The Necklace

by Matt Witten

Williams waved his pipe dismissively at Susan. “We’d have to take her word on where she got it from.”

  Susan said, “The individual I stole it with would back me up.”

  “You do realize you’d be opening yourself up to criminal prosecution.”

  “Do you think I care about that?”

  Robert broke in, “Sir, I’m not saying her ex-husband is definitely guilty, but don’t you think this evidence merits looking into?”

  Williams regarded Susan, using his free hand, the one that didn’t hold the pipe, to stroke his chin. “Why are you doing this? Are you trying to get back at your ex for some reason?”

  Susan’s jaw dropped. What an asshole! “Yeah. He may have killed my daughter.”

  “Are you still mad at him for divorcing you?” Williams pressed.

  Susan was speechless. Robert said, “That’s no way to talk to her.”

  Williams folded his arms. “I’m sorry for this woman’s loss, and sorry she got you snookered somehow, but I won’t let her wreak havoc on the entire criminal justice system just because—”

  Susan stood up, outraged, her chair tumbling to the floor behind her. “I am trying to save an innocent man and protect a six-year-old girl who’s in danger.”

  Williams waved his pipe. “You don’t know that—”

  She reached out and slapped his pipe away. It fell to the floor. Williams’ eyes opened wide, startled, unable to believe somebody would do that to him. Susan could hardly believe it either, but she wasn’t about to let this shithead stop her. She leaned her face in so it was only a couple feet from his. “If you don’t test this necklace for DNA, immediately, I will stand in front of all the TV cameras at the prison tomorrow and I will say: I’m the victim’s mother, and the man who’s being executed did not kill my daughter. And I will tell everybody you’re the man responsible for this sick tragedy. What was your name again—Williams?”

  Robert said to Susan, “That’s right—Stanley Williams. I know some national reporters you can talk to. This’ll be way bigger than just North Dakota.”

  Williams was furious. “Did you put her up to this? It’s unconscionable. It fits the legal definition of blackmail.”

  “Call it what you want, Mr. Williams,” Susan said. “If my ex-husband killed my daughter, he’s going to pay for it.”

  Williams said, “This is preposterous. It would be literally impossible to get that necklace analyzed by tomorrow. We don’t even have the victim’s DNA to compare it to.”

  “Yes, we do,” Robert said. “It’s in the case file.”

  He held out a thick file folder to Williams. But Williams didn’t take it. “Even with that,” he said, “it would take weeks to analyze the DNA.”

  “Not if you send the necklace to the lab in Minneapolis on the very next plane and pay them triple-time to get it done overnight.”

  Williams snapped, “I’m not letting some retired agent tell me how to do my job.”

  He went over to where his pipe lay on the floor. But Robert reached down and grabbed it. He took the pipe in both his hands and snapped it in two, splitting the stem from the bowl.

  Williams stared at his busted pipe, then at Robert, seething. Robert said, “Williams, don’t be a fucking idiot. Think what a hero you’ll be, saving an innocent man from execution at the eleventh hour and putting the real killer in prison. Susan and I will sing your praises to the sky, won’t we, Susan?”

  Susan put her hand to her heart and said to Williams in a high breathy voice, “You’re the best, sir.”

  Williams looked back and forth between the two of them, and his eyes looked lost, like he didn’t know which end was up anymore. In that moment, Susan knew they had won.

  Finally Williams said, “Whatever. Fine.”

  Susan said, “Thank you,” trying to let Williams lose with grace. Then she sat and listened as Williams and the three special agents, who were still sitting in the room even though they hadn’t spoken the entire time, discussed the details of who would travel with the necklace to Minneapolis, and who Williams should contact at the lab.

  Five minutes later, Susan and Robert headed down the hallway to the elevator, trying not to exult too loudly in their victory. But as soon as the elevator door closed behind them, leaving them alone, they both broke into smiles. Robert put up his hand and gave her a big high five.

  “‘You’re the best, sir,’” he said, imitating Susan’s voice.

