Insidious (FBI Thriller 20)

“So you decided to climb in through a window to see if you’d like to rent this house?”

“No, no, you know I never went inside. Yeah, I did look inside, maybe, but that’s all. I just wanted to get a feel for the house, you know? I was ready to leave because I didn’t want to disturb anyone when you jumped out the window in your underwear and attacked me. You started pounding on me and I was only trying to defend myself, and then this blonde jumped out and attacked me, too. I couldn’t believe it—it was the same woman in Las Vegas, the one who accused me of stalking her. She even got a restraining order. That’s the truth. Look, I was a gentleman in Las Vegas. I agreed not to sue her for attacking me with a knife.”

Cam said, “You really want us to believe you didn’t know it was Missy Devereaux’s house?”

“Of course I didn’t know! I told you, I never break the law, I believe in the law. Sure, the restraining order is humiliating, but I wouldn’t have gone near that house if I’d known it was hers.”

Daniel said, “Apart from being ridiculous, what you’re saying doesn’t matter, Mr. Bayley. You violated the restraining order whether you knew it or not, and you assaulted a federal agent. I’m wondering how you could be so stupid as to show up at Missy Devereaux’s house in the middle of the night? Did you forget there’s a serial killer out there? And Missy Devereaux is a young actress? And just maybe you’re the serial killer.”

“Me? No, that’s crazy! That’s nuts!”

“Mr. Bayley,” Cam said, “we know you were in Las Vegas last Saturday, and that night Molly Harbinger was murdered. You’ve already admitted to the little dustup with Missy Devereaux in the Wynn hotel garage.”

“No, no, I flew home to L.A. that afternoon. You can check with Sunset Airlines, my plane left McCarran airport at five in the afternoon. I wasn’t there!”

Daniel sat forward, pinned Blinker. “And where were you Tuesday night, Blinker?”

“Tuesday night? Why? Okay, I was at the movies, over in Century City. I saw Scarlett Johansson in something, I don’t remember the name of the movie. Wait, wait, I still have the ticket stub,” and he shoved his hand into his empty pockets. “You took all my stuff away from me last night. The stub has to be with my stuff. You have to look.”

Daniel left the interview room. He was back shortly with Blinker’s envelope in his hand. He poured his personal effects onto the table. And there was the ticket stub, for Tuesday night, the late show.

Given time of death, it was very unlikely Blinker could have driven to Santa Monica to Deborah Connelly’s house to kill her. He wasn’t the Serial, although neither Cam nor Daniel had ever seriously believed he could be. At least now he could be formally eliminated.

Blinker sat forward, his hands clasped, his look earnest. “I couldn’t hurt anybody, really. I’m a bond trader. I’m responsible, except this morning. I need to call my supervisor.” At their stony looks, he cleared his throat, straightened. “I want a lawyer.”

“Very well.” Daniel shoved his cell phone over to him, and he and Cam left the interview room.

Chief Murray met them outside the interview room. “He might get the Nitwit of the Year Award, but he isn’t the Serial, not that either of you thought he was.”

“No, he isn’t,” Cam said. “He doesn’t fit the body type and there wasn’t a knife or goggles.”

Dreyfus patted her arm. “Still, we’ve got him on trespassing, maybe breaking and entering, violating the restraining order, and attacking a federal agent.”

Cam said, “He didn’t really enter, only break.” She sighed. “I really did attack him, Dreyfus, jumped right out the window and took him down.”

“Doesn’t matter, too bad for him. If he gets himself a good lawyer, he could plea-bargain down to maybe three months, and out on bail until his hearing.”

Missy, who’d been pacing up and down the bullpen with every male eye following her progress, overheard Sheriff Murray. She grabbed Cam’s sleeve. “He’ll get three months or maybe nothing? And he’ll be out on bail? I’m going to go break his arm, Cam, he deserves it. He was going to come into your bedroom, you know it.”

“But he didn’t, Missy,” Cam said.

“He would have. And what if you hadn’t been there, Cam? What was he going to do? Sneak to my bedroom and try to kiss me? Lick me? Rape me? Then when the schmuck gets out of jail, if he ever even goes in, he can come after me again? Sheriff Murray, can’t we get him committed to a loony bin?”

Daniel took her hand. “Calm down, Missy. He wasn’t at your house to kill you. He worships you, he’s obsessed with you, and that’s got to stop. We’re all on edge because of the serial killer, but it isn’t Blinker. Do you know he doesn’t have a mark on his record, even a speeding ticket? He’s a putz, that’s about it. I’ll see to it he has a psych evaluation. Don’t worry.”

Missy said, “Maybe he did have a knife and goggles, maybe you just didn’t find them. I’ll go back and search, see—”

Cam interrupted her. “Missy, I just called Sunset Airlines. Sure enough, Mr. Bayley flew back on their flight 415 to L.A. early last Saturday evening. Also, none of the murdered actresses reported a stalker. He’s got the wrong build, too, and his features aren’t remotely close to the sketch we have of the killer. He’s just a putz, like Daniel said. We’ll see what the psychiatrist says after his evaluation. Stop your worrying, all right?”

“Easy enough for you to say,” Missy said, and began pacing again, much to the pleasure of the men in the bullpen.

Daniel looked after her, talking to herself, her hands waving to make a point, pacing in her skinny jeans and her 49ers sweatshirt. He said to Cam, “What with that Ka-Bar of hers, I’d be willing to bet she’d cut off some of Blinker’s prized real estate if he tried anything again. I think he knows that, but before he leaves, I’ll tell him I’ll hold him down for her if he ever gets near her again.”

Cam smiled at him. “I know you would. Missy told me she wants Blinker sent to prison in Antarctica.” Her cell beeped and she excused herself. When she strode back into the bullpen a couple minutes later, she looked upset.