The Quiet Man

by James Carol

  ‘Mr Hooper,’ he said, ‘I understand that you need to blame someone for your wife’s death, but I’m not that person.’

  ‘You said that she’d live.’

  ‘No, all I did was offer a strategy that would have worked if the killer had stuck to his original MO.’

  Winter was being purposefully vague. He couldn’t say that Myra died because the killer had targeted a mother and son. And the reason was Cody. Technically speaking, Cody had killed his mom. He’d opened the bedroom door and triggered the bomb. It didn’t matter what was said to him, it didn’t matter how often he was told that none of this was his fault, he’d be blaming himself for what had happened for the rest of his life. The bottom line here was that things could always get worse. What happened this morning was devastating for him, but how much more devastating would it be if he discovered that he really was the reason his mom was dead?

  ‘What does any of that actually mean?’ Hooper asked.

  ‘It means that no matter what I or anyone else said or did yesterday, your wife would still be dead today.’

  Hooper opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. Thoughts came, thoughts went, and he said, ‘She shouldn’t have died. It’s not fair.’

  ‘No, she shouldn’t have. And you’re right, it isn’t fair.’

  ‘Mr Hooper, do you mind if we come in?’ Anderton asked.

  ‘Who are you, anyway?’

  ‘We’re investigating the murders.’

  ‘But you’re not from the police. I’ve already spoken to them. You know it’s illegal to impersonate a cop, don’t you?’

  ‘We never said we were cops. I headed up the police investigation into the first three murders. I’m retired now and working as a private investigator. My client has asked me to look into the murders.’

  ‘Who’s your client? And why does he care?’

  ‘Look, Mr Hooper, we just need five minutes. That’s all. If that helps us track the killer down then it has to be a good thing, right? I’m assuming you want to see him caught.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘In which case, let’s go through to the living room so we can talk.’

  29

  Like Eric Kirchner’s place over in Mount Pleasant, Scott Hooper’s apartment had been decorated by the landlord. The only real difference was that the furniture had been bought new instead of secondhand. That said, there were clearly limits to how deep the landlord’s pockets were. The cabinets and tables and bookcase were all self-assembly rather than purpose-built by craftsmen, the walls were the same shade of white as the ceiling, and the drapes were single ply rather than lined.

  Everything about the living room seemed temporary. The TV was on a cabinet in the corner of the room rather than fixed to the wall. One shelf of the bookcase was taken up with a small stereo that had piles of CDs lined up on either side. Aside from a small framed vacation photograph of the Hoopers, the rest of the shelves were empty. The sofa might have been made from cheap leather, but it was comfortable enough. Winter was at one end, Anderton the other, like bookends. Hooper lowered himself into the room’s only armchair. Cody had pulled a bright red beanbag over to his father’s chair and was sitting cross-legged on it.

  Hooper was in his early thirties but moving like he was eighty. Grief could do that. It sucked at your soul, and would keep sucking until there was nothing left. That’s what had happened here. Winter knew the signs. The same thing had happened to his mom. Hooper was still wearing his work clothes. Cheap suit pants, a crumpled white shirt, no tie. Wherever he’d been, whatever he’d been doing, the news had come through that his wife was dead, and life as he knew it had come screeching to a very sudden and definite halt.

  ‘You were looking at getting back together with your wife,’ Winter said.

  Hooper glanced down. ‘Cody, can you go through to your room while I talk to these people?’

  Cody shook his head. ‘I want to stay.’

  ‘We won’t be long. You can play on my laptop.’

  ‘I don’t want to play on your laptop. I want to stay here with you.’

  Hooper looked like he was going to push it. At the last second he backed down. Whatever fight he’d once possessed was long gone. ‘Okay, but you need to keep quiet.’

  Cody settled back into the beanbag.

  ‘So were you looking at reconciling with your wife?’ Winter asked.

  Hooper didn’t respond. His attention had been captured by the small framed photograph on the bookcase. The three of them were on a beach. They looked like any other happy, smiling family. Hooper was staring at it, a million miles away and drifting further with every passing second. He wiped his eyes. ‘Do you have any idea how difficult this is?’

  ‘Honestly?’ Winter shook his head. ‘I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through. The fact that you’re sat there able to string a sentence together is nothing short of a miracle.’

  ‘I love her.’ Hooper realised what he’d said and corrected himself. ‘Loved her. The only person I’ve ever loved more is Cody.’

  ‘I know that, but for this to work you need to answer our questions. And you need to be honest, otherwise there’s no point us being here.’

  ‘I know.’ Hooper took a deep breath and let out a long heart-weary sigh. ‘We’d been together for twelve years, ever since we met at college in California. After we graduated, Myra wanted to move back here because she missed her family. I came with her. A year later we were married. The year after that we had Cody.’

  ‘Why did you split up?’ Anderton asked.

  Hooper shrugged and shook his head. ‘For no reason and every reason.’

  ‘That’s a bit vague. Were you or your wife having an affair? Was that it?’

  ‘No one was having an affair,’ Hooper snapped.

  ‘I’m sorry, but these questions need to be asked.’

