pairs were engaged in animated conversation. Two people, who weren't talking, were Lucy and Kevin. While Lucy was truly contrite for what she had done with Chandler (and with Roxanne, of course, though Kevin still didn't know about that), Kevin categorically had refused to apologize for having done the deed with Roxie. Lucy slept on the floor the previous night, trying to figure out what her next move would be. She had never contemplated divorce until this point, but under the circumstances, she might not have much choice.
All the young adults shared a few slabs of pizza, which Eric and Annie had ordered in for them before going on a weekend retreat of their own along with the twins. Ginger had come into town and was running between bedrooms taking care of her step-great grandchildren.
As the couples reached the end of the second slab and started on the third, a knock was heard at the door. It was Roxanne, back in her regular uniform. Ruthie let her in, and offered a couple of slices.
"Not now, Ruthie," said Roxie. "I've got to talk to you guys ... and since you're all here, I figured I may as well tell all of you so I don't have to repeat it."
Sensing something was wrong, Ruthie led Roxanne into the living room. The space got quiet.
"We've got a big problem, guys," said Roxanne. "This murder investigation is by no means over."
"What are you talking about?" said Peter. "We clobbered Dick to death!"
"Yes, you did," admitted Roxie; "and while I don't approve of that, you and Ruthie did what you had to do. There's just one problem. The Honolulu police ran a DNA test of Dick Proctor's blood, and compared it to the semen samples which the man who raped two of the female victims – Shelby and Patty Mary. They also compared the bite marks left on some of the male victims who were murdered, and compared the saliva or blood stains to that of Dick – his dental records and his blood, respectively."
"Oh, no," said Deena. "It couldn't be."
"You're not telling us what I think you are," said Sarah in disgust.
"I'm afraid so," said Roxanne. "The same person was responsible for all those murders or attempted murders. But it wasn't Dick Proctor who did it."
"Are you telling us," said Ruthie, her voice rising in anger, "we killed an innocent man?"
"No," said the cop. "He had the intent to kill you and Peter – but you and Peter, alone. He wanted to kill the others, too, but he didn't want to leave a trail. When the others started dropping, he figured it was the perfect alibi just in case we did round him up before you guys got to him – who is what you did."
"The lipstick on the mirror?" asked Peter.
"It wasn't Dick; I can tell you that," said Roxanne, "nor any of the other couple's bedrooms through which the stalker snuck in, for that matter. Dick was 6'2". The vents are such that you'd have to be 5'4" or smaller to fit in. We're talking a small person – not a midget, but a rather petit person."
"What about the locks?" said Robbie. "How did this guy cut electronic keys?"
"It's a lot easier to hack into the CIA's computer that that of a lot of hotels," said Roxie. "But it's not impossible, either. This guy's a genius, or he has a lot of helpers."
"Is there any way this killer – whoever he is – and Dick, could have crossed paths and come to a gentleman's agreement?" Ruthie thought that was ridiculous as soon as she asked it, but still ...
"Who knows?" said Roxie. "We know Dick knew a lot of people in the underground, but trying to penetrate that world is harder than getting into the minds of the Mafia."
"Okay, two questions," asked Peter. "First, if Dick isn't the serial killer, then why did he try to kill Ruthie and me? It wasn't about her and I doing the wild thing at that summer camp."
"Only partly," said the cop. "He was still angry that you broke up his engagement to Paris. When Kevin brought up the court order staying away from any unmarried woman, he vowed that someday he'd get his revenge. He wanted to kill her first, but ... well, you know. Of course, he'd never admit that was his real reason." She didn't want to say what everyone knew: that Vic had killed Paris in a fit of rage, then killed himself. "He just fell into the wrong crowd, a ragtag of religious nuts, and his whole world fell apart from there. He was determined to do whatever it took to find you two again, in the worst possible way, and get you at your most vulnerable."
"Sheez," said Ruthie.
"What was your second question?" asked Roxanne.
Peter had completely forgotten what he wanted to ask his and his wife's friend, but Ruthie instinctively read her husband's mind.
"Don't you think it's just a little weird," she said, "that the night my darling and I were driven from the airport to the hotel, the taxi driver mentioned something about Hawaii's quaint liquor and gambling laws? I mean, we're only eighteen. The drinking age in Paradise is 21, just like on the Mainland. And gambling is illegal there. Wasn't it obvious to the driver we were underage?"
