“That’s his number. He’ll be expecting your call.”
Devin Cloud stood up. A cue for Hastings to leave.
Hastings felt like a fool, sitting there in his chair with his lawsuit and an armful of files on the murder case. He held the piece of paper in one hand.
Devin Cloud said, “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. And if it goes badly and you get a judgment against you, you can always file bankruptcy.”
Hastings waited for the lawyer to indicate he was kidding. It didn’t happen.
He returned to his office and closed the door. He called Henry Brummell’s office. A receptionist answered and told him Mr. Brummell was in court this morning. Hastings left a message and hung up the phone. He could not remember feeling so alone. A girl is murdered and he was getting sued by the murderer. It still didn’t seem possible. The City hinting that he could be on his own…
He sat there alone for a while, trying to stave off a deep, dark depression. He had walked out of Devin Cloud’s office in something of a daze. The female attorney giving him a cheery goodbye in the hall…
Were they laying this off on him? Conflict of interest? What did it mean? On what universe could his interests conflict with the City’s? Didn’t they want to convict Bradbury too?
His cell phone rang.
Terry said, “George?”
“Hi, Terry.”
“Is this an okay time?”
Hastings shook his head. She had no idea. He said, “Sure. What’s up?”
“The manager of the salon is Anna Dupree. Here’s her number.”
Hastings wrote it down and Terry said, “She’s expecting your call. I’m really sorry to bother you with this.”
“It’s no bother. Are you all right?”
“I’m good.”
“I’ll call you after I talk to her.”
Hastings went to his captain’s office and told her he would be taking a couple of day’s comp time. Karen Brady, his captain, said, “Okay. Is it because of this lawsuit?”
“In part,” Hastings said. He did not want to tell her about his meeting with the city attorney. He had never fully trusted Karen and now didn’t seem like a good time to start. He said, “If you get short handed, I can come in.”
“We’ll let you know,” Karen said.
Hastings regarded her and wondered if she already knew about the conflict of interest business. Paranoia was a byproduct of police work. He decided not to ask her.
Driving back home, he thought, you’re hiding. Running and hiding from the lawsuit. From events that were stressful and upsetting to him. He could go home and sit in front of the television and watch Dr. Phil talk to fat troubled people, but it wouldn’t make the lawsuit go away. He felt tired. He knew that the exhaustion was probably more emotional than anything else. He was grieving for Toni McElroy, but there was something more than that. The trial had exhausted him. Having to sit in that courtroom at the prosecutor’s table and look at the man who killed her. Ryan Bradbury smiling and joking with his lawyer and people on the lawyer’s team. Hastings was no stranger to evil. But the Bradbury trial wore him down. It was as if, during the trial, he had sensed the outcome. All along he had told himself that the jury would convict Bradbury. But things kept going wrong. The judge would sustain another one of Bradbury’s lawyer’s objections and the sense of doom would ratchet up just a little bit more. And when the jury started laughing at some of Bradbury’s lawyer’s jokes, Hastings knew they were in trouble. They liked Bradbury’s lawyer. They liked Simon Cray. And they didn’t like Rana Bradbury. Would the jury smile if they had seen the photos of the bloody mess that had been Toni McElroy? Maybe they would. Maybe nothing mattered to them. Maybe they’d place the blame on the girl’s mother for being greedy and slutty. What was the point of trying?
Go home, Hastings thought. Go home and lie down on the couch and put a cushion over your face and put it out of your mind and hope for sleep to come. Go home and take a walk and try to think of something else, something nice. Hide your shame and fear from the people who answer to you, the people who count on you and look up to you.
He reached into his jacket pocket and touched his cell phone. There was a piece of paper next to it. He pulled it out, thinking it was the paper with Henry Brummell’s number on it. But it was the piece of paper with the salon manager’s number on it.
Hastings dialed that number.
A few moments later, she was on the phone.
“Anna Dupree?”
“Yes.”
“This is George Hastings. I’m a lieutenant with St. Louis PD. Homicide. Terry McGregor asked me to give you a call. About your friend?”
“Oh, yes. Johnny.” There was a pause. She said, “Can you come by? I think it’d be better if we talk in person.”
After a moment, Hastings said, “Yeah, I can do that.”
There was a noticeable pall at Anna’s Salon. There were three hairdressers there, all of them women. They stopped and held their scissors still as they examined George Hastings when he came in. Anna Dupree waved them back to work as she led Hastings to a small office in the back.
She was a heavyset woman of about forty, her hair dark and curly. She said, “I’ve written down Johnny’s full name and address for you.”
“Thanks,” Hastings said. “How did you find out?”
“They found his business card in his car and called me. I had to notify his next of kin.”
“I’m sorry,” Hastings said. “Who called you?”
“It was the chief of police from a town called Athens. Do you know it?”
“No.”
“You familiar with Lake of the Ozarks?”
“Not really.”
“The Lake is surrounded by all these small towns. One of them is Athens. The cop called me and said —” She started to cry. “They said they had found his body in the water and they said he was dead.”
“Did they say how he died?”
“They said he drowned.”
“I’m sorry.”
