by James Carol
‘But what if he’s telling the truth? What if Clayton was here?’
‘Then he paid someone else to do it. Throw enough money at a problem and you’re eventually going to find a solution. Clayton’s the CEO of a billion-dollar corporation, he’s got access to more than enough cash to find a solution to that particular problem.’
Hannah turned to face me. ‘Okay, but if Clayton’s got all that money, why blackmail his father?’
‘I’d rather not get into all that now since I’m going to have to go through it all again when Jasper and Clayton get here.’
Hannah’s eyes were blazing, like the lights had suddenly come back on. Her anger was righteous and justified, and a vast improvement on self-pity.
‘You’d “rather not get into it”? Jesus, Winter. This isn’t some game, you know.’
‘But that’s exactly what it is. A game. The unsub makes a move, we make a countermove, and at the end of it all someone wins and someone loses.’
‘But people get hurt. People die.’
‘Do you think the bad guys worry about any of that?’ I shook my head. ‘Of course they don’t. And if I’m going to catch them, I can’t either. There’s a time for emotion, and that time is after they’ve been brought down.’
Hannah sighed and turned away. She stared at her reflection for a moment, stared at the view, then turned back to me.
‘What if you’re wrong about this one, too? What if Clayton’s innocent? What then?’
‘You need to have a little more faith, Hannah. Trust me, I know what I’m doing.’
Hannah snorted and shook her head in a way that made it obvious she wasn’t a believer. I looked out at the view, losing myself for a moment in the vastness of the landscape. The water, the sky, the trees. There was something grounding about having all that nature so close.
I adjusted my vision so I was staring at my reflection. Faint traces of Taylor’s blood still remained on my face. Dressed in dirty jeans and old work boots and that cheap blue medical top, I looked a mess. This outfit was as far removed from the uniform I’d worn when I was with the FBI as it was possible to get. The dark G-men suits, the shiny black shoes, the impenetrable sunglasses. The only thing I’d kept from those days were the shades. I shut my eyes and felt Taylor’s chest compressing under my hands, felt the faint rhythm of his pulse in my fingertips.
‘You’d better know what you’re doing,’ Hannah muttered behind me.
‘Watch and learn,’ I whispered to her reflection. ‘Watch and learn.’
65
I was standing with my back to the room, using the window as a mirror, when Jasper arrived with Clayton. I didn’t turn around, didn’t say a word, just watched them file into the lake room through the wide double doors. Hannah was beside me again, looking out over the lake.
The two men chose to stand, which was an obvious and understandable power play. I was standing, therefore they needed to stand as well. Sitting would have put them at a distinct psychological disadvantage.
I hadn’t paid much attention to Clayton last night. Despite his job title he’d seemed so insignificant next to his father, a lost little boy rather than a CEO. The shadow cast by his father was large and looming, and had completely eclipsed him.
The idea that Clayton was Jasper’s puppet was easy to buy into. It was hard to imagine Clayton ever having an original thought. Jasper would have done his best to squash that out of him years ago. And the sad thing was that Jasper probably thought he was doing him a favour. Spare the rod, spoil the child. What a crock.
I was paying plenty of attention to Clayton now. He looked nervous, and he looked more lost than ever. He looked like he’d just been given a good scolding by his father. His head was down and he was glaring at the rug. His face was bleached white and he didn’t know what to do with his hands. There was plenty of repressed rage there, and he didn’t know what to do with that, either. He was in his early forties, but the stress of the situation made him appear much older.
All that was missing were the cops. According to my watch it had been nine and a half minutes since I’d spoken to Shepherd. Their cars would have been picked up by the cameras when they turned into the driveway. The fact that Jasper and Clayton had chosen to turn up now meant they must almost be here.
The silence that filled the room was stretched to breaking point. Every now and again there would be a slight disruption. A movement, a clearing of the throat, the scratch of a shirtsleeve against skin when someone checked their watch. It’s impossible for four people to stay completely silent, particularly when they’re trying to stay quiet.
