by Nero Blanc
Taylor could see Lever’s beefy fists tighten and his forearms bulge beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves. A line of sweat started to form on Gus’s brow as his grin gradually began to dim. “I … don’t know. I don’t … know what you’re talking about.”
“No? We’ve got two homicides, Professor, and we’ve got a missing person … who happens to be this lady’s fiancé and a best buddy to the two men now in front of you. I’d say you were in real trouble here.”
“I can’t help you.”
Lever paused, then continued in a frighteningly quiet tone. “I’m not a violent man, Gus, I’m not. I’m not into police brutality, I’m not into slapping prisoners around, and so forth. But you know what? We’re either going to find Rosco in one piece … or you’re going to die … right where you sit. Miranda rights or no Miranda rights, and you have my word on that.”
Taylor squinted at Lever, noting the icy calm that had settled over his face—that and the fact that Lever outweighed his prisoner by at least seventy-five pounds. “I meant what I said, Lever,” he stammered. “I don’t know anything about Rosco! I … I … was only trying to get to Belle. I wanted her to see my work … that’s all. I wanted to get close to her.”
“I’m not buying that for a second, Taylor.”
“It’s the truth, I swear.” Gus’s twitchy body hunched forward; he began to whimper.
“Nice performance, but save it for the movies. I want answers, and I want them now; and if I have to squeeze them out of you, I will.” Lever stood and moved toward Gus.
In classic good cop, bad cop fashion, Jones stepped up to the bars. His voice was soft. “Don’t do it, Al. This guy’s not worth losing your shield over.” Abe looked back at Belle, who glanced away; her hands had clenched into fists as well; the knuckles were blue white. When she finally spoke, her head was bent and the words barely audible. “It’s been seven months since you created that puzzle.…” She looked up abruptly but avoided Gus’s eyes. “Ask him why he chose to make himself known to me now, Al.”
“You heard the lady.”
Taylor gazed longingly at Belle. “You were getting married, and I thought … I thought …” He leaned forward and rolled his shoulders as if trying to raise his manacled hands.
Belle flinched reflexively, then hardened herself. “Did you hurt Rosco?”
Taylor appealed to Lever. “I didn’t hurt anyone. I swear I didn’t. And I don’t know where her fiancé is.”
Lever’s jaw tightened in frustration. “Let’s go back to Thursday night, Professor. How’d your ‘Tinker Bell’ crossword get under Freddie Carson’s head in Adams Alley?”
“I don’t know.”
Lever leaned into the man, and Taylor’s thin, alcoholic body suddenly began to quiver.
“Okay … I … Yes, I put it there.”
“And that was after you killed Carson?”
“No! I didn’t do it. I swear! Freddie was dead when I found him.”
“Don’t play me for a patsy, Gus.”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t kill him! I only put the puzzle there to get her attention.” Gus again nodded in Belle’s direction as tears began trickling down his stubbled cheeks. “I mean, she never thanked me … even after I mailed her a copy with a letter of dedication.… I thought she’d be so pleased.… With all that media attention about how that other guy had died in Newcastle, and how Belle Graham had helped find the killer … ‘Cryptics Queen Clues Coppers’ … and Personality magazine …”
Lever looked at Belle, who shook her head in denial, confirming she’d never seen Taylor’s letter.
“She never wrote back,” Gus continued dismally. “I waited.… I even tried to call her a couple of times.… I’m a scholar, you know, like her father.… She should have responded. She should at least have had the courtesy to respond.”
“I never received the puzzle, Zachary,” Belle said. Her voice was surprisingly gentle.
Lever interrupted. “Let’s get back to the alley. If you’re claiming you didn’t kill Freddie Carson, who did?”
“I don’t know. That’s the truth, Lieutenant. And I don’t have any information on Rosco, either.”
