Agnes Hahn Read online

  “And the fingerprints showed that Eddie sent the letter to Agnes?”

  “Yes. Quite a family.”

  Jason slumped in the chair at Detective Saroyan’s desk. Bransome stood. He seemed excited.

  “Now for the good part. For an old fart like me, this e-mail thing is a miracle. I sent scans of Agnes’s and Eddie’s DNA to one of the genetics profs in Berkeley. He confirmed they’re related.” He paused.

  Jason thought about telling him what Ella had said, but Bransome interrupted his deliberation.

  Bransome’s grin spread his cheeks wide. “But the relationship is more like a father, not a grandfather. They can tell that from the DNA.” He paused again. “You don’t find that strange?”

  “I know about it. Ella told me the same thing.”

  Bransome took a step forward. His voice filled the room. “And you didn’t tell me this because, what, you didn’t think it was important?”

  “She said it once. I wanted to verify it on the next visit, but she wouldn’t talk to me. Then she was murdered. I wanted to find out more about Eddie.”

  “Is there anything else she said that I should know about?”

  “The only other thing she said was, ‘family secrets.’ Those secrets probably got her killed.”

  Bransome plopped on his chair. “Okay. Let’s see if we’re together on this. Eddie Hahn, or whatever he’s going by now, molested his own daughter, Denise, and it resulted in the birth of identical twins, Lilin and Agnes. Denise died right after the birth. All of that is public record, except about who the father is. But we know that now. It appears Eddie had early custody of the twins until Gert and Ella stepped in and took Agnes when she was around three or four years old. Now Lilin is butchering a bunch of men, moving closer and closer to Mendocino, and Eddie has reappeared and killed Ella because she started to talk.” He rubbed his chin with his right hand. “Eddie has reappeared …” His eyes gazed at the ceiling.

  Jason leaned forward in his chair. Was he expected to contribute something at this time?

  Bransome slammed his hand down on the desk. “Gert dies, Eddie’s car is stolen, and he moves out of his cabin. All about the same time. Eddie is scared someone might find out about what he did to his daughters. But there’s something else. Lilin stole the car. I doubt they’re working together. He wouldn’t have to move out. You following so far? You agree?”

  “So far, I’m with you.”

  “Good. So, Eddie had to move out and go into hiding. Someone must be after him. But what if that someone didn’t know where he was?”

  “If you’re talking about Lilin, she had to know. How else could she have stolen his car?”

  “True.” Bransome stood and paced in front of his desk. “But what if he disappeared right after the car was stolen? Or even before?” He stopped and whirled to face Jason. “Did Ella say anything about the twins being molested by Eddie?”

  “I asked about that, but she wouldn’t answer. She faded back out. That’s what I wanted to press her about on the next visit.”

  “How about Agnes? Did she say anything about Eddie?”

  “She has no memories from that time. She doesn’t even remember a man in her life.”

  “How about Lilin? You spoke to her. Did she say anything about Eddie?”

  “No. I didn’t ask.”

  “Why not? You must have suspected him.”

  “I was too busy trying to keep from getting my pecker sliced off.” The sound of the razor, inches from his ear, came back, amplified. Jason leaned back in the chair and slid his hands into his pockets.

  “Did you check hospital records from when the girls were small?”

  “I looked. Nothing I can find.”

  Bransome resumed pacing. “What if Eddie’s the target?”

  “I thought about that. Either the target or a target.”

  “No, what if he’s THE target, and all of the killings were done to flush him out? What if the girls were molested, and this is all about revenge? Agnes wouldn’t be the one to do it, but Lilin would.”

  Jason leaned forward again. It did make sense. “And the intent was to put the blame on Agnes?”

  “DNA doesn’t lie.” Bransome snickered.

  “But why would all this start after Gert died? If this was eating at Lilin, you’d think she’d have gone after Eddie before that.”

  “Not if she didn’t know where the rest of the family members were until Gert’s death. Or—”

  “Or, what?”