John Cage understood that. 4'33" was his most controversial composition, and his most misunderstood. People assume it’s four minutes of silence. It’s not. The noise created by the audience is the music. It’s a genius concept. Minimalism taken to its ultimate conclusion.
The cops arrived a couple of minutes later, long enough for almost half of Cage’s masterwork to be performed. They came into the room in single file. Sheriff Fortier was first, then Shepherd, Barker and, finally, Romero.
Fortier marched straight up to Jasper. There was a good half a foot difference in their heights. The sheriff’s eyeline was level with Jasper’s mouth. ‘I’m sorry about all this, really and truly. We’ll be out of here as soon as possible and you folks can get on with the rest of your day.’
‘Wait a minute.’ I turned from the window. ‘We’ve got ourselves a viable suspect here. We’ve got motive, opportunity and means. What you’re going to do is escort Clayton back to the station house so we can question him.’
Fortier marched up to me. His face was red, his blood pressure through the roof. We were standing toe-to-toe, and he had to angle his head up to meet my eye. I looked a mess, but his uniform was as immaculate as ever, creases in all the right places, shoes shining and not a single hair out of place.
‘Let me tell you exactly what’s going to happen here. We’re going to leave these good folks in peace, and then I’m going to personally drive you over to Shreveport and make sure you get on the first flight out of here.’ He turned to Jasper. ‘Once again, I can’t apologise enough for this misunderstanding.’
Jasper waved the apology away like it was something inconsequential, like this sort of thing happened all the time. Like it was no big deal that his son had been accused of murder.
‘Big mistake,’ I said, and Fortier glared at me. ‘You were brought up in Eagle Creek, right?’
Fortier nodded. ‘What the hell’s that got to do with anything?’
‘So you’ve known Clayton since he was a boy. And Jasper’s known you since you were a boy. That’s the way things work around here, right? Everybody knows everyone else’s business. The Clayton you know couldn’t be involved in something like this. No way. Now, the problem with that line of thinking is that it’s based on the idea that we can truly know another human being. We can’t. Most of us don’t even know what’s going on in our own hearts and heads, never mind what’s going on in someone else’s.’
‘Clayton Morgan had nothing to do with Sam Galloway’s murder. I’d stake my life on it.’
I let my gaze drift around the room, studying each face in turn. Taking it all in. Jasper and Sheriff Fortier looked ready to blow. Shepherd looked like a man who knew he had the law on his side. Barker and Romero looked like they were waiting to be told what to do. And Hannah looked destroyed. The room was big, but there were still too many mixed emotions competing for space.
‘Is nobody interested in what I’ve got to say?’ I asked. ‘No one?’
‘I am,’ said Hannah, earning a glare from Sheriff Fortier.
I looked at Jasper. He called the shots around these parts.
‘So what do you say, Jasper? If you’re so sure your son’s innocent, what have you got to lose? I say my piece and it turns out I’m wrong, then you guys end up vindicated and I end up looking like a fool.’ I smiled. ‘But what if I’m right? What then? How’s that going to reflect
on you? I’ll tell you exactly how that one’s going to look. It’s going to look like you were covering up for your son, and that’s bad for business. Whatever you choose to do, Clayton will need to be investigated. One way or another, the truth will come out.’
Jasper sighed and shook his head. For now, he was keeping a lid on his temper, but it was a real effort. His fists were clenched tight, the whites of his knuckles contrasting against his sun-blasted skin.
‘You’re wrong. There’s no way my boy’s involved in this. But, what the hell. Knock yourself out. Say what you’ve got to say, and then I want you the hell out of my house.’
‘Okay, let’s talk motive. We’ve got a blackmail demand for twenty million dollars, so this must be about money, right?’ I shook my head. ‘Wrong. This one’s all about revenge. It’s beautiful really. What’s the one thing that means the most to you, Jasper? And I’ll give you a clue. It’s not your family, and it’s not Eagle Creek.’
