“Hi.”
Hugh sat across from her in the wingback armchair. “There is no free lunch. We’re hoping you can provide some information for us.”
She shrugged. “I doubt I’ll want to.”
Hugh smiled non-committally. “We doubt you will either, but let’s try. You’re aware that Karl Steiffel died suddenly. How well did you know him?”
And her answer jolted Joe, reminding him that she was a lot smarter than she looked. “How do you measure ‘how well’? Waving across the room? Having dinner? Going to bed with him?”
“Let’s start at the deep end. Going to bed with him.”
“Once in a while. He kinda expected it from girls who worked for Miriam.”
“So you slept with him just because he expected it?”
“No, because he handled the payroll. I liked to get paid on a regular basis.”
“Since you brought it up…” Joe asked, “Why didn’t you pay your bills?”
She looked at him warily.
“Miss Bowerman. Alicia. If I may call you Alicia.”
“Call me whatever you damn please.”
“Alicia, you don’t live in a pigsty; pigs are a lot neater and cleaner than that. And you had unpaid bills lying among your many little stacks of unopened mail.”
“You searched my apartment.”
“So did Missing Persons. We were afraid you’d been killed like Steiffel and Davenport, and we were trying to find you.” Joe was watching for any body language that might indicate she was getting worried. She wasn’t.
Hugh chimed in, “So did I. Same reason. But there’s a big mystery here. We know you live in a trash dump. So why in the world were you shaking a mop out of Steiffel’s back door when you haven’t dusted anything in your own apartment in years?”
She laughed out loud, the first Joe had ever heard from her.
Hugh pushed. “What is the notation 38, 400, 50, 2000, 44, 1000, on the back of an envelope? I think your dad sent the note.”
She shrugged. “I don’t remember.”
Joe suggested, “You know, I’ve been thinking about that, Hugh. Stegener is one of those interested in building a gun club south of town, and 38, 44, and 50 are popular calibers of weapons. In fact, Stegener himself threatened my partner and me with a 50-caliber weapon. Alicia, was this a grocery list for ammo you were supposed to purchase?”
She studied him a long moment. “You’re either a real smarty-pants or you oughta be writing mystery novels. You’re creative that way.”
“Let’s go with the smarty-pants, since you mentioned that your father said I was smart. I’m going to guess here that the reason you didn’t pay your bills is because the lavish salary on the books that was theoretically paid to you actually went to buy ammo for Stegener’s gun club, and probably other purchases as well. However, I find that hard to believe, because Steiffel would have to send you a W-2 at the end of the year, and you’d end up paying lots of income tax on money you never saw. You’re not that dumb.”
She studied him and opened her mouth. And closed it. And opened it. And closed it. She studied Hugh. He didn’t stare back; he just looked at her casually, calmly, pleasantly.
The silence didn’t open her up, so after a few long moments, Hugh said, “I’m wondering. Miriam Stegener’s mayoral campaign drew in a lot of money. Still does, in fact; the flow slowed down, but it hasn’t stopped. Her husband’s gun club project needs a lot of money. Buying land, even land down at Picacho, isn’t cheap. It all fits together kind of like a hand in a glove. But it’s not a done deal yet, because they’re still negotiating to buy the property. So some of the expenses are best kept hidden behind the door, out of plain sight. Especially if that gun club is actually a paramilitary organisation in disguise. That’s what it looks like, anyway. We should all be writing mystery novels, because we’ve all been speculating about that. That sort of thing isn’t legal in Arizona. Possibly, probably, your father was part of the gun club consortium; his bio says he was ultra-conservative. So are you, or maybe you’re just a camp follower helping them feather their nest. But like Joe, I can’t see you being that dumb.”
She grimaced, but it was probably just the first part of a smile that she stifled. “You know why I don’t like idle chitchat? Because I’m smarter than the person I’m talking to and it’s boring, unless I decide to play with their minds. Except you two. I think this time I’m in over my head.”
Joe and Hugh had just been handed a compliment.