Mary leaned forward. She, like Deena, had been kicking themselves these last few minutes, having gotten it so wrong – at least in part. They were right about Dick, vis-à-vis Ruthie and Peter, but were wrong about the other killings and attempts. They still felt a special closeness to Ruthie, however, and wanted to help her and her husband get to the bottom of this, before school started in just four weeks time.
"Do you remember how this guy looked like, Ruthie?" asked Mary.
"He was a rather bushy looking guy – I don't know, mid-thirties."
"How tall?" said Deena.
"Oh, like that's going to help," said Peter. "When most people sit down, they look about the same height."
"But he helped you unload your bags that night when you got to the hotel," said Matt. "Think ... how tall was he?"
"About ... 5'3"," replied Ruthie. And then, a light shone in her head. In a phone call from a place where Patty Mary and George had gone into hiding, Patty Mary told Ruthie about several distinguishing features of her rapist. One, the fact he was rather short but extremely powerful for a man his size. Second, he had a tattoo – a pentagram. Ruthie recalled the taxi driver had a rather unusual religious mark on his right hand but dismissed it at the time, owing it to Hawaii's extremely diverse ethnic and religious makeup. And third, he had a couple of gold teeth. Ruthie recalled the driver had gold teeth, too.
"Naw," she quickly blurted out loud. "It can't be him. Why would a taxi driver put it all on the line like that?"
"But we can't take any chances," said Peter. "Roxanne, I think you should call the 5-0, and find out about the fare that picked up my wife and me that night. The taxi company should have a record of who picked us up. I think it was Gamma Cabs or something like that."
Roxanne took out her cell phone and made the call. A few minutes later, the call came back. There was no record of a man fitting that description working at Gamma or any other cab company in Honolulu, nor any limousine service. In all likelihood, it was a pirate fare – an unlicensed hackney carriage, in the parlance of the business. This guy had really done his homework.
Matt thought of only one other possibility. "Have the 5-0 compared the killer's DNA profile to what the feds have on file?"
"No matches yet," said Roxanne. "So we're back to square one."
"No, we're not," said Ruthie. Her mind was racing now, trying to stay one step ahead of her new tormentor.
"This guy is still after us, and we have to stop him before he can kill Peter and me, or anyone else. Roxie, call Theresa's parents and see if they know of any of their contacts in the underground that have disappeared lately; as well as those still on the surface. Check their names to see if there are any outstanding warrants for any people matching this creep's description. Oh, and finally, get in touch with Rod and Shelby, wherever they are, and have them call JAG. See if the MPs are looking for any male fitting the same profile who's gone AWOL or has deserted recently."
"Are you sure you want to be a minister, Ruthie? You sound like a cop," said Roxanne, laughing. Everyone else laughed too.
"Hey, even a minister-wannabe has to be flexible," said Ruthie. Her rejoinder was cheerful, but she was as glum as ever and so was Peter. They were supposed to start packing for their move to Los Angeles, and now the chances they would ever make it to La-la Land were getting slimmer than ever before.
The grilling that Ruthie and Peter were subjected to a few hours later was nothing like they had experienced during the grand jury investigating Frank Henderson a few years before. At least in that case, the teacher had humiliated them, albeit in a sexual way. This time, the police had it in for them.
No one could quite believe that they had it so carefully planned out, that they knew who the attacker was or might be, and that was the night he would make his move. Furthermore, their claims to self-defence seemed preposterous given how brutally they retaliated. Was it really necessary to use a crowbar and a garrotte to kill Dick Proctor? Wouldn't a kick in his private parts have been enough, disabling him just long enough for the cops to book him and get an arraignment for trial? It wasn't like he was facing the death penalty; Hawaii didn't have one – hadn't for decades, in fact.
However, as Ruthie and her husband repeatedly told their interrogators, a gun had been pointed to their heads. Given the viciousness used to maim or kill all the other victims, they would have been foolish not to do something to vindicate their friends; for, in similar circumstances (Peter pointed told the police), they still would have done the same thing. They couldn't take the chance that the gun might be a fake, or that it might be unloaded, or even that he might be bluffing. Given the threats they had faced in earlier points in their lives, their actions were totally justified.