  She laughed, then asked, “Do you think Williams will get it analyzed properly or will he just pretend?”

  “Are you kidding? You think he wants the two of us coming after his ass again?”

  Soon they were on the highway riding back to Hodge Hills, still punchy from their success. Again, they seemed to have signed some sort of pact not to talk about Danny or Amy for a while. Robert told her some FBI war stories, like the time he was working undercover and had six months’ work go down the drain when his younger daughter called one night and asked, “Daddy, are you still working undercover?” so loud the bad guys heard it. Another time he solved a bank robbery when he noticed on the video that the robber sneezed. They were able to recover his DNA from the window he sneezed on.

  “That’ll teach him to cover his nose next time,” Susan said.

  Robert smiled. “In his defense, he was holding a gun at the time.”

  Then he asked about her life in the past twenty years, and she managed to find her own funny stories to tell. About John Walker, or as everyone called him Walker John, a ninety-year-old customer at the diner who liked to put his bony hand on her elbow and offer her “sexual healing”; about her choir director, who always referred to God as “You Know Who” and never scheduled practices on the 13th of the month because that was unlucky; and of course about Lenora and her complicated love life.

  “Your mother is an inspiration,” Robert said.

  Outside the sky grew dark. Susan began to feel weird about having a good time when a man’s life was at stake, and she might be about to discover her ex-husband had killed her daughter.

  Next to her, Robert heaved a sigh. She looked at his profile as he drove. She found herself gazing at the lines next to his right eye and remembering when she first met him and was obsessed with his dark irises.

  He seemed to be feeling contemplative too, because he said, “Times like now, I kinda miss being an agent.” Then his face twisted a little. “Don’t miss fuckwads like Williams, though.”

  Susan looked out the window. In the darkness, she made out an abandoned barn on top of a hill.

  She said, “After all this, they better find something on that necklace.”

  “I’ve gotten DNA off of objects a lot older than that.” He drove around a lumber truck that was doing forty. “I counted six places on the necklace that were likely reservoirs for DNA. In fact, there was material in a crevice under the dolphin’s flippers that definitely looked like it could be dried blood.”

  Susan shook her head and said, “Fuck.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  She chewed at her thumbnail. “He was my childhood sweetheart. Now I’m trying to prove he’s a psychopath who raped and killed my baby.”

  Robert nodded. “I’m trying to prove I got a false confession and put an innocent man on death row for twenty years. This was my biggest case, you know. The one I was most proud of.”

  As they passed a billboard for a restaurant that advertised split pea soup, of all things, Susan said, “I so appreciate you doing this. It took a lot of courage.”

  Robert looked at her, and something about his look made her skin tingle. “Talk about courage,” he said. “For you to do this, you’re the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

  She looked away, embarrassed.

  “Are there any good bars in Hodge Hills?” she asked.

  “One,” he said.

  They headed toward it. When they got there, a country band was playing and the Friday night crowd was already out in force. The place was called The Tipsy Cow and
reminded Susan of the Crow Bar back home in Luzerne. A dozen or so people danced while others clapped along to a song about cowboy boots and red skirts that she recognized from the radio.

  They made their way to a booth and got the menu. Then she thought of something. “Robert, I feel like I should buy you dinner, because you’re doing so much for me—”

  “No worries.”

  “I just feel like I should explain,” she said, and went on to tell him the story of how her money was stolen.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said. “Order double of whatever you want. You deserve it.”

  “That’s why I haven’t been able to take a shower all week,” she said. “I’m sure you’ve noticed it, even though you’re too nice a guy to say anything.”

  She listened to herself and thought, Oh my God, am I flirting? She thought she’d forgotten how.

  Robert smiled and said, “I haven’t noticed. But then again, I have a lousy sense of smell.”

