CHAPTER 27

“Technically, they can’t arrest us for breaking and entering, can they, because all we really did was open an unlocked door and enter? That’s not a crime, is it?” Dom asked.

“What about the body, Dom? There was a dead body lying in the corner, remember?” said Denny irritably. “Damn, how’d I let you guys talk me into this?”

“Hey, no one put a gun to your head,” answered Tim before he caught himself. “Oh, sorry--bad choice of words--nobody forced you to come along. We all thought it would be fun.”

We spoke in hushed tones. Once again we were sitting around a kitchen table. Only this time it was in Stevie’s kitchen and we were being guarded by a stoic state police officer who stood off a ways in the doorway, while a crowd of police and medical-type people dressed in disposable light-blue overalls with matching hoods and boot covers and protective goggles swarmed about in the living room.

“Listen, guys, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have let you come. But you don’t have to worry. No one would believe you are murderers,” I said.

“Oh, is that right? Well, until tonight no one would have believed I was a burglar,” Tim said tartly.

“My wife is going to kill me--oh sorry again--can’t seem to help myself,” Denny said. “I told her I was going bowling with Wes to help him get his mind off his problems.”

“I didn’t know you bowled,” Dom said. “You’ve never invited me along.”

Denny gave Dom a dumbfounded look. “I don’t. It was an excuse. Damn, Dom, try to keep up, okay?”

“Sor--ry,” Dom answered, a tinge of hurt in his voice. “Maybe I’m a little thrown off here because I’ve never seen a dead body before. I mean he is dead, right? There was a lot of blood.”

“Yes, Dom. Our friend in there is definitely dead,” Denny answered patiently. He turned to me. “So you’re sure that was Puddy Salvatore? What do you think he was doing here?”

“I don’t know, probably looking for drugs or money. I know he wanted to get out of town. I guess he thought if he could find Stevie’s stash, if there was one, that it would set him up wherever he was going,” I answered.

“That means he must have known Stevie would have something to stash. I guess Stevie was wrapped up with him somehow,” Tim said. “Who do you think killed him? I mean, we didn’t see anybody.”

“The light, remember? I told you I saw a light in the cabin. That must have been the killer. We must have scared him off--or, oh, shit, do you think he was waiting for us?” asked Dom.

“C’mon Dom. Why would anyone want to kill us? And who knew we would be here? Nobody. No, I bet it was the same person who killed Tina. That would make sense,” said Tim. He turned to me. “Wouldn’t it?”

“What? Oh yeah. I’m sure that’s it,” I answered, although I hadn’t really been paying full attention to them. Something I’d seen or something that had happened didn’t make sense, but I couldn’t put my finger on it, what with the commotion all around and my concern that I may have put my friends in harm’s way.

“Yeah, sure it was,” Denny said. “It had to be another knife attack--one thing I did see was a blade lying by the body--and Puddy and Tina did have the car theft situation in common. Maybe Stevie did too. Didn’t Puddy tell you as much, Wes, that the person, or persons, he was afraid of didn’t like to be crossed?”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re probably right,” I answered a little absently. Actually, what I was thinking, and what I didn’t want to share with the guys, was that if Puddy’s killer was in the cabin when we arrived, and believed we could identify him or her...well, it seemed pretty obvious that killing people who might be able to point a finger at them was really not a problem. What had I gotten my friends into?

The killer must have heard us approaching. I hadn’t had a chance to get too close to the body, but when Danny had rolled it over, not only did I see the knife but it looked like Puddy had not been dead too long. The pool of blood beside his body was still growing. The killer must have slipped out the back when we came in the front. We had to be careful. Puddy implied that not even the police could be trusted. I knew from my own experience in Boston how easy it was to get access to a police report if you knew the right person. The killer could find our names and addresses from the incident report. Didn’t have to be a cop that let it out...could be a clerk or any other employee at the police station.

Somehow, I had to let the guys know to make sure they told the police they didn’t see anyone, which of course was the truth, although in Dom’s case not the complete truth. Puddy had implied no one could be trusted. Now he was dead.

Stop it! I said to myself. I was over thinking things. It had been a rough couple of days and I was only being a bit paranoid about things. Since the last thing we needed was an epidemic of paranoia, I decided to keep my thoughts to myself. No sense in alarming the guys.

“Wes, you don’t think the killer thinks we saw him, do you, and that he’ll come after us next?” Dom asked.

So much for not setting off any alarms. Tim and Denny’s heads snapped up the way a deer’s does when it hears a twig snap in the distance while it’s taking a nice sip of cool water at a pond’s edge. They looked at me.

“That’s crazy, right?” asked Denny. “I mean, we didn’t see anything and the place was empty when we got here. That body could have been lying there for hours, for all we know.”