  ‘No one was having an affair,’ he repeated quietly. ‘After twelve years, we’d started falling out of love. It happens. When you’re dealing with all the day-to-day crap it’s too easy to forget why you fell in love in the first place. We were arguing about nothing, just trying to score points against each other. Myra decided we needed a time-out. That’s what she called it. A time-out. She couldn’t bring herself to call it a separation. That was Myra, though, she was always good with words. She was an English major at college.’

  ‘You were thinking about getting back together, weren’t you?’

  Hooper nodded. ‘We were seeing a marriage counsellor, and seemed to be making progress. Myra wanted to take things slowly, so that’s what we were doing. We were getting there. A couple of weeks ago we went on a date together. I’m not going to lie and tell you things were like they’d been at the beginning, because they weren’t, but it was a good night.’

  Hooper paused as though he was going to say something else, then burst into tears. For a while, he just sat there, tears streaming down his face. He was holding on to Cody’s shoulder like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. The kid was weeping too. This was the hidden side of murder, the bit you didn’t see splashed all over the front pages. The misery that followed in its wake was as long as it was deep.

  ‘Back in a second,’ Winter whispered to Anderton.

  He stood up and went out into the hall. The bathroom was behind the second door he tried. Four toilet rolls were piled up on top of the cistern. Winter grabbed two and went back through to the living room. He handed one to Cody, the other to Hooper. Eyes were wiped dry, noses blown.

  ‘We need to ask Cody some questions,’ Winter said. ‘Is that okay?’

  ‘Is that really necessary?’ Hooper said. ‘He’s already been questioned today.’

  ‘This is important. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be asking.’

  Hooper glanced at Cody. ‘Is that okay, buddy?’

  Cody nodded reluctantly. He looked nervous and scared. The way he was sitting, nestled into the beanbag, he could have been a baby bird. Wint
er understood where he was coming from. He’d been a year older than Cody when his world came crashing down, but he could still remember every last detail. The days following his father’s arrest had been filled with confusion and misinformation. Up had become down and down had become up. It was like he hadn’t known anything any more. Winter got off the sofa and sat cross-legged on the floor. He was still a whole head taller than Cody, but at least they were closer to the same level. When he spoke, he did so quietly, gently. No sharp syllables, no sudden movements.

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you, Cody, this is going to be tough. You’re going to feel like you don’t want to talk to me, so I’m going to need you to be brave here. Now, I’m going to make a promise. I promise that I’m going to track down the person who did this to your mom, but to do that I need your help. When it feels like you can’t answer any more questions, I want you to remember that. Can you do that for me?’

  Cody’s head went down and up. It moved only a fraction of an inch, but that was enough. When dealing with traumatised witnesses you grabbed everything you could get. Winter took a moment to consider the best way to approach this. The kid had been questioned in detail about what had happened this morning. There was nothing to be gained from rehashing all that again. Nothing but a whole lot of pain.

  ‘Your bedroom window looks out over the street,’ Winter said. ‘Have you seen anyone you don’t know hanging around out there during the last couple of weeks?’

  Cody shook his head. ‘No,’ he whispered.

  ‘What about when you were outside? Have you ever had the feeling that someone’s been following or watching you?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘No.’

  A worried expression clouded Hooper’s face. ‘Do you think the killer was watching him?’

  ‘It’s possible.’

  Anderton passed her cell to Winter. The photo composite filled the screen. He handed the phone to Cody.

  ‘We think this is the man who killed your mom. Take a good look. Have you ever seen him?’

  Cody looked at the screen. The hand holding the phone started shaking.

  ‘Have you seen this man?’ Winter repeated in his gentlest voice. ‘It’s really important that you tell us if you have.’

  Cody was still staring at the cell-phone screen, his hand shaking worse than ever. He glanced up at his father.

  ‘It’s okay, buddy. You’re not in any trouble.’

  ‘I might have,’ Cody said quietly. ‘He didn’t look exactly like this, though.’

  ‘When?’ Winter asked.

  ‘A couple of days ago. I was having a picnic at the park with Mom. He’d lost his dog and was asking people if they’d seen it. He had a picture of it on his phone.’

  ‘How tall was he?’

  ‘He was smaller than my dad.’

  ‘How much smaller?’

  ‘A lot.’

  ‘Can you remember what he said?’

  Cody paused. One second became two, became five. Winter was tempted to jump in with another question but kept quiet.

  ‘He said that his dog had been missing for a week and then he asked if I liked dogs,’ Cody said quietly. ‘I told him that I wanted one, but Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me. He tried to persuade Mom to get one, but he was joking. Mom thought it was funny.’

  ‘Did he seem friendly?’

  ‘He was real friendly. And he seemed real sad that he’d lost his dog. I felt sorry for him.’

  ‘Did he say anything else?’

  ‘He asked me what my favourite MLS team was. It was probably because I had my ball with me. I told him the Whitecaps. He wanted to know what position I play. I said in midfield.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  Cody shook his head.

  ‘Look at the picture again,’ Anderton said. ‘You mentioned that the man you saw looked different. How did he look different?’

