TEN

 

 

I didn’t need to check hear pulse. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was hanging open. There was a thread of dried blood from one corner of the mouth running down her jaw onto the collar of her coat.

Carefully I backed out and closed the garage door. She had been dead some hours, maybe all night, I knew that. Doug had been locked in his cell at that time. But he had come here today and I wondered whether he had touched the handle. If he had, he would be hard put to explain it away. Knowing I might be destroying evidence I did what I had to, wiping my gloved hand over the handle until anything on it would have been smeared beyond recognition. Next I did the same thing with the front door bell and the knocker. Only then did I drive to the nearest phone and call the police department.

Hinton got to me first but before he was even out of the car Captain Schmidt was pulling in behind him. Schmidt did the talking. “Where’s the body?”

“In the garage, Captain.”

He opened the door, touching toe handle very lightly so as not to disturb any prints. He went and crouched by toe woman. “Been dead awhile,” he said. Then he stood up. “How come you were snooping around in here?”

“When I found Grant’s car I rang the doorbell. There wasn’t any answer so I checked the garage to see if there was a car here and whoever was inside was ignoring me.”

“Is that standard practice up among toe Eskimos?”

“It’s called checking your options. You’d have done the same thing.”

He snorted and turned to Hinton. “Get on the radio. Call the hospital, have them send toe ME over, and get Wilkins down here with his camera and crime scene kit.”

Hinton ran back to his car and Schmidt turned back to the body.

“Do you know who she is, Captain?” I kept it polite.

He nodded. “Yeah. Her name’s Wendy Tate. She’s divorced, works at the drugstore in town. Hear tell she had round heels, the kind of broad Grant would’ve known.”

“Was it her phone number in his wallet?”

Schmidt shook his head, crouching by the body. “No. We checked that place. Neighbor says she’s gone to Mexico for a couple weeks, left last Saturday.”

I crouched with him. He was touching the front of the coat, probing the bloodstain with his forefinger. “Feels like a couple holes, small,” he said. “Here, try.”

It was amateur, messing around with evidence with your fingertips, so I didn’t do it. “Take your word for it, Captain. Could it be small-caliber pistol shots?” I said.

“Could be. What caliber was that gun of his?”

“A .22 automatic. Could have been the murder weapon.”

“I’ll talk to the ME about testing Grant’s hand for powder traces,” Schmidt said.

“Won’t tell us a whole lot. He fired the gun earlier, at my dog.”

He snorted. “In that case,” he said and left it there.

A car pulled in behind us and the chief got out. He came up and looked at the body, not bothering to crouch. “Who found her?”

“I did, Chief.”

He asked me how and I told him what I’d said to Schmidt. He looked at me angrily. “I’ve been chief here for eleven years. In all that time we’ve had one homicide. Then suddenly we get three inside a week.” It was my fault, he was saying.

“This must be tied in with the Grant death. Captain Schmidt says there are holes in the coat, maybe bullet holes, small caliber.”

“Any sign of a weapon?” He was speaking to Schmidt and I could see he wanted me gone. I was a jinx, a blight on his town.

Schmidt said, “Haven’t looked for it. Can’t see it lying around and I want Wilkins to get photographs before I start turning the place over.”

The two of them looked at one another and I could see something like a plea in Schmidt’s face. The chief read it and he turned to me gravely. “Can you come with me, please?” he asked and led the way back to his car. I went with him and he spoke softly. “I don’t know how to put this, but you’re a chief yourself, you know the pressures of the job.”

I said nothing and he glanced away then back at me. “The thing is, my men are good men and they’re resentful that you’re here. I know you want to help. I know you’re an experienced man. But I’d like it if you would back off and give my guys some space.”

An honest speech. I knew he would back it up with authority if he had to. His department’s morale came ahead of me. But I didn’t want it to come ahead of Doug Ford’s case. I compromised with him. “I understand. And I appreciate what you’ve done for Doug. I think you can see now that he was on to something and somebody framed him.”

“That’s why I had him released,” he said carefully. “I don’t think the charge will stand much longer. He was obviously right in his assumption that something heavy is going down right here in Chambers. But right now I’m up to my ass in alligators and I have to get the best out of my troops. I can’t do that with you looking over their shoulders.”

