by Kirk Russell
‘I brought the murder files with me. I didn’t bring them to show you crime scene photos but because I thought you might want to see what was written about you then.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘So we start from the same place. They’re in the car. They can stay there or I can bring them in.’
His tactic was to show her everything written about herself and her ex-husband, Larry Benhaime. He wanted to get her off the defensive and break the pattern. Her family members could only be echoing what she had told them.
‘You can leave them in the car.’
‘OK.’
‘And I should say I understand much more than you may realize. I know Inspector Govich discovered we lied about the dinner and that made him suspicious. I would be too. The truth about that particular thing is rather bizarre but simple. Larry, my ex, is a contrarian. If you say yes, he’ll say no, and maybe not right away but sooner or later. He didn’t like your Inspector Govich and I think he told him that we ate dinner at that restaurant that I can’t even remember the name of just to be perverse. When you finally track him down in some bar in Hong Kong I think he’ll tell you he didn’t believe it was any of the inspector’s business where we ate dinner or when we came back to the hotel, or anything else about our honeymoon.’
‘I think they realized that, and from talking with Henry Goya the lie over where you ate dinner didn’t mean anything.’
‘We actually had a reservation and we had looked forward to eating there that night. But we got asked to come to the police station and then we were kept waiting for hours. That’s what made Larry angry.’ She shrugged. ‘We were young and it was a murder and we were tourists. If it happened now I’d have told you everything we know and we’ll talk to you again tomorrow if you want, but we’re leaving now.’
‘It was never about the dinner, Barbara. There were other things.’
‘Why did you go back to this case?’
‘We received a videotape that someone made of Krueger’s murder.’
‘You mean of the actual murder?’
‘Yes, and it’s been looked at and we believe it’s authentic.’
‘That’s quite astonishing. You couldn’t have seen that one coming.’
‘Definitely not, and now I’m going back through Inspectors Goya and Govich’s investigation. I’m retracing their steps. I have to first understand where they were coming from.’
‘Why would you do that if they didn’t solve it?’
‘Because they had leads and questions.’
‘Like Larry and me.’
‘I don’t know that either you or Larry were ever suspects.’
‘Of course you do, it’s why you’re here. If you hadn’t received the videotape when would this have finally been tucked away in a file cabinet?’
‘We never close an unsolved case.’
‘There’s a TV show where they say dramatic things like that. It’s not a very good one though and I’m more interested in real life. I’m going to put forward my theory of why you’re here. You’re here because you think the original inspectors were on to something about us, or you think it’s possible they were. You aren’t sure, of course, but you’re curious or you are entertaining the idea or maybe they’ve convinced you that they should have arrested us.’
‘They didn’t suspect you and Larry of killing Alan Krueger.’
‘As I said, I don’t believe that.’
‘And I brought the video – which you don’t have to watch because it is graphic – but I’m here with it because I’m hoping when you do watch it, if you do, that it’ll trigger a memory that will help me. It’s the killing with the shooter and you’re not the shooter and I’d say your husband is too tall.’
‘He is six foot three.’
‘So I hear.’
‘OK, Inspector, if it proves once and for all it wasn’t us, let’s watch it. Bring your coffee. I’ll bring the scones. It’ll be like a date. We’ll play it in the den. Do you watch things like this often at your police station?’
‘We don’t get many like this.’ As they walked into the den, Raveneau asked, ‘How long were you married?’
‘Too long. I’ve learned that I tend to recognize things long before I act. My daughter thinks medication could help that. What do you think?’
‘I try to avoid medication.’
‘Do you ever feel like your life is a series of connected failures?’
‘I know what that feels like.’
‘What Larry discovered during our marriage was that he liked being out of town and a long way away in a hotel in Asia where he would have a clean uncomplicated room to come back to and a time zone reason for not being able to call me, not to mention an expense account for dinner and drinking. It was perfect for him.’
‘Who was he working for then?’
‘He was a kind of accountant for our Revenue Service, looking for corporate fraud, that sort of thing. That’s probably in your files.’
Oddly, it wasn’t. She handed him the plate of scones and he handed her the CD.
‘What were you doing for work?’
‘Something very similar but more numbers oriented, and trust me working for Canada’s Revenue Service can’t be any more fun than working for the IRS.’
Raveneau broke off a piece of scone. He took another drink of coffee. She hadn’t asked the question he wondered about so much, why whoever sent this video held on to it for so many years. But she was going to say something more about Govich and Goya. He could feel that coming. Then it did.
‘Your Inspector Govich had a hunch about us that was free-floating. Like the man who is always suspicious of his wife. Now maybe that makes a good investigator, allowing that amorphous feeling to exist without a fact to attach to. When all he could find was the restaurant discrepancy, he let it attach there and Goya went along.’
‘When you found Alan Krueger’s body did you touch it?’
‘Larry did. He wanted to make sure he was dead.’
