“Unusual like what?”
This time Holly didn’t lead her witness. “Like anything. You may not know, but then again you might. If Terry said something to his wife when he got back to their hotel, for instance. Anything?”
“No . . . unless you mean Terry bumping into an orderly when he went out. The orderly fell down because the floor was wet, but it was just a chance thing. Neither of them was hurt, or anything.”
She clutched her phone so hard her knuckles creaked. “You never said anything like that before.”
“I didn’t think it was important.”
“That’s why I need to talk to Detective Anderson. There are missing pieces. You just gave me one. He may have more. Also, he can find things out that I can’t.”
“Are you saying an excuse-me bump as Maitland was going out has relevance? If so, what is it?”
“Let me talk to Detective Anderson first. Please.”
There was a long pause, then Pelley said, “Let me see what I can do.”
The waitress put down the check as Holly pocketed her phone. “That sounded intense.”
Holly gave her a smile. “Thank you for such good service.”
The waitress left. The check came to eighteen dollars and twenty cents. Holly left a five-dollar tip under her plate. This was quite a bit more than the recommended amount, but she was excited.
10
She had barely returned to her room when her cell rang. UNKNOWN CALLER, the screen said. “Hello? You’ve reached Holly Gibney, to whom am I speaking?”
“This is Ralph Anderson. Alec Pelley gave me your number, Ms. Gibney, and told me what you’re doing. My first question is, do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes.” Holly had many worries, and she was a very doubtful person even after years of therapy, but of this much she was sure.
“Uh-huh, uh-huh, well, maybe you do and maybe you don’t, I have no way of telling, do I?”
“No,” Holly agreed. “At least not as of this moment.”
“Alec said you told him Terry Maitland didn’t kill Frank Peterson. He said you seemed very sure of it. I’m curious as to how you can make a statement like that when you’re in Dayton and the Peterson murder happened here in Flint City.”
“Because there was a similar crime here, at the same time Maitland was here. Not a boy killed, but two little girls. Same basic MO: rape and mutilation. The man the police arrested claimed to have been staying with his mother in a town thirty miles away, and she corroborated that, but he was also seen in Trotwood, the suburb where the little girls were abducted. There’s surveillance footage of him. Does this sound familiar?”
“Familiar but not surprising. Most killers toss up some kind of alibi once they’re caught. You might not know that from your work collaring bail-jumpers, Ms. Gibney—Alec told me what your firm mostly does—but surely you know it from TV.”
“This man was an orderly at the Heisman Memory Unit, and although he was supposed to be on vacation, he was there at least once during the same week that Mr. Maitland was there visiting his father. On the occasion of Mr. Maitland’s last visit—April 26th, this would have been—these two supposed killers actually bumped into each other. And I mean that literally.”
“Are you shitting me?” Anderson nearly shouted.
“I am not. This is what my old partner at Finders Keepers would have called an authentic no-shit situation. Is your interest piqued?”
“Did Pelley tell you the orderly scraped Maitland when he fell down? Reached out and grabbed for him and nicked his arm?”
Holly was silent. She was thinking about the movie she had packed in her carry-on. She wasn’t in the habit of self-congratulation—just the opposite—but it now seemed like an act of intuitive genius. Only had she ever doubted there was something far out of the ordinary about the Maitland case? She had not. Mostly because of her association with the monstrous Brady Wilson Hartsfield. A thing like that tended to widen your perspective quite a bit.
“And that wasn’t the only cut.” He sounded like he was talking to himself. “There was another one. But down here. After Frank Peterson was murdered.”
Here was another missing piece.
“Tell me, Detective. Tell me tell me tell me!”
“I think . . . not over the phone. Can you fly down here? We should sit down and talk. You, me, Alec Pelley, Howie Gold, and a State Police detective who’s also been working the case. And maybe Marcy. Her, too.”