  “Or maybe Lilin and Agnes are both in on it. Working together. You didn’t answer before. Do you want to double the bet?”

  “That doesn’t make sense to me. Agnes isn’t the type. And she’s really scared now. At first, she wanted to meet with Lilin. Now she doesn’t.”

  “Oh, how good actors can devour the gullible.”

  “You’re wrong on that one.”

  “Then why don’t you double the bet?”

  The phone rang on Bransome’s desk.

  Jason sighed with relief.

  “Yes, it’s very important … Why not …? You and every other county. I think you should reconsider … Okay, but if something happens, the papers will know … And just as far up yours.” He slammed the phone down.

  “Problems at home?”

  Bransome glared. “The people in Marin County are going to call off the stakeout of Eddie’s cabin in two more days. Nothing is happening and they say they can’t afford the man-hours. Probably interfering with their donut breaks. They said they’d check for signs of habitation every day or so. Big of them.”

  “If Eddie really is on the run, I doubt he’d go back. There’s nothing there he’d need now that the ketchup is gone.”

  “Home is home, and living invisible is expensive. They’re going to rely on a call from the moron at the post office if Eddie shows up to collect his mail. He gets Social Security checks there, for God’s sake.”

  Jason stood up and stretched. “One other thing is still bothering me about Eddie.”

  “Only one?”

  Jason grimaced. “How did Eddie know Ella was talking? And Agnes?”

  Bransome nodded, then looked up at the ceiling. “Good question. My guess is he kept tabs on Gert and Ella. He must have known about Gert’s death, and Ella’s move to the home. And Agnes’s involvement in the murders has been plastered all over the papers and TV news.”

  “But how would he put all that together? How would he know I was talking to Ella?”

  “The theft of his car,” Bransome said with an exaggerated nod. “Why would he go into hiding? Because he has something to hide. Something bad enough for him to murder his own sister. He’s probably been watching. Ella. Agnes. Us.”

  “And Lilin?”

  “Probably not. He must not know where she is.”

  “Huh?” Jason frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “If he knew where Lilin was, he probably would have gone after her instead of Ella.”

  “I agree with the first part, but he’d still have to silence Ella.”

  Bransome shuddered. “Poor lady. Most of us have family secrets, but not the kind that lead to murder.”

  It was Jason’s turn to shudder. “Any possibility of beefing up the security around Agnes’s house? She’s really scared about the letters.”

  “Not this again. Don’t you think what we’re doing is sufficient? We have someone watching twenty-four hours a day. That’s stretching our personnel, and our budget, like down in Marin County. But I’m doing it anyway.”

  “She’s just really scared.”

  “I’ll alert everyone to go into protection mode in addition to the watching mode. How’s that?”

  “Is that double-talk?”

  “Yes, but Agnes doesn’t know that. And you won’t tell her, right?”

  “It’ll probably make her feel better. Thanks.”

  Bransome clapped his hands together. “Eddie seems to be a key here. How can we lure him out of hiding?” He started f
or the door but whirled around. “By the way, your Francine Thomas was killed by our serial murderer. But there was something strange about it.”

  Jason felt a chill. Too many connections were pulling a tightening web around him. He flopped back down in the chair and fingered his collar. “Strange?”

  “Yeah. The murderer wasn’t menstruating this time. And she didn’t use the man’s member.”

  “Then why do you say it was the same murderer if the MO is that different?”

  “Other pieces of evidence are consistent. More significant things.”

  Investigative secrets, withheld from the public. Jason shook his head. “But this is the first woman killed.”

  “That’s why I think this one was a crime of opportunity. There seems to be a grand plan with the others. Not with this one.”

  “Opportunity? Opportunity for what?”

  “Revenge. That’s all I can figure. She stole from Ella.”

  “And what’s the motivation for the others? What’s the grand plan?”

  Bransome’s face reddened. “I don’t know.” He balled his hands into fists at his sides. “Yet.”