‘How close did you get?’
‘I had to turn away it was so awful.’
‘Do you remember the position of the body?’
‘No.’
‘Did you see what Larry was doing?’
‘Only when he first leaned over.’
‘Did he remove anything from the body?’
‘Such as?’
‘A wallet to see who the victim was.’
‘Don’t you think we would have said?’
‘Did he remove the wallet?’
‘Goodness.’
‘I’m thinking it would be natural to make sure the man was dead, and possibly look for ID.’
‘Most people would wait for the police, don’t you think?’
‘Most would, but perhaps your ex-husband didn’t and there wasn’t a wallet found on the body.’
‘I don’t remember anyone asking us about a wallet.’
‘Inspector Goya told me they asked you. There are notes in the file saying they did.’
‘Oh, well, I don’t remember.’ She added, ‘How well would you remember twenty-two years later?’
‘It would depend on how much of a mark it made on me.’ He gave her a moment. ‘I think the murder affected you.’
‘Oh, absolutely, it made a wonderful honeymoon. Almost as good as the marriage.’
Raveneau studied her. ‘I can’t picture you forgetting the position of the body?’
‘Does it really make a whit of difference now?’
‘It could. A man called in a few days after the murder and left a message saying he heard shots and that he’d looked at his watch afterward to remember what time he heard them. He called us after you and Larry flew home and left a message saying he put it together after reading about the shooting in the newspaper. He didn’t leave a phone number or contact us again, but he did leave the time he heard the shots. He sounded credible to the inspectors. The time was very close to when you said you found the body, so close that In
spector Govich thought you either saw or heard the shooting.’
‘Do you suppose he believes his wife when she tells him things or is she always a suspect?’
‘That’s one of the reasons Inspector Govich flew to Canada.’
‘He flew to Canada because he got an anonymous call? That’s great.’
‘The time he gave was 3:42. Larry told the inspectors you found the body at 3:45.’
‘I can walk a long way in four minutes, Inspector, and watches didn’t always match. I’m sure you remember that. Nothing like the precious cell phones we have now that let us all keep exactly the same time together. Are you going to ask if he was dead when we got there?’
‘I know he was dead, but I’m still wondering about his body position.’
‘You’re back to that.’
‘I haven’t left it.’
‘I’ve tried to block all of it out. It was a horrible thing to see.’
‘I’m sure it was.’
‘His brains . . .’
Raveneau nodded and she looked down at the floor. She moved her right hand over on top of her left.
‘He was lying on his back with his legs apart.’
‘When you found him?’
Her voice rose slightly. ‘You have photos. I don’t know what you call them, crime scene photos. We saw the photos taken. Look in your files. Haven’t you seen them?’
‘Let’s watch the video.’
She pushed it in and the monitor lit up.
ELEVEN
After the homicide inspector left, Barbara Haney felt light-headed and anxious. She picked up the cordless phone in the kitchen and called her house manager from the den, pulse pounding, fingers drumming as she waited for the house manager to answer. The house manager, a thirty-two year old lawyer named Gail Hawkins, ran the house here and the one in Vail, as well as their New York apartment and the island property. She was well-educated, skilled, and discreet. She worked for them with the rationalization the salary of one hundred eighty thousand dollars a year was about the same as she would earn as a lawyer right now. It was also more than they needed to pay, but Barbara’s husband, Doug, was generous that way. He had a hard start at a career himself.
Gail worked for them but it was understood that the house managing was temporary and even though she might never practice law again, she wasn’t anybody’s servant. She certainly wasn’t. She was much more than an employee. She was her husband’s lover, something she had yet to confront Doug with but was never far from her thoughts and a big contributor to the depression her daughter insisted needed pharmaceuticals. Of course, Cheryl didn’t know anything about the affair.
Barbara called Gail rather than Doug because one side effect of the guilt from the affair was Gail always took her calls and was extremely solicitous and attentive. Ironically, that over-the-top caring courteousness is what made her suspicious in the first place.
‘Gail, I haven’t spoken with Doug yet today and I thought I would check with you first. How’s he feeling?’
‘He’s better. He’s much better. I saw him this morning. He said the fever broke in the night. He wants to go ahead with the dinner. I was just working with the cook. Are you going to be here?’
‘No, things have changed; it doesn’t look like I will be.’
Yesterday Doug had a fever or said he did. It was impossible to tell any more, though he did sound sick.
‘Was he coughing this morning?’
‘Bit of hacking.’
‘Did he take anything for it?’
‘No, you know him.’
Maybe she did once, but not any more. Barbara was quiet and then said, ‘I’ll let you get back to the menu.’
‘No hurry, I’m fine.’
New York investment banker types liked to ski in January, so this is when Doug usually entertained the ones he needed. No doubt the two bankers coming to dinner tonight were both wealthy and incredibly boring. No doubt they would talk their cars and their houses. That they even got called bankers was a joke to Barbara. They were more like hustlers in expensive clothes. They worked where the money was. That was their whole secret. All their smug certainty came from that and trained as she was in finance she had learned that few of them really understood numbers.