Al straightened up and looked at Jones. “You want to change your advice about going easy on this creep, Abe?” Then Lever swung quickly back to Taylor. “I’m giving you a final chance to make nice, Professor. Take it or leave it. Life’s not going to be so pleasant from now on. I don’t want any more whining about how you don’t know a thing about the crime scenes. You were there. Logic says you’re involved. History, as you know, is full of logical progressions. Cause and effect.”
Gus hung his head and began to mumble. Lever barked out a loud “What’s that? I can’t hear you, Professor.”
“I … I’d been drinking. I went into the alley to relieve myself.” He glanced sheepishly at Belle. “Anyway… there was a car down there, so I stopped and waited. To be polite … Something was happening, but it was dark; I couldn’t see.… After a minute, someone got into the car, and raced away.”
“What make of car?”
“I don’t know. I was blinded by the headlights. It was large … a pickup truck or SUV.”
“That’s not much help, Taylor. We’ve had that information for days.” Lever lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. “All right,” he said through the smoke, “what did you do next?”
“I continued down the alley and found Freddie. He was dead … lying on some newspapers.… I … I lifted up his head, and … and then I slid my copy of the Sentinel under his shoulders. After that, I ran.”
“You’ve been carrying that newspaper with you for seven months?” Belle interjected.
Gus didn’t answer at first. When he finally did, his tone had assumed a childlike naïveté. “It was just the entertainment section.”
Belle shook her head in disbelief.
“I … I wanted to give it to you.… It was my bell crossword.… But then … well, then I thought … Freddie’s gone, and your boyfriend’s a PI, and sooner or later you’d see it.… In this town? With your reputation? It seemed so logical. But you didn’t pay any attention … so I had to contact you again—”
Lever interrupted again. “What about Carson’s dog?”
“Kit wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I listened, too. I did! … I liked that little dog.”
Lever was silent a moment. He perched himself on a metal table beside Taylor’s chair. “Okay … let’s get back to that car. Remember, we’re looking at a murder here. Unless you can finger this mystery car, and unless we find some corroborating evidence, you’re behind bars for a long, long time. So think about it … think real hard.”
“I’m trying to tell you, I’d been drinking!” Again, Gus gave Belle an embarrassed glance.
“You’re asking me to believe you’ve created all this turmoil just because you have some weird fixation on Miss Graham?”
“I … I… She never thanked me! She never realized … I was … I’m … I can’t help my—”
“And you’re asking us to believe you have no idea where Rosco is? That you have no idea who killed Carson? How about the woman behind the bus station? What do you know about that?”
“Nothing.”
“Come off it, Taylor! We just picked you up at the same damn phone booth that was used to report her body to the police. Are you trying to tell me that you didn’t make that call last Saturday?”
“I don’t know anything about that woman.”
“How do you explain the newspapers? The fact that her head was resting on one of your crosswords?”
“I don’t have any idea! The cryptic was the last I constructed for the Sentinel before Simon fired me.… It has to be a coincidence—”
“I’m not a big believer in coincidence when it comes to criminal investigations, Taylor.… Okay, back to Miss Graham. How did you know where to contact her? You don’t own a car. Or did you have help? Was someone else helping you stalk her?”
“No! Everything I
’ve done, I’ve accomplished on my own.” Again, Taylor’s face turned smug. “There were only three logical places she might be: her home, office, or her sister-in-law’s.… I called each one until I found her—”
“And then told her you were holding Rosco.”
“I never said that! I only alluded to the fact that her fiancé was missing—”
“How did you know that he was missing if you weren’t involved in nabbing him?”
“I saw a man park Rosco’s Jeep near the Crier building and then jump into a cab. I assumed he was involved in something illicit, but I didn’t think he had anything to do with Freddie.”
Lever’s jaw went slack. He was clearly nonplused. “What man? What man, Taylor? Why the hell didn’t you mention him earlier?”
“I … You didn’t ask me.”
Belle and Abe stood and crowded together by the cell door.
“What did this guy look like?” Lever asked, trying to keep calm.
