look up the subject matter and the date, and as he was explaining how to use the catalogued data Eichord said, “You mean just look up the general heading first, like ‘TWINS,’ and then—” “Whoa. Shit, Jack. Did I read somewhere the suspect had a twin sibling?'
“Yeah. Twin brother.'
“Whooooooaaaaaabhhhhh. Hold it, hold it, hold it. Whoa, horse.'
“Huh?'
“You didn't say anything about a twin. Ukie is a twin!'
“Right. Yeah. Sorry. I just hadn't got around to it yet.'
“Oh, well, WELL now. That could change everything. Let me think now, just a second.” He paused and Eichord said before he forgot to ask, “Let me say one thing while you're thinking. Would you be so kind as to let me ship these surveillance tapes to you? I know it's one hell of an imposition, but would you have time to take a look at them? I'd just send one or two to give you a feel of the man. I'd be so grateful if you would have time to—'
“Send ‘em soon as you can. Glad to do it. Now listen. You're talking about identical twins?'
“Yep. I met the brother. Ukie in appearance. Deeper voice or more mellow in his speaking voice. Dresses better. Seems mannerly. Speaks in a very soft-spoken, not exactly deferential way but just a very pleasant way. Nice dude, Seems awfully, genuinely personable. Totally unlike Ukie or at least that's what you get right under the facade. Same exterior, totally different interior is the impression. Clean background. Ultra-successful businessman in Houston. Doesn't seem bitter in any way toward his brother. Acts convinced that Ukie is innocent.'
“The twin thing...'
“Yeah?'
“That changes everything, though, Jack. It adds another dimension. If our Ukie is a same-twin you've immediately got a whole new set of possibilities, see? And they're diametrically divergent. You know the fantasy of having a twin is that it's another you but it doesn't work that way. You think you're going to have a best friend who looks like and thinks just the way you do. It's like a kid having a pet but better because it talks. But the twinning reality is often quite different. Largely negative relationships can develop. One can be super-critical or jealous of the other, If Ukie was hostile toward his twin, and bright, this could be an extremely intricate piece of invention to put a frame around his brother's successful neck, right? Conversely his brother-okay, this gets very iffy—but suppose Ukie's twin could manipulate him in some way, the way the frame might work in reverse. Both theoreticals are too far out for me, I'm just shooting from the hip. But the twin thing. Ahhhh, now that's a rich area.'
Eichord made a pained noise like a “hmmmmmmm” and the man said, “Jack, I think you might want to look closely at the twin brother's relationship to our suspect.'
“Oh, Doctor, I don't really feel like there could be much there. I'm checking it out but aside from a bit of resentment on Ukie's part for what he imagines as disloyalty—you'll see that in the interrogations I'll send you—I don't think there's too much happening there. Joseph Hackabee, the twin brother, he came in on his own when he saw the story in the newspapers in Houston. I doubt if we'd ever found out about him or reached for him had he not shown up wanting to help his brother. They had falling-out several years ago and hadn't kept in touch over this last four or five years ... Eichord trailed off.
“Twins is something, though, Jack. There's a wealth of potential for a uniquely complex relationship and this series of crimes—wow. I mean, do you still use the rule of thumb that anything beyond four killings qualifies?'
“Yes. That's pretty much the official line. Once the tally goes past four it's a serial-murder case and I get notified. Of course you can have ten or twenty deaths in an isolated shooting and not have a serial killer. I get tapped when there are more than four different homicides within a geographic area or a proximate occurrence pattern timewise. Unofficially the definition is simpler. If it makes headlines.'
“If it's serial murder when it's four, what is it when it's—'
“A hundred and four?'
“Yeah.” He laughed without humor.
“It's bloody mass murder is what it is. And we're looking for light at the end of the tunnel.'
“I hear that. What you need to do is contact Randy Vincent. He's at CMH Sacramento. Let me give you his number. Find my Rolodex here in all these papers—'
“Where is he? What were those letters?'
“CMH, California Mental Hospital. Here it is. Nine-one-six ... three-six-six—Wait. No. This is the one on Stockton. No. Here's the number you want. The administrative offices. Call this number and ask for Doctor Vincent.” He gave him the number. “He worked in the federal system. He was the one they called in when they were testing Gacey at the mental-health facility in Illinois. He goes around to all the lockups where they have the max-security psychos. He's got a deep background in sexually disturbed psychopathia and he's going to know everything there is to know on the phenomenon of twinning That's his primary area of expertise. Tell him we talked. He's a good guy. He'll be perfect to give you some good info on the twins thing, not to mention the criminal psych angle. Okay?'
“I really appreciate it, again.'
“Shoot me those tapes too, and I'll get right back to you.'
Jack thanked him and hung up, called and requested dubs of four of the surveillance videos, and called the hospital administration out in California.
“Is Doctor Vincent there?'
“Doctor Vincent? Randy Vincent?'
“Randy? We have a Vincent Johnson in Personnel.'
“Don't you have a physician there named Dr. Randy Vincent?” A pause and then.
“Hold on, please.” Probably somebody who just started working there. A long ... deadly ... pause.
Minutes slowly ebb and flow. A syrupy tide measured by seconds that echo the heartbeat hammer of a headache briefly dormant, now thrumming below the surface as the seconds drag by on hold, receiver changed to the other ear.
The.... (tick).... long ... (throb).... deadly.... (tick).... pregnant.... (throb).... pause. Christ! He looks up at the clock and after four minutes he clicks the line. Gets a dial tone. Dials the number again. Same woman's voice.
“Yes'—an edge of steel hardens his voice—'this is the same long-distance party that was waiting on hold for Randy Vincent. This call is police business and I was disconnected while I was on hold.” He lies.
“One moment, ple-uhz, sorry we disconnected you.” Click. (Tick) ... (throb).... (tick).... (throb).
“Personnel?'
“Yes.'
Good Christ above. “My name is Eichord, I'm with the Major Crimes Task Force and we're involved in an investigation of a Murder case.” Really laying it on. “It is vitally important that I reach Doctor Randy Vincent.'
“One moment please.” (throb).... And, mercifully, a click and a woman's voice says, “Hi. Are you trying to reach Doctor Vincent?'
“Yes, I am. Is he there?'
“No. He hasn't been here for over a year. I'm not sure where he can be reached. Would you want me to check to see if we have forwarding information on him?'
“Yes, please. But wouldn't someone there know where he is? I mean, he's a nationally known physician.” Eichord was beyond any compunction. Just get it done somehow.
“It's the fact we're so big. This is a very large facility and so many people are new here. I remembered the name from an old personnel roster. If you'll hang on for half a minute I can check.'
“Please. It's quite important.” Half a minute, he thought as the phone banged in his ear. At least she gave him an ETA. That was golden as far as he was concerned.
“Hello.'
“Yes,” he said, holding his breath.
“I can't find any forwarding address.” (Siiiiiiiiiggghhhhh.) “But I've got a phone number. Would that help?'
He took the number and hung up, dialing with fingers mentally crossed.
“Hello,” a woman's voice on the seventh ring, a slightly foreign-sounding accent he couldn't place.
“I trying to reach Doctor Vincent. This is long distance.
“I'm berry chorry, he not here.'
“May I ask with whom I am speaking?'
“Eh?'