Barbara had paused too long and Gail was a little curt asking, ‘Shall I give him a message?’
‘No, don’t worry about it. I’ll call him later. When is he due home?’
‘At six thirty. Dinner is at seven thirty.’
‘Tell him I’m out this afternoon but will call him later tonight.’
‘Should I tell him a time?’
Barbara hesitated. She wanted to leave her guessing. It was her way of making her presence felt, her scream.
‘I don’t know what time yet, but it’ll be after his dinner.’
‘We’ll miss you here tonight.’
‘Are you eating with them?’
‘No, of course not, and I didn’t mean to sound as if I was. I may be in the kitchen helping though. Doug said tonight is very important.’
They are all very important until they don’t matter any more, Barbara thought. She hung up without another word and now felt like she might faint. She didn’t know why she bothered to make the call. She couldn’t believe her marriage had come to this and sat for an hour without moving, without knowing what she should do next.
Then her thoughts returned to the homicide inspector’s questions. She scrolled through her cell directory to the name Lisa Chou and called it as she rose and walked unsteadily back down the hallway to the great room. It rang four times before he picked up.
When Larry answered she said, ‘It’s me. A San Francisco homicide inspector visited me this morning. They’re working the case again. He wanted to know if you moved the body or removed a wallet.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘That I wasn’t watching you.’
‘Barbara, what’s wrong?’
What’s wrong, everything is wrong, she thought, you, Doug, almost everything I’ve done with my life is wrong.
‘He and his partner run the Cold Case Unit for San Francisco. He said they have new information.’
‘Good for them.’
‘They have a videotape of the killing.’
‘They what?’
‘They were sent a videotape.’
There was a very long quiet now and Larry’s voice was the low flat one that used to sometimes scare her when he asked, ‘Well, how could that be?’
‘I saw it. He brought a CD with him.’
‘When did they get it?’
‘Recently, and he wanted to surprise me with it.’
‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’
Larry wouldn’t ask any more than that about her. He didn’t care at all about her. He probably never had. If she said she was considering killing herself he’d insist she get help, but he wouldn’t feel anything.
‘They’ll do a little bit of investigation and then give up,’ he said. ‘It’ll go back to being a dormant file.’
‘You figure it out. It’s yours to deal with.’
‘I’ll take care of it, but there’s nothing to worry about. There never was. You built all this in your head. I’ll find out what’s going on and the homicide inspector isn’t going to get anywhere. He’s going through the motions. The bottom line is everyone has bigger problems to worry about in 2011 than a dead ex-Secret Service agent killed in 1989.’
Barbara thought about Raveneau. She thought about his eyes. She saw the video in her head. She saw Krueger fall. She couldn’t stop the next words from coming out.
‘In all the time we were married you were never once truthful with me. You were always controlling, but you aren’t as good at it as you imagine you are. You say there’s nothing to worry about but this inspector is smarter than you. Do you know why Inspector Govich came to Canada?’
‘There was never anything you ever had to worry about. You didn’t do an
ything wrong. You’ve obsessed on this way too long and it’s not going to go anywhere now. The homicide inspector is just going through the motions.’
‘You already said that.’
‘I’m saying it again to make sure you hear me.’
‘Inspector Govich flew to Calgary because a witness phoned them after we went home. They couldn’t get the witness to come in. He wanted to remain anonymous but said he heard shots. He left them a message with the time of day he heard the shots. He checked his watch. Inspector Govich came to Canada because the time was very close to when we said we found the body. That was the real reason he wanted to re-interview us.’
‘What’s this current murder cop’s name?’
She reached over to the coffee table and picked up his card. ‘Benjamin Raveneau.’
‘Spell the last name.’
She did and her head was floating, Doug lying to her, Doug sleeping with that bitch who had wormed her way into their lives. Doug was happy to get her calls because it told him where she was and meant she wouldn’t bother him for several more hours. He probably got a text from Gail as soon as she hung up. And Larry had always lied to her. Nothing was real. She couldn’t believe anything, not even herself. Her whole life was false. She was just a form of property stored in the house here.
‘I could answer some of his questions,’ she said. ‘I could end that part.’
Larry was quiet for several seconds before answering, ‘It all ended quite awhile ago and it’s very troubling to hear you talk like this. Do you really want to risk the life you have?’
Yes, she thought, I want to risk it all.
‘Don’t take any more calls from the inspector and I’ll look into it. Don’t say anything to anyone until we talk again. Can you do that? I think it’s important that nothing more get said and I’ll ask for help. You don’t need to worry. How’s the skiing?’
She looked out the window at the skiers in the far distance. She pressed End and cut the call off. She had lived and slept with him. That seemed impossible now.