“And…that was it. They just asked me who his next of kin was. They didn’t know. So I had to track down his friend, Aaron, and tell him. I guess he called the parents.”
“Do you have Aaron’s number?”
“Yes.”
“Was Aaron his partner?”
“No. At least I don’t think he was. They were friends. Aaron was pretty torn up when I told him.”
Hastings said, “I want you to know I don’t mind talking with you about this. But…why is it you wanted to tell me about it?”
“Well…it just seems weird.”
“What does?”
“I mean, no one knows what he was doing down there. He never talked about the Lake of the Ozarks. Aaron doesn’t know what he was doing down there.”
“Aaron thinks something bad happened?”
“I don’t know. Aaron’s kind of, well, squirrelly.”
Hastings said, “What are you suggesting?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know. I just think it’s strange. Strange that Johnny would even go down there. And then drown there. It’s not even summer. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Maybe he went down there to party. The Athens police chief called you?”
“Yes.”
“Did he have any explanation?”
“No. He just said that he drowned.”
“Would it make you feel better if I talked with the police chief?”
“Maybe,” Anna said. “We just don’t know anything, that’s all. We’d like to know. He’d talk to you, wouldn’t he?”
“The police chief? Yeah, probably.” Hastings regarded the woman. She was upset. Obviously she had strong feelings for Johnny Rodgers. Hastings said, “Listen, I’ll look into it. Okay?”
In the Jaguar, Hastings looked at the couple of notes he had taken during the interview. John Rodgers, sometimes called Johnny. White male, homosexual, thirty three years of age. Occupation: hairdresser. Apparent cause of death: dr
owning. Friend: Aaron. Place of death — Athens, Missouri.
Athens, Missouri. Well over a hundred fifty miles from St. Louis and way out of his jurisdiction. He could call the Athens police chief and the police chief could tell him to mind his own fucking business and there wouldn’t be much Hastings could do about it short of getting county or federal officials to lean on him. Which he wasn’t inclined to do. It was out of his jurisdiction. Hastings himself resented being second guessed and told what to do by federal agents or officers from another agency. Cops are territorial.
It wasn’t his jurisdiction or his business. But then…Terry was a friend. How many times had she taken Amy to and from basketball practice? Or to a soccer game or let her stay the night at their house when Hastings was on call? Terry McGregor was kind to Amy too. Nurturing to Amy in a way that Hastings’s ex-girlfriend, Carol, never had been. Up till now, Terry had never asked him for anything. Surely he could make a couple of calls for her. Though it would only pay back a fraction of the debt.
He pulled the Jag into a convenience store parking lot. Got out his phone.
“Athens Police Department.”
“Hello. This is Lieutenant George Hastings, St. Louis PD. May I speak to Chief Dobbs?”
A few moments passed. Then, “Dobbs.”
“Chief Dobbs?”
“Yeah.”
“My name’s George Hastings, I’m a lieutenant with St. Louis homicide. I wanted to talk to you about a body you found in the lake a few days ago.”
“Yeah,” Dobbs said. “John Rodgers?”
“That’s the one.”
“What can I do for you?”
Chief Dobbs sounded younger than Hastings had expected. Hastings said, “Well, this isn’t official. He was a friend of a friend of mine. A friend of my neighbor’s. I’ve got no cause to think there’s been a homicide. But I told my friend I’d call you and see what I can found out.”
“I understand,” Dobbs said. “Well, there’s not much to it. He drowned. But he does have a contusion on his head. We don’t have the body anymore. His dad and his sister came down and got it yesterday.”
“Was there an autopsy?”
“No. But we’ve got an M.E.’s report. You’re welcome to review it. I can fax it to you.”
“I’d appreciate that very much. But…you say there was a contusion?”
“Yeah. I remember reading that.”
“Was it possible he was hit?”
“Oh, I guess it’s possible. But it’s more likely he fell and hit his head.”
“Is that what the medical report said?”
“Not exactly. It notes the contusion, but doesn’t list a cause. You have reason to think there was mayhem?”
Hastings was surprised at the use of the word mayhem. He said, “No. Listen, I appreciate you offering to send me a copy of the report. But would you mind if I came down there to read it myself?”
A pause. Then Chief Dobbs said, “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. But I don’t mind faxing it to you.”
“I know. But I’d like to take a look at the place where he died.”
“Even though it’s not a homicide.”
“Like I said, it’s for a friend.” Hastings said, “I’m sorry if I’m imposing.”
“You won’t be. I’m here till five-thirty.”
The sign on the edge of Athens, Missouri said it had a population of 5548. Hastings got there around four o’clock in the afternoon. A cool spring day, the colors coming into the trees. It was a two stoplight town and the police station and city hall were on the main street.
Chief Melvin Dobbs was a short man who was a little pudgy. He was, as Hastings expected, in his mid thirties. Younger than Hastings. His office was about a thirty foot walk from the front entrance of the police station/city hall headquarters. Dobbs greeted Hastings with a handshake and introduced him to the receptionist. Hastings followed him back to his office. The office had a picture of a little boy sitting on a horse.
Dobbs said, “Does this concern St. Louis homicide?”
