CHAPTER 54

I followed Chief Roark and Captain Winters into Winter’s office. I was surprised to see Hoppy sitting in a chair, waiting for us. Winters sat behind his desk. I sat next to Hoppy. Roark remained standing off to the side.

“Listen, I never really thought I’d hear myself saying this, but I would appreciate it if you stayed around East Hastings a few more days while we line up everything we can in our investigation of Tony and Officer Sullivan. We could use your testimony at the preliminary trial.”

“Don’t you think this young man has done enough?” Hoppy said. “I mean, he put his life at risk, wearing that wire and going in with that killer Tony Augustino. Why, he almost died when you let that man take him to the river right out from under your noses.”

“I admit what Wes did was extremely helpful in our investigation--” Captain Winters began.

“Your investigation?” Hoppy roared. “Why this entire thing is the result of the indefatigable and fearless pursuit of the truth by the Chronicle. If we had left it up to law enforcement to track down the perpetrators of these heinous murders--and subsequently revealed criminal activities, why you’d still be chasing your tails around in circles.”

“Hoppy, you know that both the East Hastings police force and, I’m sure, the state police, appreciate everything the Chronicle has done. It’s just that we--” Chief Roark began.

“Do you? Do you really appreciate what this fine reporter has done? I have heard no words of apology for the harassment he received at your hands, for the sleepless nights he spent under your relentless inquisition, for the trampling of his rights. Nor have I heard any words of thanks or praise for his efforts, as a member of the press, to seek justice wherever and whenever it is in jeopardy.”

I had to hand it to Hoppy. When he got on one of his rolls, it was truly a beautiful thing to behold. He was doing so well, his eloquence so mesmerizing, his compassion and concern for my well-being so overwhelming, in fact, that it was almost hard to remember that, just a few days earlier, he was more than willing to cover me in blood and drop me in a tank of sharks in order to increase the circulation of his newspaper.

Still, it was a great show. It was comforting to know, that really deep down, Hoppy cared. How could I have questioned that he did not always have my best interests at heart?

I stood up and walked over to a credenza along the wall in Winters’s office and poured some coffee into a cup from a carafe that sat beside it on top of the credenza. There was also a box of donuts, and I selected a chocolate covered donut from the assortment it held. I was going to miss Hoppy. Any day now, I expected some inquiries to come in from leading news organizations who had seen my articles and were looking for a good investigative journalist to join their staff. I’d be moving on. So, I guess, if at the Captain’s behest, I had to lay low at Stevie’s place for a few days with Stacey, so be it.

“Furthermore,” Hoppy continued, “you make this request when I have it on good authority, and from impeccable sources, that not only is Ferdie Crawford not in custody and, therefore, a direct threat to Wes’s safety, but that the criminal, and I’m talking about Augustino, the criminal at the very heart of your investigation, while in custody, does not sit in a jail cell, but instead enjoys all the comforts and pleasures of a free man while living in his own home.”

I stopped mid-bite into my donut. Ferdie was free? I looked at Captain Winters. “You let Crawford go free?” I asked. Then I looked at Hoppy. “And you knew?” I said.

Captain Winters spoke first, selecting his words carefully. “Truth be told, we really didn’t have much to hold Crawford on, at least nothing that a judge could deny him bail for. To make something really stick we need Augustino’s testimony in court to establish a direct correlation between the documents and photos and criminal activity, and we’re still negotiating a plea bargain with him in return for that. Furthermore, we still have no direct evidence any of the Crawfords were involved in Bones’s killing.”

“But you had him in handcuffs. I wrote an article stating he was b--b--being ch--ch--charged--” I stammered out as best I could.

“That was largely for show. We were hoping someone in his organization would panic and turn on him. It didn’t happen. He made bail on the charges we could come up with in hours, so yeah he’s free--for now,” Captain Winters continued.

“We have men watching his every move, and, besides, we really don’t think you have anything to worry about. His bigger concern at the moment is Tony Augustino. He’s the key in all this. We desperately need him to cooperate,” Chief Roark added.

“Tony, who--” I said immediately, “--if I heard correctly, is sitting in his large, comfortable house, on his large comfortable furniture, drinking Makers Mark and Cokes, and watching hi-definition television, while I will now be looking over my shoulder everywhere I go.”

“It was part of his initial plea agreement, and it’s only until the final agreement is all fleshed out, and then we’ll stash him in a safe house until the trial. That all takes a little time. Besides, we determined that he is actually safer at his place than he would be in jail. We have guards stationed all over his property for his protection, whereas behind bars it would be much easier for one of Crawford’s men to get him,” Captain Winters explained, who seemed to assume that even the most rational explanation for giving a rat’s ass about the welfare of a confessed murderer, a man who tried to kill me, would make the slightest bit of sense at this moment.

