In the Cards
Alyssa Donahue was not only the youngest detective on the Evansburg police force, but she was also the only female police officer not assigned to desk duty. As such, she had the desire not just to succeed but also to outshine her male colleagues. Every day she reported to work a half hour before her shift was to begin and worked an hour after it ended. This dedication to her career presented no hardship to her personal life since she had none to speak of. No husband or boyfriend was waiting at home. She lived alone in a one-bedroom apartment above the Kindred Spirits New Age shop in the neighboring town of Archer's Point.
Alyssa had already been at her desk for close to an hour the morning the call came in. A man had been found shot to death in a room at the Evansburg Marriott. The young detective's heart leaped. She and Ellis were at the top of the duty roster. It would be her first homicide investigation.
She looked at her watch. Her partner was late. It was another fifteen minutes before Detective Ellis Daly walked in the door.
"Where have you been?" Alyssa asked.
Ellis held up the two cups of coffee he was carrying and replied, "I stopped at Starbucks."
"Come on," she urged impatiently. "We gotta go. A man was shot at the Marriott."
"Dead?" Ellis asked as he stirred his coffee.
"Yes."
"Then what's the rush? He's not going anywhere."
"How can you say that?" Alyssa cried, annoyed at his callousness.
"Look, Detective, the CSIs will be there combing every inch of the place for evidence. We'll only get in their way, so I'm going to sit down and drink my coffee while it's still hot. Then, when I'm done, we'll go over to the Marriott and begin detecting."
Alyssa sat back down at her desk and drank her coffee, all the while glaring at her partner.
* * *
At first, the shooting seemed to Ellis like a run-of-the-mill homicide. The victim, a middle-aged, married man who checked into the hotel under the name John Smith, was apparently killed while waiting for his young secretary, with whom he had been having an affair, to arrive.
"I'll bet you ten-to-one his old lady did it," Ellis speculated. "And if she didn't do it herself, then she probably hired someone to do it for her."
"I hope you don't mind if I investigate," Alyssa said sarcastically.
"Go right ahead. This is your first homicide, so knock yourself out."
Alyssa shook her head and mumbled, "I hope I never become as jaded as you are."
Detective Daly did not take offense at his partner's comment. He had seen rookie detectives like her before. All of them were full of fire, eager to bring evildoers to justice and right the wrongs of society. He had also seen many of them crack under the pressures of the job or become bitter and cynical when those evildoers evaded justice and wound up back on the street. If his new partner did not learn to bend, she would surely break as well.
* * *
The murder of John Smith, whose real name was Melvin Paynter, had no easy solution. In the absence of DNA, fingerprints or other forensic evidence, all the detectives had to work with was a ballistics report, but until they found the murder weapon, it would do them little good. Ellis had to admit that the dead man's wife not only had an airtight alibi, but she also seemed genuinely ignorant of her husband's infidelity and was heartbroken by his death.
"It'll be a shame if your first homicide winds up in the cold case files," he told his partner.
"I have faith that we'll solve this one," Alyssa replied as she viewed the crime scene photos beneath a magnifying glass.
She had looked at the enlarged pictures dozens of times, but she was at it again, hoping to spot some clue she might have previously overlooked. Her persistence paid off.
"What's this?"
"What's what?" Ellis asked automatically, not bothering to look up from the stack of paperwork that had accumulated on his desk.
"Something is lying on the floor at the foot of the bed."
Alyssa found another photograph taken from a different angle and could clearly see it was either a slip of paper or a piece of lightweight cardboard with an illustration on it. With the help of the magnifying glass, she was able to read the words printed above the drawing: THE LOVERS.
"I might be mistaken," she said, "but I believe it's a tarot card."
"A what?"
"The tarot is a deck of cards used to tell fortunes. One of the tarot cards is called the lovers."
"How do you know that?"
"I live over Kindred Spirits. When I'm bored, I sometimes go downstairs and talk to the owner. She's a Wiccan and was kind enough to do a tarot reading for me once."
"The Kindred Spirits on Harbor Street in Archer's Point? Isn't that some kind of witch store? I'd better be careful not to get you angry. You might turn me into a toad."
