The Necklace

by Matt Witten

  The four pizza slices sat between them, uneaten. “Robert, I am so grateful for everything you’ve done for my family. But I gotta ask: since you felt so deeply about Amy’s murder—”

  He gave her an incredulous look. “Did I beat a confession out of him?”

  She kept going, determined. “Well, yeah. Or at least—”

  “No fucking way. I would never do something like that. Is that what the sister told you?”

  “You questioned him for ten hours without a break.”

  “I didn’t do a single damn thing out of the ordinary. It was just good solid interrogation technique.”

  Despite his anger, Susan forced herself to press on without apologies. “You told him you’d found his fingerprints.”

  “It’s perfectly legal to lie during an interrogation.”

  “But I mean, people do make fake confessions, right?”

  Robert picked up his fork. “All I said to him was, if he told us the truth, we’d give him a break. And let me tell you something.” He pointed his fork at her. “After that man confessed, he slept like a baby. Put his head right down on the table and passed out. ’Cause that’s what guilty people do. Soon as they give it up, their whole body relaxes. Curt Jansen killed your daughter. There’s not a single doubt in my mind. In my twenty-five years with the FBI, I never once arrested a man I thought might be innocent.”

  Susan held up her hands placatingly. “I understand you being pissed off at me—”

  “I’m not,” he said, though he obviously was. “I just don’t want you to have some crazy delusion that—”

  She took the baggie with the necklace out of her coat pocket. She set it on the table next to the pizza slices.

  He stopped dead. She could tell he recognized the necklace immediately.

  He stared at it. Then he touched the necklace through the plastic, as if proving to himself it was real. Neither of them said anything for about ten seconds.

  Then he asked, “Where the hell did you get this?”

  “I made a surprise visit to my ex-husband in western New York. He has a new six-year-old daughter now, Emily. She was wearing this necklace.”

  She took the photo of Amy out of her wallet and held it up. She named the beads on Amy’s necklace, in order. “Purple dolphin, pink duck, yellow, green, an orange cat …”

  He took the photo from her, holding it next to Emily’s necklace and comparing the two.

  “Same pattern in both,” Susan said.

  Robert ran his hand through his hair, then looked up at her. “Maybe your ex-husband had a new one made.”

  “That’s what he said. But it’s not what Emily told me. She said, ‘My daddy found it.’”

  Robert’s eyes opened wide. “You’re shitting me.”

  “Her exact words. I’m scared for her.”

  Robert put the photo down and stood up. He looked like he wanted to run away. But his eyes kept getting pulled back to that necklace sitting on the table.

  He said, “Do you have any other reason to suspect him, or just this?”

  Susan looked down. Shame washed through her, but she had to overcome it. She had to convince Robert.

  She had to tell him—and herself—the truth.

  “There’s so many things about Danny I tried to ignore all these years. But now they’re coming back to me.”

  Robert sat back down. “What kinds of things?”

  “He had a terrible temper.” She looked up at Robert with appeal in her eyes. “He’d scream at me for no reason. If I overcooked his eggs.”

  Robert gave her a frown. “That doesn’t exactly make him a child rapist and murderer.”

  Before she even knew what she was saying, she said, “He looked up her dress.”

  Robert’s mouth fell open. Susan felt horrible she’d never told this before to anybody, not even the cops who investigated Amy’s murder. “I wanted to believe I imagined it. So I told myself I never really saw it. I convinced myself.”

  She felt tears starting up but kept going. “When we made love, he’d want me to wear these little-girl outfits. And talk really cutesy.”

  Lying in bed in that stupid schoolgirl uniform. Danny on top of her pulling up the pink plaid skirt. Susan looking away, waiting for it to be over …

  God, it was so sick! But she’d tell Robert everything, goddamn it, she’d spare herself nothing.

