THURSDAY, AUGUST 24, PRESENT DAY
As it turned out, Russ didn’t need to call Jack Liddle to clue him in on Friday’s fundraiser; Liddle called on him. Russ was trying to shape his notes from yesterday into some sort of report for the Syracuse PD and State Task Force on Domestic Extremism when he was stopped by a noise he’d never heard before coming from Harlene’s station. Good God, she’s dying. He was through the door, hand already pulling out his phone to call the ambulance, only to see Harlene wrapped around Jack Liddle, the two of them rocking back and forth like long-lost relations.
“You old reprobate! Why didn’t you tell me you were back? How long are you here for? How are you?”
“I don’t think he’s going to be able to answer until you let him breathe,” Russ said. He held out his hand. “Good to see you in the station, Chief.”
“Well, you said I could drop in anytime.” Liddle kept one arm around Harlene while he shook Russ’s hand. “I can’t believe you still have this sweet young thing working here.” He gave Harlene a squeeze. “You figure out how to make a decent cup of coffee yet?”
“Actually, I make the coffee.”
“Probably for the best.”
Liddle yelped as Harlene smacked him. “I’ve outlasted four police chiefs so far, and I’m taking my vitamins so I can outlast this one, too.” She nodded toward Russ. “You should see him after I take my vacation. Begging me not to retire.”
“She won’t tell us where the keys to the restroom are.”
Liddle laughed.
“I’m glad you came by. I was going to call you”—Russ made a quick calculation of the awkwardness of the two of them in the office that had once been Liddle’s—“but we can head into the squad room and have a chat.”
Harlene gave Liddle a kiss on the cheek and let him go. In the squad room, Liddle walked the perimeter, looking at the maps of the three-town area and the view from the tall windows. “It doesn’t look as different as I would have thought.”
“The town isn’t any more generous with its funding than it was in your day.”
“Less, it sounds like.” Liddle shot him a glance. “How popular is this idea about shutting down the department?”
“Hard to tell. The economy’s not great, and state taxes aren’t going down any time soon. If the town can hold the line on increases for a few years, all the better for some folks.”
Liddle shook his head. “Not enough people left who remember when Cossayuharie and Fort Henry had to rely on the state police.”
“That was when you started, right?” Russ hitched himself onto the pine table and watched with some bemusement as Liddle did the same.
“Right. I’ve got nothing against the staties—I started out as a trooper myself. But their mission isn’t to serve individual communities. It’s not their strength.” Liddle nodded toward the whiteboard, currently covered in Jane Doe information and theories. “It was the first of these killings that got Harry McNeil up in arms to join up the three towns. It was just the police force at first, you know, with Cossayuharie and Fort Henry tossing in for a couple new officers. Merging the administrations and the town boards came later, when folks realized they could save money by…” He pushed his hands toward each other.
“Centralizing?”
“Yep. And now they want to hand it over to the state again. Chief McNeil must be rolling in his grave.”
“I’ve been rereading your file on the 1972 Jane Doe case.”
“I imagine you would be.”
“You weren’t trying to find connections to the earlier case.”
“Not many,” Liddle agreed. “My prime suspects were all young men—those two hippies out at the farm.”
“And me.”
“And you.” Liddle cocked his head. “You didn’t do it, did you?”
Russ laughed. “No.”
Liddle sighed. “Didn’t think so.”
“My problem is, I don’t have any viable suspects, so I’m forced to look at what this death has in common with the other two.”
“Summer people. The carnies. Chief McNeil had them both on his list.”
Russ nodded. “We’re looking into those.”
“Chief McNeil was certain the unsub was from away, because the dead girl wasn’t from around here. My investigation veered in the opposite direction, because it seemed most likely to me that Natalie was killed by one of her lovers, or by someone she picked up at the bus station.”
“Which you couldn’t prove.”
“To my regret. My point is, you’re already ahead of us, because you’re focusing on the bigger picture.”
“It feels more like I’m flailing around in a sea of possibilities.”
“You need to consider a man who was here in ’52 and ’72 and who’s still around today. Like me.”
“You?”
“Sure.” Liddle slid off the desk and walked to the whiteboard. “I was here for all three deaths.”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m having a hard time picturing this last killing done by a seventy-eight-year-old. Especially when they all had such an obvious sexual component.”
Liddle snorted a laugh. “It doesn’t fall off when you start collecting social security, Russell.”
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to hear it. Nevertheless—”
Liddle held up a finger, an abstracted look on his face. Russ shut up.
“Obvious sexual component,” the former chief finally said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“We all approached these cases as sex-related crimes. You, me, Chief McNeil.”
“Yeah…”
“What if they’re not? What if the makeup, the dress, all that was a distraction? Camouflage, if you like.”
“Camouflaging what?”
“A different motive for murder.”
“Such as…?”
Liddle shrugged. “Control. Money. Secrets. If I knew, I could clear the case for you, Russell.”
“Chief, I may have something—” They both looked to where Hadley stood in the doorway. “Am I interrupting?”
“Chief Liddle, this is our newest officer, Hadley Knox. Knox, Jack Liddle, who was chief here when I was a kid.”
“Pleased to meet you, Officer.” Liddle shook Hadley’s hand. “And it’s time for me to go.”
“I’ll walk you out.” In the hallway, Russ remembered Clare’s dire warnings about Friday night. “Look, I invited you to dinner without checking with my wife. Turns out we have a Save-the-MKPD fundraiser that evening.”
“I understand.” Liddle opened the front door, letting shimmering, tar-scented heat into the foyer.
“No, no, we’ve scored an invitation for you, if you’re willing to climb into a jacket and shine your shoes, which is what Clare says I have to do.”
Liddle laughed. “I can manage that, if you really think I won’t be a fifth wheel.”
“You’d be evening our numbers out. Mom was going to have to go stag, but you can be her escort. If that wouldn’t be too awkward.”
“Huh.” Liddle scratched the back of his neck. “Well. I guess not, if it’s all right with Margy. Thanks.”
“Having another chief of police there can only help our cause. After all, you’ve already helped me by giving me something new to think about.”
One foot on the granite steps, Liddle turned back. “The chief doesn’t go it alone, Russell. We can all use a little help now and again.”