“I don’t believe so,” Hastings said. “Like I said, I’m doing a favor for a friend.”
“On your own time?”
Hastings realized Dobbs was asking if he had been hired by the victim’s family. Working as a private detective.
“Yeah,” Hastings said. “On my own time. I’m not being paid.”
“It wouldn’t bother me if you were,” Dobbs said. “I just wanted to know.”
“I understand.” Hastings thought he may have gained some respect on that point, though he wasn’t sure.
Dobbs said, “This is a small town. I’ve got two full time officers, a couple of reserves. The body was found in Mohawk Cove, which put it in our jurisdiction. If it had floated out, Water Patrol would have got it.”
“Who conducted the investigation?”
“I did. Yes?”
There was a young uniformed police officer standing in the doorway. The young officer said, “Sorry to interrupt, Mel. We’ve got a vehicle sighted on Lancer Road, looks suspicious. Bill and I thought they might be transporting meth.”
Dobbs said, “That’s it?”
“Yeah.”
Dobbs shook his head. “That’s not probable cause.”
The young police officer seemed disappointed.
Dobbs said, “Watch them when they leave. If they exceed the speed limit or bust a signal, pull them over and ask for permission to search.”
“Okay.” The young officer left.
Hastings said, “You got meth issues in the community?”
“Any community that’s poor is gonna have meth,” Dobbs said. “Go back a few decades, it would’ve been moonshine. You want to see where they found him?”
“I do.”
“You can ride with me.”
They rode in a brown Ford Bronco with police lights on the top. Dobbs didn’t say much during the drive. Hastings didn’t think the man was cold or hostile. He liked the way Dobbs had handled his officer on the Fourth Amendment issue. He seemed like a natural leader.
Perhaps against his better judgment, Hastings said, “Did you ever think of getting on with St. Louis PD or Kansas City?”
“No,” Dobbs said.
“There are some pretty good opportunities there.”
“I grew up here,” Dobbs said. “I was in the army for a while, stationed in Kuwait and Qatar. I couldn’t wait to come back.”
Kuwait…the man had probably fought at Desert Storm.
Dobbs said, “You grow up in St. Louis?”
“No,” Hastings said. “Nebraska.” In a town not a lot bigger than Athens. He couldn’t wait to get out. If he hadn’t gotten a baseball scholarship to St. Louis University, he might not have escaped.
“The Jaguar,” Dobbs said. “That your personal vehicle?”
“Sort of. The department seized it pursuant to the RICO acts. It’s got a Corvette engine. They let me use it.”
“Fast, is it?”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fast.”
“I had a Corvette for a while. It looked better than it drove. I ended up giving it to my brother.”
Dobbs turned the Bronco off the paved road onto a rough dirt trail that wound through some trees. They went about a mile and then the lake came into a view. The stopped at a cove rimmed by houses, some of them old and rustic, some of them newly built and massive. Dobbs stopped the Bronco and they got out and walked.
Dobbs took him to a ridge overlooking the inlet. He pointed to a brown and white house on the other side of the lake.
“The owner of that house is the one who called and reported seeing the body. His statement’s in our report.”
“How come we’re on this side?” Hastings asked.
“Because this is the side where his car was found.” Dobbs pointed. “Over there.”
“Where’s the car now?”
“His family took it away.” Dobbs looked at the city detective. “You think that was a mistake, letting them take it?”
Hastings thought it might have been. But the chief had no reason to think he was dealing with a homicide. Hastings said, “Not really. Did you look it over?”
“Yeah. I didn’t find anything.”
“No one called the police about a car being here that didn’t belong?”
“No. About two thirds of these houses are vacant out of season. He left it in front of one of the houses that was vacant.”
“What was he doing here?”
“Well, we knocked on the doors of the people who were here. None of them really saw him come. One of them said they noticed the car, but didn’t think much about it. There’s no security gate on this road.”
“Any one can come down here?”
“Yeah.”
“And nobody saw anything suspicious?”
“No.”
Hastings said, “This is the biggest lake in the state. Got houses like this all around it. Why would he come here?”
“I don’t know.”
“None of these people knew him?”
“No.”
“What about the home owners who weren’t here? Did any of them know him?”
Dobbs hesitated. “I didn’t check.”
“I see.”
“We’ve got three men here. That’s it. I guess I should’ve —”
“It’s all right,” Hastings said. “Would you mind if I checked?”
“Not at all.” Dobbs stood back and looked down the road. Then he said, “Four houses where the owners weren’t here. I can get you the names of the owners. If you find anything out that’s significant, I’ll ask that you let me know about it.”
“Be glad to. The medical report, did it indicate any alcohol in his system?”
“It did.”
Hastings said, “What do you think?” He was not patronizing the small town chief. He genuinely wanted to know.
“I think he came here, got drunk, walked down one of these paths to the water, fell down and fell in the water and drowned. Now I’m not going to tell you we did a thorough search of all the paths and rocks from here to the water to look for blood. We didn’t. And County didn’t offer to help us do it. It’s likely he hit his head on a stone after he went into the water. What’s more, I have no idea if he knew how to swim.”
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