“Okay, I’m through with Grant and this girl’s death. But while you’re busy with this investigation, do I have your permission to keep on checking into the Laver murder?”

“Sure,” he said. “Ask around all you want. If you get any hassle from anybody, refer them to me. But stay away from my guys. Could you do that?”

“Okay. I’d like your permission to talk to you if I come up with something that makes a difference.”

“You’ve got it. And you’ve got my permission to check the crime scene, talk to witnesses, conduct the investigation all over again if you want to.” He reached up and stroked his nose, something he probably did whenever he was thinking hard. “It would give me the greatest pleasure to find something that cleared Officer Ford. He’s efficient and quick and good. He’s a credit to the department and I want him back. See what you can do to get him out of this mess and you’ll have my gratitude as well as his.”

“I’ll tell him that. Thanks, Chief.” I went back to my car and drove off, back to Maloney’s house first. His car was there and I went in and found him in the kitchen, working a pasta-making machine. Sam was lying under the table and he got up and came over to me, wagging his tail. I bent down and fussed him before doing anything else. Maloney watched in approval.

“He’s a great dog,” he said, then, “How’s the investigation going?” He was cranking the handle and turning out broad strings of lasagna.

“There’s been another victim. Woman called Wendy Tate. Looks as if she was shot with Grant’s gun.”

He straightened up and looked at me, openmouthed. “When did this happen?”

“I found her, half an hour ago. She’s been dead all night, in her garage. Grant’s car’s in the drive.”

“What the hell’s going on?” he wondered out loud.

“I’m not sure, but the chief was getting some heat from Captain Schmidt so he asked me to back out, which I’ve done. I’m concentrating on the Laver killing, with the chief’s permission.”

He wasn’t really listening. “Wendy Tate. She was friendly with a lot of men. Digging into her past is going to rattle a lot of cages in town.”

“That’s about what Schmidt said. I didn’t think about the domestic angle on the investigation. Maybe some guys are going to be embarrassed today.”

“That’s for sure.” Maloney turned back to his pasta machine and fed another chunk of dough into the hopper. “So what will you do next?”

“They’ve sprung Doug Ford. He’s under house arrest. Has to stay home. I’d like to go over and spend some time with him. He’s pretty shook up.”

“I understand.” He nodded and went back to turning the handle on the machine. “Are you going to move in with him?”

“Might be better if I did. I hope you don’t think I’m being ungrateful but he needs some support.”

“Of course,” he said. “Can he stretch the house arrest far enough to come over here for dinner? Ella Frazer will be here. Might make him feel better.”

“I’ll suggest it, thank you. But he’s pretty fragile right now. He’s been stuck in solitary for four days. That messes up your head.”

“Play it by ear,” Maloney suggested. He gathered up his lasagna and started cutting it into lengths. Maybe he figured I was feeling awkward, because he chatted on. “I took a cooking course after my wife died. Out of necessity at first but I’ve gotten to like it.”

“Something I’ve never had the patience for, even when I was living on my own,” I said politely.

He finished his cutting and laid the knife aside. “Okay. So, what can I do to help your investigation?”

“I’m not sure, at the moment. The chief knows something about Doug’s suspicions. Enough to make him think Doug was right and to get him out of jail.” A thought occurred to me, remembering how messed up Ms. Frazer had been. “Is that going to complicate your talking to Ms. Frazer?”

“No. I’ll tell Ella. She’ll be easier in her mind, knowing that it’s out in the open now.” He took a plate aid laid the lasagna strips on it carefully. “I’ve been thinking since I got back here.”

He looked up, waiting for a cue to continue, and I said, “What about particularly?”

“Firstly, I thought that even if we bring this money thing into the open, it doesn’t do anything to clear Officer Ford. The homicide is a different investigation. All we can do is dig up a separate motive from the one the police had thought of in the first place.”

“Right. I want to go into the case itself. You and the police are better equipped to investigate money-laundering anyway.”

“Right. But the other thing was deeper than that.”

“What was it?”

He looked at me, then bent to load more lasagna on the plate as he talked. “I was wondering, with a lawyer’s perverse mind, just why Officer Ford kept his suspicions to himself, even to the extent of going to jail for a murder he obviously didn’t commit.”