  Jason looked at the floor. And what about Agnes? He thought about the red dress. He’d take the bet.

  CHAPTER 29

  JASON LET THE TELEPHONE RECEIVER FALL ON THE cradle and looked at the clock. It was eight thirty in the morning. He ignored personal hygiene, except for quick swabs of deodorant and a fast brush run across his teeth. He also ignored the speed limits as he hurried down Highway 1, around the large bend in Reese Drive and up to Agnes’s house. The antilock brakes of his Volvo chattered to a stop. Bransome and Officer Wilson huddled on the front porch. Jason threw the car in park, jumped from the seat, and sprinted to the front porch to join them. The front door was ajar, black print powder everywhere.

  “What’s going on?”

  Officer Didier arrived within a few seconds. She looked tired, disheveled.

  “The porch light didn’t go out this morning, so I checked it out,” Wilson said. “No one answered the door. I called her cell phone, but I kept getting her voice mail. I looked in all of the windows, and no one seemed to be home, so I called Detective Bransome and we did a preliminary sweep. She’s gone.”

  Bransome took a spiral notebook and pen from his satchel. He had two cameras over his shoulder. “Powers and I’ll do the inside and the back door.” He handed a camera to Jason and turned to face Wilson. “You and Didier do the outside and the garage. Her car is still in there. Do all of the house windows. Look for signs of forced entry. Take a photo of each regardless. You may want to phone the station to get a ladder out here. I want all the windows done, even the second floor. And look at all parking areas and the driveway. Look for tire marks and oil spots.” He turned back to Jason. “Come on.”

  Jason followed. “What do you think happened?”

  “There’s no sign of a struggle anywhere inside, and on a quick look there’s no evidence of forced entry. She could have left on her own, or it could be Lilin or Eddie who got her. We’ll have to do the whole house, although we’ll be more thorough in the kitchen, her bedroom, and the bathrooms. I thought you’d want to be in on it. You have anything going today? It’ll probably eat it all up.”

  “Thanks for calling. She wouldn’t go off by herself.” Would she? She had said she needed my help. Lilin must have her. Unless …

  “What makes you so certain?”

  “Gut feeling.” Unless she is involved.

  “Let’s see if your gut’s right.”

  They had to step over a few scattered envelopes and a magazine in the entry. Jason photographed the items and collected them into a neat stack. They included what looked like bills, junk mail, and a People magazine. He placed the stack on a sideboard, and slipped the three bills into his back pocket so they could check them out at the station later.

  It was nearly suppertime when they joined Wilson and Didier on the front lawn for a quick summary. Bransome took charge.

  “Forced entry?”

  “No. Nothing,” Wilson said.

  “Any vehicle marks?”

  “Nope.”

  “Not even in the garage?”

  “No.”

  Bransome scratched his head. “Anything unusual about her car?”

  “No.”

  “Odometer?”

  Wilson thumbed a page in his notepad. “Just a few miles since the last check.”

  “Okay. Give me what you have and I’ll start processing it. Didier, go home. You look like how you probably feel. Wilson, back in the car. We need to watch the place closely for the next few days. I’ve turned on a light in the extra bedroom upstairs, and a lamp in the front window. Let’s leave the porch light off. If any of that changes, call me immediately.”

  Jason cleared his throat. “Mind if I come along to the station? I’m really charged up about this. I can help scan in the fingerprints again. Dinner’s on me.”

  “The help would be appreciated, as would the meal.”

  Bransome stopped a few steps from the group. “Wilson, could you go a few extra hours this evening? Didier should get a little sleep. How about switching around nine?”

  Wilson nodded.

  Bransome worked at Jason’s side in the computer room, running the prints as fast as Jason could scan them. He used a direct comparison with Agnes’s stored prints since that was faster than going into the AFIS database. He explained that anything that came up negative for a match could be run the more thorough way.

  The only prints that did come up different turned out to be Jason’s, and they were restricted to the dining room. He was in the database through his work. People in his business covered so many crime scenes, they volunteered their prints so no confusion would result if they touched something inadvertently.

