Page 95 of Den of Iniquity

I believe there’s a Bible verse that says something about the first being last, and that was certainly the case here. Matilda Jackson had been the first of the family members I had spoken to, and she was the last one Sandy Sechrest and I visited that day. But Sandy wasalso the one person from Seattle PD who had encouraged Matilda to obtain Darius’s autopsy report, which, ultimately, had ended up bringing me into the picture.

I had called ahead, letting Matilda and her sister, Margaret, know we were on our way. When we pulled up in front of the sisters’ residence in Renton, it was less than a month after my initial visit, but in the interim the whole world had changed. Sandy and I were wearing surgical masks, and I was terrified that, although neither of us were exhibiting any kind of adverse symptoms, we might somehow be bringing a trace of that deadly killer called Covid into a home occupied by two elderly women, one of whom was already in ill health.

When we entered the bungalow’s living room, all was mostly as before with Matilda seated in her recliner. The only difference was that her wheelchair had been banished to another room in order to make space for an additional guest.

“You got her!” Matilda said, before I had a chance to open my mouth.

“Who told you?”

“As soon as I saw that highfalutin police chief on TV yesterday, I told Margaret here, ‘He’s not going to say it out loud, but I know he’s talking about my Darius’s killer.’ The next thing I had her do was dial up Benny Weston so I could ask him straight out. He’s the one who said you did it.”

“We all did it,” I told her. “There were lots of people involved, including this one here. I know you spoke to her on the phone, but now I’d like to introduce you in person. This is Detective Sandra Sechrest.”

“You’re the one who said I should ask for a copy of the autopsy,” Matilda said, beaming at Sandy. “Thank you for that.”

Then Matilda turned back to me. “Mr. Police Chief didn’t say, but how many people did that woman kill?”

Sandy was the one who answered. “We’re still verifying the exact number, but it’s probably more than twenty.”

“How did she do it?”

“As a 911 operator she was able to access databases intended for law enforcement use only. That’s how she located her targets. And she got away with it by fooling her victims into believing she was homeless.”

“And she murdered people like Darius who offered to help her?”

“We believe so.”

Matilda Jackson thought about that. “Well,” she said finally, “she sounds like evil itself, but I hope someday I’ll be able to forgive her. That’s what you’re supposed to do you know—forgive those who trespass against you. There’ll be a trial, I suppose?”

“I’m sure,” I replied, “but with all this pandemic business, I don’t know how long it’ll take for that to happen.”

“I’m so old I may not live long enough to see it, but you’ve given me some peace of mind, Mr. Beaumont. Bless you for that. And bless you for that teddy bear, too.”

Sandy Sechrest shot me a sidelong glance, but all I said to Matilda Jackson was a very sincere, two-word thank-you.

Sandy waited until we were back in the Escalade and I had fired up the engine before she asked the inevitable question. “What teddy bear?”

“That,” I told her, “is a very long story.”