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Williams nodded at this. “His best chance is to lay low around here, change his appearance as much as he can, and when things quiet down a bit, he makes his run.”
King didn’t look convinced.
Williams noted this and said, “You disagree?”
“I think he’s hanging around but not for the purpose you think.”
“What, then?”
“Someone killed his father.”
“So?”
“So I think Eddie wanted that all to himself. I think Bobby was supposed to be the final victim in all this, if the stroke didn’t kill him first.” King glanced at Michelle. “He came to see us, claiming his mother was upset about people thinking she had Junior and her husband killed. He knew she hadn’t done it. He wanted us to find out who had. And you remember when we were having drinks with him at the Sage Gentleman. He said his father just had to live.”
“So he could kill him,” said Michelle.
“So what the hell is he going to do, go after the person who killed Bobby?” said Williams. “We don’t even know who that is, Sean.”
“But if we run that person down, we have a good shot at nailing Eddie.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would not plot the capture and execution of my only remaining son in my house.”
They all turned to see Remmy standing there. She’d rarely come into the mansion’s public spaces. When she did, she spoke to no one, not even Harry. Her meals were delivered to her bedroom.
King rose from his chair. “I’m sorry, Remmy, we didn’t see you standing there.”
“Why should I be? This is only my house and my dining room, and those cups you’re drinking out of are mine too, in case you’d forgotten.”
King glanced at Williams. “I know this arrangement is awkward—”
“To put it mildly,” she interrupted.
Williams said, “It’s just a lot easier having all of you in the same place, Remmy.”
“Oh, I’m glad it’s easier for some people; it’s certainly not for me.”
“We can go to a hotel,” suggested Michelle, but Remmy dismissed this remark with a decisive wave of her hand.
“Never let it be said I shirked my civic duty, even if it does mean losing my son.” She stalked out of the room.
They all looked at each other nervously.
“This really is an impossible situation for her,” said Sylvia.
“Do you think any of us like it?” rebutted Michelle. “Eddie is a mass murderer. She has to learn to accept that.”
King took on a thoughtful look as he stirred more sugar into his coffee. “Speaking of which, I hope all of you realize that the case against Eddie isn’t ironclad.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” protested Williams. “He showed up at Harry’s house with a zodiac mask on, ready to kill all of you. And now he’s escaped and killed a deputy in the process.”
“Right. But not knowing what happened between him and the deputy, there might be a claim for self-defense or manslaughter. The cell door was open, and a defense counsel could make the claim that the deputy was trying to hurry along the process of justice and Eddie just fought back. Now, I’m as certain he’s guilty of all those murders as though I’d seen him commit them. But you don’t have to convince me, you have to convince a neutral jury, maybe one from another part of the state or even a different state. So where’s your direct evidence that he committed the murders?”
Williams was still bristling. “All the stuff you said. His motivation, the cipher disk, drugging Dorothea.”
“That’s theorizing and speculation, Todd,” said King firmly. “We need physical evidence tying him to the crimes; do we have it?”
Sylvia spoke up. “If you’d asked me before the murder of Jean Robinson, I’d probably say no. However, I found a hair follicle with root attached to it on the floor next to her bed. I don’t know how it got there, but the color and texture told me it wasn’t hers or her husband’s. I’ve sent it for typing along with a sample of Eddie’s DNA. If it matches, we have him, at least for that murder.”
