Margaret Truman's Experiment in Murder (16 page)

“I care because I care about Sheila. Where is Sheila?”

“Oh, she's right here, and you know it.”

“I know that Sheila is right here, but now you've joined her. Why did you decide to come out, Carla?”

“Because she needs me.” Her tone remained scornful and belittling.

“Needs you to do what?”

“To help her. She always needs help. She's such a weakling, always needing me.”

Tatum shifted gears. “Were you with her when she traveled to San Francisco with Dr. Sedgwick?”

“Of course I was.”

“What did you do there?”

“I don't want to talk to you anymore. I don't like you.”

“But I like you, Carla. What did you do when you and Sheila were in San Francisco? Did you go to the Lightpath Clinic with her?”

There was no response. Sheila twisted in her chair and her face scrunched up as though in pain.

“What's the matter, Sheila?” Tatum asked.

“Don't do it anymore,” she whined. “Stop it! I don't want any vitamins. Stop it!”

“Who is giving you vitamins, Sheila?”

“Get away from me. It hurts when you use that needle. Stop it!”

She swung her fist in the air, shuddered, wrapped her arms about herself, and sank back into the chair, a series of moans coming from her until she was still.

Tatum watched with fascination as she went through these contortions. When she was quiet, he asked, “Am I speaking with Sheila now, or Carla?”

Sheila fumbled for an answer before saying, “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what, Sheila?”

“It hurts.”

Tatum changed characters and fell into the role of whomever Sheila had been talking with about the vitamin shots. He altered his voice and said, “The needle doesn't hurt. It's just vitamins. They're good for you. They make you stronger.”

He sensed that she was slowly coming out of her trance state. He tried to deepen it: “Deeper, deeper, deeper.”

She groaned and stretched her arms in front of her like someone waking up in the morning. She shook her head and looked around. “What am I doing here?” she asked.

“You're here in police headquarters with me,” Tatum said. “How do you feel?”

“I feel … I feel all right. Oh, my God, you think I killed Mark.”

“No, Sheila, I don't think that you did, but you have to help me prove that.”

“How can I prove something I didn't do?”

“When you were a little girl, did you have imaginary playmates?”

“No. I mean, yes I did. Every child has imaginary friends. Didn't you?”

“Sure I did. Do you remember their names?”

She shook her head and smiled. “I don't think so.”

“Do you remember having an imaginary playmate named Carla?”

The mention of Carla's name caused Sheila to stiffen, as though Tatum had poked her with a stick.

“Sheila? Do you remember Carla?”

She shook her head. “No, I don't. Why do you ask?”

“Just curious. I'd like to see you again, maybe this afternoon?”

“I just want to get out of here.”

“I don't blame you. That's what Mac Smith and I are trying to do, help you get out of here and go home.”

Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“I'll see if they'll let us meet again later this afternoon,” Tatum said as he rose. He went to the door and summoned the matron and the uniformed officer who'd brought Sheila in. They came to Sheila's side and indicated that she was to stand. She did, and they flanked her as they left the room.

Tatum left the building, got into his car, and used his cell to call Mac Smith.

“I just left Sheila, Mac,” he said. “I think I'm onto something.”

“That's good to hear. What is it?”

“Not on the phone. I want to meet with Sheila again this afternoon. Will you put in a request?”

“Sure. Where are you now?”

“In my car. I just finished with her. I can come by if you're free.”

“I'm here, Nic. Care to give me a hint as to what you've come up with?”

“Sure. I just met Carla Rasmussen. I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

 

CHAPTER

21

Smith was grading papers in his home office when Tatum arrived. A small TV on his desk had been tuned to CNN for most of the day. The assassination attempt on Virginia senator Marshall Holtz dominated the news, as might be expected. A hospital spokeswoman gave hourly updates on his condition, as well as for the others who'd been wounded. Everyone had survived, although one victim was listed in critical condition. Senator Holtz was listed as serious but stable.

