CHAPTER TEN

I STOPPED BY to see Maven the next day. He had the phone record on his desk. “It was a pay phone on Ashmun Street,” he said. “It’s only a block away from the second murder site.”

“I don’t understand why he didn’t say anything,” I said.

Maven rubbed his chin. “It’s almost like he knew he was being recorded.”

“How would he know that?”

“You tell me,” he said.

I shook my head. “You’re something else, Chief.”

He picked up the piece of paper and looked at it again. “Funny, you got three other calls last night. They’re all from the same number.”

“The Fultons’.”

“Yes.”

“So what?”

“It’s just funny,” he said.

“Uttley called me, and then Mrs. Fulton, and then Edwin.”

“Mr. Uttley is baby-sitting them now?”

“We didn’t have much choice, Chief,” I said. “I’m stuck in my cabin now, remember? And you didn’t seem too willing to post an officer over there.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’re safe,” he said.

“I don’t follow you,” I said. I felt the acid building in my stomach again. How long would I have to keep seeing this bastard every morning?

“This is your own personal psycho, McKnight. Why would he bother your friend? He even said in his note that he likes the guy, didn’t he?”

I just looked at him. “Am I ever going to get a coffee in this place?”

“Maybe some day, McKnight. The next time I’m in a good mood.”

That was enough of Maven for one morning, so I got myself out of there. While I was in town, I stopped by to see the pay phone. A detective was still there, finishing his work. He had dusted for fingerprints. I could still see traces of the powder on the phone.

There was a little bookstore nearby, a gift shop next to that. But I didn’t imagine there would have been anyone around at three o’clock in the morning. And even if there was, would they have noticed a man making a call at a pay phone?

If the man was wearing a big blond wig, maybe. Ha ha.

Angelo’s restaurant was just down the street, so I walked down to see it again. It was still deserted. I walked around to the back alley. The police had cleaned the place up pretty well. I had to get down on my hands and knees to see the faint residue of blood on the bottom of the grease barrel.

What was I doing here? Here I was in a dirty little alley, on all fours like a dog. My pants were probably ruined. What was I looking for? I didn’t even know. All I knew was it was driving me crazy, just sitting around wondering who this person was and what he would do next.

On the way back to Paradise I gave the Fultons a call on my cell phone. Everyone was fine, although Uttley had a stiff neck from sleeping on the couch. He told me he’d try the prison again when he went in to the office.

I went home and slept for a couple hours. Later I stopped in at the Glasgow. Jackie was the only person in the place, but that was fine by me.

“Haven’t seen ya in a couple days,” he said as he cracked a cold Canadian for me. God bless him.

“Things have been a little crazy,” I said.

“Have you seen the paper today? They had another murder in town.”

I took the newspaper from him. The headline read, “Local Man Slain Behind Restaurant, Second Murder In Three Days.” I read the story, but it didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know. They tried to get Maven to say something about it, but he gave them the usual line about it being too early in the investigation to comment. Maven’s picture was on page two. He didn’t photograph well.

“Damnedest thing,” Jackie said. “Hey, didn’t I read something about Edwin and that first murder? The one in the motel?”

“He just found the body,” I said. I was about to tell him all about it. He certainly knew how to listen. But I didn’t. I just felt too tired and confused to go through it all again. Maybe next time, I thought. We’ll go sit at a table and I’ll lay it all out for him. He might be able to help me make some sense of it.

I went back to the cabin and called Uttley. “The lockdown’s over,” he said. “I was able to get a message through today.”

“Great, so what happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t quite sure what to say. I just asked them to double-check on Rose, make sure they take a mug shot with him.”

“Maybe I should visit him,” I said.

“You actually want to go down there and see him?”

“Maybe that’s the only way I’ll know if it’s really him,” I said. Although I couldn’t imagine actually being in a room with him again. Even with four inches of wire-reinforced glass between us.

“I can give it a try,” he said.

“Thanks,” I said. “Are you spending the night at the Fultons’ again?”

“Mrs. Fulton wants somebody there. As long as they refuse to leave, I figure I’ll keep staying there with them.”

“You’re doing a good thing,” I said.

