Kiss Me, Kill Me

I don’t think you put the others together. There wasn’t much press on Erica Ripley’s murder, and it wasn’t until after New Year’s that the press dubbed the killer the Cinderella Strangler.

“You ran the Party Girl website through an offshore company that hosted it for you. When the police talked to you Thursday morning, you finally put the murders together. But it wasn’t just because you had sex with those four women. It was because you thought you’d be liable for their deaths because they were all members of the Party Girl website. You thought someone was using your site to target their victims. So you paid to have the site taken down.

“Fortunately, my partner and I are smarter than you, and we retrieved cached data and rebuilt the whole enchilada.” Sean watched Barnett’s face register complete surprise.

Sean continued. “You probably started thinking Thursday night that you personally knew these victims. There were nine hundred sixty-one female profiles on Party Girl. What are the odds that four who live in New York would be killed? What are the odds that you would have slept with all four women?”

Sean leaned forward. “That’s when you tracked down your brother Dennis. I don’t know if you thought he was killing them, or-”

“Stay away from my brother,” Wade said. “He wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

“That’s what my girlfriend said. But the police are interviewing him right now. You want to know why?”

“Dennis would not survive in prison. How could they? He didn’t kill anyone!”

“And neither did you. A fifth victim turned up last night.”

Wade’s entire body sagged. “What?”

“Sierra Hinkle. And my partner already checked-she wasn’t on the Party Girl site under any name. Did you know her?”

“No.”

“She was a waitress in Brooklyn.”

“I didn’t know her.”

Sean took Sierra Hinkle’s picture out of his pocket and showed Barnett, just to be certain.

“I’ve never seen her.”

“Do you want to know why she was killed?”

“You’re going to tell me either way.”

“Because you’re in prison. That’s not what your ex-girlfriend wanted.”

“You’re insane. Alanna’s dead.”

“She wasn’t your only girlfriend. Think back. A woman you dated who didn’t take it well when you broke it off. Someone who has been in and out of your life, probably for many years.” Sean thought back to what Lucy had said about Dennis and Wade’s relationship, and how Wade protected his younger brother. “She didn’t like Dennis, was probably mean to him, but never around you because she knew you wouldn’t put up with it. Dennis would not have liked her.”

“Dennis liked all my girlfriends,” Wade said. But he was thinking.

Sean tried a different tactic. “You lost your license, but this is New York. Why have Dennis drive you to all the parties?”

“I live on the Upper West Side. Most of the parties aren’t walking distance. I don’t take the subway, and I don’t care to walk to Brooklyn. Cabs are unreliable.”

Sean hesitated. “Did Dennis take you to all the parties? Was he at the Haunted House where Alanna was killed?”

Wade thought about it. “No. He wasn’t. That was the night before Halloween. Dennis gets scared easily.”

Sean knew exactly who the Cinderella Strangler was.

Lucy stared at the photocopy of the drawing that portrayed a mean-looking Dennis Barnett with Alanna the night she was killed. Suzanne and Panetta had pushed, but he never looked like this. But it was him; there was no doubt.

Suzanne said, “I don’t know what to think.”

“He could be lying. We need to push him on the last murder,” Panetta said. “He could have killed Hinkle to get his brother out of prison. Did it the same way because he’d watched his brother kill four other girls.”

“No,” Lucy said. “Dennis didn’t kill anyone.”

Panetta rubbed the back of his neck. “Ms. Kincaid, I appreciate your help, but all the evidence points to Wade Barnett and Dennis Barnett working together.”

Suzanne said, “It seems so, but there’s really only one way to know for certain. We interview Kirsten Benton.”

“She’s still unconscious,” Lucy said.

“What did the doctor say about her prognosis?”

“They’re changing her medication and he’s optimistic.”

Panetta said, “We keep both of them in lockup until we can talk to her.”

“We have no reason to hold Dennis,” Suzanne said.

“We have a witness.”

“We’ll need her to view a lineup.”

Lucy only half listened to the conversation. “Suzanne, do you have the original drawing?”

“It’s in the evidence room at my headquarters.”

“Was it done in pencil?”

“Um, charcoal is pencil, right?”

“Charcoal was in the lungs of the first victim. Charcoal and gum.” Lucy pulled out her phone and did a quick search. Suzanne rose from her chair and paced, her hands rubbing the back of her neck. “Gum is a component of charcoal pencils used for drawings.”

“That’s it,” Suzanne said. “That’s the personal connection. I didn’t see it before, but it makes complete sense. The final piece of the puzzle.”

“What is?” Panetta asked.

“That drawing-the artist is Whitney Morrissey. She was at the Haunted House party in Harlem. She’s Alanna Andrews’s cousin.”

“Hold it,” Panetta said. “Are you saying a woman killed these girls?”

Lucy nodded. “It fits everything I said before.”

“But what you said also fits Dennis Barnett.”

“Yes, but he wasn’t jealous of Wade’s girlfriends. He cared about Alanna in particular, and he saved Kirsten. Go ask him about Whitney.”

Suzanne walked into holding and saw Dennis Barnett in the corner, terrified. She told the guard to get him out.

He leaned toward her and said, “I don’t like it here.”

“I have one more question. Do you know Whitney Morrissey?”

Dennis wrinkled his nose. “Yes.”

“How?”

“She’s one of Wade’s girlfriends. She doesn’t like me.”

“Is your brother still dating her?”

“No. Wade heard her say mean things about me. He broke up with her. Then he met Alanna and was happy.”

“Did Whitney do anything to Wade? Threaten him?”

Dennis shook his head. “She told him she was going to kill herself. But she didn’t. She called him all the time. He changed his number. Then she came to Charlie’s apartment for Wade’s birthday in September and made Charlie so mad that he took away the CJB grant he’d given her.”

“Grant?”

“For art. Charlie says ’cause we have a lot of money we need to give a lot of it away. I never knew our dad because I was a baby when he died, but he loved art so Charlie gives money to artists.”

Dennis glanced back at the holding cell. “Please don’t make me go back in there.”