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“David was on the edge,” Ted said. “I assumed he’d killed himself.”
“Weren’t you his therapist?” Ripley asked.
“Yes I was. For six months.”
Ella added, “Right, and what about Gary Weathers?”
“Idiot,” Ted said. “Former patient. Never again.”
“You’ll certainly never be seeing him again, because he’s dead.”
Ted’s irritating smirk fell like a rock. All his smarminess plummeted, leaving a pale, soulless expression in its place. Ella kept a close eye on his pupils and eye-direction, both of which were frozen solid. “Gary’s… dead?”
“You didn’t know?” Ripley asked. “Seems like something you’d know.”
“No…. I…. I mean, Gary had problems. Major ones. But I genuinely didn’t know he’d died. I swear on my life.”
Unfortunately, admissions of ignorance didn’t mean much in this game. John Wayne Gacy swore innocence until the end despite having thirty-three corpses under his floorboards.
Ripley pulled a piece of paper from her folder and said, “Ted, I’m just going to read you something from Gary’s diary, if you don’t mind.”
“Oh Jesus. Please no. Sorry that he died but… the man had a few screws loose.”
Ella felt a strange,alienfeeling swirlinginherstomach,a whirlpool of mysteriousemotion. She felt a sudden kinship with this suspect, bonded over their animosity for Gary’s ramblings. But it was a brief flame that quickly extinguished.
Ripley began, “Saw my therapist today and did not hold back. He said I ‘acted out.’ He got angry at me and said I was losing myself. I said I was going to leave and he demanded I stay. I threatened to tell people he didn’t have a license and then he calmed down. He is not one of the good ones, he is wearing a mask. I will not go back.”
“All of that is true. What do you want me to say?”
“Gary threatened to expose your fraudulent activities. Doesn’t that rub you the wrong way?”
Ted laughed the accusation off as he ran his shackled hands across his scalp. “No. Gary’s right. I lost my license years ago, that’s why I keep things discreet. But Jesus wept, I’m not going to kill a man for reporting me to the cops. I’d just leave town and set up shop elsewhere. We don’t all work to live.”
The comment stung Ella a little, as though Ted somehow knew the intricate details of her life.
“Wait a minute,” Ted continued, “you’re not accusingmeof these murders, are you?”
Ella and Ripley remained mute, letting the silence do the talking. Ted flung up his arms in disbelief. “You’re out of your minds. I didn’t kill David or Gary.”
Ted could definitely talk the talk. He was as convincing as any innocent suspect she’d encountered in the past, but she couldn’t look past the evidence. It all pointed to this man, almost to a tee.
Maybe a little too perfect, she wondered.
“Do you still think David’s death was a suicide?” she asked.
Ted shook his head. “No. I read about it in the newspaper. It said it was a homicide. I’ve got the clippings in my office.”
Dammit,Ella thought. She’d tried to catch him out. “Collecting clippings of the news? Seems obsessive.”
“I knew David. Knew him well. I thought maybe, with a bit of luck, I could help the police out. I have recordings of everything he said. I thought there might be, I don’t know, a clue or something. Shoot me for trying to be helpful.”
Ella and Ripley regarded each other, a string of doubt manifesting between them. Ella felt her heart begin to sink because Ted seemed to have an answer for everything. Were these rehearsed lines? Was he a master improviser?
Or was he being honest?
“Joanne Gustafson,” Ripley said. “Know her?”
“No idea,” Ted said firmly. “Never heard that name in my life.”