He laughed. “Just wait until they see my bill.”

 

THE NIGHT CAME again, and with it another small dose of the fear. I found myself thinking about those pills in the back of the medicine cabinet. But I couldn’t afford to take them. I had to be ready.

The same cop waited all night in the same place. His name was Dave. He had a wife and two kids at home. I felt for the guy, having to spend all night sitting in his car. I made him some coffee and a couple sandwiches this time. It was the least I could do.

Uttley spent his night on the Fultons’ couch. I spent my night lying on my bed, looking over at the phone every five minutes. I got up a few times and looked outside.

He didn’t call. Not even just to hear my voice. Not even just to let me hear the silence on the other end. The night passed without a sound. Even the wind stayed quiet.

 

THE NEXT DAY I had no reason to go see Chief Maven. That gave me two choices. Either pick some daisies and show up at his office anyway, or give myself the day off. It was a tough choice, but I stayed home.

I split some firewood and delivered it to the other cabins. On my first run I stopped at the bend in the road, just to see where Dave was spending his nights. It looked like he had chosen a thick stand of jack pine trees. You could just barely make out my front door.

I came back to the woodpile and finished my last load. It felt good to swing the ax, but it didn’t make me forget my troubles. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a flash of something that looked like blond hair. It turned out to be a doe making a break through the brush. I had to stand there leaning with both hands on the chopping block for a full minute before I could move again.

I gave Uttley a call at his office. “You sound pretty beat,” he said.

“You sound a little rough around the edges yourself,” I said. “I was just wondering if you had heard anything from the prison.”

“Just talked to them. The guy’s going to go check himself. I haven’t heard back yet.”

“Did you tell them I want to visit him?”

“Alex,” he said. “This man shot you. I gotta tell you, the man at the prison thinks it’s a bad idea to try to visit him.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “What’s he going to do to me in a prison?”

“Alex, it just seems … unhealthy.”

“I’ll tell you what’s unhealthy,” I said. “Somebody killing people and writing me love notes about it.”

“But Alex, that can’t be Rose. You know that. A man can’t be in two places at one time.”

“What if he has a twin brother?”

“What? Are you serious?”

“It’s just an idea,” I said. “What if his twin brother is in prison and the real Rose is up here?”

“If he had a twin brother, why would he even … never mind. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I know this sounds crazy, but I have to start somewhere.”

“Look, I’ll see if I can locate any records. Birth certificate, school records, whatever. And I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back from the prison, okay?”

“All right,” I said. “Thanks for humoring me.”

“Maybe this will be the night,” he said. “Maybe he’ll show up at your front door.”

“I hope so,” I said. “I know it sounds strange, but this is one murderer I really want to meet.”

 

ONE MORE NIGHT. Dave in his car, me in the cabin, just waiting there. How long would we have to keep doing this? If this guy wanted to torture me, he had found the best way. Just make me sit there on my butt all night long.

The wind started to pick up a little bit that night. Then it died down again. In the long hours I tried not to think about the past too much. I didn’t want to see Franklin dying again. I didn’t want to see that look in Rose’s eyes. And yet, who else’s eyes would I see at two o’clock in the morning, as I lay on my bed feeling the cold weight of my gun?

And then suddenly, a light. It swept across the wall. Headlights.

I reached for the walkie-talkie, pushed the button, and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Dave,” I said. “It’s a car.”

Silence.

“Dave. Come in.”

Nothing.

“Goddamn it, Dave! Are you there?”

No answer. Outside I heard a car door shut. Then footsteps. I gripped the revolver with both hands. The footsteps stopped.

I took a step toward the door. The floor creaked beneath me. I stopped.

There was no sound except for my breathing and my heartbeat. What was he doing out there?

Bang! The silence was ripped apart. My heart leapt into my throat. Bang! The pounding on my door sounded like he would smash it into splinters. I put my back against the wall, keeping clear of the door. Surely it would bust open with the next blast. Bang! I could feel the impact shake the entire cabin.

And then a voice, bellowing in the night. “McKnight!” He was right there at my doorstep. I could practically feel the heat of his breath through the door. “Get out here, McKnight!”