I turned again to look at Hoppy.

He shrugged and gave me his best mea culpa look. “Son, I just found out myself. Of course, I was going to tell you, make sure Stacey stayed tight by you. Besides, I’m sure they wouldn’t put you at risk like this without giving you something in return, like--” He turned at looked at Chief Roark. “--maybe an exclusive about the arrest of the killer of Puddy Salvatore.”

My head was on a swivel--from Hoppy, to Chief Roark, back to Hoppy and stopping on Chief Roark. “What is he talking about?” I asked her.

Her face turned crimson, her eyes grew fiery, and if her jaw got any tighter her teeth would have shattered. She was breathing hard. “Goddamn you, Hoppy,” she said through those clenched jaws. “I swear I’ll find out where you get your information.”

I looked at Captain Winters. His mouth was open slightly and he seemed as surprised as me. I turned back to look at Chief Roark. She had regained most of her composure. Her face had returned to its normal color, her jaw was much less tense, her eyes calmer. She straightened up a bit and delivered her report on the situation as if this was a press conference.

Hoppy slid back in his seat a bit, crossed his right ankle over his left knee, and clasped his hands on his lap. There was just the slightest trace of smugness in his demeanor. Captain Winters leaned forward, put his hands on the table, and focused his eyes on Chief Roark. I just sat there, waiting.

“You know,” I said, shaking my head in disbelief at what I’d just heard, “people ask me why I stayed away.”

Hoppy leaned over and slapped me on my knee. I winced. It was still tender.

“Oh, come on, son. That’s what sells papers. This is all manna from heaven. No one in this room wants to admit it, but these are exciting times. This is what it is all about, not arresting speeders--” he said, tilting his head Captain Winters’s way, “--or giving out parking tickets.” Now he nodded at Chief Roark. “Or covering school board meetings. You’re a newsman. This is what makes your blood flow. You can’t tell me you haven’t felt more alive than you have for years these past few days.”

“The only reason I feel alive is because three days ago I was almost dead.” My fist was clenched and I had a thought that I could very easily get used to hitting people. “All that crap about the fearless pursuit of the truth and my rights being trampled--that was nothing but you gaining leverage to get a story that would sell newspapers, pure and simple. That’s all you care about. That’s all you ever cared about and that’s all you will ever care about. Well, let me tell you, Hoppy, you can take your story and--”

The phone on Captain Winters’s desk rang.

Funny thing about a phone ring. Sometimes that’s all it is, just an ordinary sort of sound we’ve all become accustomed to, a sound that announces that someone wishes to communicate with us, like the next-door neighbor tapping on the door and asking, “Hello, anyone home?” Sometimes it can be annoying, like someone continually poking at us, demanding attention, “Answer me, I know you’re there, answer me.” And other times, like the tone of the ringing phone on Captain Winters’s desk, it can carry an urgency, a sense of distress, “Trouble, something’s wrong, trouble.”

We all sensed it. Captain Winters moved quickly to answer his phone. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen a person turn paler quicker. The receiver was barely to his ear when the color began to drain from his face. Everything about him seemed to sag as he heard whatever news was being relayed over the phone line.

“When?...How?...Anyone else?” He mostly stood and listened. The call was over in less than a minute, though it felt much longer to us waiting to hear what had happened. He stood for a moment, frozen in place, the phone to his ear. Then he exploded, slamming the receiver down hard. The phone’s console stood no chance against his volcanic eruption. There was a short, brief burst of sound from base unit’s ringer, like the whelp of a wounded dog, and then pieces of shattered plastic scattered across his desk. He was no longer pale. He was seething. He turned to Chief Roark.

“Augustino. He’s dead, the bastard’s dead,” he said, spitting the words out.

We all started shouting at him at the same time, repeating the same questions we had heard him ask only moments before. “When? How?”

He only looked at us.

“Was it Crawford? Did he get to him? What about Sue Ellen, is she okay?” I asked urgently.

He ignored me. “We’ll take my car,” he said to Chief Roark. They headed to the door.

“I’m coming with you,” I said, following right on their heels.

He turned, looked at me hard, and brought his right hand up forcefully, index finger extended. If he hadn’t stopped his hand where he did, inches from my face, I honestly believed he could have driven his finger through my skull.

“No. Enough of this shit. It’s over. Get it? Over,” he said, struggling to contain his fury.

“You owe me, dammit,” I said, refusing to back down.

“Captain, Brian--the wife is his friend--he’s helped us,” Chief Roark said calmly.

He turned his head to look at her, then at Hoppy, then back at me. “Okay, only you. And stay the hell out of my way.”