Arn walked out of the conference room and started toward the parking lot when he spotted Jefferson Dawes walking down the hall toward him. He was rubbing shoulders with a twenty-something nurse in blue scrubs who giggled beside him, her hand brushing his. When he looked up and saw Arn, he stopped and bent toward the woman, whispering something to her. She headed down the opposite hallway, looking back and smiling at Jefferson before disappearing into an elevator.
“A running partner is all,” he volunteered.
“None of my business who you’re friendly with.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jefferson glared down at Arn.
Arn shrugged. “Don’t read anything into it. What you do is your affair. But while you’re here, do you have a moment?”
Jefferson checked his watch. “You got about five minutes. A patient’s waiting for me.”
Arn motioned to an empty room, and they stepped inside. Jefferson stood by the doorway as if he wanted to escape. “Adelle said you drilled her about our affair. She might be ashamed to admit it, but we had that affair while we were both still married. So if you think you’re going to use that against us … ” He trailed off.
“When did your wife find out?” Arn asked.
“She left me.”
Arn kept silent, waiting for Jefferson to continue. True confession time once again, Arn thought.
“My wife cleaned out our checking account and left with that science teacher from South High.” His eyes darted to the hallway. “At least that was the rumor around town.”
“So Adelle told me. And the private investigator you hired came up short?”
“He never found her,” Jefferson said. “Is this going somewhere?”
“You ever meet Gaylord?”
“Why do you want to know that?” Jefferson stuttered. Stalling.
“I’m just trying to get a handle on his death ten years ago.”
“That’s right. You’re being paid to come up with some connection to Butch Spangler. But to answer your question, I met him once.”
“At his house?”
Eyes darted to the door. Jefferson wanted to be anywhere besides talking with Arn about Gaylord Fournier. “Gaylord called me to his house a couple weeks before he … died. He told me he didn’t appreciate that I was having an affair with his wife.” He laughed nervously. “But he didn’t much object, either. He was more concerned with his image than his wife messing around. I didn’t much worry about it at the time. Adelle said he had his own thing going.”
“Which was?”
“Obviously, masturbating while he hung from the rafters,” Jefferson said, then jerked his thumb down the hallway. “Ask that creepy bastard. He was pals with that sicko.”
Pieter stood with his head bent, talking with Meander in the hallway outside the nurses’ station.
“Now, if there’s nothing else, make an appointment with my office if you wish to talk again.” Jefferson kept staring at Pieter as he walked past him and into a patient’s room.
Pieter and Meander walked toward Arn. “That guy gives me the creeps,” Pieter said.
“He said the same thing about you.” Arn motioned Pieter aside, and Meander stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. “You boys gave a good visit,” she said and headed for the elevator.
Pieter looked after her, a worried look on his face. “I should be grateful we can catch lunch now and again, with all the overtime she’s been putting in.” He looked around furtively and led Arn to a small break room, empty this time of day. “Meander said Johnny was murdered a couple hours ago.”
Arn nodded. “By someone posing as a physician.”
“Now that gives me the creeps.” Pieter shuddered. “I’m worried to death for her. What if he’s still in the building … ” He gazed around as he walked to the vending machine. “Why would anyone want to smother Johnny to death?”
“Why would anyone want to shoot him to begin with?” Arn opened his bag and took out his notebook, jotting down what Jefferson had told him about Gaylord. “I’m convinced it all ties in with your father’s murder. I got near-conclusive proof that Steve was murdered—”
“No way!” Pieter said. “Steve was the nicest man. When the team returned from the game in Casper the day after the fire, Dad told me about it. He said it was accidental. I just can’t believe someone murdered him, too.”
“But you believe Gaylord died an autoerotic death?”
“I do now.” Pieter looked at the ceiling, and a sadness came with the remembering. “In Gaylord’s basement, he had this long mirror propped against the wall. I asked if he needed help hanging it somewhere, and he snapped at me. He asked what I was insinuating. Like he got paranoid or something. Or on drugs. Anyway, he kicked me out of his basement and told me never to come back again. That was … ” Pieter thought. “It was two weeks before Adelle found him hanging.” He eyed the vending machine. “You don’t think his death was anything but an accident?”
“If you call ‘stupid enough not to work out an escape plan when you’re hanging from your basement rafters’ an accident,” Arn answered.
Pieter walked to the Vending Machine of Death that offered sandwiches restocked once a week. Or every other week. Every squad room Arn had worked out of had a Vending Machine of Death, so-called because only the hungriest of men were brave enough stick their money in and chance E.coli. Or some other ailment. Pieter was such a brave man, and he ripped open the ham and cheese and wolfed it down. At least Pieter was within walking distance of the emergency room.
“I’d like to get into that old house of Gaylord and Adelle’s you bought,” Arn said.
“Why?” Pieter sat on a chair and washed the sandwich down with Mountain Dew.
“I’d like to get a look at Gaylord’s man cave.”
“Of course.” Pieter wiped mustard off his mouth with a paper towel. “I can meet you there tomorrow afternoon.”
“Can we get in”—Arn checked his watch—“sometime after six tonight?”
“Can’t tonight. I’m taking Meander out for her birthday.”
Arn looked down at Pieter, thinking about what Georgia had said about Pieter looking more like Arn than like Butch, with his blond hair and blue eyes. Except for the fact that Pieter was a couple inches taller and forty pounds lighter, he could have been Arn’s son. “I’d really like to get in there tonight,” he said again. “If my hunch is right, it might help solve your dad’s death. And the Five Point cases.”
“I don’t know.” Pieter paced the room, a concerned look etched on his face. “I had the power disconnected years ago when I bought it for taxes. I boarded it up right then, too, but the bums have been breaking in so regularly I gave up.” He stood and paced the room. “It’s not safe there at night. Aunt Georgia would just kill me if anything happened to you in there. I wouldn’t feel right.”
“I’m used to a little danger in my life.” Arn smiled.
Pieter kicked the floor with the toe of his shoe. “I guess you could go in,” he said at last.
“Do you have a set of keys I can borrow?”
“You won’t need any. The locks have been broken so many times, I gave up replacing them. You can go right inside.” He laughed. “As long as you don’t spend the night with the hobos.”
“Thanks,” Arn said. “I’ll go right after supper. There’s just a few things I need to take a look at in the basement, and then I’ll be out of there.”
“Okay. But be careful. I’ve already called the police twice this month on some nasty-looking bums I caught squatting there.”
“Thanks for the warning,” Arn pointed to the rest of Pieter’s sandwich tossed in the trash can. “I’ll be in only slightly more danger than you were just now.”