  ‘I don’t know. His hair was shorter maybe.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  Another shake of the head. ‘I don’t even know if it was the same person. Maybe it wasn’t.’ Cody looked at the phone again then handed it back. ‘I don’t think it was him.’

  Winter passed the phone back to Anderton. ‘We need to get Tarantini over here as soon as possible.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking.’ She turned to Cody. ‘We’re going to get someone to come and see you. Would you be able to tell them how the man you saw was different from this man, so they can make a picture of him.’

  Cody nodded.

  ‘What park were you having the picnic in?’

  ‘Alexandra Park.’

  ‘Can you remember where you were sitting?’

  ‘Near the bandstand.’

  There was a knock on the front door and Hooper went to answer. He came back with Jefferies and one of the detectives Winter had seen in the incident room, a stern-looking thirtysomething woman. Jefferies was holding a computer printout of the photo composite.

  ‘I suppose you just happened to be passing,’ he said.

  ‘Something like that,’ Anderton replied.

  ‘Do you have anything you feel like sharing?’

  ‘Only that Cody recognised the man in the picture. You’ll need to get Geneva Tarantini over here to speak to him.’

  ‘And how exactly did you get hold of the composite?’

  Anderton just smiled.

  ‘I think we can take things from here.’

  ‘Of that I have no doubt. I have every faith in you, Detective Jefferies.’

  Anderton stood up to leave and Winter followed suit. She thanked Hooper for his time, then they headed for the door.

  30

  Anderton was on her cell the second the apartment door closed. The conversation lasted just long enough for them to get outside to the sidewalk. Fast, punchy questions, lots of affirmatives, plenty of head nodding even though there was no way for the person on the other end to read her body language. She killed the call.

  ‘It’s like I thought. Freeman is having the photo composite shown to the husbands.’

  ‘Will your VPD contacts let us know if it rings any bells?’

  ‘Of course.’

  She tapped the phone against her palm a couple of times then made another call. There was no answer this time. She didn’t leave a message, just hung up and started working her phone screen, thumb swiping, finger jabbing. One final jab, then she put the phone away.

  ‘Sobek?’ Winter asked.

  Anderton nodded. ‘He’s not answering so I’ve texted him. If the composite sparks anything with him, I want to know about it sooner rather than later.’

  ‘It’s probably going to be later. Like after the sun sets.’

  She gave him a quizzical look.

  ‘He’s at the cemetery,’ Winter added. ‘Isabella’s grave is in a spot where there’s no cell coverage.’

  ‘You say that like it’s a fact.’

  ‘I was there this morning.’

  Anderton fired off another look.

  ‘It was all very friendly and civilised. He even offered to share his coffee.’ Winter paused. ‘You know, Sobek could have headed straight to the cemetery after being at the Hooper house. The times work.’

  ‘He didn’t do it, Winter.’

  ‘But wouldn’t it be so convenient if he had?’

  ‘Yes, it would. Unfortunately, life is never that simple, or that neat.’

  ‘How far to Alexandra Park?’

  ‘This time of day, it’ll take us twenty minutes to get there. It’s right on the water, not far from your hotel.’

  Traffic was light and they made good time. Anderton found a parking space near the park entrance and they got out. Winter lit a cigarette and took a drag. It was the hottest part of the day and the sun was beating down. Not that he was going to start complaining about the heat. As far as he was concerned, sunshine trumped rain any day. He found his sunglasses and put them on. Anderton was already wearing hers.

  The park was small. On on
e side, the water stretched all the way to the horizon. On the other, skyscrapers reached up to touch the impossibly blue sky, and beyond them, the mountains were there to keep things in perspective. However impressive those skyscrapers might be, they had nothing on the mountains. Ten thousand years after the last building had crumbled those mountains would still be standing.

  At first glance the bandstand looked as though it had been built a century ago. It was newer than that, though. This one had probably been built to replace the original. It was octagonal and resembled a pagoda. It would have looked great on a postcard. Any angle would have worked. The water as a backdrop, or the buildings and mountains. The brown paint helped it to blend in with the trees.

  Winter walked over to the steps and sat down. Anderton sat down beside him. For a while he sat there smoking his cigarette and taking in the view. It was good to have a moment to slow down and take stock. Most investigative work progressed so slowly it was like wading through treacle. That wasn’t the case here. Things were moving fast, and that was great. The downside was that something important might be missed. When you were acting in haste it was all too easy to skip over a vital clue.

  ‘How’s your face?’ Anderton asked, breaking the silence.

  ‘Sore. Hooper’s got a hell of a right hook.’

  Anderton snorted and shook her head. ‘I could hit harder.’

  ‘Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one being hit.’ Winter took a drag on his cigarette. ‘Why did you become a cop?’

  ‘Because I hate injustice. Always have done. When I was at school, if I saw someone being bullied, I had to get involved.’

  ‘Even if it ended up with you getting your ass kicked?’

  Anderton laughed. ‘Yeah, that happened a couple of times. Nobody likes having their fun spoiled. Especially bullies. It didn’t stop me, though. As soon as I was able to I joined the police. So, what about you? How did you end up in the FBI?’