by Julia Keller
She had managed to calm herself down. At first she had been enraged, lashing out at Deputy Oakes when he arrived at the construction trailer a short time ago. Roland Atwood had opened the door in response to the sharp knock, and he gave Oakes a wolfish grin that was surely exacerbated by what the deputy could plainly smell: an abundance of alcohol on Atwood’s breath. Oakes pushed past him and addressed Carolyn Runyon. She was coiled up like a kitten on the black leather couch, suit jacket off, scarf unwound, black heels flipped across the carpet in a spiky heap, bare feet tucked under her butt.
When the reason for Oakes’s visit was explained—he asked Runyon to return with him to the courthouse, at the prosecutor’s request, to clarify a few murky areas—the kitten disappeared. It was late, she snarled. This was an outrageous imposition. What the hell could possibly necessitate her presence right now, especially when the trial of Royce Dillard was obviously nearing its conclusion?
The deputy clarified: She was not required to cooperate, but he’d been instructed to inform her that Diana Hackel had received the same request. She was already at the courthouse.
Runyon had looked at Atwood. He stood alongside the couch, drink in his hand, tie unraveled, grin spread out across his face, half-amused by the sudden drama. This was not the evening he had envisioned. Runyon wrenched her right shoe roughly onto her right foot. The second shoe received the same treatment. “Get my coat,” she snapped. She stood up and straightened her skirt. Her jaw was tight. Her eyes sang with anger.
* * *
Bell had a brief sliver of time, and barely that. It was a chance that wouldn’t come again. A one-shot opportunity.
When she learned about Carolyn Runyon’s visits to see Royce Dillard, elements began to line up in her mind, one after another, beads on a string. She remembered that Diana had conveniently been in Charleston and not Falls Church—hence much closer to Acker’s Gap—on the day of the murder, even though Diana’s business there was bogus. She reflected on the close resemblance between Runyon and Diana Hackel. She remembered how agitated and upset Diana had been at the rumor that Royce Dillard might not go to trial, the rumor that he’d made a plea deal with the prosecution. And she reminded herself that when it came to planning a murder, the conspirators needn’t all have the same motive. Just the same goal.
And so she had arranged to have the two women brought here tonight. It was the prosecutorial version of what she now understood that Runyon had done: fling up a Hail Mary pass. A last-chance, what-the-hell, nothing-to-lose move.
Each woman, shortly after her arrival, had waived her right to counsel—but could change her mind at any moment. Bell had expected this initial compliance: Both hoped to maintain the appearance of honest puzzlement, of curious innocence, as long as possible, and to find out what the prosecutor knew. The moment that pose was no longer tenable, they’d be dialing their attorneys so fast that the cell signals would probably get tangled in the air above the courthouse.
Carolyn Runyon had not really said that Diana was responsible for the death of Ed Hackel. In fact, she’d said little more than, “What is this about, Mrs. Elkins?” before Bell left her alone in the second interrogation room and returned to Diana in the first.
But Diana didn’t know that.
“She said what?” Diana replied to Bell, in a voice that screeched unbecomingly. The friendliness vanished. “That bitch. It isn’t true. Why would she say such a thing?”
“I don’t know,” Bell said. “What do you think?”
“I think she’s trying to save her own skin, that’s what I think.” Diana was trembling with fury. “Because she’s the one who killed Eddie.” Her small fist bounced on the tabletop. The vibration caused the water bottle to flop onto its side. That seemed to enrage her even more and she swept it the rest of the way off the table, along with the crackers and the candy bar. She didn’t watch them land.
“Dammit,” Diana went on, so incensed that her outrage seemed to ricochet off the cinder block walls. “I’ve got children to raise, okay? A family. Responsibilities. A life. Doesn’t she get that? Oh, yeah.” A bitter laugh. “Yeah, she gets that, all right. She gets it—but she doesn’t freaking care. She’s never cared. It’s all about her. Whatever Carolyn wants—Carolyn gets. I don’t know why I ever trusted—”
She broke off her sentence. She looked at Bell. When she resumed talking, her voice was shaky. Anger had given way to a kind of quiet seething.