Finally, nine hours later, the police cleared them of any wrongdoing and were told they could go back to their vacation plans. But Peter and his wife had had enough. Even if they were in the right, they still had blood on their hands and they needed to cleanse themselves as fast as they could. They'd take the red-eye back to Los Angeles, that night; which is exactly what they did, along with Lucy, Roxanne and Michaels.
Happy to return to Glen Oak and to their now marital bedroom at the Camdens, Peter and Ruthie made love. When they let go some time later, however, both burst into tears as the realization of the past few weeks came flooding into their heads.
Word about the extraordinary turn of events spread throughout the family, for later the following day, the other married couples in the clan found their way to the manse. Of course, Kevin and Lucy didn't have to go far; they lived a few bedroom doors down from her sister and brother-in-law. The others had flown in during the interim. It was a bittersweet homecoming for all. On the one hand, the five pairs – Matt and Sarah, Mary and Robbie, Simon and Deena, Lucy and Kevin, and now Ruthie and Peter – were all pregnant, and had become so within a short time frame of each other. This left the prospect the women might all give birth very close to each other.
On the other hand, though, Ruthie and Peter had gone through the kind of trauma no vacationing honeymooners deserved to undergo. So the others were there mostly to comfort the newest members of the club, and to reassure them that things could only look up from there on in.
Most of the pairs were engaged in animated conversation. Two people, who weren't talking, were Lucy and Kevin. While Lucy was truly contrite for what she had done with Chandler (and with Roxanne, of course, though Kevin still didn't know about that), Kevin categorically had refused to apologize for having done the deed with Roxie. Lucy slept on the floor the previous night, trying to figure out what her next move would be. She had never contemplated divorce until this point, but under the circumstances, she might not have much choice.
All the young adults shared a few slabs of pizza, which Eric and Annie had ordered in for them before going on a weekend retreat of their own along with the twins. Ginger had come into town and was running between bedrooms taking care of her step-great grandchildren.
As the couples reached the end of the second slab and started on the third, a knock was heard at the door. It was Roxanne, back in her regular uniform. Ruthie let her in, and offered a couple of slices.
"Not now, Ruthie," said Roxie. "I've got to talk to you guys ... and since you're all here, I figured I may as well tell all of you so I don't have to repeat it."
Sensing something was wrong, Ruthie led Roxanne into the living room. The space got quiet.
"We've got a big problem, guys," said Roxanne. "This murder investigation is by no means over."
"What are you talking about?" said Peter. "We clobbered Dick to death!"
"Yes, you did," admitted Roxie; "and while I don't approve of that, you and Ruthie did what you had to do. There's just one problem. The Honolulu police ran a DNA test of Dick Proctor's blood, and compared it to the semen samples which the man who raped two of the female victims – Shelby and Patty Mary. They also compared the bite marks left on some of the male victims who were murdered, and compared the saliva or blood stains to that of Dick – his dental records and his blood, respectively."
"Oh, no," said Deena. "It couldn't be."
"You're not telling us what I think you are," said Sarah in disgust.
"I'm afraid so," said Roxanne. "The same person was responsible for all those murders or attempted murders. But it wasn't Dick Proctor who did it."
"Are you telling us," said Ruthie, her voice rising in anger, "we killed an innocent man?"
"No," said the cop. "He had the intent to kill you and Peter – but you and Peter, alone. He wanted to kill the others, too, but he didn't want to leave a trail. When the others started dropping, he figured it was the perfect alibi just in case we did round him up before you guys got to him – who is what you did."
"The lipstick on the mirror?" asked Peter.
"It wasn't Dick; I can tell you that," said Roxanne, "nor any of the other couple's bedrooms through which the stalker snuck in, for that matter. Dick was 6'2". The vents are such that you'd have to be 5'4" or smaller to fit in. We're talking a small person – not a midget, but a rather petit person."
"What about the locks?" said Robbie. "How did this guy cut electronic keys?"
"It's a lot easier to hack into the CIA's computer that that of a lot of hotels," said Roxie. "But it's not impossible, either. This guy's a genius, or he has a lot of helpers."
"Is there any way this killer – whoever he is – and Dick, could have crossed paths and come to a gentleman's agreement?" Ruthie thought that was ridiculous as soon as she asked it, but still ...
"Who knows?" said Roxie. "We know Dick knew a lot of people in the underground, but trying to penetrate that world is harder than getting into the minds of the Mafia."
