‘Care to chat for a moment, Mr Elstrom?’ he asked.
I followed him back up the drive and around to the patio at the back of the house. We sat at a white iron table.
‘Was that Jennifer Gale you were just speaking with?’ he asked.
‘I violated my promise of confidentiality to you, since she was so badly beaten.’
‘I almost didn’t recognize her, she was so horribly bruised.’
His calm, almost singsong manner signaled something more sinister to come. And he hadn’t asked how Jenny had gotten beaten. I said nothing and waited.
‘And how is Amanda?’ he asked.
The back of my throat went dry. He wasn’t asking; he was making a threat.
‘Confident that I would kill anyone who harmed her,’ I said.
He gestured at the trees sloping down the hill. ‘Nice view, don’t you think? Though I’m afraid the color on the trees is gone. Your color seems to be gone, too, Elstrom.’
‘Nah.’
His face hardened. ‘What the hell were you thinking? That foolish woman deputy, a sergeant …’
‘A good cop,’ I said, ‘incensed at the murder of one of your most loyal campaign workers. And wondering, like me, why you’re not furiously demanding a thorough investigation.’
‘That stupid sergeant marched in to dig up my grounds, based on an anonymous tip, the day before the vote? I’ll have her badge and the badges of everyone who came with her, but it won’t be enough. I’d ruin you, too, Elstrom, but you’ve already been ruined.’
‘You made sure the press was here.’
‘That was my sister’s genius, not mine.’
‘I’d like to think you merely wanted to create sympathy for yourself,’ I said. ‘Maybe even boost your vote.’
‘You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.’
‘But I think that, more importantly, you want to shut down any investigation of what happened twenty years ago.’
‘Not a damned thing happened then.’
‘Marilyn Paul tried to protect you from John Shea. She got her throat slashed.’
‘What does that have to do with anything?’
‘Shea could tell us. Where is he?’
‘In fragments, in Laguna Beach.’
‘That was Willard Piser.’
‘Will Piser? You’re seeing a conspiracy among all my old friends?’
‘Don’t forget Red Halvorson. Where has he been, all these years?’
‘You’re talking in riddles.’
‘Shea played it clever, and stupid. He put on a red wig to leave a trail to Halvorson before he left Laguna Beach. He never knew Halvorson’s trail went dead twenty years ago.’
He stood up. ‘It’s time for you to get off my property.’ He was good, but good politicians are good. He hadn’t batted an eye or twitched a carefully shaved cheek.
I stood up, too. ‘It’s good, us talking like this. I got your message. And I think you got mine.’