by Blake Banner
“No, not exactly. He ran, I gave chase, Detective Dehan was close behind…” “Is she OK?”
“Yes, thank you, sir, so am I,” I added with a touch of irony. “He tried to run me down in a stolen truck, but Detective Dehan shot him. He is still alive, but it doesn’t look good.”
“I see,” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “She’s something, isn’t she?”
“She is. Sir, we need jurisdiction on this case. You’ll need to contact Airport Security and make sure they understand it’s our case.”
“Yes, of course. Then I want you both back here as soon as possible for a debriefing. Can we say the case is closed?”
I closed my eyes and thought about it for a moment while my body ached. “I’m not sure yet, sir. There are a few factors that need to be looked at, and I am slightly concussed at the moment from being side-slammed by a Dodge Ram. Give me a while to think it through, would you?”
“Naturally, get yourself seen by a doctor, then my office. Good work, Stone. Both of you, outstanding.”
“Thank you, sir.”
I hung up and sat for a while, looking through the spattered windshield as they lowered Lenny out of the cab, put him on a gurney and ran him, ducking through the rain, to the back of the ambulance. There they lifted him in and slammed the doors. Dehan spoke to the driver. Then the ambulance took off, wailing into the gray, wet afternoon. After that, she returned to the car with the sergeant, wiping her face on the back of her sleeve. They climbed in and slammed the doors. The sergeant was big and black and had the kind of smile that told you we could all get along fine, as long as you behaved. He half turned in his seat and gave me a look that was curious.
“You OK there? I heard you got fishtailed.”
“It was more like being hit by a small moon, but I’m OK.”
“Your friend in the Dodge was critical. They had to get him to hospital in a hurry, but we have a medic here. You want me to take you to see her?”
“No, thanks, Sergeant. I’d as soon get on. We still have a lot to do. You understand we have jurisdiction in this case?”
“I just heard that from the chief. There ain’t no terrorist angle and no drug trafficking involved, so, far as I’m concerned, I’m happy for you to take it off our hands.”
“Nothing like that. Can you drop us at my car?”
“You ain’t gonna drive. I ain’t askin’. You just ain’t gonna drive.”
I smiled. “No, my partner gets to drive today. I am just going to lie back and moan.”
* * *
Dehan drove back the way we’d come, but we made a detour via Morris Park to have a hot shower and change into dry clothes. We finally made it to the deputy inspector’s office a couple of hours later, at shortly after four PM, as the sun was preparing to set behind the heavy cloud cover, turning what should have been late afternoon into premature night. The rain had not eased, coming in relentless off the Atlantic, but a wind had picked up, and as we sat around the inspector’s office after the debriefing, drinking coffee out of china cups, squalls spattered at the black glass, trickling liquid diamonds down the panes.
He, the inspector, gazed at the black glass for a while, listening to the cold weather outside, and said, suddenly, “No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees, no fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds—November!” He gave a satisfied smile and a gentle snort. “Thomas Hood. But at least,” he added, sipping his coffee, “you have some good news, though I very nearly lost two of my best officers in the enterprise.”
Dehan, sitting once again on the sofa beneath the window, gave her head a slight sideways twitch and looked unsure. “I have to say, sir, for my money, Lenny is our man. He’s the guy. But I don’t think Stone is convinced yet.”
I sighed. “There are some things I am not clear about. I’d like to talk to him, if he pulls through.”
The inspector frowned and set his cup down carefully on the desk. “His behavior, John, was the behavior of a guilty man.”
I nodded. “Because he was, and is, a guilty man. I am just not clear exactly what he is guilty of.”
He frowned and blinked a few times. “Well, clearly, we know that he was guilty of having an affair with Celeste Reynolds. But that, though reprehensible, is not illegal—not criminally so, anyway. She was of age and they were both consenting adults.”
“That’s true.”
“So, though it might explain his lies, the secret email account and his secret telephone, it does not explain his attempt to flee the country, his pulling a gun on officers of the law or, I might add, his attempt to run you down.”