Where to go from here? Joe gave Hugh the opening, but Hugh didn’t take it. So Joe said, “Thank you. I deal with kids a lot. In fact I have a few of my own. I know what bad kids are like, and you’re not one of them. For all your black clothes and black outlook, you’re pretty neat, and you got a double helping when the brains were served up. And you’re tough; you’ve had to be. As soon as you figure out who you are and where you want to go, you’ll be unstoppable.”
She watched him a moment and her eyes glistened. “I wish my dad had ever said that.”
Hugh saw her soft spot too, Joe was sure. “Unstoppable, yeah. And brains. How did you get out of Steiffel’s house without tripping the security system?”
“His master bedroom window is masked by shrubbery. In or out, whatever. It’s easy. A freeway exit.”
Hugh’s eyebrows went up. “Freeway. You’re saying you aren’t the only one who used it?”
“Whenever Charlie was out of town…”
“Charlie. Charlie Stegener?”
She nodded. “Charlie installed the security system in Steiffel’s house. He puts himself out as the big hotshot safety expert, and Steiffel believed it. So Charlie put in his security system for him. Know why really? Charlie wanted to find out if Miriam was having an affair with Steiffel and a security system was the way to trap them.”
Hugh sat back and smirked. “I bet the Easter bunny she was.”
Alicia smirked too. “You win all the coloured eggs, Cupcake.”
“So she came and went through the master bedroom window. Pretty damn convenient.”
Joe tossed the Molotov cocktail. “Did Miriam murder Steiffel?”
Her head snapped around to stare at him. Her eyes were still glistening. Something was going on inside there. A good five seconds later she said, “I don’t know.”
Joe softened his voice. “Your father taught you well. Whatever happened in his life I don‘t know, but something did, and from it he learned to trust no one. To confide in no one. You learned that lesson from him, but now something is burning inside you, and you can’t trust anyone to tell it to. Alicia, I feel so sorry for you. You can’t win this one.”
Hugh was watching Joe. Obviously this had just gone someplace he wasn’t prepared to go to. It was all Joe’s now. How to handle it?
When all else fails, try honesty. He kept his voice soft and low. “When my son was five and my daughter two and a half, their mother ran off with her drug supplier and they drowned when he flipped their car into the Crosscut Canal. I had a hard time. My son had it even harder because kids that age think it’s all their fault. A counselor named John led me through it and past it, and a psychologist named Maria helped Rico. Now she offers her services at other times when I need advice about the psychological aspect of some case. When we were trying to find you, I talked to a teacher at your school; go, Panthers!; and he mentioned your interest in Goth. So my wife and I took Maria to lunch to ask her about Goth and how it affects women who experiment with it. She was very enlightening. Among other things, she talked about the element of distrust and how it can be passed down from parent to child.”
“She’s right. I can’t trust you.”
“No, you can’t. I’m a cop.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“Neither did I just now. So I went with honesty.”
Again she lapsed into silence.
Hugh wiggled himself further back into his chair. Joe just sat.
Her voice was flat, sad, hollow. Distant.
“Miriam. Dad knew her through Charlie. Dad was one of the protectors. You guessed that one right on the nose. They’re soldiers protecting democracy. That’s what they call themselves. Protectors of Democracy.”
“And what do you call them?” Hugh was watching her closely, but it appeared casual. Joe happened to know that Hugh was better at reading subtle body language signs than he was.
She shrugged. “Buttheads. Booze artists. Whatever. Nothing. Miriam’s assistant got fired; I don’t know why Miriam fired her; and Dad said, ‘hire my daughter. She needs a job.’ What the hell. I thought it would be pretty cushy. She had money, I didn’t have much to do. Then I found out how nasty she really is. But by then I was hooked into it. Into her and Charlie. Yeah, you’re right. Those figures I jotted down were an ammo order. My salary, hardy har, was supply money. When I complained about the tax load they reimbursed me under the table.”
She sat quiet, so Hugh offered, “Now that Joe mentions it, I think I’d heard about the distrust aspect. Do you want me to leave the room?”