Presidential candidate George Mortinson gave a statement on the hospital steps that CNN aired over and over:

“Marshall Holtz and I have been friends ever since I was elected to the Senate. He showed me the ropes and guided me through the committee maze and legislative roadblocks. I've never met a finer man than Marshall Holtz, and thank God the madman who attacked him wasn't successful in his mission to kill a leading voice in the battle to ensure fair play and a level playing field for every American. It is my hope that this incident, and too many others like it, will act as a wake-up call to curb the insanity of this nation where guns are concerned. My wife, Tricia, and I have met with the senator's family, and they're holding up well considering the circumstances. We've also met with the families of the other victims, and our hopes and prayers are with them.”

Mortinson was interviewed by reporters following his statement.

“Do you think that the nasty political rhetoric continues to inflame people like today's shooter?”

“Of course it does,” Mortinson responded, his tone edgy. “Assaults on public officials have increased every year. The problem with those who deny that political hate speech contributes to it is that they hide behind the fact that no one speech or comment can be directly linked to an assassination attempt. But it's the general atmosphere that feeds it. Can you trace the aberrant behavior of one teenager to a specific violent video game or movie? Probably not. But the prevailing attitude that violence solves everything is there. You add that to the easy accessibility of assault weapons in the hands of the deranged and you end up with what has happened to Senator Holtz, and to Congresswoman Giffords in Arizona.”

Smith turned off the TV as Tatum settled in a chair across from the desk. “If you intended to pique my curiosity, Nic, you succeeded. What's this about Carla Rasmussen?”

Tatum gave Smith a play-by-play of his session with Sheila as best as he could reconstruct it.

“She just appeared out of the blue?”

“Right.”

“And now we're talking about needles and vitamins?”

“The government's experiments in mind control include pharmaceuticals as well as hypnosis. Maybe Sheila was being given shots in San Francisco along with being hypnotized.”

“Slow down,” Smith said. “We don't have any proof of what happened to Sheila when she was in California. No offense, but having a mention of shots come out while she was in a trance is hardly proof of anything. What about this Lightpath Clinic?”

“That's on my agenda,” Tatum said, “along with spending another hour with her this afternoon. I have a friend who used to work in the psych division at the CIA and who might be willing to share with me what he knows about Lightpath.”

Annabel arrived. She was in a bubbly mood because she'd just sold a pre-Columbian fourteen-inch-tall green serpentine drinking vessel to a New York City collector for her asking price. “He wanted to negotiate, but I held firm. It's a spectacular piece, very rare, one I've been holding for years, and I wasn't about to part with it for less than its actual worth.”

“Good for you, Annie,” Smith said. He said to Tatum, “Annabel often has trouble letting go of a piece once she has it in the gallery.”

“Not good for the bottom line,” Tatum said, laughing.

“But good for the soul,” Annie countered. “Lunch, anyone?”

*   *   *

Attorney Marie Darrow had met with Sheila Klaus earlier that afternoon. Tatum arrived two hours after Darrow had left and settled in with Sheila in the same room in which they'd met earlier that day.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Hollow,” she replied, “as though every ounce of energy has been pulled out of me.”

“I don't wonder,” Tatum said. “Did you enjoy our session this morning?”

She shrugged.

“You said you couldn't be hypnotized, but you were.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You're a very good subject.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because he told me I couldn't be.”

“Who told you that?”

“Dr. Sedgwick.”

“But he used hypnosis with you,” Tatum said gently.

Sheila shook her head. “He tried, but he couldn't do it. He told me that I should never let anyone else try it, either.”

“Why would he say that?”

“I don't know.”

Tatum held up the small mirror. “Remember when you looked into the mirror this morning, Sheila?”

She didn't reply, but her eyes were focused on it.

“I'm going to count backward from ten, Sheila, and as I do you'll—”

She'd entered a trance state by the time he reached five.

He worked to deepen her trance until he felt she was where he wanted her to be. After a series of suggestions, which she followed, he asked how she enjoyed coming “out here” to California.