Everyone was staring at me, nobody saying a word. The room had gone very quiet. Not completely silent, though. This was a silence that John Cage would have understood, and appreciated. It was a dark silence, one filled with foreboding.
‘The answer is Morgan Holdings. The company is your legacy. It was here long before you were born, and you want to believe it’ll be here long after you’re gone. And you want it run by a Morgan. That’s important to you. The fact that Clayton hasn’t produced an heir really pisses you off. Your son is implicated in a murder and you still find time to be angry that there aren’t any grandchildren running around the place. That’s pretty screwed up if you ask me.’
I looked away from Jasper and turned to face the rest of the room. Six pairs of eyes stared back. I could smell my own sweat and, beneath that, the faint aroma of Taylor’s blood. It would take a week of showers to get rid of the smell of his blood, maybe longer. Maybe I’d never get rid of it.
‘For those of you not up to speed, Jasper received a blackmail demand for twenty million dollars last night. Now that’s the really cool part of Clayton’s plan. That first payment is just the start. Its main purpose is to get the ball rolling. Clayton would have chosen that figure carefully. It needed to be big enough to hurt the company, but not so big that it would kill it. If that had been the case, Jasper would have had no choice but to escalate this and bring in the FBI. Right now, he wants to keep things as quiet as possible. He wants to keep this in-house. If it gets out that he’s being blackmailed, that’s going to be bad for business.’
‘You need to make your mind up,’ Fortier put in. ‘One second you’re saying this isn’t about money, the next you’re saying it is.’
‘And you’re not paying attention. The blackmail demand is a means to an end. Clayton hates his father. He despises him. He wants to destroy him, and that means destroying the thing he loves most. The company. Work it through and you’ll see I’m right. Jasper pays up, then a few months later another demand comes through. A smaller amount this time. Five million, say. So Jasper liquidates some more assets and pays up. And so the cycle continues, the company slowly eroding away until there’s nothing left. It doesn’t matter if you’re dealing with millions or thousands, that’s how blackmailers operate. You get that ball rolling, then bleed your mark dry.’
I paused, gave it another second for everything to sink in. All eyes were still on me, and the room was as quiet as the station house just before the countdown hit zero. Clayton met my eye, then quickly looked away. His hair was a mess from running his hands through it, and his frown lines ran deep. Given another decade or two they’d be as deep as the trenches that lined his father’s weatherworn face.
‘But Jasper’s not stupid,’ I went on. ‘He’s an astute businessman. He’s going to hire an army of private investigators to hunt down the blackmailer. And these will be good, competent men. Former cops, ex-FBI, the best money can buy. Except nobody’s going to look too hard at Clayton, and why should they? Why the hell would Clayton be trying to destroy his own company?’
I nodded to myself. ‘It’s a good plan, and what I love most is the way Clayton has manoeuvred himself into a position where Jasper is actually protecting him. That’s genius. Absolutely brilliant.’ I grinned at Clayton. ‘Your father seriously underestimated you, didn’t he?’
‘That’s crazy. I had nothing to do with Sam’s murder, and I’m not blackmailing my father.’
I studied Clayton carefully. Again, he met my eye for the briefest of seconds before looking away. ‘You’re a good liar. I’ll give you that much.’
‘I’m not lying.’
‘You hate your father, though, don’t you?’
Head down, Clayton bit his lip and said nothing.
‘And there’s your motive right there.’
‘But where’s the proof?’ said Fortier. ‘Where’s the evidence? So far all I’ve heard is speculation.’
‘You guys are the cops, you go and find the evidence. My job was to hunt down Sam Galloway’s killer, and that’s what I’ve done.’ I put my hands together like I was about say a prayer, pressed my fingertips against my lips then took them away again. ‘If I was in your shoes, I’d want to get Clayton into an interview room double-quick and see what he has to say for himself.’
‘Winter’s got a point, sir,’ Shepherd broke in. He was stroking his moustache, his face thoughtful. ‘We don’t have enough to charge Clayton, but he does have motive. We need to at least talk to him.’