I quickly weighed my options. Stay put, see what he does next? Throw the door open and surprise him? What if he’s armed? Am I prepared to shoot? Goddamn it all to hell, can I shoot him this time?

I checked the gun. All right, you fucking lunatic. This is it. I’m opening this door right now. And if I see a gun in your hand I’m gonna shoot you right between the eyes. On the count of three. One. Two.

“Freeze!” Another voice. Outside. “Get down now! Put your hands behind your head! On the ground! Now! Move it!”

I threw the door open. There was a man facedown on my doorstep. Dave was standing above him, both hands on his gun. “Mr. McKnight, put the gun down!”

I just stood there.

“Mr. McKnight! Please put your gun down!”

I looked down at my hand. The gun was shaking. I pointed it to the ground.

“Are you all right?”

“What?”

“Are you all right, Mr. McKnight?”

“Yes,” I said. I looked at the man on the ground. He was fighting for breath. I couldn’t see his face. “Where were you? I tried to call you on the radio.”

Dave kept his gun trained on the man. “I didn’t hear you,” he said.

I didn’t take my eyes off the man on the ground.

“Backup is on the way,” he said. And then to the man, “You just keep lying right there. Don’t move a muscle.”

The man groaned.

He looked familiar. That hair. “Wait a minute,” I said. I bent down to look at him.

“Mr. McKnight, don’t go near him!”

“It’s all right, Dave,” I said. I grabbed the man’s red hair and pulled his face up into the light of the doorway. “I know this man.”

“Goddamn you, McKnight,” he said. He was drunk.

“Dave,” I said. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Leon Prudell.”

“You must be pretty goddamned afraid of me, McKnight,” he said. A thin line of drool ran from his mouth to the ground. “You went out and got police protection just in case I showed up?”

“Yeah, that’s right, Prudell. I was afraid you’d use your chin to bruise my knuckles again.”

 

THEY DRAGGED PRUDELL’S sorry drunken ass down to the station for the night. The next morning, I still hadn’t started to feel sorry for him yet. I figured he deserved at least a few more hours with Chief Maven.

I stopped by Uttley’s office around ten o’clock. He was just finishing a good phone slam. For the first time in memory, his hair was messy.

“I can’t take too much more of this,” he told me. “Everything’s falling apart here. I’m losing clients. You remember that guy at the trailer park? I missed a couple of calls from him so he went out and got somebody else.”

“You don’t look so good,” I said.

“I hope I don’t look as bad as you do,” he said.

“You might want to stop in at the station today,” I said. “They’ve got your man Prudell there.”

“He is most definitely not my man,” Uttley said. “What did he do?”

“He came by my cabin last night. I think he wanted to continue our discussion from last week.”

“Oh for God’s sake,” he said. “Does he actually blame you for him losing his job?”

“He’s out, I’m in,” I said. “That’s all he cares about.”

“What a jackass,” he said. “So I suppose Maven thinks he’s our killer now? Because he came to your place last night?”

“He did for about five minutes,” I said. “I set him straight.”

“So why’s he still there?”

“I think he’s just drying out,” I said.

“Fine, let him stay there,” he said. “God, what a jackass.”

We both let ourselves laugh a little bit. It was the kind of laugh that comes out when you haven’t slept in days and you feel like one big exposed nerve.

“Where are we on Rose today?” I said.

He held up a pad of legal paper, taking a moment to focus his bloodshot eyes. “Maximilian Rose, born in 1959.” He looked up at me. “He did not have a twin brother. Sentenced in December of 1984. Life plus twelve years, no parole. I told you I talked to a corrections officer down there yesterday. It took a little while to make him understand our situation.”

“Did he have a picture? A mug shot or something he could use to positively identify him?”

“Yes, he did. He told me that he went to Rose’s cell personally and double-checked on him. As far as he’s concerned, that man in the cell is Maximilian Rose.”

“How about the request to visit him?”

Uttley looked at me and exhaled. “This guy did pass that request along, yes.”

“And?”

“And Rose refused to see anyone.”

“What? Are you kidding?”

“That’s his right,” he said. “He doesn’t have to receive any visits if he doesn’t want to.”

