WILSON CALLED RAWLINGS’S OFFICE AND EVELYN SAID THEY were out.
They? he asked.
Yes, Evelyn said. Deputy Rawlings and Chief Price.
He asked where and she told them, and when he arrived their cruisers were already parked in front of the abandoned house. Wilson pulled in and cut the engine. His clipboard was in the seat beside him. The sun was out and the light was flashing off the polished metal of the coroner’s truck. A few officers were standing around near the porch steps. An officer was coming out of the house holding a camera. Wilson got out of his car with his clipboard. The first officer he saw he asked: Where might I find Chief Price and Deputy Rawlings?
The officer pointed around to the side of the house.
At the open cellar door Wilson found two officers talking with their arms crossed. Wilson flashed them his badge and they nodded at him and he stepped into the cellar and walked down the stairs.
The room was lit with floodlights and little numbered markers around each body. The coroner was standing over the shot man on the floor. The flash on the camera going off constantly. Price was standing near the woman in the chair. When he saw Wilson come down the stairs he sucked his teeth and said: Decide to sleep in, Agent Wilson?
I got a call that Miss Roma here failed to show up for work this week? Wilson said.
You got a call? Price said. Who from?
Whom, Wilson said. From whom. And I believe it was the proprietor of the French Maid Gentleman’s Club.
Do you pride yourself on being insufferable? Price said. And what’s with, you believe? I would think a detective of your clout would know without equivocation who—whom—he was speaking to.
You’re using that word incorrectly.
What word?
Clout.
What?
Never mind, Wilson said. I just came from there. Had a nice little chat.
Is that a fact?
Seemed to have as many questions as I did.
And what kind of questions did Mr French Maid have for the detective?
Mostly if I knew anything about the tall man who seemed so intrigued with one of his best dancers.
Tall man? Price said. Lots of tall men. Hell, I’m tall. Maybe it was me.
Yes, Wilson said. I said the same thing. This one, he said, was very tall. Showed me the surveillance video and everything.
Surveillance video?
Yes sir.
And?
Certainly very tall, Chief Price.
Price turned to Rawlings.
Deputy, he said. Put out an APB for a very tall man. Mr French Maid give you anything else, Agent Wilson?
Wilson knelt to the woman. He took a pencil and with the eraser end he lifted the hem of her skirt.
You got a thing for cold ones, Price said.
She appears intact, Wilson said. Has the coroner found anything?
I hate to argue with you, Agent Wilson, Price said, but she’s got a big hole between her eyes. Hardly call that intact.
Wilson smiled thinly. He looked at Rawlings.
I assume the three of them weren’t here the first time you checked on the place?
First time? Rawlings said.
Yes, deputy. The first time you searched this cellar.
How did you know I searched this cellar?
I know a lot of things, Deputy Rawlings.
How about the reason these three are down here, Agent Wilson? Price said. Do you have an answer for that?
Wilson stood. He said: When you found these bodies, deputy, was the cellar door closed?
Yessir.
How about that iron bar lying in the grass up there?
What about it?
Was it lying in the grass?
No sir, it was through the handles.
Isn’t that interesting.
Sir?
Hard to slide an iron bar like that from the inside. Don’t you think?
I’d say so, Rawlings said.
So would I, deputy. I might even say impossible.
Perhaps someone came by and slid it back into place, Agent Wilson, Price said.
Perhaps, Wilson said. He tapped his chin. So here’s my next question: Why?
Why what? Price said.
Why are there three dead people in here with no motive as to why? They didn’t know each other. She wasn’t raped. One man is shot through the head, the other hanged. And they’re all down here together. Left for us to find. Why? It’s almost like someone’s trying to cover something up.
You saying this is some kind of red herring, Agent Wilson?
Wilson looked at Price.
Yes, Chief Price. I think it might be.
Wilson took some photographs. He jotted some notes. Went to the man hanging from the joist and examined him closely. On the collar of the man’s shirt was an odd stray hair. It was short but coarse. Wilson plucked it off. He put it in a little plastic bag.
What are you doing over there, Agent Wilson? Price asked.
Wilson turned and smiled.
Just looking, Chief Price.
He walked to the foot of the stairs.
I’ll be in touch about the autopsy report, he said. Enjoy the day, gentlemen.
Back in his car Wilson held the plastic evidence bag up to the light.
Where have I seen you before, Wilson said. He stared at the package.
Then he put it in his jacket pocket and started the car and backed out and drove back to his hotel.