Al looked at Kat, then me, thinking it over. Finally he nodded to her. ‘Bed check at twelve,’ he said.
My old sunblasted red and used-to-be-white Ford pickup sat at the curb just outside the Skillet, the antenna lopping over a little and the rear fender rusted through in a couple of places. I walked to the passenger side, kicked the back corner of the door with the heel of my boot and opened it for her. Sliding in behind the wheel, I cranked the engine and we rattled up through the gears and out to the Lone Oak road, heading north toward the farm and my family.
Now, turning my collar up against the rain, imagining I could still smell the old Ford’s permanent bouquet of gasoline and exhaust fumes after all these years, I tried without much success to picture Dr Gold as part of a family, or as anybody’s wife. But I knew she had been; the last I’d heard she was married to a guy who owned a local data-services company called QuikCom. After a few seconds his name came to me: Andy Jamison.
The rain actually seemed to be getting colder, and the body looked more bedraggled than ever, causing me to wonder if this was going to create any additional problems at the autopsy.
Again remembering my lunch date with Danny Ridout at the Auction Barn, but still having no appetite, I called him to ask for a rain check.
‘That must be what the learned among us refer to as a “wisecrack”,’ he said.
‘It was a waggery.’
‘Naw, you’re thinkin’ of a whim-wham there.’
I went around checking the name tags of the uniformed cops I didn’t know until I found Hardy, Jason L. and asked him what he’d seen when he got here.
He glanced over at the body with a focused but not self-important expression, organising his recollections. ‘Naturally the first thing I noticed was her, just like she is now,’ he said. ‘I gloved up and checked for a carotid pulse, but it was obvious there wasn’t gonna be one. About a dozen civilians milling around, so I was thinking no footprints that would do us any good, but I herded them back anyway and went ahead and secured the scene. All the tyre tracks I could make out down there were accounted for by the vehicles present, and the vehicles were all accounted for by the onlookers. That’s basically it until the geeks and suits got here.’ He glanced down at my street clothes and cleared his throat in embarrassment. ‘I mean – ’
‘No problem,’ I said. ‘I’m undercover. Any other thoughts?’
‘Well, I looked inside all the vehicles the best I could without touching them, but I didn’t see anything.’
‘What were you looking for?’
He shrugged. ‘Nothing in particular – a bloody knife maybe, rope, tape, maybe a mallet or some big nails – just anything that looked interesting.’
I nodded. ‘Anybody volunteering theories, talking like a cop, trying to posse up with you?’
‘No, sir.’
‘How about anybody hanging back, watching the crowd instead of the body, antsy, looking flushed or too pale, anything like that?’
‘No, sir. When I was looking into the cars I’d give it about a five-count, then turn and check the crowd. Nothing looked funny.’
I wondered if I’d been anywhere near this smart when I was starting out.
‘Hear anybody say anything at all that made you take notice?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Okay, Jason, you know what we need now?’
‘Yes, sir, I think so,’ he said. ‘A clean twenty-ten.’
‘Which means – ?’
‘Lawyer-proof,’ he said. ‘I can get it to you by end of shift.’
‘But first, I think this woman’s husband is Andy Jamison, the computer guy, and I need somebody to find him and make the notification. You ever done that?’
‘Yes, sir, once.’
‘Then you know how it goes. If you’re going to get anything interesting in the way of a reaction, it’ll be when he opens the door and sees the uniform or when you hit him with the news, so stay alert. Pay attention to whether he wants to know what happened, when, where and why, or tries to talk you out of it really being her – all that stuff. If he doesn’t, he’s probably our best suspect. Either way, don’t act like you suspect him of anything, don’t get spiritual with him and don’t say you know how he feels. Just keep it simple and make sure he’s okay before you leave.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Hardy nodded and headed back downslope toward his cruiser.
By now Hazen must have lost interest in my take, because he was nowhere to be seen. I looked around the scene one last time, as usual not wanting to walk away for fear of missing something. But I knew Wayne and his people were too good at what they did for that to be a legitimate worry.
‘Okay,’ I said, stripping off the gloves and stuffing them into my jacket pocket. ‘I’m going back to Three and get the paperwork started. Let me know if anything else turns up.’
Mouncey moved to join me. ‘First time I ever seen you do that, Lou.’
‘Do what?’
‘Send a kid blue to get first look at the old man.’
‘Maybe he’s not the usual kid blue,’ I said, but my mind wasn’t on the conversation. I was wondering exactly how crucifixion causes death and how long it takes to kill the victim.
‘So you be workin’ this one youself, boss?’
‘Yeah, I think so,’ I said as we headed down the way Hardy had gone. ‘I wouldn’t want to fall into sloth.’
Then I remembered Coach Bub again, a man who was never troubled by hesitation or self-doubt, and wondered what his advice would be if he were here. After that I thought of my friend Jonas McCashion, a history teacher, and the reason was no mystery. The title of his most recent book was The Blood Imperative: Barbarity Through the Ages, and I intended to track him down for a free consult.
FOUR
But between meetings, returning calls, catching up on scheduling and reports, getting a file started on the Gold homicide and trying my best not to think about going home, I managed to forget about Jonas that afternoon.
And for whatever reason – maybe wanting to feel useful, maybe just wanting some air – I’d gone ahead with my decision to work lead on Gold’s case. Glancing at the board, I settled on Mouncey and Danny Ridout to help with the interviews. One of the reasons I wanted Mouncey was her uncanny way of making people feel they needed to explain themselves to her. I had no idea how she did it, but it made her one of the two or three best interviewers I’d ever known. Danny, on the other hand, had those big, innocent, disappointed eyes that just kept closing in on liars until they finally lost heart and gave up the truth. He and Mouncey had a weird chemistry of some kind that made them a good team, and they usually got results, but sending them out together was also good for a few laughs.
Next I called Max Karras’ office to book an appointment for a consult with him later in the week, taking the first hour he had open. However, thanks to all the time I’d spent chitchatting while I waited in his outer office, I knew all about his secretary Andrea’s kids, her marital problems, and her never-ending war against weight gain, and we were pals. She didn’t hesitate to rat Max out, telling me he’d just had a cancellation and was playing online poker.
‘How much time has he got?’
‘About half an hour. Want me to get him for you?’
When he picked up I said, ‘Bill me for a session, Max. I’ve got a case I want to talk to you about later, but