“I can’t. You know who took that picture? Dunbar himself. He’d started following Sanabria after he realized Joshua was MIA. Yes, while he was retired. Yes, acting unofficially. I get your problem with that, Linc, I do, but I’m telling you the man is truly trying to help. Without him, we’d never know Ruzity and Sanabria had any association.”
“So now you know that they do, but you don’t know why.”
“Not yet.”
“Bertoli was openly connected to Sanabria’s circle before he went into prison,” I said. “Now we know that both Ruzity and Harrison had contact with him after they came out. What in the hell was going on in that house, Graham?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Yet you want our help, and you expect to get it without telling us a damn thing.”
Graham lifted his hands, palms out, and made a patting gesture. Soothing. Step back, relax, everybody be happy.
“Look, I understand your irritation, but what we need to make clear is that I can’t aff ord to have you guys in my way. What’ve you done here, it’s no big deal. Talking to Dunbar is nothing, but I can’t have you keep after it. Eventually you may talk to the wrong person, maybe before I do, and then we’ve got a real problem.”
“So you’re telling us to stop the investigation?” Ken said.
“No, I’m telling you not to harm the real investigation. The one that’ll get somebody arrested and convicted if it’s done right, and will let ’em walk if it’s done wrong. I’m here to see that it’s done right.”
“Which means—”
“Which means you probably ought to go on back home.” He said it gently but met Ken’s eyes. “That’s no disrespect, Kenny. Okay? The truth of it is, man, there ain’t nothing for you to do that the police can’t do better.”
Ken looked at me, eyes hot, as if he were waiting for me to jump into the fray and argue. When I stayed silent, he turned back to Graham.
“What are the police doing? A few days ago you were in here telling us how overstretched you are. Sounded to me like you needed the help.”
“All right,” Graham said, still with the temperate touch in his voice, “then why don’t you tell me what you’re going to do to help?”
Again Ken looked at me. “Detective work, Graham. That’s what we’re going to do.”
“And that means?”
“Getting out on the street, talking to witnesses, running down leads,” Ken said, anger in his voice now. He seemed to think Graham was talking down to him, patronizing, but I didn’t read it that way. Graham was trying not to bruise egos, but the reality was he wanted us out of the way because he didn’t think we could do anything but harm.
“All of which I’ve done, and will continue to do,” Graham said. “You’ll end up right where I am now, Kenny—staring down Sanabria and Harrison.”
“So you’re saying this one’s unsolvable?” Ken said. “Time to put it under wraps, nothing left to do?”
Graham shook his head. “I intend to solve it. I think we will. We should have lab results from the body and the grave in a few months, maybe in a few weeks if we’re lucky, and hopefully those will open up some doors. I expect that they will.”
“So you want to shut us down,” Ken said, “but at the same time you want us to communicate with Harrison. Well, the communication he wants is about our progress on the investigation. Going to be pretty difficult to sit around and chat with him if we’re not doing anything.”
Graham’s jaw worked as he looked at Ken.
“He makes a fair point,” I said. “You can’t have it both ways, Graham. Either we’re involved or we’re not. You make the call.”
“Okay—you’re out.”
Ken bristled, but I just nodded. “All right. I guess I better call Harrison, then, tell him tonight’s meeting is off.”
“You plan a meeting with him?”
“No. He called today and requested one. Seems he’s got some things on his mind. Wanted to have a talk.”
Graham was looking at me as if considering how satisfying it would be to pop my head right off my neck, but finally he sighed and nodded.
“Go talk to him, then. See what he says, get it on tape, and then call me. Do not, under any circumstance, talk to anyone else until you’ve cleared it with me. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“While I’m here, I want a copy of the tape from your last talk, too.”
“I burned it onto a CD for you.”
“Good. At least I’ll get something out of this drive.” He stood up and reached for the CD. “You have any idea what Harrison wants?”
“None,” I said.
Graham slid the CD into his pocket, then looked at both of us silently.
“Don’t worry, Graham,” I said. “You’ll learn to love us.”
“That’s what my wife told me when she got a dog—and you know what?”
“What?”
“Time to time, dog still shits on my rug.”
22
__________
Ken wanted to ride out to Harrison’s house with me, but I didn’t like that idea. Harrison had requested a one-on-one meeting, for whatever reason, and I didn’t want to irritate him by leaving Ken sitting in my car in the parking lot. So instead I left him sitting at a bar, with Amy for a conversation partner.
“You’re not real good with the art of relationships,” she observed as I drove her to the Rocky River Brewing Company, a microbrewery that was one of Amy’s favorite drinking venues. “It’s not exactly standard for a guy to take his girlfriend to a bar and drop her off with orders to entertain another man.”
“I’m not telling you to sleep with him. Just buy him some drinks, maybe give him a shoulder rub.”
“Yeah, it’s a stunner that your fiancée ended up with another guy. A true puzzle.”
By the time we got there, Ken was already at the bar, halfway through a beer called the Lakeshore Electric. He stood up when we approached, and I made introductions, wishing like hell that I could just stay with the two of them instead of driving off for yet another strange conversation with Parker Harrison.
