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Dartmouth, June 9
4:48 p.m.
“Can we talk inside?” Audra asked.
“’Bout what?”
“You know.”
Blake Kaufman tipped his head back, flexing the thick cords in his neck. He gave her a look she’d seen on many thugs—callous and disinterested—a look that said she wasn’t worth his time right now and probably never would be.
“Do you really want to talk out here?” Audra glanced down the hallway to where the slim man in the Red Sox cap had stood. Only gone now. She frowned. Who was that? He’d looked so familiar.
Kaufman stepped aside, and Audra crossed the threshold into a small living room decorated with leather furniture and a huge plasma TV. On a corner of the sofa slouched a young woman in brown corduroys and a black T-shirt with the words Kill ’Em With Your Awesome on the front. She was slim, fair skinned, and had dark hair with a coppery tint. Folded laundry occupied the seat beside her.
She watched a movie on the television in which a man was screaming, “Where’s my father? Where’s my father?”
Audra turned to the screen as Benicio Del Toro, restrained in a straitjacket and bound to a chair, was dunked backwards into a pool of icy water.
“What are you watching?” Audra asked her.
The woman rolled her eyes at the question. Then she twisted her mouth to one side and bounced an annoyed look off Audra’s face.
“Wolfman,” she muttered.
“Any good?”
The woman’s gaze was back on the screen. “Meh.”
Audra tilted her chin up, sensing the cold shoulder. No surprise there. Cops weren’t welcome here, and Kaufman probably knew Audra and Allan were the ones who had put away two of his fellow gang members for the Ruben Gamble shooting last year.
And here she was stuck in the same room with a man who had spent as much time behind bars as he had in the outside world. A man who, aided by his posse, had poisoned the streets of Halifax with all manner of crime for the past several years.
Kaufman stood in the kitchen doorway just off to her right. His arms were crossed, his lips tightened into a straight line.
Audra asked, “Can we have a minute? Alone.”
Kaufman narrowed his eyes and made one sharp clack with his tongue to show his discontent.
“Hon, give us a minute,” he said. “Won’t be any longer than that.”
The woman blinked at him, frowned. Then she picked up the remote and paused the movie. She brushed past them and went into the kitchen. There came the suction sound of the refrigerator door opening.
“You want one?” she called out.
Kaufman peered through the doorway at whatever she was talking about. “Yeah, okay.”
Audra looked down at her shoes, back up again when the woman walked into the room again holding two beers. She handed one to Kaufman. On the far end of the living room, a hallway split in opposite directions. The woman went there and hooked a right. Moments later, Audra heard a door close.
“Tell me,” she said, flipping open her notebook.
“Tell you what?”
“Whatever you know. Give me some news.”
As Kaufman popped the tab on the beer can and swung it sideways out of the way, Audra noticed tattoos running across the knuckles of both hands: Live Once.
“News?” The tone of his voice changed, deeper, huskier, dripping with anger and sarcasm. “Someone hacked up my boy with an axe.” He tipped the can to his lips and slugged back the beer.
Audra stared at him. Inwardly, she felt herself wince. How’d he know that fact? Wendy Drummond. Had to be. Damn it.
“When did you see him last?”
“Is it true?”
“What?”
“The axe?”
“Where’d you hear that?”
“A little bird.”
“Chirped it in your ear, huh?”
Kaufman’s expression remained flat. He took another hit of beer; the sound of it gurgling down his throat was loud in the quiet of the room. His murky eyes never left hers.
“I know people,” he said.
“I’m sure you do.”
“Is it true?” he repeated, insistent.
Audra drew a breath. “You know I can’t get into the particulars of a murder investigation, Mr. Kaufman.”
He shrugged.
“When did you see him last?” she asked again.
“Saturday.”
“What time of day?”
“Midafternoon. We met at Bearly’s. Had a couple beers and some ribs. After that, we went over to Dooly’s for a round of pool.”
“Did he seem different to you? Tense? Fearful?”
“Todd? Fuck no.”
“Just the two of you there?”
Kaufman rubbed a hand over his jaw, filling the air with the scratch of bristles against his skin.
“No,” he said. “Three of us.”
“Who was the third person?”
“Lee.”