“He was afraid for his family’s safety. For himself, he wouldn’t have cared about them—but when you have a wife and kids, it’s different.” I said. “Are you saying you suspect him of the killing?” Sam was butting his head against my knee, gaining contact after twenty-four hours of confusion about what was going on. I stroked his head absently and waited for Maloney to continue.

“No. He’s innocent of the killing, I believe, and the money business doesn’t seem to involve him in any way. I just asked myself what he was trying to do and why he was trying to do it.”

He looked at me and I checked his face to see if it had the smugness that many lawyers show when they bring out a damaging idea. But it didn’t. He looked genuinely concerned that I was certain that he was still rooting for Doug.

“I’ve had the same thoughts, I guess. I plan to talk to him about it,” I said.

Maloney turned away to wipe his hands on a tea towel that was hanging on the handle of the stove. “Good. I wish you luck, Reid. I think your friend is innocent but the prosecution is going to ask the same question I just did. We need to know in plenty of time just what his motives were.”

“I’ll tell him that. And thanks for all you’ve done for me,” I said and we shook hands and I collected my bag and left with Sam trotting gratefully at my heel.

I got to Doug’s house and knocked. He came to the door, looking angry. He didn’t speak to me and I asked, “Thought you’d lite some company. Can I come in?”

He still didn’t speak but stood back and held the door open. Sam was at my heel and I made the second request. “Okay if Sam comes in? He’s family. And Melody didn’t mind.”

“Sure,” he said and we went in and he shut the door.

I hadn’t brought my bag with me. That would come later, if the atmosphere warmed up at all.

As I was slipping my boots off Doug asked angrily, “Where’s my gun?”

“Melody gave it to me the night Angie was kidnapped.”

“I asked where is it, now?” he said.

“It’s in my car. I’ll give it to you.”

That seemed to appease him. He didn’t say anything but turned away into the kitchen. “Sit down,” he said over his shoulder. “Want some coffee?”

“Be good, thank you,” I said carefully. This wasn’t the man I knew, the guy who had humped through the boonies with me, taking risks without a second thought, a man I had counted on as I would have on my own brother if I’d ever had one.

He brought two cups, black, and I thanked him and we sat looking at one another.

He didn’t speak and I could see no way into the conversation that wouldn’t spark his anger so I drank coffee and waited for him to make the going. At last he said, “What did she say? Wendy Tate?”

“She was dead. In the garage; looked like she’d been shot but she could have been knifed like Grant was.”

Now his police professionalism took him out of himself. “Go on.”

I told him about the blood and the way Schmidt had touched the stain.

Doug hissed with contempt. “Goddamn Boy Scout. What’s that going to prove?” He was still consumed with anger, but now it had a focus. That made it easier to deal with.

“He gave the chief the evil eye and the chief’s asked me to step out of the investigation. He’s given me permission to go over the Cindy Laver case, but he doesn’t want me underfoot while his guys are trying to sort out what’s happening with Grant and this woman.”

“They haven’t had a homicide here since Pluto was a pup,” Doug said. “None of the guys has any idea what to do, outside of courses they’ve taken. They could use a pro.”

“Pat Hinton seems capable.”

“Pat’s fine, but he hasn’t covered any homicides. None of them have.”

He was simmering down now. We were a couple of Marines again, cursing an incompetent officer. I milked it. “Reminds me of that Lieutenant Harris. Remember that sonofabitch?”

Now Doug looked at me with more warmth. He took another sip of his coffee and set the cup aside. “Okay, Reid. Like, I’m sorry, man. You left your family behind to come down here and save my sorry ass an’ all I can do is give you shit. I’m sorry, buddy.”

It was a time to do some kidding. “Didn’t expect anything else. You always were a crabby bastard.”

He laughed then and we stood up and shook hands first, then impulsively hugged one another. We let go and I said, “Is it part of your bail that you can’t drink?”

He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t mentioned.”

“Good. I’ve got a bottle of Black Velvet in my bag.”

He clapped his hands together. “So go get it in, an’ bring your bag. You’re staying here, aren’t you?”