“I’ll head back this way when I’m done with our boy,” I said to Ken. “Until then, watch your ass around Amy. She’s a mean drinker.”
By the time I got to the door, I could already hear her apologizing for me. It’s not an uncommon occurrence.
Then it was back to Old Brooklyn, as the twilight settled in warm and still and with the wet touch of humidity that promised real summer. I kept the windows down and turned James McMurtry up loud on the stereo and thought that it would be a perfect night to sit in the outfield, watching one of those spring games that can’t help but be fun because it’s too early to feel much concern or disappointment over your team. Maybe if Harrison didn’t want too much of my time, we could do that. I knew Amy would be up for it, and what else did Ken have to do?
By the time I reached Harrison’s apartment, there was nothing left of the sun but a thin orange line on the horizon, the streetlights were on, and James McMurtry had just finished explaining why he was tired of walking and wanted to ride. I’d put the recorder and wire on before I left my apartment, and now I adjusted my collar and gave one quick look in the mirror to be sure the microphone wasn’t visible. It wasn’t. I got out and walked up to Harrison’s apartment, found the window dark. The door opened at my first knock, though, and Harrison stood in front of me with a dish towel in his hands, his forearms streaked with moisture. Behind him I could see a light on in the kitchen, the living room gloomy with nothing but the fading daylight.
“Lincoln. Come in.”
I stepped through the door, and he closed it behind me. Now I wanted a lamp on.
“You mind turning on a—”
“You both need to stop.”
“What?”
“You and Ken Merriman. Tell him to keep the money. Or you keep the money. Either way, I think you both need to stop. Send him home.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer but also didn’t look away.
“Harrison? What the hell is going on?”
He wet his lips. “Lincoln, do you remember what I told you at first? The reason I wanted to find Alexandra?”
“You wanted to be in touch with her.”
“No. Well, yes, that was part of it, but what I told you I wanted most was—”
“To know what happened. To know the story.”
He nodded. “It’s not worth it.”
“Not worth what?”
He shifted his weight and dropped his eyes for the first time, saw the towel in his hands, and used it to dry his arms.
“Harrison, damn it, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“It’s not worth the potential for harm,” he said.
“Harm to . . .”
“You, Ken Merriman, anyone else. Everyone else. At the end of the day, Lincoln, I think I made a mistake. She left because she wanted to leave, and if she hasn’t been back . . . well, I suppose she wants to stay where she is. Right? Unfound and unbothered. If that’s what Alexandra wants, then I won’t fight for something contrary to it.”
“I’m still not following this sudden worry about harm.”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re following it. The last time we talked, you told me you didn’t want to work for me, so now I’m giving you good news—I don’t want you to work for me, either. Not you, or Merriman, or anybody else.”
What had changed his mind? Something we’d done that he knew about? Had he seen us with Graham or Mike London, somehow developed the idea that we were working with police? Or was it entirely different and unrelated to us?
“Harrison—”
“This isn’t a discussion. I appreciate your reconsideration, the way you brought an investigator to me, but I’m done.”
Now I was more aware of the recorder and the possibilities that were about to be terminated when Harrison threw me out. We’d gotten nothing from him. Not a word that would help the investigation.
“What do you know about the Cantrells?” I said, taking a step toward him even though there wasn’t much space between us. “About what happened to them?”
“What I know isn’t enough to matter.”
“Bullshit. I saw your eyes when we mentioned Bertoli’s name, Harrison. Why?”
“Lincoln, there’s nothing I can say.”
“According to the police, that’s always been your response. Nothing to say—but it’s a lie, Harrison, and you know it.”
“You’ve talked to the police about me? To Graham?”
I hesitated only briefly. “Of course I did. You’re a convicted killer, like it or not, and you wanted me to look into a murder case. Don’t you think that raised some questions in my head?”
He stood where he was and looked into my eyes as if he were taking inventory, and then he reached out with a quick and sure motion and grasped the edge of my shirt collar, and tugged it back, tearing the first button loose. As he did that, he ran his other hand down my spine, checking for a wire. I tried to counter, shoving his hand away and stepping back, but it was too late. His eyes had found the thin black wire, standing out stark against my white skin.
“Whose idea?” he said. “Yours or Graham’s?”
“Mine.” I took a few steps back, feeling exposed now, vulnerable. He hadn’t moved again, but as I stood there in the dark living room facing him I found myself wishing I had my gun. I hadn’t brought it in because Harrison hadn’t seemed the least bit threatening in our previous meetings. Now his stance and his face made the Glock noticeably absent.
“Leave, Lincoln,” he said. “Leave, and let it go. Don’t let anybody else keep you involved. Not Graham, not Merriman, not anybody.”
I waited for a moment, staring back at a face that looked to be caught between fear and anger, and then I went for the door. Harrison didn’t move as I opened it and stepped out.