I studied him and drew breath. He seemed to have a slight aura. I looked over at Dehan and saw that she had one also. Either they were both becoming enlightened beings, or I had slight double vision resulting from concussion. I decided to go with the latter theory, because I also felt too tired to explain what to me appeared extremely obvious, but to them didn’t seem to be clear at all. Instead, I said, “Well, let’s see if he pulls through.”
Dehan said, “I just spoke to the hospital. He’s in surgery. His left lung is badly damaged and he lost a lot of blood…” She stopped talking and I saw the corner of her mouth twitch and her eyes flooded. She took a deep breath and went on. “They won’t know till tomorrow midday what kind of shape he’s in.”
The inspector gave her a moment to take a couple of deep breaths, then spoke quietly and kindly.
“Carmen, I know today has been very traumatic. Taking a life is always traumatic, we all know that, but when it’s a fellow officer, it is especially so. However, he might pull through, and I want you to know that your actions today, in capturing a suspect and, more especially, in saving your partner’s life, were nothing short of exemplary. You didn’t take a fellow officer’s life, you risked your own to save a fellow officer’s life. You must remind yourself of that.”
She managed a smile. “Thank you, sir.”
“I can see that you are both exhausted, so I am ordering you to go home and rest. Order in, watch a movie, sleep. And sleep late tomorrow. To help you both do that, especially you, John, let me sum up briefly for you:
“Lenny, who had known Reynolds since he was a boy, and had stayed in touch through the church they both attended, made the mistake of allowing himself to fall into a sexual affair with Celeste, Reynolds’ daughter. No doubt at the time, he thought it was a harmless adventure. However, as so often happens in these cases, with men of that age, he found himself becoming infatuated. She was a deeply unhappy girl in a deeply dysfunctional family, and his own paternal, protective instincts got the better of him and led him away from the path of righteousness.
“She, as is perfectly natural in a girl of her age, fell in love with Chad, a boy who, though we may find him disagreeable, to her was the answer to all her prayers. But she did not know how to tell Lenny. So she strung them both along, avoiding the inevitable confrontation as long as she could. In the end, the inevitable happened, and Chad discovered her infidelity. He demanded she break it off and that was what she tried to do, on the Sunday afternoon. But that evening, after her big row at home, as she was on her way to Chad’s house, Lenny phoned, from this very station house, and asked to see her. She decided, as you yourself said, John, to see him and get it all over with, there in the street, rather than letting him meet Chad. But tragically, when she tried to break it off, his passion got the better of him, and he killed her. The witnesses saw him and his white truck right there, at the scene of the murder.
“When he discovered that you had her computer, and that you would find his emails, he knew he was lost, he panicked and he ran. I’m afraid, John, that it could not be clearer. And I am confident that tomorrow morning, when you have rested and your brain has slowed down, you, too, will see it that way.”
I made a one-shouldered shrug. “The witnesses all described a large man. Lenny was medium at best.”
Dehan sighed. “From an upper floor, Stone, at night, in November, in the d
rizzle and half concealed by the giant chestnut tree. Also, Celeste was pretty small. A man assaulting her in those conditions could well appear large.”
I spread my hands. “You’re right. I need a large whiskey and a deep sleep. Let’s see how things look in the morning.”
The inspector gave a big, satisfied smile that made him look oddly like Santa Claus after attending a health spa on a Caribbean holiday. “That’s the spirit!” he said comfortably. “Take a couple of days’ rest, you both richly deserve it.”
We went carefully down the stairs. Dehan was saying, “Ordering in sounds like a good plan, Stone. You know what I fancy? I fancy a curry…”
I gave her a narrow-eyed smile and nodded like that was a nice idea.
She went on, “You probably just want a hot bath and a large whiskey, huh, big guy?”
All my back, my arms and my legs were beginning to seize up. I walked like the Mummy toward the exit and said, “I hate baths. But the large whiskey sounds good.”