Fortier stood paralysed for a second, then he shook his head and let out a long weary sigh. It was a sigh burdened by the weight of an unfair and unforgiving world. ‘I’m really sorry about this, Jasper, but we’re going to have to take Clayton in. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get this sorted out. We’ll have him back by suppertime, I promise you that.’
Shepherd waved Barker and Romero forward, and nodded in the general direction of Clayton Morgan. The two cops walked over to him.
‘I’m real sorry about this, Mr Morgan,’ Barker told him.
Clayton just stood there, shaking his head from side to side. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Look, I don’t want to handcuff you, not in front of these folks, but if needs be, I will.’
Clayton was staring at his shoes like they were the most interesting things in the room, even more interesting than that spectacular view. I’d seen plenty of broken people over the years. Clayton looked totally beaten down, like life had finally knocked him into submission.
And he looked as guilty as hell.
I waited until the three of them reached the door, then said, ‘Hold it a second. I’ve changed my mind. Clayton didn’t do it. He’s innocent.’
Six pairs of eyes stopped looking at Clayton and turned to look at me.
66
‘That’s the thing with lies. Inject them with just the right amount of truth and you can make anything sound plausible. You can make believers out of anyone.’
Everyone just stared. Jasper Morgan and Sheriff Fortier looked as furious as ever, but there was a touch of uncertainty that hadn’t been there before. I could see a faint reflection of my face in Shepherd’s glasses. The corners of my mouth were turned up into an expression that could easily become a grin if left unchecked. It mirrored how I felt, but it was inappropriate for the situation. I swapped it for my best game face. Serious, unflinching, challenging.
‘You guys remember Dan Choat, right? The guilt-ridden cop who committed suicide after murdering Sam Galloway? That was a good attempt at creating a plausible lie. Most people believed it, and the reason they believed was because the unsub made a good choice with Choat. All the ingredients were there. The messed-up childhood, the overbearing mother, classic stuff.’
I stopped talking and shook my head.
‘Unfortunately that little illusion was built on shifting sand. That’s the other thing with lies, you need to get the fine details right. Where our unsub screwed up was the suicide note. The reason you leave a suicide note is because this is the biggest th
ing you’ve done in your whole miserable life and you need people to understand why you’re doing it. If you don’t want people to understand, you don’t write a note. It’s that simple. Now, when you sit down to write that note, do you think you’re going to find the right words straight off? No way. You’re going to write and rewrite and rewrite. You’re going to end up with a wastepaper bin full of false starts. But not Choat. His note was written on the first sheet of the pad. He got it right first time.’
I stopped talking and smiled. The room was so quiet that if a pin had dropped it would have sounded as loud as a church bell.
‘That was mistake number one. Mistake number two was the content of the note. Nobody’s going to leave a one-word suicide note. No one. It’s as pointless as decaffeinated coffee. After all his deliberations, the best Choat could come up with was “sorry”. Sorry for what? Sorry to whom? Like I said, the whole point of a suicide note is to explain why you’re killing yourself. To justify the act. To try and inject some meaning into your existence.’
‘What the hell is this?’ Jasper bellowed. ‘And why am I listening to this bullshit? Someone get this idiot out of my sight now.’
Jasper had finally found his voice. It had taken a while but he’d got there in the end. He looked like he’d be happy to shoot me dead where I stood.
I put my hands up in mock surrender. ‘Hey, you should be the happiest man on the planet right now. Your son’s innocent. He’s not going to prison. You’ve got someone to make sure the family firm keeps running long after you’re dead and gone. Yes, he hates you, but at least he didn’t try to destroy you. Not that that was ever really on the cards. We both know he doesn’t have the balls for that. Any fight he had in him, you’d knocked out by the time he was in kindergarten.’
Jasper turned to Sheriff Fortier. His hands were clenched into fists again, the knuckles shining white. He looked like he wanted to hit someone or something. It didn’t really matter what, although I had the distinct impression that I would be his first choice for a punching bag.