I stood on the welcome mat in front of his apartment and blew out a trapped breath and looked down at my shirt, the microphone dangling bare and obvious. I took it off and untucked my shirt and slid the whole contraption out and kept it in my hand as I walked to my truck. When I started the engine, the headlights came on automatically, shining directly into Harrison’s windows. The glass reflected an image of my truck back at me, but beyond that I could see the shadows of Harrison’s apartment, and his silhouette standing directly in the middle of the room, watching me. He was holding a phone to his ear.
23
__________
I called Graham as I drove away from Harrison’s building, got the phone out and dialed without pause because I knew if I stopped to think about it I’d delay calling him. He wasn’t going to be pleased with this.
It took about twenty seconds of conversation before he confirmed that idea, breaking into a burst of sustained profanity that might have impressed me had I not been its target. No, he wasn’t pleased.
“Graham, there’s nothing I would have done differently,” I said when he finally paused for a breath.
“Nothing you would have done—”
“No. There’s not. It was nothing I said that convinced him I was wearing a wire; he was already pretty sure of it. The way he went for my shirt, Graham—he knew I was wearing one. He was sure he’d find it.”
“Beautiful, Perry.”
“I don’t know what to say, Graham. Sorry it went like that, but it was your idea.”
“My bad idea,” he said. “I’ll readily admit that. I let you and your buddy get into this, and I shouldn’t have.”
I kept the phone pressed to my ear as I hammered the accelerator and pulled onto the interstate, took it up to eighty-five before letting off. It was silent for a while, Graham’s breathing heavy with irritation.
“Okay,” he said finally. “Okay, it’s done. It was a bad idea, and it didn’t work, and maybe it did some harm. We can’t really tell yet.”
“I’m more interested in what changed his mind.”
“What changed his mind was the fact that he knew you were trying to con him. What changed his mind was knowing you were taping every conversation.”
There was biting accusation in every word, as if he thought I’d gone into Harrison’s home with a microphone labeled police property in my hand and started asking him questions about Cantrell’s death. I gave it a few beats of silence again, not wanting to let this turn into a clash of egos.
“I warned you after our first attempt that I thought he saw through it,” I said. “Back then, you didn’t want to believe me. That’s fine. What I’m telling you tonight is, I don’t think that’s all there was to it. Something else rattled him.”
“That’s terrific, Linc. I’ll find out what it was. In the meantime, you—”
“He called somebody as soon as I left. You might want to check that.”
“How do you know?”
“He was standing with the phone to his ear when I drove away. Kind of curious who he felt deserved such an immediate call.”
“Could be somebody called him.”
“I didn’t hear the phone ring.”
“All right, look, I’ll see about that, but as I was saying, in the meantime, you go find Kenny and you send him home. I want you both off of this, immediately. Like I said before, I take some of the blame. Maybe it was a bad idea from the start, but now it’s done. I want you and him as far away from this as possible.”
“I’m not sure how easy it’ll be to convince Ken.”
“It’ll be damn easy when I arrest him for interference. You tell him that, and if he has a problem with it, you tell him to call me. He doesn’t have a client anymore, and he’s not licensed in Ohio. In other words, he’s mine, Linc. If I want to shut him down, I can.”
Not much was said after that. I disconnected, threw the phone onto the floor of the passenger seat, and drove back to the brewery. It was more crowded than when I’d left; I had to shoulder past people bottlenecked just inside the doors. Amy and Ken were where I�
��d left them, though, fresh pints on the bar in front of them. They were facing each other, and Ken was grinning at Amy’s animated words.
“Hey,” she said, turning when she saw Ken’s eyes go over her shoulder to me. “I was just explaining my favorite psychological phenomenon to Ken.”
“Which one is that?”
“The way the world’s most pathologically narcissistic people seem drawn to careers in newspaper management.”
Ken started to laugh, but then he stopped, eyes still on me, a frown replacing his smile. “Didn’t go well with Harrison?”
I shook my head and leaned on the bar in between them, gesturing at the bartender for a beer. “Didn’t go well, no.”
“What happened?”
I told them about it while I drank the beer. When I got to the part about Harrison finding the wire, Amy sighed and turned away from me, fear disguised as anger.
“Not your fault,” Ken said, shaking his head. “He didn’t have to find the wire. He already knew.”
“That’s exactly what I told Graham.”
“Oh, you already talked to him? What’d he have to say?”
I took a long drink of my beer, staring up at the TV. Indians had been up one when I walked in, and now they were down two.
“Well?” Ken said.
“He wasn’t happy. Spent a while swearing at me and calling me incompetent before he decided to man up and accept part of the blame, realized it was probably a silly ploy to try in the first place.”
“He say what comes next?”
“I assume it’ll be back to waiting on the lab work. He seems pretty convinced that’s where any break will come from.”
“What about us?”
I finished my beer, slid the glass across the bar. “We’re done.”
“What?”
“He told me in no uncertain terms that we are to stay away from this.”
“That’s not his decision.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Is it?” he said. “Lincoln? You want to let that guy back us off?”
“It’s not that simple, Ken. He can if he wants to. We don’t have a client anymore. If he wants to jump up and down and scream about interference and tampering, he can do that. I don’t think he wants to, but I also don’t think he’s going to let us keep digging on this without a fight.”
The Silent Hour lp-4 Page 17