We stepped out and she opened the umbrella she had thought to bring with her. She linked her arm in mine and we started across the road toward the Jag. The rain pattered loudly on the taut, black cloth. “You don’t buy it, Stone, I know. But you have to let go, not be obstinate, and accept that for once you are not right. You are only half right.”
“OK.”
She opened the passenger door and I climbed in with difficulty. She got in behind the wheel, stared at me a while and finally said, “OK, what is it that’s eating you?”
I shrugged. “What’s been eating me from the start. How and why did he dispose of the body the way he did? Whichever way you look at it, it doesn’t make a damned bit of sense. He just would not have done that.” I shook my head. “He didn’t kill her, Dehan. He is not the guy.”
FOURTEEN
She backed out of the lot and turned left onto Storey Avenue. Her face was rigid. The wipers set up a steady squeak and thud as the street lamps washed the cab by turns with amber light and shadow. I closed my eyes and said, “You’re not allowed to be mad at me. I was run over today, by a Dodge Ram.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“But you will be in a minute.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I want you to go via Rosedale and Gleason. I want to stop at the Reynolds’ on the way home to give them the news.”
“Son of a bitch!”
“See? I told you. Not allowed.”
“Ten minutes, Stone! We go in, we tell them and we leave.”
“OK.”
As we cruised up Rosedale, she asked me in a flat voice, “You don’t want to go and see Chad, too?”
“Uh-uh, that can wait till tomorrow. But I think we should get the Reynolds’ reaction straight away.”
She was quiet for a bit. When she spoke again, there was a curious frown in her voice. “What’s on your mind, Stone?”
“A large whiskey.”
“I’m serious!”
“I don’t know, Dehan. I just want to see how they react.” I still had my eyes closed. I put on my best English accent and added, “You know my methods, Watson. Apply them!”
“Dork.”
We pulled up outside the Reynolds’ house, behind the white pickup truck. The back was covered in a blue tarp. We climbed out of the Jag and slammed the doors. My body felt like it was made of painful concrete. The rain had slowed to a heavy drizzle. As I squeezed past the hood of the Jag, I peered under the tarp on the pickup. Then we moved across the road and Dehan went ahead to ring on the bell. The door was opened after a moment by Samuel. He stared at us each in turn for a moment, then said, “We were eating.”
Dehan answered. “We are sorry to disturb you. We have some important news about the case. We thought you and your dad would want to know straight away.”
He stepped back and said, “You’d better come in,” and jerked his chin toward the living room that doubled as his father’s bedroom. We went in. They had dark green drapes closed over the window, an old, electric fire burning and a TV set up on the table so the old man could watch it from the bed. Samuel had a plate of meat and mashed potatoes on the floor beside his straight-backed chair. His father watched us come in with his mouth slightly open. “What’s happened?” he said.
“Turn off the TV, Daddy. The detectives have some news for us.”
He didn’t wait for his father. He picked up the remote control and killed the TV. Then he sat on his hard chair, but didn’t pick up his plate. His dad watched Dehan sit on the sofa, and as I sat next to her, he scowled and said, “You sent a whole load of cops trampin’ all over my baby’s bedroom, takin’ away sheets, making a whole mess up there. Lenny never made a mess like that! Gave me pain in my chest and sent my blood pressure right up. Samuel very nearly had to rush me to ER.”
I waited till he’d finished and said, “I’m very sorry about that, Mr. Reynolds. It’s actually about Lenny that I wanted to talk to you.” I glanced at Samuel. He was frowning hard. “He is now our prime suspect. My chief believes the case is all but closed.”
Reynolds’ mouth sagged. “Lenny? No! No, no! No! Not Lenny! You must be out of your minds. Lenny didn’t kill my Celeste! He was crazy about her! Ever since she was born! He doted on her like an uncle. Like he was my own brother. We was practically family!”
I grimaced and glanced at Samuel again. He had gone pale. I said, “There is actually more to it than that. You both need to brace yourselves because this is bad news. Celeste and Lenny had been lovers for about six months before she was killed.”
Samuel closed his eyes. “Sweet Jesus!”