“I’d planned on it.” I went out and got my bag, dropping it at the base of the stairs and taking out the bottle I’d picked up at the duty-free store at the border. Doug got glasses and ice and built us a couple of drinks and we toasted one another. “Semper fi,” I said and he echoed it.

I don’t usually drink until closer to dinner, but it went down well and Doug relaxed. He asked me about Fred and the baby and we didn’t mention the case for the time it took to finish the drink. I offered another one but he shook his head. “Later maybe. Hey, did you eat yet?”

When I told him no he wait into the kitchen and made us a couple of sandwiches and we had them with a beer, slowly getting back to talking about the case. I told him about the beer cans and my suspicion that Huckmeyer had picked up his empty from Brewskis and planted it. “We could clear you right away if we got prints from the waitress and the bartender at Brewskis and checked them against the other prints on the can,” I suggested.

“Think those two’ll go for that?” he asked seriously. “They don’t have to give you diddly.”

“I get on well with the bartender and the waitress. I cooled Grant out one night when he groped the waitress.”

“Maybe they’d do it, then,” Doug said. “Hell, they wouldn’t do it for me. They didn’t care for me and Cindy looking like we were playing nice. Too white bread to let it show but they were worried about the purity of the goddamn race.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I said. “But there’s also the fact that you happen to be married to the best-looking woman in town and everybody knows it.”

He looked almost sad then. “You think that’s it?”

“I’m sure of it. People don’t like to see marriages going down the tubes.”

Doug smiled slowly. “I guess that’s it, but I’ve got to tell you there were a lot of heads whipped around in a hurry when I came here. Seems like the brothers don’t ski. Foils here had never seen a black face except on TV. When I walk into the room everybody does a double take.”

“Trust me. They’re not racist. I’ll take a run out to Brewskis this evening and see when I can get prints off those two women. I doubt they’re working Sunday if they were there all week.”

“Good,” he said. He was quiet now, thoughtful. “It’s liable to clear me of the homicide but not of theft of that money.”

“George Horn, an Ojibway friend of mine, the son of my deputy, has a saying that applies here. He says, if you see fifty ducks take off and you fire at all of them you’ll miss. You have to shoot one duck at a time.”

“Makes sense,” Doug said. “Yeah. He’s right.”

I looked at him a long time before speaking. “Doug, I’ve got a question to ask. It’s liable to get you mad so I want you to know that any cop would ask the same question. Can I go ahead?”

“Shoot,” he said and took a big bite of his sandwich as if to gag himself and not have to answer.

“You didn’t tell the chief about your investigation. I’m not talking about when you were arrested, I mean before that. And yet now you’re ready to talk. People are going to want to know why. Can you tell me, as a friend?”

He chewed slowly and then spoke, very softly. “You’re wondering why I was keeping all this to myself, not telling even Melody.”

I nodded without speaking and he went on. “All right. I told you about my partner in Harlem. That was true. But there’s more than that.”

“I figured there had to be.”

“Yeah. Well. The thing is, I knew that guy, that Manatelli.” He fell silent for a while and I waited, seeing how easily I could snuff out the news he was going to give me. “Thing is, his son, kid called Gino, was in school with Melody.”

He fell silent again and this time I had to prod him. “And then what?” I asked gently.

“And she was the best-looking girl in school. Just like she’s the best-looking woman in town here. All the kids were after her. The brothers thought she should have gone out with them on account of being black. But she went out with Gino.”

He looked at me for a long time. “Now I ought to be glad about what happened because if it hadn’t she wouldn’t have married me.” He set down his plate. “Anyway, by the time she was in college, the only black kid in her class to make it, she and Gino were an item. He wanted to marry her.”

Most people have romances in their past. It would have been surprising if a woman as beautiful as Melody were an exception, I thought, but waited. Doug went on in the same low, passionate voice. “So young Gino, the goddamn hood in training, he goes to his old man and says he wants to marry her. And that lowlife hood scumbag tells him, and I’m quoting, ‘No son of mine is going to marry any goddamn nigger.’”

“He’s an ignorant prick,” I said.

“Yeah,” Doug said, in a low growl. “And I’m gonna teach him some manners. That’s why I was working on my own. I don’t care whether the case ever comes to court. I want the news to get back to the guy he’s working for. They won’t sue the bastard. They’ll settle him for keeps.”