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“And Tull was here for all three of those investigations?”
“He was.”
“In the book, Tull says it was your idea to change the course of the investigation and start looking into the doctors’ medical-malpractice suits. Is that right? Or didhesuggest it?”
Detective Parks stared into the middle distance for a long time before replying. “He did. It was his idea.” Tull, she said, reasoned that the killings could all be revenge for shoddy medical work. Sure enough, they found that all five victims had been accused of medical malpractice on multiple occasions.
“How did you get from there to Walter Stevenson? Was that also Tull?”
Parks’s face looked pained as she struggled internally. “I guess you could say it was Thomas who first brought Dr. Stevenson to our attention. But we were all instantly suspicious once we saw his depositions.”
Dr. Walter Stevenson, also of Charleston, was in his late sixties, a retired physician who made extra money as an expert witness in medical-malpractice suits. In fact, Dr. Stevenson had testified against each of the five doctors, all of whom had been deemed justified in their actions at the end of court proceedings and suffered little or no penalties.
It turned out that Dr. Stevenson’s beloved wife, Mirabelle, had died from a botched medical procedure, and he had not received a dime after he sued.
“There’s a motive,” I said.
“It was there all along, but only Thomas sensed it,” Parks said. “You know, despite what happened between us, you have to give him credit. He saw it all.”
“Which is why I’m here,” I said. “What’s the chance Tull was involved somehow?”
The detective frowned. “You mean, like aiding and abetting?”
“Or framing.”
She snorted. “Well, Stevenson’s still claiming he was framed. But he’s also quick to condemn ‘doctors who are all about business before patients and get away with it.’ Look, the evidence was there. And I certainly saw no link between Thomas and the evidence we found in Stevenson’s house.”
I was quiet a moment. “Did you see any differences between what you know happened during the investigation and Tull’s version? As you saw it, I mean?”
Parks thought about that. “Well, he did twist a few things and omit some others, I guess. And Thomas was always pushing the spotlight toward me.”
“Did you ever call him on that? On not taking credit?”
“Once,” she replied, looking into the distance again. “After the book was published and shortly before we broke up.”
“And what did he say?”
“That it wasn’t his job to shine, that he was supposed to let the characters shine. He said the writer’s job was to disappear, to be an invisible hand at work.”
CHAPTER 48
Manhattan
IN THE REAR OFa black utility van parked down the street from Paula Watkins’s fabulous double brownstone on the Upper East Side, NYPD Detective Rosella Salazar groaned and shifted uncomfortably on one of the metal folding chairs.
“I never should have let you talk me into this,” Detective Salazar said, rubbing her stomach. “And I’m getting kicked in the ribs.”
Bree felt bad. “What else can I do? The DA wouldn’t give you the wiretap.”
“Because there was not enough evidence.”
“Well, in the end it doesn’t matter. Luster gave his consent to the recording, volunteered to wear a wire for his own purposes. We’re just listening in.”
Salazar shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to hear.”
“Something that proves there is sexual trafficking and maybe slavery going on in there tonight,” Bree said.
“And then?”