"Okay, two questions," asked Peter. "First, if Dick isn't the serial killer, then why did he try to kill Ruthie and me? It wasn't about her and I doing the wild thing at that summer camp."
"Only partly," said the cop. "He was still angry that you broke up his engagement to Paris. When Kevin brought up the court order staying away from any unmarried woman, he vowed that someday he'd get his revenge. He wanted to kill her first, but ... well, you know. Of course, he'd never admit that was his real reason." She didn't want to say what everyone knew: that Vic had killed Paris in a fit of rage, then killed himself. "He just fell into the wrong crowd, a ragtag of religious nuts, and his whole world fell apart from there. He was determined to do whatever it took to find you two again, in the worst possible way, and get you at your most vulnerable."
"Sheez," said Ruthie.
"What was your second question?" asked Roxanne.
Peter had completely forgotten what he wanted to ask his and his wife's friend, but Ruthie instinctively read her husband's mind.
"Don't you think it's just a little weird," she said, "that the night my darling and I were driven from the airport to the hotel, the taxi driver mentioned something about Hawaii's quaint liquor and gambling laws? I mean, we're only eighteen. The drinking age in Paradise is 21, just like on the Mainland. And gambling is illegal there. Wasn't it obvious to the driver we were underage?"
Mary leaned forward. She, like Deena, had been kicking themselves these last few minutes, having gotten it so wrong – at least in part. They were right about Dick, vis-à-vis Ruthie and Peter, but were wrong about the other killings and attempts. They still felt a special closeness to Ruthie, however, and wanted to help her and her husband get to the bottom of this, before school started in just four weeks time.
"Do you remember how this guy looked like, Ruthie?" asked Mary.
"He was a rather bushy looking guy – I don't know, mid-thirties."
"How tall?" said Deena.
"Oh, like that's going to help," said Peter. "When most people sit down, they look about the same height."
"But he helped you unload your bags that night when you got to the hotel," said Matt. "Think ... how tall was he?"
"About ... 5'3"," replied Ruthie. And then, a light shone in her head. In a phone call from a place where Patty Mary and George had gone into hiding, Patty Mary told Ruthie about several distinguishing features of her rapist. One, the fact he was rather short but extremely powerful for a man his size. Second, he had a tattoo – a pentagram. Ruthie recalled the taxi driver had a rather unusual religious mark on his right hand but dismissed it at the time, owing it to Hawaii's extremely diverse ethnic and religious makeup. And third, he had a couple of gold teeth. Ruthie recalled the driver had gold teeth, too.
"Naw," she quickly blurted out loud. "It can't be him. Why would a taxi driver put it all on the line like that?"
"But we can't take any chances," said Peter. "Roxanne, I think you should call the 5-0, and find out about the fare that picked up my wife and me that night. The taxi company should have a record of who picked us up. I think it was Gamma Cabs or something like that."
Roxanne took out her cell phone and made the call. A few minutes later, the call came back. There was no record of a man fitting that description working at Gamma or any other cab company in Honolulu, nor any limousine service. In all likelihood, it was a pirate fare – an unlicensed hackney carriage, in the parlance of the business. This guy had really done his homework.
Matt thought of only one other possibility. "Have the 5-0 compared the killer's DNA profile to what the feds have on file?"
"No matches yet," said Roxanne. "So we're back to square one."
"No, we're not," said Ruthie. Her mind was racing now, trying to stay one step ahead of her new tormentor.
"This guy is still after us, and we have to stop him before he can kill Peter and me, or anyone else. Roxie, call Theresa's parents and see if they know of any of their contacts in the underground that have disappeared lately; as well as those still on the surface. Check their names to see if there are any outstanding warrants for any people matching this creep's description. Oh, and finally, get in touch with Rod and Shelby, wherever they are, and have them call JAG. See if the MPs are looking for any male fitting the same profile who's gone AWOL or has deserted recently."
"Are you sure you want to be a minister, Ruthie? You sound like a cop," said Roxanne, laughing. Everyone else laughed too.
"Hey, even a minister-wannabe has to be flexible," said Ruthie. Her rejoinder was cheerful, but she was as glum as ever and so was Peter. They were supposed to start packing for their move to Los Angeles, and now the chances they would ever make it to La-la Land were getting slimmer than ever before.