  The waitress came, and Susan ordered the hamburger she’d been craving all day. Robert got a burger too. Then he started tapping his feet to the music and she was afraid he’d ask her to dance. Not only was she rusty at dancing but her leg was feeling a little off. But luckily, he seemed content to talk, or listen to the music when it got too loud for that.

  The burgers came and she dived right into hers, eating it in about eight bites. It was amazing. “This is absolutely the best hamburger I’ve ever had,” she said.

  “It’s not half bad,” he agreed. “And wait ’til you try the fries.”

  They each had a beer, and after dinner they ordered more. The Tipsy Cow didn’t mess around; their beers came in big thick mugs with good heads of foam.

  Susan said, “I just want to sit here and drink in this bar for the rest of my life.”

  Robert lifted his mug and toasted her. “To justice. However delayed.”

  They clinked glasses and were about to drink when Susan saw Lisa Jansen staring at them from across the bar. Susan froze, drink in hand, as Lisa stormed up.

  “You fucking bitch,” she said to Susan.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  FRIDAY, DECEMBER 3, PRESENT DAY

  SUSAN AND ROBERT put down their drinks, startled.

  Lisa stood over Susan. “The second I saw you with this asshole”—she pointed at Pappas—“I figured out who you really are. Why did you lie to me?”

  Susan’s throat tightened and she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She wanted to tell Lisa everything. But she couldn’t, not yet. What if the necklace came back negative for Amy’s DNA? How could she tell Lisa there was a chance her brother might be freed, and then have it not happen? That would be sheer torture for Lisa.

  “I’m sorry,” Susan mumbled.

  Lisa’s eyes narrowed with disgust. “Sorry? What the hell were you up to yesterday?”

  Robert tried to interrupt. “Ms. Jansen—”

  Lisa turned on him, furious. “You shut up. You’re the scumbag who forced a false confession from my brother.” Then she turned back to Susan. “In the coffee shop. Why were you asking me all those questions? It was like you were interrogating me.”

  Susan shook her head, unable to think of what to say.

  “It’s because you have doubts about my brother’s guilt. Don’t you?”

  Susan still didn’t answer. She wasn’t ready. She pictured the whole mess she’d be causing if she said yes right now. Lisa would tell the reporters. She’d tell lawyers. Who knew what would happen then?

  She needed solid proof Danny had committed murder before she accused him to the whole world. Because what if he was innocent?

  “You have to tell the cops!” Lisa said, pleading now. “Curt is gonna die!”

  All around them people were watching. The band was taking a break, so Susan and Lisa were the entertainment now.

  “I’m sorry, Lisa,” Susan said.

  Lisa’s eyes bored into her. “You just don’t give a shit, do you? Fuck you.” She turned to Pappas. “And fuck you too.”

  With one quick motion she swept their two mugs of beer off the table. They crashed to the floor, glass breaking and beer flying.

  Robert jumped up to protect Susan, but Lisa walked away. At the front door of the bar she looked back at them with loathing. Then she stalked out.

  Robert asked Susan, “You okay?”

  Susan looked at the messy floor. Robert sat back down. “You didn’t want to tell her?”

  “What if it all turns out to be a big nothing?” Susan said. “What if they don’t find any DNA? Or they find Curt’s DNA.”

  Robert frowned. “You think Curt and Danny were in on it together somehow?”

  Susan grabbed at her hair. “I don’t know what I think!”

  Their waitress came over with a busboy, who carried a mop and broom. “Had a little excitement here, huh? We’ll clean that up for ya.”

  As the busboy started mopping, Susan said to Robert, “Let’s just get the DNA results. Then we’ll know what to do.”

  The bar no longer felt like a safe, warm place, so Robert paid up and they walked out. “Now where?” he said.

  She had been dreading this moment. She’d have to go sleep in the bus station—if it was open. No way she would ask Robert to pay for a hotel room for her.

  “I should get my suitcase out of your trunk.”

  “Where will you sleep?”

  “I’ll find somewhere. No worries.”

  “Don’t be silly. I’ll get you a room.”

