The Axeman's Jazz

“Do you recognize this man?”
    “No.” But he suddenly looked very frightened.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “I know who he is. He’s one of the Axeman victims.”
    “Why would that scare you?”
    “The other one. I think I might have known her. I mean I think I talked to her.” It was a kind of croak. “I’ve got to get some water.”
    He left and came back wiping his mouth. Skip had laid Linda Lee’s picture on his scratched-up Fifties coffee table. “This one?”
    “Yeah.” He looked very serious, a little boy sent to the principal’s office. “I think she came to a meeting once. She spoke to me. I think she’s the one.”
    “What did she say?”
    “Missy and I weren’t sitting together. She came over after the meeting and asked if I’d like to have coffee—just came out and said it. Said she’d seen me across the room and thought she’d like to meet me. I was real embarrassed. I said I had to go home and study. I didn’t even tell her Di and everybody would probably go to PJ’s. I just sort of stammered. I got a real bad feeling when I saw her picture in the paper. Like after I turned her down maybe she asked someone else.” He paused a moment and tried to grin. “Is that what they mean by codependent? When you feel responsible for something like that?”
    But Skip was more interested in something else—Linda Lee had been drinking coffee. “You mean you suspected someone else from the group?”
    “The group? No. I just thought if she was in the habit of doing that … some guy got her.”
    “Did you see her ask anyone else?”
    “No. I got out of there fast. Missy had her own car, so I didn’t have to wait.”
    “Can you remember when it was?”
    “Oh, yeah. It was the Thursday before I saw her picture in the paper. That’s why I was so freaked.”
    “Why didn’t you call the police?” She tried to keep the anger out of her voice.
    “Well, I wasn’t sure it was her. And you know; I didn’t want to get involved.”
    “Do you know a Jerilyn Jordan?”
    “No. Why?”
    “She was murdered tonight.”
    He sat back and blinked at her, fighting the words off. Finally, he said, “I don’t understand. What does it have to do with me?”
    “She’s Abe’s baby-sitter.”
    “Abe?” Skip wondered what kind of doctor he’d make. His mind seemed fuzzy, he couldn’t seem to wake up.
    She decided she liked that. He was vulnerable. She made a decision; nodded as if she possessed superior wisdom.
    “Yes, Abe. The man who shared about having to get a baby-sitter.”
    “Oh, yeah, I remember that. I know the guy. We had a meeting at his house once.”
    “Do you understand what this means?”
    But he just sat there, looking more and more depressed, lips tight, eyes strained.
    “Everyone at the meeting knew she was there. And I guess most regulars knew Abe usually went and had coffee afterward.”
    “Oh.”
    She said, “Three people have been killed, Sonny, and all of them are linked to that inner-child group. And now you tell me the group’s actually been to Abe’s house.”
    “So you think the Axeman’s someone in the group?”
    “Do you?”
    “Missy! I’ve got to call Missy!” He shot out of his seat, dumping the puppy with a thunk, but Skip grabbed his wrist. If he got to Missy before she did, she’d lose the element of surprise.
    “I’m going to see her right now. I’ll have her call you.” He sat down again, legs rubbery, not seeming to have much will of his own.
    Skip was starting to think there was more to this than grogginess; he seemed a very depressed young man. But who wasn’t, especially in this bunch? They didn’t go to twelve-step programs because they were the picture of emotional health. Still, Sonny looked more like it than most.
    He said, “She’s going through a rough time—all that incest stuff.” He shuddered. “Can you imagine? Your own father! What kind of father would do a thing like that?”
    “How was she tonight? When you took her home?”
    “A little shaky. Not too good, to tell you the truth. You know why?”
    I can guess
.
    “She was worried about me.”
    Bingo.
    “Because of what Di said about her doctor. He’s my dad. I was really embarrassed when Di said it. For my dad, you know? But of course nobody but Missy knew who it was. Not even Di. I know her last name because—” He stopped, looking confused, but in a moment he brightened. “I saw it the night of the Axeman party. On her mailbox. But nobody knows my name. I