“Yeah, right,” added Tim. “and, besides, that Puddy character and Tina--sorry to say this, Wes, because I know you liked her--but they were criminals. They ran with a criminal element. It’s perfectly normal for criminals to go around killing other criminals--it’s all part of the business--but to go around killing perfectly honest citizens, why that’s a whole other story, isn’t it?”

“Shhh,” I hissed sharply.

Their voices were starting to rise and the trooper guarding us, who had been more interested in the proceedings down the hall, turned to look at us.

“You wouldn’t have any idea how long we are going to be kept here, do you? It’s been a bit of a long night,” I asked him, hoping he hadn’t quite heard what we were talking about and to stop any wondering.

“No, I don’t. You’ll just have to wait until they’re ready to talk to you,” he said with the air of someone used to being obeyed. He gave us all a look that basically told us, “So sit quietly until you’re wanted,” and then turned his attention back down the hall.

Dom waited a beat and then leaned forward, his voice just loud enough for us to hear. “The police will protect us, right? I mean, they can put us in that witness protection program or something if they think a killer is coming after us, can’t they?”

Now I leaned forward, brought my hands up, and did that patting down the air gesture that meant calm down. Looking at their faces, tense with jaws tight and eyes unblinking, I didn’t think it worked.

“Listen, no one’s coming after any of us. We didn’t see anything. No light in the window, right?” I whispered slowly, first shaking my head no then nodding yes at each of them at the word “right.”

It took a moment for what I was saying to sink in, especially for Dom, but they all eventually nodded yes back at me.

“Good, so let’s just sit quietly until they want to ask us any questions, okay?” I said.

We became quiet. The guys were probably thinking about what they would tell their wives, families, friends, and co-workers if we did indeed get arrested. I had no such concerns. Instead, I began to try to make some sense of everything.

I didn’t find any sort of link between Stevie and Tina at her apartment, but she was at his funeral. Tina and Puddy were connected. Puddy was also at Stevie’s funeral. He also broke into both Tina’s place and Stevie’s to look for money, drugs--anything to help him get away. But Stevie was killed before Tina returned my car and that’s the reason Puddy gave for her death, for him running scared. If Stevie was in the theft ring with both of them, why weren’t they scared when he was killed?

Maybe Stevie was acting on his own and killed because he was blackmailing someone, as Hoppy believed. But then how did Puddy or Tina fit in? They couldn’t have been the targets. What could they have that Stevie would want? Money, sex? I didn’t see that.

Neither Tina nor Puddy appeared to have that much money, and Stevie was charming and resourceful enough to get laid by Tina, and, unless things had changed drastically, Puddy was not his type.

Besides, Stevie always thought big. If he was going to go take all the risks involved with blackmailing someone, that person would be worth it. He’d go after a big fish. So...what if Tina and Puddy were involved with Stevie in the blackmail scheme and their killer was the person being blackmailed, and Puddy wasn’t looking for money when he broke into Tina’s and Stevie’s places, but whatever Stevie was using for blackmail?

Well, if the answer was somewhere here in Stevie’s place, I’d never get the chance to look for it now. If the police hadn’t really turned the place over before, if that mess that we’d seen--the desk top, trash can dumped and bookcase stripped--was Puddy’s work, then they would certainly do it now. And there was no way I’d be able to get close to this place again, not with it being a crime scene.

The kitchen door opened and in walked a crisply uniformed state trooper I hadn’t seen before. The state police apparently made a concession to the summer heat by allowing troopers to wear short-sleeved cotton shirts, but they were still required to wear ties, long pants, and boots. The name ID plate on his right shirt pocket read “Winters,” and the two bars pinned one inch up from each collar tip indicated that he was a captain. He was trim, obviously fit, very clean-shaven, with just the slightest tinge of gray in his almost non-existent sideburns. His uniform was completed with a dark gray campaign hat and a holster belt holding a Glock semi-automatic pistol.

He was followed into the room closely by Chief Roark. Unlike Captain Winters, she was dressed more casually, wearing a dark-blue cotton polo shirt with epaulets on each shoulder, matching dark blue knee-length shorts, and black hiking shoes over white low-cut athletic socks. Her captain’s badge was pinned above her left breast and “East Hastings Police” was stenciled on the shirt over the right breast. She wore a black baseball cap with “Police” embroidered on the front and also had a Glock semi-automatic pistol in her holster belt. Casual or not, like Captain Winters, everything was clean and perfect, as if it all had never been worn before. There was not even a speck of dirt on her shoes.