"Too late, partner," Alyssa laughed. "It looks like someone beat me to it."
* * *
Less than two weeks after the murder of Melvin Paynter, two more people were killed. William Tai Shu and his wife, Meilin, were found dead in the kitchen of the Chinese restaurant they owned, the Emperor's Wok. As was the case in the previous murder, both were shot in the head with a .22-caliber pistol.
"Three murders in one month. Is it the same killer?" Ellis asked after the medical examiner completed her preliminary examination.
"I'll reserve my opinion until I get a report from ballistics," the doctor replied.
Alyssa walked into the kitchen from the restaurant's main dining room and confidently announced, "It's the same guy all right. I found two tarot cards on the counter beside the cash register: the emperor and the empress."
"Emperor. Empress. Emperor's Wok," Ellis mused. "I want to see one of these decks of cards. They sell them in that witch store you live above, don't they?"
"Yes."
"Do me a favor and pick up a deck tonight. I'll reimburse you tomorrow."
"I'm way ahead of you. I bought a book on the tarot after we found the card at the scene of the first murder."
* * *
"The tarot deck is divided into two sections," Alyssa read aloud from the book, "the major arcana and the minor arcana. The minor arcana is similar to a deck of ordinary playing cards. There are four suits: cups, wands, pentacles and swords. However, in each suit, there are fourteen—not thirteen—cards: ace through ten, the page, the knight, the queen and the king."
"What about the cards found at the murder scenes?" her partner asked impatiently.
"They're from the major arcana. Those cards are numbered one through twenty-one, each card having a different symbolic image and title. Number six is the lovers, and cards three and four are the empress and emperor."
"If there are twenty-one cards, do you think the killer intends to murder eighteen more people?"
"I think he'll try. That is if we don't catch him first."
"What are the names of the other cards?" Ellis asked, taking his notebook out of his pocket.
While the seasoned detective did not believe in fortune telling, the occult or anything that even hinted at the supernatural, he knew there were all sorts of sick people in the world who would kill given the most absurd provocation.
Alyssa read the list of tarot cards beginning with card one, the magician. When she got to card seven, Ellis broke into peals of laughter.
"The chariot? You think the killer is going to go after Ben-Hur?"
Alyssa did not find her partner's joke particularly amusing.
* * *
Nine days later four students from the state university's Evansburg campus were found dead in the science building. The young men were all members of the astronomy club. Again, the cause of death was a gunshot wound to the head. The students were stripped of their shirts. On each boy's chest was painted an astronomical symbol: a star, the moon, the sun and the Earth. Beside each victim, the killer left his calling card.
"The shit's really gonna hit the fan now," Ellis swore.
Daly's prediction proved accurate. Once the press learned of the killings, the police station was bombarded with reporters.
"Now I know how Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie must feel," Alyssa said as she and her partner shouldered their way through several television news crews with cameras and microphones.
"No offense, but you don't look like Angelina Jolie," Ellis laughed.
"That's okay," she countered. "You're certainly no Brad Pitt."
Many people found Detective Daly's jokes inappropriate if not downright offensive, but Alyssa knew it was just his way of dealing with the pressures of his job and with the disturbing sights he had seen over the years.
"Four victims this time," Alyssa told Chief of Police Emerson Bryant at the progress meeting held later that afternoon. "They correspond to the star, the moon, the sun and the world cards."
"Please tell me the crime scene investigators were able to find something in the way of forensics this time!" the chief exclaimed.
"As before, there were no fingerprints, but the CSIs did find a few hairs and fibers that might prove helpful," Alyssa answered.
"You got anything, Daly?"
The senior detective shook his head.
"We've been trying to get a make on those damned cards, but they're pretty common. You can buy them at hundreds of bookstores, witch shops and online retailers."
With seven dead people and no leads, Bryant was forced to make a difficult decision.
"I'm going to call the FBI and ask them to send us a profiler."
"Do you think that's wise, chief?" Ellis asked. "If we're told who to look for, we might overlook the real killer if he doesn't fit the profile."
