Murder at the Washington Tribune - Margaret Truman [124]
“Bring him in,” Evans said.
“Is that really necessary? I mean, now?”
“Edith, you’re a damn good cop. You might have broken this whole serial killer thing wide open. I know Wilcox is a friend, but good cops don’t let that get in their way. If you’d prefer, I’ll send someone else.”
“No, no, I’ll do it. You’re right. I’m a good cop. Not to worry.”
“Good. Now, let’s talk about this brother with a past. Do you think he might have killed the two women?”
“He was at the Trib the night Kaporis was killed. He’s killed before. They decided he was criminally insane. He’s still a little odd, in a nice sort of way. There’s the knifing of his neighbor in Franklin Park. That’s where the McNamara girl got it, too. It’s not far from where he lives. Wade had bad vibes about him. Sure, he’s a suspect.”
“Bring him in, too.”
A crinkly smile crossed his face.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
“We’ve got a couple of brothers, one who murders the girl from next door, the other who writes letters claiming they’re from a serial killer. Maybe insanity runs in the family.”
Vargas-Swayze stood. “Anything else?”
“Speaking of mental stress, how’s your divorce coming?”
“Okay. Peter backed off with his stupid demands. With any luck, I’ll be able to drop Swayze from my name pretty soon.”
“It has a nice ring to it,” he said, coming around his desk. “ ‘Vargas-Swayze.’ Hyphenated names always sound, well, important. Nice necklace.”
“Thanks,” she said, fingering a large, copper pendant she’d recently bought at an Adams Morgan street fair.
She sat at her desk and ran through various approaches she might take with Wilcox.
Joe, how about coming with me to headquarters? Just a couple of questions about the letters. Nothing to worry about, but—
Joe, I hate to bother you with all that’s on your mind, but I was wondering if we could have a little chat down at headquarters and—
Joe, you’ll never believe this but—
She called the house. Wilcox answered on the first ring.
“Joe, it’s Edith. Hate to bother you but—”
“Actually, I enjoy being bothered, Edith. It’s better than talking to myself.”
“I understand. Joe, I just came from a meeting with Bernie Evans.”
“The Professor?”
“Yes, the Professor. He wants you to come in for questioning.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
“I told him I’d arrange it with you. My suggestion is that you do it immediately.”
“That’s understandable.”
“He wants me to bring in your brother, too.”
“Michael? Why?”
“Obvious reasons. His history, proximity to the murders. We’re not targeting him, but he’s been on our suspect list for the Kaporis murder ever since we ran down everyone who was at the paper the night she was killed. Of course, we knew him as Michael LaRue. No idea he was your brother.”
“Does he know that you know, Edith?”
“No.”
“I’d like to be the one to tell him.”
Her silence said she had a problem with that.
“As a favor?” he said.
“What about you, Joe? I assume you’ll come in voluntarily.”
He forced a laugh. “I’m not the type to go on the lam, Edith. Of course I’ll show up.”
“You should get a lawyer.”
“I will. I still haven’t told Paul Morehouse.”
“What time do you want to come in?”
“Give me a few hours. What is it now, three? Six? Six thirty?”
“I’ll wait for you here,” she said.
“I’ll ask Michael to come with me. Should be quite a show, a couple of foul-ball brothers showing up together at police headquarters.”
“Joe.”
“Yeah?”
“I’m putting myself on the line, letting you do it your way.”
“And I appreciate it. Don’t worry, we’ll be there. If I have a problem with Michael, I’ll let you know.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“Hey, what’s that saying? Life is what happens while you’re making other plans? Sure as hell is true in my case. See you in a couple of hours. But no handcuffs or perp walk, huh?”
“No handcuffs or perp walk.”
He found Georgia, who’d gone to their bedroom to rest.
“That was Edith,” he said, sitting on the bed next to her. “I’m going to police headquarters to be questioned.”
She bolted upright, her back pressed against the headboard. “Are they arresting