In the Shadow of Gotham - By Stefanie Pintoff Page 0,70

call. And to make that decision alone was neither his responsibility nor his right.

But if Fromley’s confession was lacking in terms of hard, logistical details, it was nonetheless filled with exceptionally lurid details to describe his motivation for murder. “I didn’t like the way she avoided me,” he had said. “She looked right past me—as though I were nothing.” According to his notes accompanying the confession, Fred Ebbings had suggested to Fromley that perhaps, like all well-bred ladies, she had been cautioned not to interact with strangers. But Fromley refused to accept that possibility. Instead, Fromley believed the woman was purposely ignoring him; he grew angrier and angrier that she did so; then he decided he would make her regret it. The more he looked at her, the more he wanted to make her see him. “I kept staring at her face,” he explained, “and looking in her eyes. When she didn’t look back, I decided I’d have to make her look.” His confession continued along these lines, detailing his determination to make her appreciate his true power. He claimed to have followed her and subdued her by the abandoned warehouse where the actual murder took place.

So what was the truth of it? I wondered. Was it possible that Fromley’s confession was merely conjectured fantasy? His own fictionalized version of a real murder he had read about in the papers? Or, was he guilty of this crime—and we simply could not verify it because his confession was riddled with flaws? Perhaps the details of the murder had become irretrievably confused as they intermingled with his fantasies. I found myself as much at a loss to make this judgment as Alistair had claimed to be.

“So what are your thoughts?” I asked Tom after I finished. We looked at each other uneasily.

“Well,” Tom said, “Fromley was nothing if not a troublemaker, and he certainly appears to be the man you want for murdering Sarah Wingate. But the Shea girl?” he said, and frowned. “Not a shred of hard evidence points that way. Not even the boy’s own confession, since I personally believe Fromley would have better remembered the details of what was supposedly his first murder.”

He paused a moment before he continued. “What you may not realize, however, never having met Fromley, is how sharp he is. Fred maintains Fromley is a psychopath.” He paused for a moment, observing my reaction before going on to ask, “Are you familiar with the term?”

“I assume it is an academic term for a crazed murderer,” I said dryly.

“Sort of,” Tom acknowledged with a rueful smile. “It actually designates a specific kind of personality. A person who is considered psychopathic lies just for the fun of it. Fromley often did; he may have given us a false confession just for his own amusement. You’ll also recall from what we have told you that Fromley was both impulsive and aggressive, so he was often involved in fights. What would be considered psychopathic about this behavior was that he never felt remorse for what he had done. If he hurt or mistreated someone, he was completely indifferent to their pain, because he had previously rationalized why they deserved their mistreatment.”

Tom looked at me intently, as if wanting reassurance I had followed him. I recognized it as a teacher’s habit; he wanted to be sure his listener had understood one point before he ventured on to the next.

“I understand,” I said, anxious for him to continue.

“I explain this so you don’t lose sight of how intelligent he is. So you don’t forget how easily and expertly he lies. I would not put it past him to have fabricated the entire confession simply to put Alistair in the very position of indecision and uncertainty in which he found himself. Fromley would have enjoyed watching Alistair squirm as he wrestled with his doubts. And,” he added, “I also do not discount that if he were guilty of Moira Shea’s murder, he may have contrived to riddle his confession with so many errors it could not be deemed credible. That way, he could both claim credit for the crime and yet remain safe from punishment, since reasonable minds would doubt his culpability.”

“Then why bother confessing at all? Why do you claim he needed ‘credit’ for having committed the crime?” I asked. Tom was persuasive, but this part of his analysis made no sense to me.

“Because Fromley wanted Alistair to appreciate his criminal plans—both real and imagined,” Tom said. “Alistair’s research with Fromley,