Just like dominos falling. His mouth curved upward into an amused grin.
Even though he didn’t get a chance to meet Morris Brick in the flesh as he had expected, he was still quite pleased with how the events of the day were turning out, although he wouldn’t have been able to say that earlier. The truth was, he was furious when those two cops had entered the building’s lobby without Brick in tow. That had stunned him. How could Brick not understand the warning the killer had left him? It should’ve been obvious. Was the guy that thick (as a brick!) that he was going to force the killer to make his wife one of the victims before he’d play along? While that lady cop had questioned him, the killer was too numb at first to feel much of anything, but after she had left to go to Heather Brandley’s condo, he simmered in rage and imagined all the things he was going to do to Brick’s wife to teach the guy a lesson.
The killer was still smoldering in evil thoughts when that same tough lady cop stepped out of the elevator, stormed through the lobby and left the building, but curiously, she veered away from the walkway and disappeared from sight. Well, that left him no choice but to investigate, and he snuck up to the vestibule door and spotted her hiding behind shrubbery with a pair of field glasses. He wondered about that until he saw Brick sitting in the park across the street. The killer then realized what was happening. They were convinced he’d be there watching for Brick to make sure that Brick had taken the killer’s challenge. All the killer could do then was whisper to himself, wow. The dominos were falling exactly as he had planned. Exactly! The first domino being Heather Brandley, the second having Morris Brick come to Brandley’s condo complex to investigate.
But then the killer remembered something he had said to the lady cop in his irritability. This was when he had described Heather Brandley leaving the building yesterday looking as if she were dressed to kill. The lady cop might not have picked up on the killer’s snarkiness, but Brick just might if it was repeated to him. He also realized that if he waited around for Brick to come into the building, there was a chance one of the building’s residents could come by and ask about the doorman who was supposed to be on duty. The killer accepted that it was best to leave. And so he carried out the delivery box that he had brought and left through the back door, which led to the parking lot. He had Brandley’s car keys with him, and by clicking on the remote so that her car would beep, he found her Audi and drove off in it.
The killer dumped the Audi three blocks from the alley where he had left his car. In the box were the clothes he had worn to masquerade as a deliveryman, and before leaving the Audi he took off the glasses, blazer, and tie, and put on the shirt with the delivery company logo emblazoned on the front and matching cap to once again appear as a deliveryman. If he were honest about it, he felt exposed and had moments of nervousness as he walked those three blocks to his car, especially when two police cars with sirens blasting drove past him, but they didn’t seem to pay any attention to him. Once he was back in his car, it was clear sailing.
* * * *
The killer left the washroom and walked to the kitchen area. He chose the Capriccio flavor, and after the coffee finished brewing he brought it to the modeling area where he had miniaturized replicas of the carnage he had planned. Most of it was dark, but two of the models had been lit up—one that showed the Star Wax museum with the back and top removed so that a six-inch version of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers dancing could be seen, and another that showed a detailed three-foot-high replica of Heather Brandley’s condo building.
The killer felt a sense of pride as he looked over the area. Soon more lights would be turned on. He checked his watch. Fifty-eight minutes and forty-one seconds before the next domino would be falling and he’d be turning on another light.
The killer suppressed a yawn. It was time to get going.
He had brought the clothing he needed for this next part of his plan and, as he dressed, he reflected on how busy he’d been over the last forty hours and how much more still needed to be done before he’d be able to get any sleep. Besides the yawn fighting to come loose, he was still feeling wide awake. Energetic even. Like he could do backflips. He was sure at some point exhaustion would hit him like a truck, but that wasn’t going to happen now, not with all the adrenaline pumping hard through his veins. All those months of planning, and he was finally seeing his vision unfolding as he had imagined it would. Of course, it was still very early, and there were so many more deaths to follow, but so far everything was working out perfectly.
The killer drank the rest of his coffee, chose an LA Dodgers baseball cap to wear over his shaved head, grabbed a laptop computer and a pair of headphones, and was about to head out when he remembered that he hadn’t glued on any fake eyebrows. Well, that would’ve been a mistake, maybe even a fatal one! He decided to glue on the blond ones. He also decided to wear the matching bushy mustache and the shaggy dirty blond hairpiece. That would save him time later. It only took him a minute to add the fake hair to his face and head, and then he was off to watch the next domino fall.
Chapter 15
Morris showed Gloria Finston video from the lobby surveillance camera, pausing it the moment the killer dressed as a deliveryman entered the building. The time of day was displayed in the bottom-right corner of the video, and it showed that this happened at eleven eighteen a.m.
Morris said, “He either thought it would take us longer than it did to discover Heather Brandley’s body, or he somehow knew it would take several hours after that before we’d come here to search her condo.”
LAPD had provided the laptop computer, and Morris and the FBI profiler were sitting behind the lobby security desk with Parker lying quietly by Morris’s feet. Finston looked away from the computer screen to search the wall behind them.
“I don’t see the surveillance camera,” she said.
Morris pointed out the small hole in the back wall that was somewhat camouflaged by a framed painting.
“It’s well hidden,” Finston observed. “He might not have known he was being recorded?”
“He didn’t care. He expected me to get a good look at him. Instead Annie spent ten minutes face to face with him. I think the only thing we can assume about his identity is that he’s Caucasian, in his thirties, and that he doesn’t have red hair, wear glasses, or have a beard or mustache. And that he’s five feet eleven inches tall.”
“How did you get his height?”
“We have a point of reference with how he’s standing next to the door. The crime scene folks insist that’s how tall he is, assuming he’s not wearing lifts in his shoes.”
Morris continued the video. The killer came to life carrying a box across the lobby and placing it on top of the security desk. While the doorman couldn’t be seen in the video, the clipboard that he handed over to the killer could be. As the killer took the clipboard with his left hand, he reached behind his back with his right and pulled out a gun, which he pointed straight ahead. Morris again paused the video.
“The gun barrel looks unnaturally long,” Finston noted. “A suppressor?”
“Yep. A 9 mm with a suppressor attached. The gun will still make a noticeable popping sound when fired, but if the bathroom walls are constructed solidly enough, it’s likely no one outside of the lobby would’ve heard it. Forensics will be figuring that out. The blazer and tie he wore when Annie spoke to him must’ve been inside the box.”
Morris continued the video, and it showed the killer transferring the gun to his right hand, sliding the box under his left arm, and disappearing out of the frame. Morris again stopped the video.
“At this point he must have taken the victim to the bathroom. The crime scene folks were able to