  “You really don’t have to do that—”

  He waved off her protest. “You can pay me back later. We’ll go back to the Econo Lodge. Now that Lisa knows who you are, there’s no point in hiding from her.”

  They headed for the hotel, where they walked up to the front desk. They didn’t see Lisa, but there were several people nearby in their thirties and forties—men in khakis and women in business suits—who looked like out-of-town media people. Susan hoped they wouldn’t recognize her.

  “Hi, I’m looking for a room for my friend here,” Robert told the desk clerk, a middle-aged woman with a worried expression.

  “I’m afraid we don’t have any vacancies,” the clerk said.

  “You must have a room somewhere,” Robert cajoled. He gestured toward Susan and said quietly, “This is Susan Lentigo. She’s the mother of the little girl who was killed.”

  Susan looked around, afraid some reporter had heard and would start asking her questions.

  The clerk’s brow furrowed and she looked even more worried. “I’m sorry, but between all the reporters and TV people and protesters—”

  “Ms. Lentigo has had a very difficult week. She needs a good night’s sleep before the execution.”

  “I’d like to help you. I just can’t.”

  Robert shook his head, frustrated. “Fine. What’s the name of that other hotel, on Clark Street?”

  “The Clark Street Hotel.” Susan wondered if the clerk was messing with Robert, but decided this woman was too nervous to be telling jokes. “But they’re booked up too.”

  “Okay, what other hotels should we try?”

  “There’s only two others in town, and they’re both full.” She tugged at her ear. “You could maybe look for an Airbnb, but it’s kind of late.”

  Robert and Susan walked away from the desk. She sensed what he would say next even before he said it. She felt her shoulders bunch up with anxiety. But she also felt a thrill in her chest that she hadn’t felt for a long, long time.

  He said, “You know, you could stay in my room. There’s an extra twin bed.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said, before she even knew she was going to say it.

  His room was up on the third floor. He offered her the bathroom first.

  “You may regret that,” she said. “I plan on spending about two hours in the shower.”

  “Consider me warned.”

  As soon as the water hit her body, Susan felt her whole self relax. She washed her hair three
different times with the hotel’s two little bottles of shampoo and threw on every ounce of conditioner too. She scrubbed herself vigorously with something called “body wash,” which she hoped would work as well as regular soap.

  It wasn’t until she was toweling herself off afterwards that reality hit her again. She might be clean and fresh-smelling, but there was still a good chance tomorrow would be one of the worst days of her life.

  Not including twenty years ago.

  She had brought along a flannel nightgown, but she didn’t want to wear it tonight. It felt too personal, wearing a nightgown while sleeping in the same room with a man she barely knew. So she put on fresh jeans and a T-shirt. After that she took off the ring she’d worn all these years and stashed it in the bottom of a suitcase pocket. She’d decide later if she wanted to sell it or throw it away. Then she came out of the bathroom.

  “You were right. That was about two hours,” Robert said.

  “Told you so.”

  He went in the bathroom and closed the door behind him, just as Susan’s phone rang. She picked it up. It was her mother.

  She thought about not answering, but she knew her mom would be upset. And she’d call back another ten times until Susan finally answered. So she hit the talk button and said, “Hi, Mom.”

  “Susan, where are you?”

  For a second she thought about telling her mom she was in a man’s bedroom, just to see how she’d react. “I’m in Hodge Hills. Everything’s good.”

  “You’re not having any more crazy thoughts about Danny, are you?”

  “No more crazy thoughts, no.”

  “Good.” Susan heard her mom sigh with relief. “You’re too sensible for that.”

  “I’m sensible, alright. How’s Rumples doing? Does he miss me?”

  “He meowed half the night last night. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine, Mom.”

  “Did you find a nice hotel room?”

  “Yeah, it’s comfortable.”

  “How much did it cost?”

  “It was pretty cheap, actually.”

  “Good.” There was a pause, then her mom said, “I was thinking. You know how people always say, ‘Give so-and-so my love’?”