"We'll have to chance that. Let's face it. We're in over our heads in this investigation. It's time to call in the Feds."
* * *
Before the agent from Behavioral Sciences could complete his profile of the Tarot Killer, the name given by the local press, three more victims were found: a visiting Wiccan leader from Salem (who represented the high priestess card), a bodybuilder (strength) and a woman who suffered from agoraphobia (the hermit). With the death toll at ten, nearly the entire Evansburg Police Department was assigned to the Tarot Killer task force.
"Here's the completed profile," Chief Bryant announced as he handed Ellis the FBI agent's report.
The detective opened the manila file folder and read the profiler's findings: "'Single white male, age thirty to fifty, strong religious beliefs, little or no formal education, most likely a high school drop-out.' What kind of crap is this?"
"That's a psychological profile based on both data compiled about known criminals and the specific circumstances surrounding the Tarot Killer murders."
"How can the FBI know the killer is a single white male? We don't have any clues except those cards and the .22-caliber bullets the medical examiner dug out of the bodies."
"Profilers don't need physical evidence. They deal with patterns of behavior."
"And they've determined that a single white man is the only one capable of pulling a trigger?"
Chief Bryant, having enough of Daly for one day, ordered, "You've got the report, now get to work."
"Okay, chief," Ellis replied, delivering one final salvo. "If anyone should ask for me, I'll be out questioning every single white man in Evansburg and hoping the killer isn't some married black guy from Archer's Point."
* * *
The following week, the Tarot Killer chalked up three more victims. The first was a woman who had spent the last few years in and out of alcohol and substance abuse clinics. Beside her body was the temperance card. The second was the owner of the Rabbit in the Hat Magic Gifts and Novelties store, and beside him was the magician card. The third was a taxi driver.
"There's the chariot card," Alyssa told her partner.
"I know," Ellis laughed. "I suppose Ben-Hur is safe now."
The two detectives then walked into the police station, where Chief Bryant was in the middle of a tirade.
"I've got two-thirds of the force working double shifts. I've even got officers from Elmwood and Archer's Point lending a hand. And what have we got? Thirteen dead bodies and not a single suspect."
"This guy is clever," Ellis said apologetically. "He doesn't leave any traces behind."
"How many of these tarot cards did you say there were?" the chief asked.
"Twenty-one," Alyssa replied.
The chief's voice rose another decibel.
"Twenty-one? Find the killer!" he shouted. "If this whack job kills another eight people, the mayor will barbecue the entire force on a spit."
Although the mayor of Evansburg was not about to resort to cannibalism, he was on the verge of firing both Chief Bryant and the police commissioner.
"Look at this!" the mayor cried a week later as he tossed the daily newspaper on Commissioner Sprague's desk. "Another victim was found. This one is a priest. The Catholic Church is going to crucify me."
Father Timothy Ryan of St. Mary's Church, identified with the hierophant or high priest card, was the third victim in five days, immediately following the devil card and the tower card victims.
"There are only five cards left," the mayor continued his harangue. "What if this kook completes his mission and disappears like the Zodiac? Do I have to make myself any clearer? We've got to catch this guy!"
* * *
While the town of Evansburg lived in fear, and members of its police force were working round the clock to catch the Tarot Killer, there were still other crimes to solve. Burglary, assault and arson had not been put on hold for the sake of a serial killer. When a young woman's body was found near the Evansburg-Archer's Point border, everyone was surprised to learn that the victim had been raped and strangled, not shot. Since the M.O. was not the same, it was immediately assumed that the young woman's death was not the work of the Tarot Killer. The few detectives that had not been assigned to the task force worked quickly, and a suspect was arrested within forty-eight hours of the crime.
"It's a good thing we found this guy," Chief Bryant told his men. "I was beginning to think this department couldn't find its own ass with two hands, a map and a compass."
The mayor was relieved and quick to announce the arrest at a press conference, but the reporters wanted information on the other murders.
"Is the suspect being questioned in connection with the Tarot killings?" they demanded to know.
The mayor turned to the police commissioner, who, for the time being, thought it best to tell the people what they wanted to hear.