  She wiped her eyes with her hand and said, “And the way he acted toward Amy sometimes. Like when she was taking a bath …”

  Amy at age five, taking a bubble bath. Danny sits in a chair by the tub, rubbing her little tush with a washrag. Susan watches from the doorway, wondering if this is okay.

  “I thought I was just being stupid. That I should be happy Danny and Amy were so close …”

  She couldn’t hold it back anymore and started to sob. Through her tears she looked at Robert. “I’m so ashamed—”

  But he wasn’t looking at her; he was staring at something behind her. “Shh!”

  “What?” she said, bewildered. She was about to turn and look at whatever had drawn his eyes, but then he startled her by sweeping the baggie with the necklace off the table and out of sight. It was in his lap now, she thought. Why had he—

  “Agent Pappas,” she heard Danny say. He was walking up from behind her and coming to their table.

  Robert didn’t stand up to greet him, no doubt because of the necklace in his lap. He looked up at Danny with a welcoming smile. “Mr. Lentigo.”

  The men shook hands. Robert was acting so friendly to Danny. Did that mean he didn’t believe her story?

  But he has to believe it.

  Robert said, “It’s great to see you again.” He’d used those exact same words with her, and she wondered if she could really trust this man. She saw his right arm move and sensed he was putting the necklace away inside one of his pants pockets. He wouldn’t steal it from me, would he? That’s crazy thinking, isn’t it?

  Danny said, “Agent Pappas, thank you so much for coming. It means the world to us, doesn’t it, Susan?”

  Us? Susan thought. But she said, “Yes, it does.” Still trying to figure out what was going on between the three of them, she wiped her tears with her napkin.

  Danny said sympathetically, “You want another napkin?”

  “No thanks,” she said, her voice tight.

  Danny turned to Robert. “Susan’s been pretty emotional lately. Not that I blame her, with the execution tomorrow.”

  He’s telling Robert I’m a stupid hormonal woman and he shouldn’t take me seriously. She watched Robert, willing him to resist Danny. But Robert just nodded pleasantly and said, “Susan was telling me you live in western New York now.”

  Danny sat down next to Susan in the booth, as if Robert had invited him. She felt trapped. She smelled Danny’s aftershave—God, it smelled like the same kind she and Amy had bought him!—and wanted to scream.

  Danny said, “Yeah, I moved a few hours from Lake Luzerne. I had to get away.”

  Robert rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I can understand that. Get a whole new life, huh?”

  Susan sensed he was trying to figure Danny out. Danny sensed it too. He looked straight at Robert’s eyes. “So what else have you and Susan been talking about?”

  “Different things,” Robert said.

  Danny scrutinized Robert for a couple moments, then gave a huge sigh and rolled his eyes. “Oh God, she told you, didn’t she? She told you her crazy theory.”

  Susan held her breath. Robert said, “Yes, she told me.”

  Danny slapped his hand on the table. “I can’t believe this crap. Jansen confessed. He confessed to you.”

  Robert nodded again. “It’s true.”

  His face was so bland. Susan couldn’t tell whose side he was on. Were FBI agents trained to act like this?

  She felt like she should say something, but didn’t know what. Danny said, “You’ve got to convince her to stop this nonsense.”

  Robert cocked his
head, studying Danny. “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why? That monster killed my daughter! I want him to die and I want it to be over.” Danny turned to Susan. “Haven’t we suffered enough?”

  “How did you make that necklace anyway?” Robert asked casually, like it was just something he was kind of curious about, not something of earth-shattering importance.

  Relief poured through Susan as she realized at last that Robert really was taking her seriously.

  Danny realized it too. “Oh for chrissake,” he said. “Get on the internet. You’ll be able to find the same beads yourself.”

  “Is that the kind of thing you do?” Robert asked. “Have you ever made anything crafty before?”

  “None of your damn business,” Danny snapped.