“The hell of it is—she never really liked Eddie,” Diana said. “But she sure didn’t mind having sex with him. Used to call him a loser. Right to his face. In front of other people, too. Nice, huh? Real sweet. He was handy, that was all. He was there. There—and willing. God, yes. Willing and eager. But he’d promised me. When I told him I was pregnant again, he promised me. No more, he said. Never again. Changed man.” A hollow laugh.
“So you didn’t know he’d resumed his relationship with Carolyn,” Bell said.
“No. Not at first.” She began to cry. Her tears were silent ones, slipping down her small face.
“How did you find out?”
“I called his cell one night. About a month ago. Really late. I figured he’d be back in his motel room—and he was. He just wasn’t alone.” Diana used her thumb to capture a tear that threatened to roll off the bottom of her chin. “He was in the shower. So she answered. And you can always tell, can’t you? There’s a way people sound after they’ve just been fucked. It’s in their voice. Sort of lazy and sleepy and slurry.” Diana shuddered with revulsion. “That’s just how she sounded. So I knew. I knew right away.” She gave Bell a questioning look. “Why’d she answer his phone? Why’d she do that? At first I wondered. But now I think she just wanted to rub my nose in it. Just had to prove she could have any man she wanted—hell, she could even have a man she didn’t want.” Scrap of laughter, then the seriousness descended again. “You know what? It was terrible. The worst thing ever. Knowing he’d lied to me. Having it confirmed that way—oh, God. It really, really tore me up inside. I knew I’d never forgive him a second time. Never. In my mind, we were done. The end. Period.”
“What did she say when she answered the phone?”
“Oh, she tried to lie. Said they were working late. Figured his room was more comfortable than the office. Sure. Like I believed that.” She rolled her eyes. “Because I’m just this stupid housewife, right? Just this idiot who’s popping out babies and baking cookies? Well, I got her back. I got her good.”
“What do you mean?”
“I started talking about how thrilled we were about the new baby. And you know what? I could tell by how she sounded—oh, she tried to hide it, but I could see right through her—that she didn’t know. She didn’t know. Can you beat that?”
“No,” Bell said. “No, I can’t.”
“She confirmed it later. He’d told her that I cut him off. And she believed him! Jesus. She thought she had him all to herself. And I’m the fool? I’m the trusting little woman? She has a lot of pride. More than anybody I’ve ever met. And she was furious. Absolutely furious. She called me a few days later. Made her case. Pointed out that we both had a pretty good reason to make that bastard pay.”
Diana took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. A few seconds passed, and her eyes popped open again. “So she says I killed him,” she said with a sneer. “That’s her story, is it? Right. And just how did I do that? How’d I swing a shovel that hard? And then how’d I get his body into that wagon all by myself? Eddie was six-two. Weighed about two-forty, two-fifty. You tell me that.”
“I don’t know,” Bell said. Her voice was calm and even. “Why would she say it if it wasn’t true?”
“Because,” Diana answered, leaning aggressively over the table and thumping it with her palm, as if Bell was such an astonishing moron that everything had to be spelled out for her in capital letters and then underlined twice, “she killed him. Her and that slimy assistant of hers—McGloin. I may have wanted Eddie dead—after what he’d done t
o me, all the pain he’d caused—but they killed him. Not me. Haven’t you figured that out yet? Jesus. You’re just as stupid as she said you were. What is it about this crappy little town? It’s like what Eddie used to complain about. You’ve got one itty-bitty brain cell and you share it between the whole population. Pass it around. Was tonight somebody else’s turn with it? Is that why you’re so slow to catch on?”
“Must be.”
* * *
Carolyn Runyon was standing up now. When Bell walked through the door of the second interrogation room, she turned and gave her a look of such excoriating hatred that Bell half wondered if she’d find burn marks on her skin.
“I’m ready to leave,” Runyon said. “And might I suggest that you find another form of recreation around here to take up your evenings—other than harassing innocent people? Ping-Pong is fun, I hear. Or perhaps a rousing Go Fish tournament—surely that wouldn’t tax the limited intellectual resources of you and your friends.”