Audra paused, looked up from her notebook. “Lee Higgins?”
Kaufman nodded. “That’s right.”
He seemed to read something in her face or maybe something in her silence, because he added, “It’s not what you think. We don’t do that shit no more. What’s the word? Defunct? Yeah, we’re defunct.”
“The Black Scorpions are no more?”
“That’s right.”
Audra didn’t know what to think. Somehow she didn’t believe him. She remembered the gun, drugs, and money she’d found at Dory’s apartment. Wondered what items could be hidden in this place.
“So you all decided to turn over a new leaf?” Audra said. “Straighten up and fly right?”
Kaufman never answered her. His eyebrows slanted inwards, and his nose wrinkled briefly as if he smelled something foul. Then he chugged the last of the beer.
Audra expected him to crush the empty can in his hand to show his resentment, but instead he stepped through the kitchen doorway and set it on the table four feet away. When he returned, he leaned a shoulder against the jamb and folded his arms.
“Got myself a new life here with my girl, Nikki.” He tipped his head toward the hallway. “Hard for you to believe that, isn’t it?”
Audra regarded him a moment. If it were anyone else, then no. A leopard cannot change its spots, and the notion of Blake Kaufman suddenly shedding his criminal behavior didn’t seem plausible.
Audra spread her hands. “Hey, if you say so.”
“Yeah, right. Why’d you come here?”
“I thought you might be able to help me.”
“Help you?” One corner of Kaufman’s mouth lifted, and he shook his head.
Audra could almost hear his thoughts. Yeah, I’ll help you. Right off the edge of a cliff.
“You and Lee were closest to him.”
“Have you talked to Lee yet?”
“Not yet.”
“Can’t see him talking to you at all.”
Audra visualized a phone call happening once she left here. “Who would hurt Todd? Do you know anyone at all? Give me a name.”
She knew asking that sounded redundant. There was probably a long list of people from Dory’s past capable of committing the murder. People who probably wanted to see him dead.
“A name?” Kaufman raised his eyebrows. “You think one person did this? From what I heard, didn’t sound like it.”
Audra paused, chewing on the inside of her mouth. How much had Wendy Drummond told him?
“What else have you heard?”
“That my boy was tied to a chair and had an axe taken to him. One person did that? Don’t think so.”
Audra remembered the lone man on the security video, the shotgun evidence. She surmised two possible scenarios: one, the suspect was known by Todd Dory; or two, a ruse had been used to get inside the apartment.
There was no sense asking Kaufman his whereabouts on the night of the murder; his physique just didn’t match the man in the video. Not even close. Kaufman had him by a few inches, and he carried a good forty pounds more on his frame. And Lee Higgins was as big as Kaufman, if not bigger.
“Do you think rival gang members were behind this?” Audra asked.
“Could be.”
“Who?”
She caught the smile slink across his face, could see something at work behind those dark eyes of his. She wondered if he and Lee Higgins had someone in mind, if plans for a reprisal were already in motion.
“If you know something, tell me.”
“I don’t know anything. But your minute ended ten minutes ago.”
Audra shut her notebook with a sigh. Screw this. Coming here had been a waste of time. If Kaufman had information, he wasn’t going to give it up. And Lee Higgins would be even less helpful.
She took out her card and handed it to Kaufman, felt like a fool by doing so. “Here, take this. Please call me if you hear anything.”
He stared at the card. “Detective Audra Price. Who’s that other one I know of? Stanton, isn’t it?”
Audra walked to the door and stepped out into the hallway. “Yes. Detective Stanton.”
Kaufman put his hand on the edge of the door. “Tell me. Is it a sow?”
Audra frowned, turned to him. “Excuse me?”
“What they call a female pig?” He smiled menacingly. “Yeah, that’s it. A sow.” And he slammed the door in her face.
Audra stared at the door for a moment, a bit stunned at first. Then she turned around and laughed. It was all the comment warranted. No anger. No hurt feelings. No flipping the bird. Just walk away and laugh.
She reached the end of the hallway and headed down the stairs. As she stepped outside, she suddenly felt the day in her bones, gnawing at the marrow like a hungry scavenger.
She checked her watch: 5:14. Closing on nine hours already and so much more work to do.