  Susan hoped that Danny losing his temper made him seem more suspicious to Robert. But Robert’s face still gave nothing away. He nodded solemnly, then picked up his two mostly uneaten slices of pizza and stood up. He said to Danny, “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go take care of some things. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Susan stood too, eager to get away from Danny. But he said, “Look, Agent Pappas,” and started to get up—

  Robert put a hand on Danny’s shoulder. It was a seemingly friendly hand, but it kept Danny stuck to his seat. “No, you just got here. You should stay and try the pepperoni.”

  Then he leaned down and spoke quietly into Danny’s ear. “It’s delicious.”

  Susan was startled by the menace Robert had managed to put into those two words. She could see Danny was taken aback too.

  But then he recovered. He pointed his finger at Robert’s head.

  “You don’t get it,” Danny said. “Susan is mentally ill. I love her, but she’s been like that for twenty years. If she fools you into believing her delusions, when you know what happened to Amy, then you’re an idiot. You deserve everything that happens to you.”

  Robert gave Danny a nod and walked out.

  Susan started to follow him, then turned and took one last look at Danny. The anger on his face softened to compassion. “Susan, you need help. You gotta start therapy or something. If Prozac didn’t help, try something else.”

  Danny always knew how to throw her off balance. Her mouth opened, but no words came out, and then she turned and left.

  She joined Robert on the sidewalk. As they headed down the street, he said, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that guy is scared shitless.”

  Susan thought Robert was on her side now—but how far would he go to help her? She said, “That’s why he came—he’s trying to stop me.”

  The walk light turned red just when they got to the corner. Robert said, “But we still don’t know, what’s he scared of? Did he really … kill Amy?” Susan noticed he had trouble saying that out loud, just like she did. “Maybe he’s just afraid the real killer will get another trial and the execution will be postponed. And Danny will have to deal will all these media people falsely accusing him of murder.”

  The light turned green again and they started walking. What if Robert backed down and refused to get involved? What would she do then?

  “You have to help me,” she said. “They’re killing a man who may be innocent. And I’m afraid Danny will do the same thing to Emily that he did to Amy.”

  Robert shook his head. There was a bewildered anger in his eyes. “Curt Jansen was a fucking scumbag. And he told me he did it. Right to my face. He said he raped your daughter.”

  Susan looked closely at him. “But you’re not sure anymore.”

  He didn’t speak for a moment. She continued, “And you have the evidence right there in your pocket.”

  Robert breathed out heavily and his jaw tightened. Finally he said, “Well, let’s go see if you’re right.” He checked his watch. “If we leave now, we can make it to Williston by four.”

  Susan frowned, confused. “What’s in Williston?”

  “Hopefully,” Robert said, “that’s where we’ll learn the truth.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  FRIDAY, DECEMBER 3, PRESENT DAY

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, Susan was riding out of town in Robert’s rented gray compact. He said, “I don’t know when they close for the weekend. You okay if I go eighty?”

  “No problem,” Susan said. They were headed toward the FBI’s North Dakota field office in Williston, a hundred forty miles away.

  “If the cops stop us, I’ll flash my old FBI badge.” Robert gave her a mischievous grin. “I told them I lost it, so I still have it.”

  Susan said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “Hey, I’m doing this for me too. You think I want to be responsible for killing an innocent man?” He added, “If that’s what he is.”

  They climbed up into the rocky hills, practically the only ones on the road. The car was warm, and Susan realized she felt comfortable with Robert driving. Maybe her feelings about Danny were a mess, but she’d read Robert right: he was a kind person. She tried to remember the last time she had been alone in a car with a man. Well, not including the choir director of her church—

  “So what have you been up to for the past twenty years?” Robert asked.

  She gave a nervous laugh. “Kind of a big question.”

  “You still live in Lake Luzerne?”

  “Yeah. Same house, even.”

  Robert didn’t say anything, and Susan realized how sad that must sound. She said defensively, “I got it in the divorce and it’s paid off. It would be expensive to move.”

  “Sure. So are you working or …”

  “Yup, I’m still at Molly’s Diner. She died though. Her daughter Tina owns it now.”

