Shades of Murder (The Mac Faraday Mysteries) (5 page)

“What about the painting?” Mac asked.

David said, “Ilysa finished it the day before her murder.”

Bogie explained, “She was superstitious. She was from Scotland and believed in all that superstitious stuff. She wouldn’t show her work to anyone until it was done. She refused to even talk about a work in progress. She had finished the painting on Saturday, and unveiled it to her friends and family after dinner on Sunday night.”

David said, “She had a houseful of guests because of the Labor Day holiday.”

“This painting was supposed to be her center piece at the showing,” Bogie said, “but when her husband found her body Monday morning, it was gone.”

“Sounds like she was killed to double the value of the painting,” Archie said.

Bogie’s mustache twitched. “Which is why the first one I wanted to question was Victor Gruskonov, Ramsay’s manager. Ilysa told Hathaway that she was quitting Gruskonov. She was heard arguing with him over the phone. He supposedly said he was coming out to talk to her. Then, she ends up dead.” His eyes narrowed to slits. He uttered a growl deep in his throat that caused Gnarly to lift his head from where he had been resting it on top of Archie’s feet. “Gruskonov was at the top of my list before and he still is.”

“Problem is,” David told Mac, “Victor Gruskonov hasn’t been seen since before the murder.”

Archie said, “That makes him look guilty to me.”

“Me, too.” Bogie was nodding his head so fast that it resembled a bobble.

Mac was studying the canvas that took up the length of his dining room table. “If he represented such a great artist, then his bread and butter were his connections in the art world. He couldn’t just drop off the face of the earth and still survive.”

“That’s what you’d think,” Bogie said. “As big as Ilysa was in Europe before marrying Hathaway, Gruskonov didn’t need anyone else. Everyone knows he’s wanted for this murder, and everyone has been on the lookout for him.”

David told them, “According to his passport, he was in Germany at the time of the murder, but no one saw him since days before Ilysa was killed.”

“We’ve had a BOLO out for him, but no hits,” Bogie said, “which is why this case went cold.”

“Now it’s hot again,” Mac said.

Chapter Three

SCI Greene, Maximum Security PrisonWaynesburg, Pennsylvania

Joshua Thornton hated pat downs.

While he was aware that some of the most violent men in the state were locked up on the other side of the security gate through which he was passing, Joshua felt violated when the guard ran his thick palms up and down his body in search of anything that could be used as a weapon.

“Joshua…” The slightly built, blond haired man waiting on the other side of the entrance greeted him with a hug and a slap on the back. “Thank you so much for coming. I knew I could count on you.”

“Only because you asked, Reverend Brody.” Joshua clasped his hand into both of his. “If it was anybody else …” He slipped his watch back on his wrist, and put his wallet and cell phone in the inside breast pocket of his sports coat. “Like I told you, my contract with Hancock County forbids me from taking on private clients—”

“This isn’t about handling Oliver Cartwright’s appeal. He’s not looking for his conviction and sentence to be overturned. He’d confessed to killing those women and he’s made his peace with God.” Reverend Body gestured at the cold block walls. “You’d be surprised how many people turn to God when they end up here. For many, it’s only by the grace of God that some of them are able to survive.”

“I’m a small town prosecutor. What can I possibly do for a monster like Oliver Cartwright?” Out of respect for the church reverend, Joshua refrained from spitting out the name of the man who had confessed to abducting, raping, and killing six women during a murder spree the decade before.

“He
was
a monster.” Reverend Brody escorted him down the corridor to where they were to meet with the prisoner. “He’s also a man and still is.”

“Tell that to the families of his victims,” Joshua told him. “I’m sorry. Have you forgotten that I’m the father of two girls who are now around the age of his victims?”

“I totally understand,” the pastor replied. “Cartwright truly appreciates you coming to see him. We don’t have much time. They’re only allowing us fifteen minutes.” He led Joshua down a barren concrete hallway and past a series of metal doors until they reached one with two guards standing outside.

“This is Joshua Thornton,” Reverend Brody said to one of the guards. “He’s on the visitor list.”

One of the guards checked his clipboard before nodding to his partner to unlock the door and Reverend Brody led him into the visitor’s room.

Joshua regretted his grandmother teaching him to have the utmost respect for those people of authority, especially the clergy. To deny a request made by a reverend or priest was like saying no to God—something you never want to do.

What could a serial killer not fighting for an appeal of his conviction possibly want from me? What’s listening to Grandmomma getting me into now?

From what Joshua had learned about Oliver Cartwright, that was the one thing the two men had in common. They had both been raised by their grandmothers, who were strong-willed women. Firm on discipline. Long on love.

How, but for the grace of God, did I ended up where I am and Oliver Cartwright grow up to become a monster? How is it that I grew up to have a distinguished career with five good kids; while this man has been locked up for the rest of his living days for killing seven women? Was it the reason behind why his own parents didn’t raise him?

Joshua’s parents had been killed in a car accident while driving back home from a second honeymoon.

Oliver Cartwright’s father was unknown. His mother had run off to Hollywood to be a star, and had ended up a prostitute on Hollywood and Vine.

Joshua was startled out of his thoughts by the clearing of a throat. The reverend was waiting for him to join them at the table on the other side of the room.

The clang of the door shutting behind him made him jump.

The serial killer had his head bowed with his palms pressed together. Reverend Brody placed his hand on his shoulder to join him in prayer. Joshua remained on the other side of the room until they were finished.

The man in the orange overalls lifted his head and smiled so broadly at Joshua that his shiny scalp wrinkled around his ears. “Mr. Joshua Thornton. You did come.” He turned to the pastor. “It really works. Prayers are answered. I can’t believe he came.” He turned back to the lawyer. “I prayed you would come.”