“I don’t know for certain. I was a half block away, maybe a little more.… He was on the young side. A healthy build, but not one of those muscle-bound guys: work boots, faded jeans. They were dusty. I thought at the time it was dried concrete or perhaps lime. Everyone’s spreading lime on their lawns at this time of year. I remember wondering if he was a landscapes.”
Lever turned toward Jones. “Did you lift samples of anything bearing that description from Rosco’s Jeep?”
“I only dusted the interior for prints. I pulled mud from the floorboards to check it with the tire mud, but I haven’t gone into the seat fibers yet.”
“How long will that take you?”
“A couple of hours.”
“You on it?”
“I’m on it.” Abe turned to leave.
“And get someone upstairs to start checking the cab companies for me, will ya? See if we can find out who picked this clown up at the Crier building.”
“Right.” Jones lifted his clipboard from the folding chair and placed an arm around Belle’s shoulders. “We’ll find him. Don’t worry.”
She gave his cheek a light kiss. “Thanks, Abe.” Then she watched as Jones hurried through the doorway at the end of the holding area.
Lever refocused his attention on Gus. “I’m still confused. What were you planning to do with all this, Taylor? What did you expect to accomplish?”
“I wanted to work with her.…” He began to whimper again. “I wanted us … to be close—”
“Two people are dead!” Lever shouted. “A man’s been kidnapped. Do you think this is a game?”
“Al …” Belle murmured through the bars, “Don’t.”
Lever let his gaze bore into Gus for a long moment before turning slowly, methodically removing a key from his pocket, unlocking the door, and stepping out of the cell. He looked back, pointed at Gus, and said, “You don’t know how close you came, Taylor.”
Lever and Belle walked up to the duty desk on the ground level together. “I’m going to put you in a taxi,” he said, “and I want you to go to either Cleo’s or Sara’s. Call me as soon as you get there, and do not leave. I mean it; that’s an order. This thing isn’t over yet.”
“I’ll go to Cleo’s. I’ll call.”
CHAPTER 30
Belle paid the cab driver and stepped onto the paved side-walk across the street from Cleo’s house. At four-thirty in the afternoon, the suburban neighborhood was surprisingly quiet: no children playing in the yards, no bicycles, no strollers, no one mowing a lawn or working in a garden, no mailman, and no UPS trucks delivering packages. Only one car passed, and that was the extent of the traffic. Belle looked at Cleo’s drive. The sole vehicle was Geoffrey Wright’s dented blue pickup truck. She watched the taxi disappear around the bend, and she crossed the street just as Geoff hurried out of the garage and jumped into the truck.
“Geoff … Where’s Cleo?” Belle walked toward him as she spoke. She tried to paste on a casual smile but felt it lacked authenticity. “And the kids?”
“They’re all at the vet’s.” He turned the key and started the engine. “One of the damn dogs got sick again.”
Belle’s smile continued to stick to her lips. “Did they say when they were coming back?”
Geoff’s reply was a testy. “Look, Tinker Bell, I’m not a baby-sitter, and I’m not a damn message center, either.” He put the truck in gear. “I gotta go.”
“But—”
“Late … they’ll be back late.… Cleo said something about the emergency animal hospital down south on the interstate. The dog was really sick.”
A sudden sense of dread kept Belle immobilized in front of Geoff Wright’s vehicle. “When will you be back?” she asked.
“What is this? Beat-up-your-contractor day? I’ve got another job to bid, and I’m running late. I have a couple of things to take care of, okay? You won’t see me till tomorrow.” He released the brake and let the truck roll forward. Belle had no choice but to step aside and watch him barrel out of the drive. For the first time, she noticed his New Hampshire license plate.
A cold sweat covered her. I’ll go inside and lock all the doors, she decided. Then I’ll call Lever. She hurried toward the house, but as she opened the front door, a sudden thud arrested her. Belle stopped, nearly congealed with fear. A grunt issued through the kitchen opening, followed by the sound of a woman swearing.