  “Wow, you really are a Steady Eddie.”

  She looked at him, confused.

  “Sorry. When I was a kid, that’s what we called people who were, you know, steady.”

  She nodded ruefully. “You mean boring.”

  “No, reliable. If you were boring, you never would’ve stolen that necklace.”

  He snuck a glance at her, and she figured out what he was up to. She raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you trying to ask me something?”

  He smiled. “Fine, I’ll just be direct. How’d you get the necklace, did you steal it?”

  “Yup.”

  He laughed at the simplicity of her answer. She looked over at him, liking that she had made him laugh.

  He asked, “How’d you steal it?”

  “You gonna arrest me?”

  “Only if you had to kill somebody to do it.”

  “Didn’t kill him. Did squirt homemade pepper spray in his face though.”

  Robert looked over at her to see if she was kidding. “Homemade pepper spray?”

  “My mom’s special recipe. Rubbing alcohol and cayenne pepper.”

  “Okay, you have to tell me this story.”

  She did, and made him laugh a couple more times. Maybe she wasn’t quite as boring as she thought.

  She was grateful he wasn’t making her talk more about Danny. The necklace would do the talking.

  The FBI office in Williston was a two-story brick building, located next to a shopping mall a mile outside town. They made it there at 4:05. As they got out of the car, Robert said, “I hope these guys don’t leave early on Fridays.”

  They went inside and went up to the front desk. The receptionist was a man in his thirties who looked Native American and wore his hair in a long braid. Susan was surprised a guy with that kind of hair would work for the FBI, but maybe they had different rules up here in North Dakota.

  “Good afternoon,” Robert said briskly. He held open his old FBI badge. “I’m retired Special Agent Robert Pappas from the New York Division. I need to speak to the director of this office.”

  The receptionist checked the badge, then looked Robert and Susan over. He didn’t seem impressed. “Do you have an appointment?”

  “No. But I have evidence that the man who’s scheduled to be executed tomorrow at Hodge Hills may not b
e guilty.”

  The receptionist blinked, scratched his unshaven cheek, and twenty minutes later Susan and Robert were sitting in an upstairs conference room across the table from Stan Williams, Director of the North Dakota Division of the FBI, along with three special agents in their thirties and forties. Susan had been told their names, but she’d forgotten them. Director Williams was clearly the man they had to impress.

  “So what do you got?” Williams said in a tired voice, like he was eager to get to his weekend already.

  Susan and Robert launched into their story for the next ten minutes, him talking about the original case and her talking about everything she’d discovered and remembered in the past several days. Williams held an unlit pipe in his hand. From time to time he’d fiddle with it, or smell it, or tap it against the table. His lips were curled in a sardonic expression that barely changed even when Robert dramatically produced the baggie with the necklace and laid it on the table in front of him.

  The three special agents were pretty stone-faced too, but Susan got the feeling they were intrigued yet hiding it in case their boss felt differently. She hoped that Williams’s cynical look was just a mask and he was intrigued too.

  Robert finished with, “So as you can see, we need you to order immediate DNA testing on this necklace.”

  Williams nodded thoughtfully—a good sign, she felt—and tapped his pipe on the table twice.

  “Do you know the expression folie a deux?” he said.

  Robert attempted a little levity. “Sorry, my French is a bit rusty.”

  “It means, a folly shared by two people.” He pointed his pipe at Robert and Susan, making clear who those two people were. “This guy was tried and convicted. He filed about …” Williams checked a printout on the table in front of him. “Fifteen appeals over a period of twenty years, and every single one of them was shot down.”

  “But now we have new evidence that may be exculpatory,” Robert said.

  Williams rolled his eyes. “Right. A stolen necklace.”

  Susan watched Robert as he sat up even straighter, holding his ground. “That doesn’t matter. As long as it wasn’t stolen by a cop during the course of an investigation, it’s admissible.”