CHAPTER 29

“Gus,” Lever said for the fourth time, “Gus, Gus … talk to me.”

They were sitting in The Hole, cell number four to be precise, in the basement of the Newcastle Police Headquarters. The door to the cell was locked, and Abe Jones and Belle sat on metal folding chairs in the center corridor on the opposite side of the steel bars from Al Lever and Zachary “Gus” Taylor.

“I don’t have to talk to you,” Taylor announced with a self-satisfied smile. “You haven’t even read me my rights. I know full well I’m entitled to them.”

“I’m sure you do.” Lever returned the smile, although his was far more dangerous. “A professor of history, like yourself. I mean, you can probably recite that old Miranda ditty on your own with no help from me, can’t you?”

“As a matter of fact, I can—”

“Bully for you,” Al spat back. “So, by inference, there’s no point in my wasting my breath on it, is there?”

Gus didn’t respond. Instead, he gazed calmly at Belle, as though her presence there were a happy and festive one. His smile grew.

“Well, you see, Mr. Taylor,” Lever continued, “Your Miranda rights mean very little in this present situation. The operative line in the statement is this: ‘Anything you say can and will be used against you,’ blah-blah-blah. But I already have enough on you to put you away for fifty years. Is this beginning to sink in, fella? I have all the evidence I need. I’m not here to collect evidence, I’m here to find a missing person. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll start talking, because I’m losing my patience very quickly.”

Taylor could see Lever’s beefy fists tighten and his forearms bulge beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. A line of sweat started to form on Gus’s brow as his grin gradually began to dim. “I … don’t know. I don’t … know what you’re talking about.”

“No? We’ve got two homicides, Professor, and we’ve got a missing person … who happens to be this lady’s fiancé and a best buddy to the two men now in front of you. I’d say you were in real trouble here.”

“I can’t help you.”

Lever paused, then continued in a frighteningly quiet tone. “I’m not a violent man, Gus, I’m not. I’m not into police brutality, I’m not into slapping prisoners around, and so forth. But you know what? We’re either going to find Rosco in one piece … or you’re going to die … right where you sit. Miranda rights or no Miranda rights, and you have my word on that.”

Taylor squinted at Lever, noting the icy calm that had settled over his face—that and the fact that Lever outweighed his prisoner by at least seventy-five pounds. “I meant what I said, Lever,” he stammered. “I don’t know anything about Rosco! I … I … was only trying to get to Belle. I wanted her to see my work … that’s all. I wanted to get close to her.”

“I’m not buying that for a second, Taylor.”

“It’s the truth, I swear.” Gus’s twitchy body hunched forward; he began to whimper.

“Nice performance, but save it for the movies. I want answers, and I want them now; and if I have to squeeze them out of you, I will.” Lever stood and moved toward Gus.

In classic good cop, bad cop fashion, Jones stepped up to the bars. His voice was soft. “Don’t do it, Al. This guy’s not worth losing your shield over.” Abe looked back at Belle, who glanced away; her hands had clenched into fists as well; the knuckles were blue white. When she finally spoke, her head was bent and the words barely audible. “It’s been seven months since you created that puzzle.…” She looked up abruptly but avoided Gus’s eyes. “Ask him why he chose to make himself known to me now, Al.”

“You heard the lady.”

Taylor gazed longingly at Belle. “You were getting married, and I thought … I thought …” He leaned forward and rolled his shoulders as if trying to raise his manacled hands.

Belle flinched reflexively, then hardened herself. “Did you hurt Rosco?”

Taylor appealed to Lever. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I swear I didn’t. And I don’t know where her fiancé is.”

Lever’s jaw tightened in frustration. “Let’s go back to Thursday night, Professor. How’d your ‘Tinker Bell’ crossword get under Freddie Carson’s head in Adams Alley?”

“I don’t know.”

Lever leaned into the man, and Taylor’s thin, alcoholic body suddenly began to quiver.

“Okay … I … Yes, I put it there.”

“And that was after you killed Carson?”

“No! I didn’t do it. I swear! Freddie was dead when I found him.”

“Don’t play me for a patsy, Gus.”

“I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him! I only put the puzzle there to get her attention.” Gus again nodded in Belle’s direction as tears began trickling down his stubbled cheeks. “I mean, she never thanked me … even after I mailed her a copy with a letter of dedication.… I thought she’d be so pleased.… With all that media attention about how that other guy had died in Newcastle, and how Belle Graham had helped find the killer … ‘Cryptics Queen Clues Coppers’ … and Personality magazine …”

Lever looked at Belle, who shook her head in denial, confirming she’d never seen Taylor’s letter.

“She never wrote back,” Gus continued dismally. “I waited.… I even tried to call her a couple of times.… I’m a scholar, you know, like her father.… She should have responded. She should at least have had the courtesy to respond.”

“I never received the puzzle, Zachary,” Belle said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle.

Lever interrupted. “Let’s get back to the alley. If you’re claiming you didn’t kill Freddie Carson, who did?”

“I don’t know. That’s the truth, Lieutenant. And I don’t have any information on Rosco, either.”

Al straightened up and looked at Jones. “You want to change your advice about going easy on this creep, Abe?” Then Lever swung quickly back to Taylor. “I’m giving you a final chance to make nice, Professor. Take it or leave it. Life’s not going to be so pleasant from now on. I don’t want any more whining about how you don’t know a thing about the crime scenes. You were there. Logic says you’re involved. History, as you know, is full of logical progressions. Cause and effect.”