“It might,” Bell said, “although I’m partial to checkers myself. Listen, I hate to change the subject, but I need to inform you that Diana Hackel just implicated you in the murder of her husband.” She sat down.
Runyon paused. She’d been cinching the belt around the waist of her coat and she was motionless for a moment, the ends of the crossed belt held tightly in each fist.
Then she laughed. The laugh was loud and fake.
“Oh, Mrs. Elkins,” she said. “This is beneath you. Really. This little game of trying to play one of us off against the other. I suggest you stick to those checkers. Because frankly, I don’t know what nonsense you think—”
“Right now,” Bell said, curtly interrupting her, “Diana Hackel is getting ready to sign her statement. She told us all about it. About how you and she compared notes and decided that you both had ample reason to want Ed Hackel dead. He’d lied to Diana about not having sex with you—and he’d lied to you about not having sex with Diana. You both had the same motive. And it’s the oldest motive in the book—sexual jealousy.”
“Bullshit.” Runyon spat the word. She sat back down again. The legs crossed automatically. She thrust her hands in her coat pockets. She was like a switchblade seconds after closing up: still lethal, but sleeker now, the menace tucked away until it was needed.
“I didn’t kill anybody,” she said. “If she thinks she can save herself by trying to frame me, she’d better think again.”
She didn’t move. She didn’t speak. Minutes passed.
Runyon had no intention of saying another word. Everyone in the world knew that they were better off keeping their mouths shut when being questioned. Even people who weren’t half as smart as Carolyn Runyon understood that. If it were only a matter of appreciating the strategic benefit of silence, then no one would ever talk to a police officer or a prosecutor. Or a priest, come to that.
But it wasn’t about intelligence. It was about pride. And it was about the story.
“You loved him, didn’t you?” Bell said. She said it softly, sympathetically, one woman to another. “You were in love with Ed Hackel and he betrayed you.”
Runyon didn’t look at her. “Shut up,” she said. Not angrily. In fact, she said it casually. “Shut up,” she repeated.
“He lied to you. I’ll bet that hurt. I mean, look at you. You’re a beautiful woman—elegant, sophisticated. Running your own company. Mingling with the movers and shakers. You have your pick of men. Anybody you want, any day of the week. And yet—who did you fall for? Eddie Hackel. Who was he to cheat on you? I mean—the nerve of him. The gall.”
“I believe I very clearly requested you to shut up.”
“It must’ve enraged you. The minute you heard his wife was pregnant, it must’ve been like acid. Eating away at your ego, your confidence. God—Ed Hackel! That useless fool. He couldn’t even do the one thing you’d asked of him, the thing that would save the whole project. One thing! Nope, he failed. Because he’s a loser. And then there’s you—gorgeous, brilliant, sexy. A winner all the way.” Bell sat back. “Talk about a power imbalance. On the one hand, we have—Eddie Hackel. Just a guy. A married guy, no less. A guy who can’t do his job. Can’t even close the deal when it’s the biggest deal of his life. And then, on the other hand, we have—Carolyn Runyon.”
“Shut. Up.”
“And yet—and yet—there you were. Hopelessly in love with him. Beauty and the Beast, right? You and Eddie Hackel.”
Silence.
“Finally,” Bell went on, “to add insult to injury—you find out that he was cheating on you. Eddie’s wife was pregnant again. Here you are, the kind of woman that a man like Hackel can only dream about—and he’s the one who makes a fool out of you. It’s just not fair. Not fair at all.”
Silence.
“No one blames you, Carolyn. No woman, anyway. We’ve all been there. That kind of humiliation is just excruciating. There’s not a woman alive who hasn’t been through—”
“I said shut the hell up.” Runyon’s head whipped around. Fire in her eyes. “If you don’t shut up right this fucking minute, I’m going to—” She bolted up and out of her chair. It was the first graceless move Bell had ever seen her make. “Let’s get this straight, okay? I want to make this absolutely clear, once and for all, to you and the rest of the hicks here in Mayberry. You’re wrong. I didn’t give a damn about Ed. Okay? All that crap his wife’s been spewing—that I couldn’t stand the thought of him being with her—is ridiculous. Yes, I told her that. Because I needed her help.