“Naa, don’t bother.”
“Then may I suggest that by working for a protector’s wife, you were hoping maybe, just maybe, your dad would like you a little better. Not necessarily hoping consciously, but maybe subconsciously. Did he?”
“Not a friggin bit. No, I didn’t think about that, but now you said it, yeah, I think you may be right. You’re a smart cookie too, like Joe. But as the old ladies say, that’s all water under the bridge.”
Joe smiled, “I think I’ve heard old men say it too when they’re helpless to change the situation.”
Hugh added, “And ‘It’s only a game’ is what the losers say. You never hear the winners say that.”
She actually smiled. It faded quickly. “Apparently someone found out about Charlie’s underhanded money deals. Now the FBI and the treasury department are both investigating him and he’s furious. Way past furious. He wanted the protectors to step in; you know, throw a little muscle around, get rid of the investigation. Walt got mad at him for thinking that’s what the Cause is all about. Cause, capital C. What the protectors are working for. To Walt, it’s not about individuals.”
Joe nodded. “In other words, Miriam was a fundraiser, a front. Did she know they were using her?”
“Not at first. You think Charlie’s a pill when he’s mad, you should see Miriam. Mushroom cloud. Yeah, I watched him try to punch you at the zoo that day. I was holding the banner. And I was thinking yahoo, someone took the asshole down a peg.”
Joe grinned. “I’m glad someone appreciated my efforts. Miriam sure didn’t.”
Alicia smiled too. She sobered. “When it looked like Karl might go to the police to save his own skin, she cooked up a plan to protect her interests. She told me I was to get Steiffel into bed and get him so fuck-brained he was off on another planet, then she or someone would shoot him up with some schedule one controlled substance and plant some of it in the kitchen. She and I would go out through the window, Charlie would call the cops, an anonymous tip, and Steiffel would go down for possession.”
Hugh asked, “Why were you shaking out the mop?”
“She spilled some. You don’t think she’s gonna clean it up, do you? I didn’t think I’d stepped out far enough to show.”
“You didn’t, really. Shadows.”
Joe watched her face. “Tell us the rest.”
Again that silence. Then, “When Steiffel was found dead, I figured it musta been a heart attack. He was really huffing and grunting, you know, taxing his heart and everything else. Miriam said so too. It worked so well, except for the dropping dead part, that we tried it on Davenport. When he turned up dead too, I got scared. He shouldn‘t have died.”
“You think you may be an accomplice to murder and you don’t know what to do.” Joe sat back.
Hugh looked grim. “Joe tried honesty; so will I. You’re right, you are an accomplice to murder. But what you don’t know is that we’re both on your side.”
Alicia snorted.
Hugh persisted. “We’re going after Miriam for murder one. That is, premeditated. The fact that she planned it all out using you makes it premeditation. But you didn’t know what she was going to do. We call that an unwitting accomplice.”
“I don’t…I don’t know.” Her voice was weak, soft.
Hugh sat forward, his elbows on his knees, to watch her face. “So far you have been smart, quick, very sophisticated, and worldly wise. But for all that sophistication, you’re still stuck in the body of a teenager; You haven’t even been alive two decades yet. You haven’t had much yet in the way of long-term life experience, and your emotions haven’t had enough time to mature.” He raised a hand. “You can’t help it; it’s something you’re just going to have to wait out. We all do. There’s no shortcut. You’re still of an age where you need adults.”
He paused, so Joe picked it up. “I am not your father’s friend, as you know. He had no friends. But I have two dear, lifelong friends, Johnny and Bubba. They took your father in as a friend even though he couldn’t respond in kind. That was a very important lesson for this little kid. Accept people on their terms, not yours. Now his daughter is in big trouble. She doesn’t know it, but she can trust me. If I…”
“Sure you say that. You want a conviction and I’m a key witness. You’re in luck, and I’m toast.”
