Then I tried USAir and gave them the ticket number Brent had given me. Gault, using my American Express card, had flown out of La Guardia at 7:00 a.m. on Friday, December 22. He had returned on the 6:50 flight that night. I was dumbfounded. He was in Richmond an entire day. What did he do during that time besides visit an art gallery?
‘I’ll be damned,’ I muttered as I thought about New York laws.
I wondered if Gault had come here to buy a gun, and I called the airline again.
‘Excuse me,’ I said, identifying myself one more time. ‘Is this Rita?’
‘Yes.’
‘We just spoke. This is Dr. Scarpetta.’
‘Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?’
‘The ticket we were just discussing. Can you tell if bags were checked?’
‘Please hold on.’ Keys rapidly clicked. ‘Yes, ma’am. On the return flight to La Guardia one bag was checked.’
‘But not on the original flight out of La Guardia.’
‘No. No bags were checked on the La Guardia to Richmond leg of the trip.’
Gault had served time in a penitentiary that once was located in this city. There was no telling who he knew, but I was certain if he wanted to buy a Glock nine-millimeter pistol in Richmond, he could. Criminals in New York commonly came here for guns. Gault may have placed the Glock in the bag he checked and the next night he shot Jane.
What this suggested was premeditation, and that had never been part of the equation. All of us had supposed Jane was someone Gault chanced upon and decided to murder, much as he had his other victims.
I made myself a mug of hot tea and tried to calm down. It was only the middle of the afternoon in Seattle, and I pulled my National Academy of Medical Examiners directory off a shelf. I flipped through it and found the name and number of Seattle’s chief.
‘Dr. Menendez? It’s Dr. Kay Scarpetta in Richmond,’ I said when I got him on the phone.
‘Oh,’ he said, surprised. ‘How are you? Merry Christmas.’
‘Thank you. I’m sorry to bother you, but I need your help.’
He hesitated. ‘Is everything all right? You sound very stressed.’
‘I have a very difficult situation. A serial killer who is out of control.’ I took a deep breath. ‘One of the cases involves an unidentified young woman with a lot of gold foil restorations.’
‘That’s most curious,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘You know, there are still some dentists out here who do those.’
‘That’s why I’m calling. I need to talk to someone. Maybe the head of their organization.’
‘Would you like me to make some calls?’
‘What I’d like you to do is find out if by some small miracle their group is on a computer system. It sounds like a small and unusual society. They might be connected through E-mail or a bulletin board. Maybe something like Prodigy. Who knows? But I’ve got to have a way to get information to them instantly.’
‘I’ll put several of my staffers on it immediately,’ he said. ‘What’s the best way for me to reach you?’
I gave him my numbers and hung up. I thought of Gault and the missing dark blue van. I wondered where he had gotten the body pouch he zipped Sheriff Brown in, and then I remembered. We always kept a new one in each van as a backup. So he had come here first and stolen the van. Then he had gone to Brown’s house. I thumbed through the telephone directory again to see if the sheriff’s residence was listed. It was not.
I picked up the phone and called directory assistance. I asked for Lament Brown’s number. The operator gave it to me and I dialed it to see what would happen.
‘I can’t get to the phone right now because I’m out delivering presents in my sleigh . . .’ the dead sheriff’s voice sounded strong and healthy from his answering machine. ‘Ho! Ho! Ho! Merrrrrrry Christmas!’
Unnerved, I got up to go to the ladies’ room, revolver in hand. I was walking around my office armed because Gault had ruined this place where I had always felt safe. I stopped in the hall and looked up and down it. Gray floors had a buildup of wax and walls were eggshell white. I listened for any sound. He had gotten in here once. He could get in again.