“It was business, okay? It’s always business with me. We have to get that land. Everything depends on it. And Eddie failed. He let that creep—that sicko with all the dogs—push him around. String him along. So we took care of it. I’m a professional, do you understand? I do what needs to be done. I don’t put up with excuses. I win. That’s what I do. You got that? I always win.”
“Really,” Bell said. “So how’d you get Hackel out there?”
“Picked him up at his motel that afternoon. He’d just gotten back from Acker’s Gap. He’d made another run at Dillard. Tried to blackmail him with what he knew about the drugs. But once again, he’d failed. Once again, Eddie let us all down.” She shook her head, exasperated. “Well, I’d had enough. We were running out of time. We were totally screwed unless we got that land right away. It was time to pull out all the stops. One last chance. A long shot—but that’s what I’m known for. For doing things other people won’t do. Because they’re too lazy or too stupid. Or too chickenshit.”
She’d said enough. She flung herself back down in her chair.
Bell had to get her talking again. “Come on, Carolyn. You’re kidding yourself, aren’t you? You’d fallen hard for Eddie Hackel. You didn’t want to, you didn’t mean to—but that’s what happened. Wasn’t it? You were nuts about the guy.”
“Goddammit. For the last time—no. No.” Abruptly, she bolted forward again, determined to make her case. “I told Eddie we’d both try. We’d work on Dillard together. I’d drive us out to that crummy cabin and wait for the sonofabitch to show up and then we’d threaten him again. Eddie had been working on a new angle—something about a flood and some old lady—and I said, ‘Sure, whatever. Just get him to sell us his fucking land.’ I’d had it up to here with Ed’s little schemes.”
“Hackel didn’t take his cell.”
“I told him to leave it behind. His location could’ve been tracked.”
“Dillard wasn’t home yet. So you killed Hackel and framed him for the crime.”
Runyon laughed. “Nice try, but I already told you that I didn’t kill anybody. Paul McGloin did it. He was waiting in the barn. The minute Eddie turned his back, Paul hit him with the shovel. Quick jabs in the back of the neck.” Her expression bordered on a smirk. “So if you’re thinking of charging me—sorry. Paul’s your man. He used that silly wagon to get the body down to that filthy little creek. Do the math. Dillard has to sell that land now. To pay his legal bills. All those appeal
s won’t come cheap.” Another laugh. This time, a triumphant one. “Eddie finally came through for the company. Just not quite the way he planned.”
“You were seen in the Comebacker that night.”
“Wasn’t me. That was Eddie’s little wifey. Pissed as hell at him because of his affair with me. I mean, she really did love the guy. But hell hath no fury, you know?” A sneer. “Eddie had a type, all right. In a dark bar, Diana and I can pass for each other. She just signed my name and room number on the drinks receipt and—presto.” Runyon jabbed a finger in Bell’s face. “That first night you talked to her at the courthouse? When she acted all mad at me? She told me that you fell for it, big time.”
Bell looked at her watch. Right about now, Deputy Oakes would be knocking on the door of Paul McGloin’s motel room. McGloin, she was sure, would implicate Carolyn Runyon. Once he was told that Runyon had sold him out, he would be more than happy to return the favor.
They hadn’t spoken to McGloin yet. But Runyon didn’t know that.
“McGloin,” Bell said, “tells a different story. He swears you’re the one who killed Hackel. And dumped him in the creek. From the look of those nicely toned arms and legs of yours, Ms. Runyon, I’d say it’s plausible. Which means it’ll be a toss-up as to who the jury believes. If it were me, I’d want to be the first one to sign a statement admitting to the plot.” Bell smiled. “It’s just good business.”
Runyon faced forward, staring at the same spot on the wall she had stared at before.
* * *
When Bell stepped out of the interrogation room, Rhonda was waiting for her. Like Bell, Rhonda was exhausted, but she was also excited, her eyes bright and keen. She had watched the closed-circuit feed with Harrison in the sheriff’s office. The moment it was over, Harrison had headed to the jail to meet Deputy Oakes when he arrived with McGloin.