"While the circumstances are different in this case," the commissioner lied, "we can't rule out the possibility that the man we caught is, in fact, the Tarot Killer."
Within a week, however, the suspect would be cleared of all suspicion in the serial murders when he became the next victim.
* * *
It was a sight no one at the Evansburg Court House would ever forget. Early one morning three bodies, all shot through the head with a .22-caliber revolver, were discovered in Judge Tarantino's chambers. The bodies were those of the man suspected of strangling the young woman (marked by the death card), his lawyer (the justice card) and Judge Tarantino himself (the judgment card).
With the Tarot Killer striking at the very heart of the Evansburg legal system, the mayor called for the immediate resignation of both the police chief and the commissioner. Thus decapitated, the entire Evansburg Police Department was very likely to collapse like a house of cards.
Faced with the possibility of losing his own job, Detective Daly, acting on a tip from an anonymous source, drove to an abandoned warehouse just off the interstate. Inside, he found a corpse hanging from a noose secured to an overhead beam.
"He must have died right before I got here," the detective mused. "The corpse is still warm."
At first, Daly believed his anonymous source was in error, that the dead man had no connection to the wily serial killer. But after a quick search of the room, the detective found a .22-caliber revolver, a suicide note and another tarot card: the hanged man.
"Well, I'll be damned! The bastard killed himself!"
Ellis immediately took his cell phone out of his pocket and called his partner.
"We got him!" he cried with elation.
* * *
The mayor was so overjoyed with the end of the reign of terror that had gripped his town that he tore up the police chief's resignation as well as that of the commissioner. While Chief Bryant was delighted at having his job reinstated, he was also saddened by the loss of two of his detectives.
"Are you sure you won't reconsider and stay on the force?" the chief asked Detective Alyssa Donahue. "Daly's death wasn't your fault."
"He was my partner," she argued. "I should have been with him. If only he'd had enough confidence in me to tell me he had a lead on the killer."
"Maybe he didn't think the lead would amount to anything. You did say he called you right after he found the murder weapon."
"Yes. He phoned me and told me that we got him. That was right before the Tarot Killer shot him and then hung himself," she said, her voice breaking with emotion.
"One thing I don't understand, though," the chief mused. "Why did the killer tuck the fool card inside Detective Daly's pocket?"
"Maybe he thought Ellis was a fool because he didn't believe the FBI profile. You know that my partner—God rest his soul—could be pigheaded and stubborn at times."
"Yeah, he could. And he was wrong about that profile. The killer was just what that Behavioral Sciences guy said: a single white male, age thirty-nine, went to church and Bible study every week and dropped out of school when he was sixteen."
Alyssa looked at her watch.
"I've got to go, chief. I've got a plane to catch."
"Are you sure this is what you want? You're a good cop. You can have a great career ahead of you."
"I think it's best if I move on and put this whole ordeal behind me."
* * *
Alyssa looked out the window of her Malibu beach house at the blue Pacific. Three thousand miles and ten years had brought quite a change to her life. It began when she pitched the idea of a movie about the Tarot Killer to a Hollywood producer. Following the success of that film, she wrote several other screenplays, a series of thrillers that all grossed high at the box office.
The former detective turned from the window toward the picture frame on her desk. Inside was the last tarot card from the deck she had stolen from Kindred Spirits before beginning her carefully planned and meticulously executed killing spree. Alyssa had always known that her hard work and imagination would pay off. She smiled as she remembered the look on Ellis's face just before she shot him.
"You?" he had cried with disbelief.
"Don't be so surprised," she laughed. "You said yourself the investigation should not be limited to single white males. But you never thought the killer would turn out to be a woman, did you? Or a cop?"
Alyssa closed her eyes.
I fooled them all, she thought with pride.
They had all taken her word that there were twenty-one cards in the major arcana when all the while there were twenty-two. No one had noticed that the first card in the sequence (the fool) was numbered zero, not one.
Twenty-two cards. Twenty-one represented the victims, and one represented the killer. The card that represented Alyssa was the one she deliberately omitted when she read the list of names to her partner: the wheel of fortune. It was the card she now kept in a frame upon her desk.
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