Page 26 of A Talent for Murder

“Uh-huh, what was that?”

“So, the night she was drowned... the police officer was describing the clothes she was wearing, and apparently she was wearing a brooch. I asked the detective what kind, and he sent me a picture.”

“What was it?” Lily said.

“It was a brooch, or like an enamel pin, of Jane Austen’s face.”

“Is that something Alan sells?”

“I mean, it’s exactly the kind of thing he would sell. I don’t actually recall ever seeing one before, but I rarely see the stuff he sells. Still, the conference he attended in San Diego was for high school English teachers. He could have had that pin in his booth.”

“Okay, slow down. Remind me: Mikaela Sager was a massage therapist, right? She didn’t attend the conference.”

“She didn’t, but that doesn’t mean anything. Maybe Alan took her out, or he booked an appointment with her, and that’s when he gave her the pin. Or, who knows, maybe he killed her on the pier and then put the pin on her before throwing her body in the ocean.”

“Why would he do that?”

Martha, gesturing with her free hand even though she was on the phone, said, “Honestly, I don’t know, but I keep coming up with scenarios. Maybe he wants to get caught? Maybe he’s just a cocky bastard, or he’s totally insane. Maybe nothing means anything. All I really know is that it’s a huge coincidence, if it even is a coincidence.”

“I’m not saying it’s a coincidence. I do think it’s a pretty strong connection between Alan and this woman who died, but it doesn’t prove anything. I mean, if you want to go to the police now, I will support you one hundred percent—I’ll even make the call, if you want—but just putting Alan on their radar won’t necessarily produce anything.”

“Yeah, I know,” Martha said, rubbing the back of her neck. “So what do I do now? I mean, I’m more convinced than ever that my husband has killed women. I can’t go on living with him. What do I tell him if I just up and leave?”

“Let me think for a moment, okay?” Lily said in a slow, measured tone. Martha knew that Lily was trying to calm her down, but she didn’t mind, exactly. “Why don’t you tell me what else you found out today?”

“Okay,” Martha said. “First of all, I got the feeling that there’s a reason none of these cases have been solved. There’s not a lot of evidence, or leads, or patterns, and since some of the dead women were prostitutes, then I think the police departments don’t care as much.”

“The women were all prostitutes?”

“Not exactly. Mikaela Sager wasn’t, but she was an in-house massage therapist, so it’s a possibility. Kelli Baldwin, the Atlanta victim, was a streetwalker. Nora Johnson, who was a bartender at the hotel Alan was staying at in Fort Myers, was running a kind of side hustle with a parking attendant who also worked for the hotel. She’d pick up some traveling conventioneer and bring him to her car for sex or a blow job, and then this attendant would crash in and get money from them. I didn’t learn a whole lot about Bianca Muranos, who was killed in Chicago. I got passed off to someone in the department who seemed to be looking at the file for the first time. But what I got was that she was killed in the alleyway behind the hotel that Alan was staying at, and that she was wearing clothes that suggest she was either a prostitute or else just out at the clubs. I mean, short skirt and stuff. Not much, I know.”

“You’ve done some good work,” Lily said.

“Have I? I don’t know. Tell me what you found out.”

“I met Josie Nixon’s husband today. I’m in the car right now driving back from Woodstock.”

“How’d that go?”

“She didn’t kill herself. At least, I’m ninety-ninepercent sure she didn’t. But the biggest takeaway was that she was in an open sexual relationship, and she’d been looking forward to meeting someone during the conference.”

“To have sex with?”

“Yes, that was the idea.”

“The husband told you all this?”

“Uh-huh. He said she was excited about it.”

“Which means she fits in with all the others. It means my husband hunts women to have sex with, and then he kills them. It doesn’t matter to him if they’re prostitutes or just up for sex, or even if they’re just massage therapists he thinks might have sex with him.”

“You’re making some leaps.”

“I know, I know. I think my mind just needs to conjure up the worst, somehow. But if Alan is responsible for these deaths, then the pattern is that he looks for someone sexually available, a young woman. I mean, he’s not out there killing sixty-year-old department heads.”

“Right. I see what you mean,” Lily said, then added, “Josie Nixon was also deathly afraid of heights.”

“Meaning she wouldn’t have willfully jumped from the dormitory balcony?”

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