“Sharon?” Belle called out in both hope and fear, and Sharon’s wide and pleasant brow appeared.
“Hiya, Belle. I didn’t hear you come in.”
Relief suffused Belle’s face. “Am I glad to see you! Geoff told me Cleo was at the vet’s.… He didn’t tell me you were here—”
“That’s because he’s in a really foul mood today. Nothing but carping and complaints.…” Sharon disappeared. Belle heard something metallic bang against stone. “Sorry, Belle, but I’m in the middle of caulking.”
With her brain whirring with questions, Belle turned back to the door, closed and locked it, then walked up the stairs to join Sharon in the kitchen. “I’m going to shut the back door. Is that okay with you?”
“Whatever you want …”
Belle bolted it, then tested the patio windows to make certain they were also locked. Finally, she walked into the kitchen. Again, the simple fact of Sharon’s presence seemed to fill the house with solidity and strength; her large frame was bent double over the newly installed marble countertop as she ran a bead of caulk along the splashboard. The work was exacting, Sharon’s concentration complete.
Belle watched her for a moment. Maybe her suspicions about Geoffrey Wright were unfounded, but then again, maybe Sharon could supply a few missing details.
“Geoff told me he was bidding another job,” she said.
“Oh yeah?” Sharon seemed wholly disinterested in the news, then suddenly let out an angry “Ahhhgh!” as her heavy body jerked upward. “Dampen one of those paper towels, and hand it to me, will ya, Belle?”
Belle did as she was asked, and Sharon took the towel and wiped a smudge from the marble. “It’s a good thing this stuff is water soluble until it dries.”
Belle waited until Sharon returned to her caulk gun. “So, Cleo went to the emergency animal hospital …?”
“If that’s what Geoff said … I’ve been playing catch-up since I got back, and trying to keep out of Mr. Disagreeable’s way. Something’s stuck in his craw.”
“He said one of the dogs got sick again.”
Sharon’s shoulders shrugged. Her focus was on the bead of caulk. “If he says so. I didn’t see it.”
“Can I ask you something, Sharon?”
A noisy scratching at the back door interrupted them; Sharon jerked her head around. “Don’t let that damn dog in here! Please? The warm weather’s making them both shed like crazy. If fur gets into this caulk, I’ll have to dig it out and start all over again.” Her shoulders hunched in frustration. “It’s the only thing I don’t like about this job: all that yapping. It’s enough to drive you nuts.…”
Belle opened the door a crack and tried to shoo the animal away. The result was a prodigious amount of barking and whimpering. She reclosed the door, but the noise didn’t abate. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about Geoff.…”
“All I can say is: Stay out of his way till the job here is done. He gets real touchy toward the end of a project.”
Conversation halted as Sharon slammed a fresh tube of caulk into the gun and began vigorously squeezing the trigger to build up pressure. Then she hunkered back over the countertop.
Although strongly tempted to confide in Sharon, Belle decided to continue her circuitous inquiry into Geoff Wright. “You’ve worked with Geoffrey for some time, haven’t you?”
“Five years almost. I only do marble and granite, so if he gets a job that calls for tile, butcher block, or a synthetic material, he calls in someone else. Work’s been tight recently on account of the cost of the stone. Also, marble’s real soft, so a lot of people are staying away from it. Stains too easily.”
“Soft?” Belle chuckled companionably. “I don’t know about that. I remember hitting my head on my grandmother’s counter once when I was a kid.… I cried for hours.”
“Maybe you have to learn not to hit your head.”
Belle ignored the jibe. “So … you and Geoff know each other fairly well.… Meaning you’d be aware if he were facing financial difficulties?”
Leaning over the counter, Sharon’s response was a hesitant. “I don’t stick my nose in where it don’t belong. He has his own life. I have mine.”
“Plus the fact that he lives in New Hampshire, and you’re in Vermont.”
Sharon didn’t reply, so Belle tried a more direct approach. “Does he have any feelings about the development going on in Newcastle?”