What's in Mikey's diary?
Frank unfolded a large sheet of paper, well actually two large sheets of paper taped together. On one half he had a calendar showing the two weeks prior to Mikey’s arrest with information written into many of the days. On the other half where several maps, some at street view, some at state view. Small stickers in two different colours indicated, what I realised immediately, were the murder sites and our locations at the time, both the signings and the hotels. Highlighted sections indicated the route we had taken in the cars with estimated timings marked on at various points.
“You really should have told me you were doing this,” I told him quietly, ashamed of myself for not even realising while I was drowning in denial.
“I would have done, soon, but you came to me first, which was better really.”
I could feel my eyes stinging and I closed them while I fought back the lump in my throat. Pull yourself together!
It was as if Frank could hear my thoughts.
“You have a read of that,” he said handing me a pencil and an eraser as he got to his feet, “make any additions or changes you can think of an I’ll put some coffee on.”
It was all I could say. It sounded weak and lame, but he smiled at me and once again the feeling that we could do this washed over me. As he headed to the kitchen, I began to read.
By the time Frank came back to the table, I had made some minor adjustments and additions, but I’ll admit that prior to the signing sessions, I didn’t have much of a clue about Mikey’s whereabouts unless we had done something together. If we wanted more information, we were going to have to get his diary. Frank could tell I was looking a little lost; it was so important that I didn’t miss anything and his earlier words about paying attention were really eating at me. I was convinced I was missing something.
“We need his diary, Frank,” I said as he sat down beside me. “There’re going to be a lot of gaps without it.”
Frank nodded. “It’s not in evidence, so it must still be at his place and if the police don’t have it yet, I’d take that as they don’t want it.”
I liked his thinking. He continued:
“We can’t go yet, because Ray’s not here, wouldn’t really be fair to leave him outside waiting would it?” Frank pretended to jump up as if to leave then sat down again shaking his head. “No, we couldn’t do that. Could we?”
“Okay, we’ll get it later,” I laughed. I actually laughed; it was the first time in ages and I hadn’t even noticed.
“Right, now the thing that worries me with this, is the second two girls that we know about were killed on consecutive days during the signing sessions. The first one was about a week earlier and neither Mikey’s DNA or fingerprints were found at the crime scene. The murder was too similar to be someone other than the same guy who killed the other two girls. The police are saying that Mikey just got careless for the other two, but we know different.”
“The DNA, what was it from?”
Frank squeezed my arm, understanding what I was really asking.
“It’s okay, Gee, it was hair and blood, nothing else.”
I nodded gratefully, but then it dawned on me.
“Blood? I never saw any cuts or scratches on him.”
“No,” Frank agreed. “Even the police had to admit that.”
“So, what are we saying?”
“There are two possibilities for the DNA evidence. Either, he’s there at the crime scene or someone has got hold of samples of Mikey’s hair and blood and left it there. But that doesn’t explain the fingerprints or how he knows about the murders in so much detail to write it down the way he did.”
“Aren’t we trying to prove he’s not guilty?” I asked hopelessly.
“And now you see why we have such a problem with the evidence. Gee, whoever’s done this; he’s clever. I believe Mikey was there…”
“Hear me out!” Frank raised his hands defensively. “I believe he was there, in body but only partially in mind.”
“You think he’s crazy?”
“No!” Frank’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t really know what I mean! Somehow he knows the details of the crimes, well, the last two anyway but he’s blanking it out. He sort of knows it wasn’t him, but in his mind, it’s us. I really don’t understand.”
“It’s like…” I paused. “Wait, he came back high on something after both occasions.”
“Mikey’s not taking drugs,” Frank replied flatly.
“No, but what if he was at the crime scenes with the guy who was doing this? And he was dosing him with some sort of, I don’t know, a hallucinogen maybe?”
“But there’d need to be a reason he was at the crime scenes and it doesn’t explain his strange behaviour or him thinking it was us. I'm not sure it would answer all the questions, but even if he were being drugged, it had to be something that was given to him every day, not just an occasional dose."
"Because they weren't wearing off?"
"Exactly! And they still aren't! But I just don't see how someone could get to him every day without us noticing.”
I suddenly went cold.
“What if his medication was doing something to him? Or more specifically, his doctor?”
Frank stared at me, his eyes wide. “Like hypnosis?”
I nodded. “Maybe? That and drugs, perhaps? Mikey’s mind has really been messed with somehow.”
“But he’s had the same doctor since he was a kid.”
I shook my head. “No, he retired about six months ago. He’s got a new doctor now. I wonder how often he’s been seeing him?”
“It’ll be in his diary,” Frank replied gravely.
“Frank, I have to get around there now! That doctor is still treating him at the clinic. If it is him, then God only knows what he’s doing to him! I gotta get that diary, it may be the only real evidence we have!”
Frank nodded. “You go," he said urgently. “I’ll wait for Ray.”
Snatching up my keys from my coat pocket, I ran for my car. It was only about a fifteen minute drive to Mikey’s but I knew it would be the longest fifteen minutes of my life so far.