“You may be right. A lot will depend on which prosecutor you end up with. However, and this is my point: because Johnny and Bubba didn’t turn their backs on your father, neither will I. If I advise you, Hugh or I either one, it will be for your welfare, not the state’s. Yours. I guarantee you that.”
“Yes.” Hugh nodded and jerked a thumb toward Joe. “What he said.”
Her face grew tortured and tears welled up. “I don’t have any choice, do I.” her lip trembled. You could see her iron resolve melt, see the vulnerability emerge, watch the dark fade into grey.
The steel Goth was melting.
And she bowed forward sobbing.
Dear Bridgid,-
I’m not much of a letter writer, but here goes. Da is popping his buttons. He took your letter down to Hooligan’s and read it aloud for his drinking buddies. He is extremely proud and happy for you as are all his pals. They all send their warmest greetings. Declan is green with envy. He wants to see the Grand Canyon and the burros that live in it. Also the bighorn sheep. He asks did you see burros and bighorn sheep? Mum is dead certain you are painting a rosy picture when actually you are terribly miserable, but you don’t want to admit to the massive mistake you made, you know, that harem business she talks about where Joe has three other wives. Don’t worry. No one believes her. Your happiness is simply oozing out of your letter. Oh Declan also wants to see the hummingbirds.
Mum got into a bit of a squabble three days ago when she went to St. Anne’s and tried to get Sister George arrested. No I am not joking. She heard something on the telly about alienation of affection. It was in a drama of some sort. She decided that it was Sister George who made you hate her and was guilty of alienating your affection and she tried to get a constable to arrest her. He didn’t, of course, and when he called up Da, Da explained the whole business to him. When he told the constable about your wedding, the officer laughed and said he had heard about it and how the Galway Fire Service delivered Joe to you in a pumper. Tis famous you are, Little Bridey.
Mr. Waite invested in us! So we are building more little houses with thatched roofs. It is really hard to find good thatchers anymore. Da says it’s a lost art and is considering learning how, mostly so we can keep our roofs in good condition, although a good thatch job should last about three hundred years. Also we are planting yews and shrubbery so that the cottages will feel secluded so now we will be able to handle five sets of guests at a time. We are getting one or two rentals a week already and we have not been advertising much at all and it is not even the peak season my business principles instructor talked about. Da hired Mamie O’Sullivan’s second youn
gest to help with milking. The lad is also a teacher because he shows the guests how to do it. I didn’t know the moiled cow is so patient, but she lets them do it. When you come visit you won’t have to sterilise the cream separator. The guests seem to love doing that.
Inspector Daniels was by yesterday with a health inspector accompanying him. He escorted the health person all over the farm. Whatever the fellow was seeking apparently is not here, for he handed us a paper that is a clean bill of health and went straightway to the airport soon thereafter. Inspector Daniels invited himself to tea, which we happily obliged.
He says he is muckle frustrated in his investigation of Mr. Wilkie’s murder. He found the stolen pony trap. They gave it back to Mr. Applegate and he immediately sold it to a royal of some sort at an inflated price by advertising that this was indeed the trap associated with the murder. Our murder is so sensational kingdom wide that his gambit worked.
Declan looked up Gambel quail and wants to see one of those too. Declan helps an awful lot when guests are here. We are making certain Mum doesn’t have to do anything because we said she wouldn’t have to. Do you know Rose Malloy, she is Father Malloy’s brother’s daughter and she does the cooking. Good, too. Thank you for writing. We really appreciate it. Declan wants to know do you have rattlesnakes where you live.
Your loving brother Gilly
Chapter 8 Seba
Ah, the peace of evening. The sun had just settled beneath the city skyline in a rosy glow. Bridgid had spatchcocked a chicken, Joe had added a new word to his vocabulary; spatchcock; Tommy was handed a mystery death that he solved in four hours flat, a new world record, and Gretchen was still insufferably smug about having found Barbara Marsh and convincing the woman to cooperate with Meg Cozynski in Fraud. Smug is smug. Joe and Tommy had found Alicia Bowerman; they could have been just as smug if they so desired.
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