“I don't like it. You hurt me,” she said in a singsong voice.

“I wouldn't hurt you, Sheila,” he said.

“Yes, you do. You give me those shots, those vitamin B shots. I don't want to get them anymore.”

“All right.”

He paused as he watched her fidget, wringing her hands and emitting small whines and even an occasional growl.

“Do you know who I am, Sheila?” he asked.

The question brought about an abrupt change in her. He now sat with Carla Rasmussen, who fixed him in a threatening stare. A smile crossed her lips, a mocking, challenging smile.

“I know who you are,” Carla said in her low, almost masculine voice. “You know I know.”

“Then who am I?” he asked.

She snickered and shook her head. “You're the great doctor.”

“Thank you for the compliment, Sheila. But you don't even know my name.”

“Borger.”

“Borger?” Her immediate stating of the name took him aback. “That's right, I'm the great doctor Borger.”

“Mark says you're a great doctor.” She guffawed. “What makes you so great?”

“I'm great because I know what's best for my patients. I know what's best for you.”

“I want to leave.”

“Go ahead, Carla,” Tatum said. “Sheila doesn't need you to stay with her.”

“She always needs me, Dr. Borger.” She spit out his name as though referring to something vile.

“I'm not your enemy, Carla,” Tatum said. “You do the things that Sheila cannot do. I'm proud of you.”

“Oh, that's very nice,” she said sarcastically.

“Do you remember when I arranged for you to go back to Washington and protect Sheila from Dr. Sedgwick?”

He'd pushed too far. Her mouth curled in anger and she gripped the arms of her chair so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

“You did a very good job,” Tatum said.

“Great doctor,” Carla said. “Good-bye, great doctor. We're going now.”

“But you haven't had your vitamin B shot yet.”

He'd lost her. Her body—Sheila's body—became smaller and sank back in her chair.

“Carla?”

Sheila said nothing, and Tatum decided the session should be ended. He brought her out of her trance and observed as she reacted to now being fully alert, eyes darting about the room, head swiveling.

“How do you feel, Sheila?” Tatum asked.

“Sleepy. I'd like to go to sleep.”

“Fine,” he said, and he called for the matron to take her back to her cell.

Tatum sat alone in the room for a while and pondered what had just taken place. He'd broken through, had regressed her back to being at the Lightpath Clinic, and he now knew who she was with, Dr. Sheldon Borger. It had happened faster than he'd anticipated. He'd foreseen having to devote dozens of sessions to reach this point. He didn't chalk it up to any special technique he'd used. He hadn't produced any magic. The truth was that Shelia Klaus was a remarkable subject, the best he'd ever encountered. The remaining question was what to do next.

“Mac,” he said on his cell before leaving the room, “we have to talk.”

 

CHAPTER

22

Tatum and Mac Smith spent an hour discussing what had come out of Tatum's latest session with Sheila Klaus. Toward the end of their meeting, Smith said, “I still can't make the connection between this Lightpath Clinic and Sheila being programmed—through her second personality, Carla Rasmussen—to kill Mark Sedgwick. You say the clinic is run by a Dr. Borger. Why would he—
if
he's the one who programmed her—want Sedgwick dead?”

“I can only speculate, Mac. I didn't know Sedgwick well, but I was aware that he was involved in some capacity with the intelligence community. Lightpath is government funded, just one of dozens of such facilities maintained and supported by the CIA and other intelligence agencies. I'm guessing, of course, but it's my assumption that once Sedgwick discovered that he had a perfect subject in Sheila, he brought her to Lightpath to become part of whatever research and experimentation they're doing out there. As to why someone at Lightpath—presumably Sheldon Borger—would want to get rid of Sedgwick, it's possible that Sedgwick started making waves, or was poised to become a whistle-blower. I also wouldn't be surprised that he and Sheila had entered into some sort of romantic relationship. If that hadn't gone well, it could have instilled in her a dislike for him, even hatred, which would fuel her acceptance of any suggestion to kill him.”