“But can’t we make him?”

“We can’t, no. I suppose the police can.”

“Great,” I said. “I’m sure Maven will love this idea.”

“I don’t know what else to do.”

“Can I talk to this guy? The corrections officer?”

“If you really want to,” he said. “He seemed like a good man. But I don’t know how much patience he’s going to have with this.”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe I should just forget it. I mean, it’s crazy, right?”

Uttley sat down behind his desk and looked at the ceiling. “I don’t know what’s crazy anymore, Alex.”

 

I STOPPED BY Angelo’s restaurant again. The owner had opened the place up again. He was sweeping the floor when I went in and ordered a couple slices. He had been there the night of the murder, but he didn’t remember anything out of the ordinary. I sat there at a small table, maybe in the same chair as the murderer, the wouldbe Rose, whatever I wanted to call this guy. Vince Dorney was here, I thought, maybe over there by the bathroom, talking on the phone. He overhears Dorney talking, thinks he hears something about microwaves. Wasn’t that what the note said? He decides Dorney is a bad man, a man who needs to be removed. But how does he get him into the back alley? The owner of the restaurant didn’t have any ideas about that. He didn’t seem too anxious to even think about it anymore.

A couple hours later I was still in town, sitting on the hood of my truck on Portage Street, looking out at the vast expanse of Lake Superior. I sat there for a long time, thinking about the night before. Dave didn’t hear me calling him because the radio wasn’t even on. Didn’t I even notice that the unit was dead? No static, even?

And then when Prudell was knocking on my door, the way I grabbed that gun. What if I had opened the door before Dave got there? Would I have shot him? Prudell could be dead right now, on top of everything else. What was happening to me?

And why in God’s name won’t Rose see me? It doesn’t make any sense. Unless … unless it’s not really Rose. The man is afraid I’ll know it’s not him if I see him.

Listen to yourself, Alex. Listen to what you’re saying.

But what else can explain it? Rose is the only person who could have written that note.

Stop it. Just stop it.

I could see the dark clouds building in the western sky. The wind began to pick up. It stung my face and brought tears to my eyes.

 

I FINALLY MADE it into the Glasgow for dinner, after killing a few more hours driving around, going nowhere. I didn’t want to go back to the cabin yet. I dreaded the thought of another long night there.

Jackie was behind the bar when I got there. “What the hell happened to you?” he said. “You look worse than I do, and that’s saying something.”

“It’s a long story, Jackie. I’m not going to tell you until you slide a beer this way.”

He cracked a Canadian for me. “Couple men in here asking about you last night.”

“One of those men would be Leon Prudell, I take it.”

“Yeah, he came in later. Said he had some unfinished business with you. Drank a good twenty dollars’ of whiskey before he finally left. I keep overcharging that guy but he doesn’t seem to notice.”

“Who else was here?”

“What’s his name, the chief of police over in the Soo.”

“Roy Maven?”

“Yeah, that’s the guy. He was asking all sorts of questions about you. You know, how often you come in, who you hang out with.”

I raised my bottle. “Here’s to Roy Maven,” I said.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on or aren’t you?”

“Get your no-good son out here so we can go sit down,” I said. “This is going to take a while.”

His son poked his head out of the kitchen. There was a phone in his hand. “Hey, is McKnight here?”

“Depends on who’s calling,” I said.

“Do you know a woman named Theodora Fulton? She sounds like she’s ready to kill you.”

I jumped off the barstool and grabbed the phone from him. “Mrs. Fulton?”

“Alex! My God, where have you been? I’ve been calling you for two hours.”

“Take it easy, Mrs. Fulton. What’s the problem?”

“It’s Edwin!”

I felt a needle in my gut, sickly and cold. “What about Edwin? What’s the matter?”

“I knew this would happen,” she said. “I had such a horrible feeling when I woke up this morning.”

“Mrs. Fulton, tell me!”

“He’s gone,” she said. “He told me he’d be back in a little while. But he didn’t come back, Alex. He …” Her voice broke for an instant while she struggled with the panic. “He’s gone, Alex. Edwin is gone.”