His father was squinting, giving his head little shakes. “How could you possibly know a thing like that?”
Dehan said, “That’s what those officers were doing in her room, Mr. Reynolds. They found traces of Lenny’s semen on her sheets.”
Samuel got to his feet. He looked suddenly huge, as though he had grown by a couple of feet. His voice boomed, “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, and sweet fuckin’ Joanna! In our own fuckin’ house! Under our own fuckin’ roof!”
His father almost screamed at him, “Language, Samuel! You will not use that blasphemous language in my house!”
Samuel’s face went crimson. He stared hard at the wall and his jaw muscle bunched and pulsed like an artery. “Under our own roof!” he said again. “In our own house! It was God’s punishment! She had no shame! May God forgive me! My own sister, and she had no shame! It was God who struck her down!”
I spoke quietly. “Sit down, Samuel.” He frowned at me a moment, like I had asked him to do something unreasonable, and sat. “We also found her laptop at Chad Norris’ house. When we checked her emails, it emerged that they had started seeing each other about six months earlier. The theory is that during that time, she met Chad and didn’t know how to tell Lenny. On that Sunday evening, when she was on her way to Chad’s house, she received a number of calls. One was from this landline, another was from Chad, but there were a couple of others that came from an unregistered phone belonging to Lenny. Our theory is that she broke it off with him that day, by phone. Later that evening, he called her from the station house while she was on her way to Chad’s.”
Reynolds had started shaking his head again.
I ignored him, watching Samuel, and continued. “He asked her to meet him at the Watson Gleason Playground. We have a number of witnesses who saw her meeting a man on that corner. The witnesses say the man turned up in a white truck, like Lenny’s…”
Reynolds was suddenly half-shouting, “No, no, no, no, no, Lenny did not do that! No! Don’t tell me Lenny did that! He did not do that!”
His face seemed to fold in on itself, tears spilled from his eyes and saliva ran from his mouth. He buried his face in his sheet, rocking and making appalling moaning noises that seemed barely human. “No, no, Lenny didn’t do that. Ask him, for God’s sake! He’ll tell you you’re all wrong.”
“I’m afraid Lenny is in hospital.” I glanc
ed at Samuel again. His eyes were wide. “We went to talk to him and he fled. He tried to leave the country. He pulled a gun on officers at the airport, stole a vehicle and tried to drive away. There was an accident, and he is now in the operating theater at the hospital.”
Samuel scowled at his sobbing father. “You’ll say what you like, Daddy. You’re always protecting her, but that girl had the devil in her soul as sure as my name is Samuel Reynolds.”
His father’s voice was a sobbing squeak. “You’ll not talk about your sister like that! She was misguided, a lost soul…”
“Evil is what she was and is. A black heart and a black soul! You know it as well as I do, but you won’t accept it! Look how she has you! Even from beyond the grave, she’s destroying you! An old man before your time!”
“Don’t! She was my little baby. She was your poor mother’s parting gift to me when the Lord took her. She was a sweet angel of a child.” His head dropped back on the pillow, his eyes squeezed tight and his mouth open, making him look oddly as though he was either dead or snoring. His body quivered. “She was my little girl.”
Samuel’s voice was shrill: “Will you stop saying that! Can you not see she is destroying us all! She’s killing you! She dwells still in Helen!”
His father twisted on his side, turning his back to us, pulling the sheet with his fists to cover his face, kicking his feet like a small boy. He gave an odd, small scream, then, “She’s family! Family! She’s your little sister! She’s my baby girl!”
Samuel stared at him with bulging eyes. Slowly, his face started to collapse, like his father’s. Tears slipped from his eyes and his bottom lip too curled in under his teeth. He spoke in a strangled, distorted voice. “How can you say that? She killed Mom. Before she was even born, she killed Mom! She lives now in Helen, driving her into madness…”
“Don’t say that!”
“Look what she’s doing to you! Family? We were a family, before she came and destroyed us all! She has the Devil in her heart. Even from the grave, she is killing us one by one! And you can’t see it!”