Gus hung his head and began to mumble. Lever barked out a loud “What’s that? I can’t hear you, Professor.”

“I … I’d been drinking. I went into the alley to relieve myself.” He glanced sheepishly at Belle. “Anyway… there was a car down there, so I stopped and waited. To be polite … Something was happening, but it was dark; I couldn’t see.… After a minute, someone got into the car, and raced away.”

“What make of car?”

“I don’t know. I was blinded by the headlights. It was large … a pickup truck or SUV.”

“That’s not much help, Taylor. We’ve had that information for days.” Lever lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “All right,” he said through the smoke, “what did you do next?”

“I continued down the alley and found Freddie. He was dead … lying on some newspapers.… I … I lifted up his head, and … and then I slid my copy of the Sentinel under his shoulders. After that, I ran.”

“You’ve been carrying that newspaper with you for seven months?” Belle interjected.

Gus didn’t answer at first. When he finally did, his tone had assumed a childlike naïveté. “It was just the entertainment section.”

Belle shook her head in disbelief.

“I … I wanted to give it to you.… It was my bell crossword.… But then … well, then I thought … Freddie’s gone, and your boyfriend’s a PI, and sooner or later you’d see it.… In this town? With your reputation? It seemed so logical. But you didn’t pay any attention … so I had to contact you again—”

Lever interrupted again. “What about Carson’s dog?”

“Kit wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I listened, too. I did! … I liked that little dog.”

Lever was silent a moment. He perched himself on a metal table beside Taylor’s chair. “Okay … let’s get back to that car. Remember, we’re looking at a murder here. Unless you can finger this mystery car, and unless we find some corroborating evidence, you’re behind bars for a long, long time. So think about it … think real hard.”

“I’m trying to tell you, I’d been drinking!” Again, Gus gave Belle an embarrassed glance.

“You’re asking me to believe you’ve created all this turmoil just because you have some weird fixation on Miss Graham?”

“I … I… She never thanked me! She never realized … I was … I’m … I can’t help my—”

“And you’re asking us to believe you have no idea where Rosco is? That you have no idea who killed Carson? How about the woman behind the bus station? What do you know about that?”

“Nothing.”

“Come off it, Taylor! We just picked you up at the same damn phone booth that was used to report her body to the police. Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t make that call last Saturday?”

“I don’t know anything about that woman.”

“How do you explain the newspapers? The fact that her head was resting on one of your crosswords?”

“I don’t have any idea! The cryptic was the last I constructed for the Sentinel before Simon fired me.… It has to be a coincidence—”

“I’m not a big believer in coincidence when it comes to criminal investigations, Taylor.… Okay, back to Miss Graham. How did you know where to contact her? You don’t own a car. Or did you have help? Was someone else helping you stalk her?”

“No! Everything I’ve done, I’ve accomplished on my own.” Again, Taylor’s face turned smug. “There were only three logical places she might be: her home, office, or her sister-in-law’s.… I called each one until I found her—”

“And then told her you were holding Rosco.”

“I never said that! I only alluded to the fact that her fiancé was missing—”

“How did you know that he was missing if you weren’t involved in nabbing him?”

“I saw a man park Rosco’s Jeep near the Crier building and then jump into a cab. I assumed he was involved in something illicit, but I didn’t think he had anything to do with Freddie.”

Lever’s jaw went slack. He was clearly nonplused. “What man? What man, Taylor? Why the hell didn’t you mention him earlier?”

“I … You didn’t ask me.”

Belle and Abe stood and crowded together by the cell door.

“What did this guy look like?” Lever asked, trying to keep calm.

“I don’t know for certain. I was a half block away, maybe a little more.… He was on the young side. A healthy build, but not one of those muscle-bound guys: work boots, faded jeans. They were dusty. I thought at the time it was dried concrete or perhaps lime. Everyone’s spreading lime on their lawns at this time of year. I remember wondering if he was a landscapes.”

Lever turned toward Jones. “Did you lift samples of anything bearing that description from Rosco’s Jeep?”

“I only dusted the interior for prints. I pulled mud from the floorboards to check it with the tire mud, but I haven’t gone into the seat fibers yet.”

“How long will that take you?”

“A couple of hours.”

“You on it?”

“I’m on it.” Abe turned to leave.

“And get someone upstairs to start checking the cab companies for me, will ya? See if we can find out who picked this clown up at the Crier building.”

“Right.” Jones lifted his clipboard from the folding chair and placed an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”

She gave his cheek a light kiss. “Thanks, Abe.” Then she watched as Jones hurried through the doorway at the end of the holding area.

Lever refocused his attention on Gus. “I’m still confused. What were you planning to do with all this, Taylor? What did you expect to accomplish?”

“I wanted to work with her.…” He began to whimper again. “I wanted us … to be close—”

“Two people are dead!” Lever shouted. “A man’s been kidnapped. Do you think this is a game?”

“Al …” Belle murmured through the bars, “Don’t.”

Lever let his gaze bore into Gus for a long moment before turning slowly, methodically removing a key from his pocket, unlocking the door, and stepping out of the cell. He looked back, pointed at Gus, and said, “You don’t know how close you came, Taylor.”

Lever and Belle walked up to the duty desk on the ground level together. “I’m going to put you in a taxi,” he said, “and I want you to go to either Cleo’s or Sara’s. Call me as soon as you get there, and do not leave. I mean it; that’s an order. This thing isn’t over yet.”

“I’ll go to Cleo’s. I’ll call.”