  Eleven o’clock came and went, and Jason was tiring. “What do you think? Looks like Agnes was the only one in there.”

  Bransome rolled his chair back. “I think we can eliminate one of the three.”

  “Three?”

  “Yeah. Lilin, Eddie, and Agnes herself.”

  “Which one are you throwing out?”

  “Eddie.”

  “Eddie? Why?”

  “We can’t throw Agnes out based on anything we get from her house. And Lilin killed all those men and only gave us a single, crappy print. She obviously uses gloves. On the other hand, Eddie didn’t wear gloves. He’d have left at least one print somewhere.”

  “He could have worn gloves here.”

  “Anyone who’d kill his own sister without gloves isn’t likely to slip some on to abduct his daughter. People usually don’t change their tendencies.”

  “Experience?”

  “Every bit of it.”

  Jason sighed. “You mind if I knock off? I’m fading fast. I can come back tomorrow and help you finish it up. I’ve got a lot of free time lately. I decided to take some vacation time.”

  Decided. What a laugh. It was a tactical move. The gossip had Mulvaney putting Torres on the story and yanking Jason’s leash. Mulvaney couldn’t argue about the leave. And it was a good compromise. Mulvaney got continued coverage of the story for free. Jason was relieved of the steady stream of piddly assignments that kept him wet to his ankles. Yolanda Torres had backup, which was also good. Despite everything Mulvaney had said, he liked working with Yolanda.

  Bransome jolted Jason back to the workroom. “Does that mean you’ll be hanging around here all the time?”

  “I’m in on it now. You expect me to just give it all up? I can give you more time. You already paid me, and I cashed the check.” Jason pulled out his wallet and withdrew a crisp dollar bill.

  “You’ve been a lot of help. I like the way you work and the way you think. It’ll free up Saroyan. He has a full plate with other cases. You can roll in when you roll in. I know how to get you if I need to.”

  “Aw, gee, Detective.” He tilted his head and forced a sappy smile.

  “I didn’t
say we were on joking terms. I still don’t like some of the things you did in the past or some of the things you stand for. Being on this end of a case may turn your mind around.”

  Jason smiled. Or help me forget, or at least feel better about it.

  Jason threw his keys on the table in his room, kicked off his shoes, and collapsed onto the bed. He didn’t expect to make it into the covers tonight. His mind spiraled outward, but the ring of the phone pulled him back.

  “Hello?” The nicotine smell of the receiver nearly made him retch.

  Silence.

  “Hello …?” He grunted to a sitting position. “Who is this?”

  Silence.

  “Agnes? Is this you?”

  Silence.

  He swung his feet over the side of the bed. “Lilin?”

  Silence.

  He listened for breathing or background noises. Nothing.

  “Tell me what you want, damn it. Do you have Agnes?”

  Silence.

  He slammed the phone down, paused, and picked up the receiver. He punched the number for the front desk.

  “Did anyone call and ask for my room?”

  The clerk seemed annoyed. “We don’t screen a guest’s calls.”

  “Anyone can call a room without going through your switchboard?”

  “You got it, dude. Can I help you with anything else?”

  Jason slammed the receiver down, walked over to the window, and parted the drapes a crack. Even the sodium vapor lights hurt his eyes. Nothing suspicious in the parking lot. The window lock included a chained pin that inserted into a hole in the frame. No slack in this one. He checked the dead bolt and chain on the door. Secure. Fatigue took hold once again, so he fell back on the bed. There was no way he would get in the covers now.

  CHAPTER 30

  THE DAY WITHOUT A WORD ABOUT AGNES PASSED LIKE chilled syrup, further congealed by the shift from unique discovery to tedious processing of the humdrum pieces of crime scene evidence. But playing the tourist, or the hibernator, produced more anxiety than relaxation for Jason. Waiting was time wasted, and all he could do was wait, so any small contribution to the forward movement of the case represented added value.