Trailing them into the room came Danny. Now, he looked like I expected someone who had just discovered a bloody corpse at two o’clock on a very humid morning to look. His hair, although he must have tried to brush it back with his hand, was a bit disheveled and wet. His face was pale and sweaty and his eyes a little distant. I noticed there was some blood on his shoes and the cuffs and knees of his pants, apparently from when he knelt by Puddy’s body to check for a pulse when he first arrived. He wore a crisp polyester dark blue windbreaker, with “East Hastings Police” embroidered over the right breast, that I seemed to recall him wearing when he caught us in the house.

“Have we gotten a statement from these men, Chief?” Captain Winters asked, his eyes taking stock of us. He clearly was in charge of things here.

“I’ve only just arrived myself,” she answered. “Officer, have we gotten their statements?” she asked turning to Danny, apparently noticing his appearance for the first time in the light of the kitchen. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir. Just a bit of a summer cold or flu. I’ll be fine. And no, no statements yet. I thought I’d keep them here for you to interview first,” he answered.

The captain turned sharply to address Danny. “You mean, they’ve been sitting here--together--all this time? Don’t you think they should have been separated so they couldn’t collaborate on a story?” He leaned a bit toward Danny. “Officer, what is that smell...gasoline?”

“Yes, sir,” Danny answered.

I could smell it now too. Not particularly strong, but noticeable.

“I kicked into an old can when I was searching the garage. Place was dark. It must have had gas in it. Didn’t find anything there, though,” Danny added.

“And that was while these suspects were sitting here?” Winters said, the tone of his voice implying a slight disregard for Danny’s investigative abilities.

“Well, your trooper was here watching them--” Danny began.

“He’s not my trooper--” the captain interrupted tersely.

“I was out inspecting the property, seeing if I could find anything,” Danny answered, a bit of defiance in his tone.

I don’t think he enjoyed being addressed this way in front of us--in front of me.

“In this darkness?” the captain asked skeptically. “Did you find, or kick, anything else?”

“Well, yes and no,” Danny answered. “I didn’t find the deceased’s truck anywhere nearby on the property, but there was a canoe tied up at the dock in the back. I don’t think it belonged to the owner of the property because I found another canoe lying against the side of the house.”

“You think the deceased was going to cart away stolen goods in a canoe?” the captain asked, and this time there was a detectable bit of sarcasm in his question.

I thought I heard a slight, restrained, mocking “humph” from the trooper standing at the door. I looked at the chief, who was staring intently at the floor and I couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed for Danny or angry that one of her officers was being treated in such a condescending manner.

“Actually, sir, I don’t think the deceased was after property,” Danny answered, and if he had heard the trooper he didn’t let on. “The owner of the property, recently murdered in a bar incident, was a suspected drug dealer and the deceased was a person of interest in the murder of a woman in a hotel room three nights ago. I think the deceased was searching for money or drugs on the property and planning to leave town.”

So Danny agreed with my first thought. I was impressed. I think both the captain and the chief were too.

“Is that true, Chief? The deceased was a suspect in a recent murder?” the captain asked.

“The deceased is Puddy Salvatore and was wanted for questioning in the death of a woman, and yes, the owner of the property was murdered last week in a bar outside town,” the chief replied formally.

“I think it’s likely that another person, or persons--” Danny turned his gaze to the four of us at the table. “--also looking to find the property owner’s stash, came upon the deceased and killed Puddy in an altercation.”

“Well, you do seem to have yourself a hopping little town here, don’t you?” the captain remarked, turning to address the chief. “Do any of these men have police records?”

“No, Captain. They do not, as far as I know,” she answered.

“That one there--” Danny said quickly, pointing at me, “--was in the hotel room when the woman was murdered.”

“Is that right?” the captain asked, giving me a closer look.

“Actually, I wasn’t there when--” I started.

“Mr. Byrne discovered the woman’s body in the hotel room,” the chief broke in. “according to his statement at the time, which was corroborated by the hotel clerk who was with him.” I noticed that she gave Danny a quick, hard glance before continuing with the captain. “He is not a town resident, only visiting for the funeral of the owner of the property, which was three days ago.”

“And does he have any sort of relationship with the deceased in the other room there?” the captain asked, his gaze growing more intense.

“Last night the deceased beat him up and--” Danny began before another sharp look from the chief cut him off.

“Mr. Byrne was found bound in duct tape this morning in the apartment of the murdered woman, and he claimed he was beaten by the deceased during the course of a robbery of that apartment.”

The corners of the captain’s mouth curled ever so slightly upward and he tilted his head a bit to the left. “My, my, my. You certainly have been busy. I think we may have a few things to talk about, Mr...um...”

“Byrne, Wes Byrne. He’s a reporter, too,” Danny volunteered, again to the obvious displeasure of Chief Roark.

