The Night Killer

shook her head, but said nothing.
    “She’s trying to think of a way out of this,” said Garnett.
    “You know, Miss Taylor,” said Ben, “my partner, Frank, here is really good with computers and data.”
    “So,” said Tammy.
    “He loves cross- referencing, correlating”—Ben flourished his index finger in the air—“all those things you do with data.”
    “I don’t understand anything you just said,” said Tammy.
    “I don’t understand a lot of it, but bottom line . . .” said Ben. “Well, you tell her, Frank.”
    “It’s like this,” said Frank. He still sat comfortably in the chair as he spoke. “All those places where you volunteered keep records. Banks keep records. You see where I’m going with this?”
    “No,” said Tammy.
    “The shelters and clinics keep files on the people they see and their medical conditions—and any income they have. They also keep track of the referrals to specialists, and the volunteers who work with their clients—like nutrition or life-skills consultants. That would be you. They keep those records because they apply for grants and they have to show how their programs are serving the community.
    “Pre-nine-eleven, we had a harder time getting information from banks. But much to the disapproval of people like Dr. Fallon, for example, we can now get a lot of data from banks that used to be private. So I plug names in the computer from the service agencies, like the clinics where you volunteered, and then ask the computer to find the same names on bank accounts. Then I do fancier things, like look for those names on bank accounts that have two people on the account. Then I look and see if one of the names is Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Then I do it in reverse—find who has an account with Tammy Taylor or Terry Tate. Sounds complicated, but it’s really very simple. It’s amazing the information I find.”
    “I’m always amazed,” said Ben.
    Frank pulled several pages from the file and put them in front of Tammy. Each had a small photo paper- clipped to it.
    “The thing I like about Frank,” said Ben, “is he puts together a complete package when he’s working on a project. Aren’t those photographs neat, all clipped to those bank accounts? Prosecutors like that too. They like things tied up in a bow the way Frank does them.”
    “Them’s not me,” said Tammy, nodding at the photographs. Her voice was sounding hoarse.
    “That’s another post- nine-eleven thing,” said Frank. “Many more cameras in banks. And you notice how the banks don’t allow you to wear sunglasses inside? That’s so the cameras get a good picture that can be run through face-recognition software if we need to do that. Those wigs you wore didn’t really hide who you are, because the distance from the corner of your eyes to the margin of your nose, and so forth, is always the same.”
    Diane saw Tammy’s lower lip tremble.
    “Now tell us, Miss Taylor,” said Frank, “where did you put the other bodies? Surely you don’t have that many hollow trees on your property.”

Chapter 37
    Tammy Taylor sat straight in her chair, her wide gaze darting from Ben to Frank to somewhere between them.
    “I didn’t kill nobody,” she said. “And you can’t prove I did.”
    “Prove?” said Ben. “We only have to build a sound circumstantial case. We’ve already done that. We did that before you got here. Poor Norma Fuller’s in the hospital, her blood pressure sky- high, malnourished. You giving her those energy drinks.”
    “They’re from the drugstore. Off the shelf. They’re not drugs. You can’t say I gave her drugs,” she said.
    “And you thought giving her energy drinks was okay?” said Ben.
    “They’re vitamins. You can read on them. They’re vitamins is all,” she said.
    “Not all,” said Ben. “They spike your blood pressure. Now, for a woman with high blood pressure already, well, it’s what they call—what’s the word, Frank?”
    “Contraindicated,” said Frank.
    “That’s it. A woman who’s as good as a full-blown nurse would know that. See what we’re talking about?” he said.
    Diane noticed that Tammy didn’t seem to be aware that she’d just admitted administering the drink to Norma Fuller. There was still a lot of uncertainty as to what part the drink played in Fuller’s condition, but until now it was only a guess what Tammy had been giving her.
    “I want a lawyer,” she said.
    “You can have one,” said Ben.
    Frank stood up