The Chessman by Jeffrey B. Burton

Author:Jeffrey B. Burton [Burton, Jeffrey B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781849822596
Publisher: M P Publishing Limited
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

“How the hell is your hand, Cady?” Allan Sears’ low baritone came through the phone line much like the Cambridge detective himself in real life—loud and clear and demanding.

“About fifty percent. And I think rain is in the forecast,” Cady said, then remembered something. “By the way, Detective, I never got a chance to thank you for the get well card and gift. Fortunately, they had me so morphined up I didn’t turn red when the nurse opened the package.”

Detective Sears laughed for several seconds, then the mirth petered out. “That nurse got something against Penthouse?”

“I couldn’t move a muscle at that point so the poor woman gave me a pity laugh and then tossed it on the visitor table for everyone to see.”

Sears chortled again.

“I’ve been reading the headlines and thinking of you, Cady. I thought you’d left the bureau after the…well, you know.”

“I’m back short-term on this assignment.”

“So it turns out it wasn’t Dane Schaeffer after all, huh?”

“Not looking that way.”

“That was the single thing that rubbed me wrong. Guys that plan shit out to the tenth degree like the Chessman aren’t suicidal. They don’t normally toss themselves into the volcano when all is said and done. Know what I mean?”

“That’s pretty much what Detective Pearl said.”

“Pearl, that D.C. homicide cop?”

“Yeah. Worked the Sanfield case. He’s retired now in Boca Raton. I caught him between gin and tonics.”

“I like the guy already. So, Cady, what was your gut check?”

“I wavered at the time. On the one hand the Chessman could have burnt out and gone Andrew Cunanan—if you remember him—killed himself rather than get caught and face the consequences. Plus, there was a certain symmetry. Schaeffer threw these drunken orgies, Schaeffer invited Marly—he loved Marly—and per his harsh standard, he was also guilty as hell, so he killed himself in the end. His own judge, jury, and executioner.”

“I’m not that starry-eyed,” Sears said. “Just ask my wife. But there is an old Native American custom that if your enemy has a knife at your throat, you push into it and rob them of the satisfaction of your fear. It’s a control thing. Allows Schaeffer to give us the bird by denying us the catch.”

“After the Farris debacle, Schaeffer was on our short list…and suddenly everything fell into place like dominoes. But Allan, I spent most of my time fixating on the other hand and losing sleep over this nightmare scenario, where the son of a bitch dances away scot-free. Which, unfortunately, turns out to be the case.”

“And you’ve got a copycat in play as well?”

“Thank God that’s not on my plate. I’m cold-casing the original, Allan, and wanted to pick your brain about what really went down back then.”

“Them goddamned Zalentines turned Cambridge into some kind of Goth haven. Adrien and Alain must be giggling on the seventh ring of hell. Flakes in black leather and white makeup take pilgrimages to the Dorchester Towers, to peek at the Zalentines’ old balconies or something. Dahmer never had such a fan base.

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