us to keep him here. Do we have any solid evidence that makes him a likely suspect in any of these murders?’
Joanna shook her head. “I’m not necessarily convinced that he actully killed any of the women, but I have a feeling he has something to do with it.”
Ernie shook his head. “Great,” he grumbled. “Another one of your feelings. Those don’t exactly count as probable cause.”
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“Exactly,” Joanna agreed. “That’s why you’re doing a next-of-kin interview and nothing else.”
Just then a green-and-white cab pulled into the parking lot and stopped in the handicapped parking area in front of the door. While Joanna watched in amazement, the back door opened and Edith Mossman clambered out and then hobbled forward on her walker.
“You wait right here,” she ordered the cabbie. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Joanna hurried up to her. “Mrs. Mossman,” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to see that son of mine,” Edith Mossman wheezed. “I’m not armed, so I can’t shoot him, but if I can get close enough to hit him with my walker, I’ll beat him to a bloody pulp.”
“Please,” Joanna said, “you can’t do that. If you struck him, my officers would have to arrest you for assault.”
“If that’s what it takes to keep him from taking Carol’s body back to Mexico, so be it. Lock me up if you have to, but hitting him will be worth it,” Edith Mossman declared grimly. “Beating the crap out of him won’t change a thing, but it’ll make me feel a lot better.”
“Really, Mrs. Mossman,” Joanna said. “I can’t allow you inside if you’re planning a physical assault, but if you simply want to talk to your son-“
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
“But telling him how you feel might do you as much or more good than hitting him.”
Joanna took Edith by the arm. “Come on,” she added. “I’ll take you to where he is.”
With Ernie trailing behind, Edith allowed herself to be led 250
first into the building and then on into George Winfield’s office. As soon as Ed Mossman glimpsed his mother’s face, he was outraged.
“What the hell is she doing here?” he demanded. “Get her out of here.”
“Don’t talk about me as though I’m deaf or dumb, Eddie,” Edith ordered. “I’m perfectly capable of speaking for myself. I came here to tell you that you’re scum. That if I ever had a son, I don’t any longer.”
“The feeling’s mutual there, I’m sure,” Ed Mossman fired back at her. “You don’t have a son and I don’t have a mother. That makes us even.”
‘And if you even attempt to take Carol back to Mexico with you, I swear, I’ll . .
.”
“You’ll what?” Mossman demanded. “You’ll disown me? You already did that. So what?”
“I’ll take you to court, Eddie,” Edith vowed. “I’ll fight you down to my dying breath and down to my last penny. I may not have a lot of money, but I’ll bet I have more than you do.”
As she spoke, slamming her walker on the floor with every step, Edith had moved across the room toward her son. She stopped when their faces were bare inches apart. Worried that Edith might still make good on her threat, Joanna moved closer as well, just in case she needed to separate them.
For almost a minute, Edith Mossman stared at her son, saying nothing. When she did speak, it was in a hoarse whisper.
“I’m so grateful your father didn’t live long enough to see what a monster you’ve become, Edward Mossman. What you did to those girls is utterly unthinkable!”
With that, Edith turned on her heel and banged her way back out of the room. In the long silence that followed Edith’s exit,
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Joanna once again heard Jeannine Phillips’s voice, telling her about animal hoarders-about who they were, where they came from, and why.
“I’m one, too,” Jeannine had said.
Jeannine Phillips had been a victim of child abuse. In a flash of clarity illuminated by Edith Mossman’s righteous anger, Joanna realized that the woman’s murdered granddaughter had also been victimized. As had her sisters. By their own father.
George Winfield’s office was suddenly too small. The walls closed in on Joanna until she could barely breathe. “I’d better go check on Mrs. Mossman,” she managed.
Out in the parking lot, the cabbie was already helping Edith into the backseat. “Please, Mrs. Mossman,” Joanna said, “I need to talk to you. Let the cab go. I’ll give you a ride back home when we finish.”
Edith looked briefly at Joanna. “All right,” she said, then reached for her purse and wallet. She gave a handful of bills to the driver. “Thank you for getting me here in such a hurry young man,” she said. ‘And thank you for waiting. I really appreciate it.”