The absence of words caused Joshua to answer with a silent nod. He wondered if this was some sort of mistake.

The serial killer that had held Pittsburgh and its surrounding area in a grip of terror during the summer of 2003 was a devil-worshipper with a full head of blond hair and bushy beard.

Is it really possible for a serial killing atheist to become a born again Christian? Has to be a trick.

“Sit down, Joshua.” Reverend Brody offered him a chair at the table.

“Thank you for your prayers, Reverend.” Oliver clasped his hand. “They’re helping. I’ve been sleeping better, and now Joshua Thornton is here—”

“I’m not making any promises,” Joshua sat in the chair across from him. “The reverend didn’t even tell me what this was about. I only came because he asked.”

“But now you’re here.” Oliver flashed a wide grin filled with yellow teeth. “I have faith that you’ll help, and God will make things right. He is just. That’s why I’m here.” He indicated the prison walls. “
This
is where I belong.”

Joshua slowly nodded his head before casting him a sidelong glance.

The killer’s smile dropped. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m a monster. Right? That’s what you’re thinking.”

Joshua couldn’t stop the glare that he flashed across the table at the killer.

“You’re right. I was a monster.” Oliver let out an evil- sounding laugh. “I confessed. Hell, I was proud of what I did. Now, I’m ashamed of it. I’m ashamed of what I was. I pray for those women—and their families.” The grin dropped from his face. “It took about seven years to sink in, but God did it. Suddenly, it all happened and—I’m not the same man I was when I killed those women. That man is dead.”

“You were born again?” Joshua was still suspicious.

“I’ve asked for forgiveness—why He would forgive me? Anyone would forgive me?—but—” Oliver choked up. “I know I don’t deserve it. That’s why, I want there to be one good thing that I leave behind.” Tears came to his eyes. “That’s why you’re here. I can’t do it, but you can. Reverend Body said you’re the one man who cares enough to do it—not for me—for her.”

“Her who?” Joshua asked.

“Jane Doe,” Oliver said. “Victim Number Four.”

“He wasn’t charged for her murder,” Reverend Brody said.

“Because I didn’t do her.”

“That’s why you weren’t charged with her murder,” Joshua said. “You were charged with six murders out of seven victims attributed to you.”

“That’s right,” Oliver said, “Everyone thinks I did that fourth victim. I hear about it. The news says I killed seven women, but I didn’t do Jane Doe. Since they all think I did her, no one is trying to find out who did. No one even knows who she is. She has people out there, Mr. Thornton. Maybe they know what happened to her. Maybe they don’t. But there’s one thing I do know. Someone killed her and it wasn’t me; and she deserves justice just like those women I did kill.”

He reached out to touch Joshua’s hand. During the long drive from Chester, West Virginia, to the prison, Joshua couldn’t fathom how he could sit in the same room with this man. Now, he was touching his hand. Joshua could feel the sincerity in the warmth of his dry scaly fingers.

“I want one good thing to come out of my being on this Earth. Make it this. Don’t do it for me. I don’t deserve it. But Jane Doe does. Do it for her.”

Looking down at the killer’s hand on his, Joshua tried to recall what he had heard about Jane Doe.

Victim Number Four.

The police working the case didn’t release much about her murder. A county prosecuting attorney in Hancock County, West Virginia, Joshua wasn’t involved in the investigation. All he knew was what the media reported.

Like the other victims, her body was found naked in a field.

Oliver Cartwright had forced his victims into their cars and then drove them to a vacant field where he’d raped and strangled them. Leaving his victims naked where he killed them, Cartwright would return the victim’s car to the shopping center from which he had snatched them, and leave their clothes neatly folded on the driver’s seat.

Jane Doe was never identified. No one knew where she had come from or how she had ended up murdered in a field.

Oliver squeezed Joshua’s hand while gazing at him with tears in his eyes. “Help Jane, Mr. Thornton. Please.”

The door opened to the cell. “Sorry, gentlemen. Time’s up.”

Joshua turned to Cartwright. “I will. I promise. I’ll do everything I can to make things right for Jane Doe. I’ll do it for both of you.”

What a way to start a vacation.

For the first time in Joshua’s forty-five years, he was home alone. All of his five children were gone and he had the whole house on the corner of Rock Spring Boulevard in Chester, West Virginia, to himself.

Home alone was a big thing. Joshua had gone from his grandmother’s home to the Naval Academy, where he had lived in a dorm. From the Naval Academy, he had gotten married and lived with his wife, Valerie. They immediately began a family with their first born being twins. Valerie’s sudden death had left him with five children, most of them teenagers.

Now, they were leaving the nest one by one. This summer seemed like one long graduation with one son, Murphy, graduating from the Naval Academy and moving to Washington to begin his first assignment at the Pentagon. Daughter Sarah graduated from Oak Glen High School and was taking her brother’s place at the Naval Academy. Her summer consisted of plebe training in Annapolis.

The week after Sarah’s graduation, Joshua Junior, Murphy’s twin, graduated with a bachelor in pre-law from Pennsylvania State University. After a summer of teaching as an associate professor, he would be starting law school in August.

Daughter Tracy was thrilled to receive a highly coveted summer internship position at the Ritz Carlton in New York City. She was now learning top culinary secrets from some of the world’s most respected chefs.

They grow up fast. The last Thornton left in the nest was sixteen-year-old Donny, who was spending the month at the Outer Banks with his aunt and uncle and their children.

While waiting for those pangs of empty nest to hit, Joshua planned for a two-week vacation from his job as Hancock County’s prosecuting attorney to fly solo and enjoy every minute.

After waving goodbye to Donny when he rode off with Sarah to head east; Joshua went inside, stripped off his clothes, and went room to room naked. Then, he ordered a take-out pizza, drank soda straight from the liter bottle, and put it back in the fridge without the cap.