“Officer,” she said. “Why don’t you go check to see if we’ve received any reports of stolen canoes tonight, or if anyone has reported seeing Mr. Salvatore’s truck? And get me the address of any of his relatives living in town. We’ll need them to identify the body.”

“But--” Danny started.

“Now, Officer,” the chief said firmly.

“Yes, Chief,” Danny replied, disappointed. “Captain,” he said, nodding his way.

Then he turned and left through the back door, not bothering to look at us. I couldn’t see his face but I know that smirk was there.

When he was out of the room, the captain turned back to the Chief. “What about these other men? What is their relationship to the deceased, or the owner of this property?”

“As I said, sir, I arrived only minutes before you did and have not had the opportunity to --” she began.

“This was all my idea, Captain,” I broke in. “Stevie, er, the owner of this place, was a childhood friend of mine, of all of ours, and I wanted to get one last look at the place before I left town. I talked them into coming with me. I’m the only one who had anything to do with Puddy--the deceased--and I’d never met him before last night.”

“I see,” the captain answered. “So your being here has nothing to do with you being a reporter?”

“Well...um...no sir, I’ve been trying to tell everyone that I’m not working on any story.” A little bit of a lie. I was glancing back and forth between the chief and captain, trying to get a read on either of them. I knew how the chief felt about reporters. I was pretty sure the captain’s opinion wasn’t much higher. “It’s all like I said.”

“If Wes was investigating a story, do you think he would have brought us along?” It was Tim. “I mean, look at us.”

“Yeah. It’s all like he said.” Now it was Denny speaking up. “We were having a few drinks and got to talking about the old times, and Wes mentioned how much he’d like to see this old place, so we thought ‘why not?’”

“Is that right?” the captain asked, looking directly at Dom. Tim, Denny, and I held our breaths.

“Um, yeah. Yeah, I collude with the others,” he said.

“Concur,” Denny whispered.

“Yeah, concur. I didn’t see anything. There was no light in the window, and the door was unlocked. We just walked in,” Dom answered, a bit too hurriedly, but he sounded sincere, just a little nervous.

“I see,” said the captain. There was some skepticism in his voice, but I had a feeling that was a natural reaction he’d developed from years of listening to suspects’ alibis. He looked us all over one more time. “I want statements from all of you--”

Tim, Denny, and I exhaled.

“--except for you, Mr...um...Byrne. I’d like you to come back to the station with me. I’ve got a few more questions I’d like you to answer--without your friends, here.”

There was a quiet knock on the door frame at the kitchen entrance from the hallway. A hooded, petite looking woman in those light-blue overalls, goggles pulled up and resting on her forehead, stood there. It was not the same person I’d seen at the motel after Tina had been killed.

“We are all done here, Captain, and ready to take the body away. Do you want to take a look at it before we do? It’s a pretty basic stabbing. Still, I know you like to be thorough.”

“Yes, I would, thank you, Doctor,” he answered her. He turned to the chief. “I’d like members of my team to take the statements from these men. You are welcome to sit in, of course.”

“Thank you,” the chief replied. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to accompany you when you interview Mr. Byrne. He may have some information to shed light on the murdered woman based on the break in last night at her apartment.”

The captain looked at me briefly. I had a feeling he really wanted to have me all to himself.

“Yes, of course, but I’ll be asking all the questions,” he replied, looking back at her.

“Of course,” the chief answered. She couldn’t have been happy to be playing second fiddle to the captain, but nothing in her expression let on.

“Would you like to see the body, look over the crime scene?” he asked her.

“Yes, I would, thank you,” she answered.

“Fine then, come along.”

The captain started to leave, trailed by the chief, when he stopped to address the trooper who had been standing guard over us.

“Bellingham, once I am through in the next room, I’d like you to get Colletti, Reed, and McGuinness to take statements from these three men in separate rooms. I’d like you to escort Mr. Byrne here to my car, place him in the back, and wait for the chief and me until we get there.”

“Yes, sir,” the trooper responded crisply.

The captain and the chief left the room. Tim, Denny, and Dom looked up at me, and I could tell they were a little nervous.

I leaned forward to talk to them quietly. “Don’t worry, guys, I don’t think they’re going to charge you with anything. Just tell them the truth--” I looked over and saw the trooper had turned his back on us and was talking into his mobile radio device, no doubt carrying out the captain’s orders. “--and Tim, would you call Hoppy and tell him not to send a lawyer to help me out this time? I’d rather downplay the reporter thing, and I think the lawyer would send up all kinds of red flags.”

“Sure, of course, but will you be okay?” he asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said bravely, or at least I hope I sounded brave. “Nothing I’m not used to.”

I was lying, of course. Police interrogations were something I knew I’d never get used to.