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"I was furious with Carl over that. Hijacking the RV was smart, but it was careless of him to hit the old man hard enough to kill him." Oren thoughtfully tapped his lips. "Although, it actually worked out for the better. His killing spree, as they called it on TV, made him look all the crazier."
"He began to unravel."
"You have no idea," he said, rolling his eyes.
"You told him the only way to heaven was to kill himself."
"Precisely. I told him to go into the Big Thicket."
"That was an elaborate choice. Why there?"
"Because the more difficult his capture, the more fatigued everyone would be afterward. Your friend Nyland would breathe a huge sigh of relief and relax his vigilance. You see?"
When she said nothing, he continued. "Carl was instructed to throw away the cell phone, somewhere where no one could find it, then to use the pistol on himself. I promised him it wouldn't hurt, and he'd go straight to heaven. He could wait there for Mother, who would join h
im soon. You should have heard him. He was so relieved and happy, he sobbed. But"--he gave another dramatic sigh--"the moron couldn't even do that correctly."
"Is that why you killed Sally yourself? You wanted to make sure it was done right."
He chortled a laugh. "That, and I didn't want Carl to have all the fun."
Berry swallowed with difficulty.
"She came home to find me inside her house." He smiled as though fondly recalling the scene. "She'd heard about the shooting here the night before. She knew what my being in her house implied. She had an inkling of what I had in store for her. But only an inkling." Chuckling, he added, "I had some surprises for her."
Berry tamped down another surge of nausea.
"I told her that if she was convincing when the authorities called, which they were sure to do, and if she threw them off track, I'd let her live. She actually believed me!" he said around a laugh. "We spent a lot of quality time together, but by the time I actually killed her, I think she was relieved."
Berry looked over at Caroline. Their eyes met, communicating that Sally Buckland's fate would be their own if they didn't prevent it. While he'd been talking, Berry had been surveying the room, searching for something that would serve as a weapon. Fireplace tools? Brass candlestick? Crystal vase?
Nothing looked lethal, and even had there been something to use as a weapon, her hands were manacled behind her. Her mother was too petite to overpower him. She'd be shot the instant she attempted it.
Berry reasoned that the only way to escape would be to continue stoking Oren's ego by asking questions. Meanwhile she'd watch for him to relax his vigilance, and then she must be poised to act. As he'd noted, she had long, strong legs.
She said, "You certainly had this well planned."
"Didn't I just?"
"It was risky for you to call me from Houston on Sally's cell phone, after being spotted in Walmart."
"Well, that was Carl in the store, of course. Meanwhile, I was at Sally's place trying to decide how I was going to dispose of her body. Oren Starks was at Walmart buying shoes at three o'clock in the morning. He's at the Astros game in Houston hours later. That call was risky, but it added to the confusion and suspended the search for Carl in and around Merritt. That is, until those old people were found in their RV the next morning. But by that time, I had persuaded him to go into the Thicket and finish this thing."
"Why did you take Sally's body to my house?"
"Because you'd told me that Monday was the day you were making your presentation to the Delray client. Knowing you, I didn't think the crisis in Merritt would keep you from that. And I was right, wasn't I? I figured you would be in Houston Sunday evening to prepare, and thought that extra little surprise would really leave everyone scratching their heads. And it did! By the way, I've been meaning to ask, did you catch the song I was humming when I called you? 'Spinning Wheel.' Get it?"
Berry refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer. "You're still a long way from getting away with this, Oren."
"Would I leave a stone unturned, Berry? No. This past weekend, I lined up several alibis. Early Saturday morning, I drove over to Louisiana, where I'd rented a cabin for the entire summer. Backwoods. Cajun country. Everybody's kin to everybody else, and outsiders are noticed. I had my head shaved at the local barbershop. The barber will remember, believe me, because I was squeamish about making such a drastic change in my appearance.
"In the supermarket I created quite a scene over some spoiled milk I'd bought several days before, and I had the receipt to prove it. People in the store at that time will remember me. I made sure of it.
"If the authorities inspect the cabin, it will appear that I've been there. Trash dating back several weeks. Fresh produce in the fridge. There's no TV, no radio, no computer with Internet, so I was completely out of touch with the outside world. I'd heard no news.
"Only when I returned to Texas did I learn that my demented brother had murdered three people during my absence! And he's dead, too! Oh, woe is me! I'm devastated!" He smiled smugly. "You see? I've got it all covered."
"It seems you do. Except for one thing. I'm still alive."
