John’s heart became a drumbeat, and it lasted for the next several minutes while the detective talked. John was signing off with him when he heard the bedroom door opening. He turned and gave Beth a smile and a thumbs-up.
The other detective was saying, “At first I thought you were a little nuts and that this blood moon stuff was horseshit. Thanks, Bowie. You’ve made our cold case hot.”
“Send me everything you have on the guy and keep me posted. I’ll do the same.” He ended the call, dropped the phone, and pumped the air above his head with his fist. “That was Roberts. Their person of interest has a red crescent moon tattoo on his shoulder. They have him in custody.”
He picked up his phone again and began composing a text message to Morris and Cougar while continuing to bring Beth up to date. “And that’s not all. Mitch and dark web moles came through.” He told her that news. “What I thought we’d do is—”
It wasn’t until then that he realized she wasn’t reacting with the enthusiasm these developments warranted. “Sorry,” he said. “What about Brady? How’d he react when you told him he’s about to commit career suicide?”
“He fired me.”
John looked at her, aghast. “He fired you?”
She dropped down into the chair in front of her laptop. “On the spot. Effective immediately. Although he is being gracious enough to leave Max’s and my names in the credits.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Brady certainly was. Richard has been appointed to clean all personal belongings out of my office and send them to my apartment unless I specify another address.”
John dragged his hand down his face. “I don’t even know him, and I want to use a pair of pliers to rip off his balls.”
“If you knew him, you’d want to even more.”
“How could he discount all the debunked facts in that episode?”
“He didn’t even give me a chance to tell him about them! I didn’t get a word in edgewise. He didn’t hear anything I said because he was too preoccupied with giving me the heave-ho. Of course, because I’m a member of the old regime, he’s been waiting for a valid excuse to usher me out. Carla Mellin gave him one, and it’s a dilly.”
“Carla?”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “She called him this afternoon, and got put through because of her ‘moving contribution to the episode.’ Which I know is hogwash. Half the questions put to her, she refused to answer.
“Today, however, she was apparently more talkative. Brady advised me not to bother asking for a letter of recommendation, because even my late, great mentor wouldn’t have endorsed a lunatic.”
John cursed. “She used that line?”
“She did, with elaboration. In short, she told him that I’m trying to sabotage tomorrow night’s program because of my belief in the supernatural powers of a blood moon. I’ve been to see her twice, both times harassing her with questions about the occult, numerology, astrology, tattoos symbolic of Roman goddesses, and the like. I’ve tried to draw a connection between the mystic world and her daughter’s disappearance, which is not only untrue but insulting.
“And my partner in all this madness? None other than John Bowie, the bungling detective. With whom, she suspects, I’m being intimate.” She glanced up at him self-consciously before continuing.
“Initially you had blamed the corruption within the PD for your failure to find her daughter. Now I have brainwashed you into believing this mysticism nonsense.” She pulled at a loose thread on the sleeve of her t-shirt. “The funny thing—”
“This is character assassination, Beth. There’s nothing funny about it.”
“The funny thing,” she repeated with emphasis, “is that when it’s laid out like that, everything Carla told him is true. I can’t defend myself or I’ll appear even more deranged than she described.”
“But why did she do it?”
“Why else? Retribution. She resented that we turned her tragedy into ‘entertainment for couch potatoes,’ remember?”
He tugged at his lower lip. “I don’t know. Her animosity, especially toward you, still seems excessive. Why doesn’t she turn some of it onto Tom Barker? She’s got more reason to hate him than anyone affiliated with Crisis Point.”
“She gets her vengeance on him in her interview. When you watch it, you’ll see. She questions both his competence and integrity. Not straight out, but she plants seeds of doubt, and dislike for him, in viewers’ minds.”
“Has he seen the episode yet?”
“I doubt it. Episodes are kept under wraps before they air. I have the Mellin one only because I was working on it.”
“When Barker does see it, he may go after her.”
“In what way?”
“Hell if I know and hazard to guess.” He straddled his chair backward to face her and reached across to caress her cheek. Softly, he asked, “Any chance in hell of Brady cancelling the episode?”
“No. When he paused to take a breath, I tried to impress upon him how disastrous it was going to be if he aired it tomorrow night. He laughed and suggested I burn some incense to the moon goddess to ward off evil spirits.” She laughed lightly. “That’s not a bad idea. It certainly couldn’t hurt. Do you have any incense around?”
Her knew her attempted humor was part of the brave front she was putting up. “Are you going to be all right?”
“Yes.”
He looked at her doubtfully.
She said, “Honestly, I’m fine. With or without Carla’s interference, it would have happened eventually.” She took a deep breath. “You were about to tell me what you thought we should do next.”
“Right. Professor Wallace. We could send him that list of handles, see if he recognizes any from the sites he’s lurked on.”
“Maybe if one has popped up on several different sites, he would have noticed and remembered.”
“That was my thinking. Why don’t you call and explain? If he agrees, I’ll text him the list. But if he asks how we came by it, tell him it’s classified.”