“Inside, the house has been trashed. Drawers ripped out, no jewelry or cash left in the place. And the lady of the house is missing. There are other, more specific indicators that I’m not going to tell you about. But go ahead. Toss out another scenario if you want.”
I liked this man. I liked his precise, methodical thought process. His friendly, easygoing manner was, of course, a device. Perpetrators often contact the police, pretending to have information. In fact, they are trying to find out how the investigation is going.
Podraza was playing good cop; my affable equal trying to solve a crime. In actuality, he was giving me plenty of room to trip myself up; to hang myself if I was involved with the murders.
I said, “Okay. Here’s one possibility. You’ve got a freak. Some kind of sexual pervert, and he’s become fixated on Sally Minster. He figures out her alarm system, and begins to break into her house on an occasional basis. That kind of pathology is well documented. Men like that, they go through underwear drawers; part of the fantasy process. It’s a form of sociopathic behavior that’s not uncommon.”
Podraza said, “You say you’re a marine biologist. Mind if I ask how you happen to know all this?”
“I don’t have a TV. I read a lot. But let me finish-I’m thinking this through as I go along. Okay, so you have a sexual freak who knows the house well. Violence is probably also part of his fantasy component-he’s armed. Check Frank’s background. He was an All-American wrestler. Olympic class. The freak had to surprise him, and he had to already have a gun. There’s no other way he could have gotten Frank taped and into the back of his own car without a gun.”
“A three-time All-American,” Podraza said. “It’s in his bio. He was one very impressive guy.”
“Yeah, I agree. Okay, so the freak surprises Frank and Sally. Or they surprise him. Either way, the freak’s suddenly got witnesses, and he has to get rid of them. He wants to keep the cops off the trail as long as possible, so he makes it look like a robbery.”
Podraza replied, “That’s plausible. I’ll keep it in mind. Like I said, we’re just getting started. Going from the general to the specific. You get a multiple crime like this, it’s usually because someone not very smart to begin with behaves in a really stupid way. Murder is rarely a complicated or well-thought-out crime, Dr. Ford.”
For some reason, that keyed a little light switch in my brain. What if exactly the opposite were true? I don’t believe in conspiracy theories. If I ever meet more than two people who can keep a secret, maybe I’ll begin to give them some consideration. But what if the murders, the disappearances, were all part of some larger objective or pattern?
I said, “Do you mind listening to another possibility?”
“Not at all. You have some interesting ideas for a man who says he’s a biologist.”
His voice had the slightest hint, now, of cynicism. His cop instincts were probably telling him that I knew too much, that I was way too chatty. I didn’t mind.
I said, “Okay. Let’s review a chain of events that may or may not be related. I’d be interested in your reaction. Nearly seven months ago, Sally Minster’s husband, Geoff, disappears-”
“He fell overboard on a trip to the Bahamas,” Podraza said. “There’s nothing mysterious about that. It’s been thoroughly investigated. The court’s ready to declare the guy legally dead.”
“If you want to move from the general to the specific, you sometimes have to take a step or two back to see the broader picture. So let me finish. Minster disappears, yet his wife doesn’t believe he’s dead. At some time after his disappearance, she also becomes convinced someone is breaking into her house, going through her private things. Your people check it out, but don’t find probable cause.”
Podraza said, “Sometimes people in deep grief begin to imagine things. They can get a little paranoid.”
Meaning they thought she was a nut case.
I said, “Okay, but let’s assume she was right. Next, her dog is found dead in her own pool. A retriever. They’re bred to swim. Then the night security guard who’s promised to keep an eye on the lady’s house is also found dead, floating in the bay.”
Podraza said, “He died from a brain aneurysm, but I’m with you. We’re assuming it was actually foul play. Okay. So Mr. DeAntoni sets a trap for the guy or guys who are doing all this-that’s your point, right? But the trap backfires, and they all end up dead or missing. So we’ve got three-four-five individuals dead or missing. Six, if you count the dog. Interesting.”
I asked Podraza if he was aware that Minster had been a member of the Church of Ashram Meditation. He told me he was, and that he was familiar with the organization because the Miami Police had a unit that specialized in cult crimes.
I said, “It might be worthwhile to call them in, and have them take a look. One more thing, Detective? There’s a guy who works for Bhagwan Shiva, a guy I think you ought to check out. His name’s Izzy-that’s what they call him. I don’t know his last name. He’s like a personal assistant or something to the head guy. His last name shouldn’t be hard to find. In fact, I might even be able to provide his fingerprints if you need them.”
“Why do you suspect him?”
I paused, my brain scanning around for a cogent response. Finally, I said, “Detective Podraza, when you check me out-and I know you will check me out-you’ll find that I’ve been telling you the truth. I’m a working research biologist. I like to think that most of what I do is logical and objective. But when it comes to this guy, Izzy-and this isn’t easy for me to admit-my suspicions are purely instinctual. I’ve got a gut feeling about him. It’s an emotional reaction to meeting the man. I think he’s dirty. I think he has his own agenda going.”
Then I added, “I know you’re not allowed to confirm it, but I’m going to ask anyway. The gun that was used to kill Frank and his landlord. Was it a twenty-two caliber?”
Very quickly, Podraza said, “Dr. Ford, I think we need to have a face-to-face interview. And just to make sure you don’t decide to leave the area, I’m going to call you back to confirm this phone number. Then I’m going to contact the Sanibel Police to let them know I’m inviting you to Miami for a discussion. Or we can send someone to you.”
I told Podraza to call me anytime he wanted, particularly if he got any new information on Sally. I finished, adding, “I’m glad they have someone like you on this case.” chapter twenty-six
I got a hold of Frank’s Aunt Juliana. By the sound of her voice, she’d been crying. She kept saying, “In my mind, I still see him as a little boy. He was so quiet and shy!”
She gave me phone numbers for three of Frank’s closest friends. I called Harris Washington at the bank where he worked near Trenton. He and DeAntoni had wrestled together in high school, Washington told me. “A hell of a guy,” he added.
I said, “I agree. I wish I could have gotten to know him better.”
Washington told me that he and another one of Frank’s former teammates were taking care of all the details. They were having his body cremated, and the ashes shipped back to New York for the funeral service. Instead of flowers-“Frank hated flowers, man. Something to do with a bad experience he had at the prom”-they were suggesting people send donations to an AAU wrestling program that DeAntoni had been instrumental in starting.
After I hung up, I wrote a check, walked to the marina and mailed it.
I still couldn’t stop moving, stop my mind from racing. I went back to the lab, called information, and got the main number for the Church of Ashram Meditation Center in Palm Beach. When a woman answered, I said, “Let me talk to Izzy, please.”
I had only a vague idea of what I would say to the guy. Maybe mention the weird trap-shooting encounter, tell him that, unlike Tomlinson, Frank and I liked to shoot so how could we join their interesting club?