by Jim Gallows
25
Wednesday, noon
When they returned to the station the place was quiet. Jake understood why. He could see through the blinds into the colonel’s office. Harper was there, his head in his hands as sobs racked his body. There was something unnerving about such naked, unselfconscious displays of grief, and Jake wished there was some other way to take the investigation.
Harper was still wearing his black overcoat, and there was an untouched coffee in front of him. No steam wafted from the surface. It had been there a while. The colonel was sitting silently behind his desk. When he spotted Jake and Mills he stood up and came out.
‘She was killed in the house?’ he asked.
Jake nodded once in the affirmative, then aimed a second nod at Harper. ‘How’s he holding up?’
How would I hold up if it was Leigh?
From somewhere in the room a tinny blast of Christmas music made everyone jump. Jake saw one of the admin staff fumbling for her mobile phone and switching it to silent; he knew she’d curse her choice of ringtone until well after New Year’s.
Asher glared at the unlucky soul for a long second, then turned back to Jake. ‘He’s devastated. But he was capable of focusing when I asked him a few questions. I’ll type up a report as soon as he’s out of here.’
‘I really need to talk to him myself,’ said Jake.
The colonel looked at him. ‘I suppose you do. At least don’t march him down to the interview room. Keep it gentle.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Jake and Mills walked into the office. Jake sat in the colonel’s chair. He saw Mills’s look of annoyance as he took one of the canteen chairs still there from the morning meeting. Harper seemed smaller, barely filling his expensive suit. His reddened eyes seemed to burn within his pale face.
This was difficult. Yesterday Jake had begun the interview with Sonny fairly certain that he was a viable suspect. So they had gone in hard. Today he didn’t figure Harper for a double killer, and he trusted his instincts. So he was going to be a lot softer, more sympathetic.
He leaned forward on the desk. ‘Councilman?’ Harper looked up, his eyes watery. ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’
‘Call me Mitch.’ His hand reached out instinctively – a politician to the core – but his grip was limp, weak. He was going through the motions, on autopilot.
‘I’m sorry to do this, Mitch. I know it’s a bad time, but I have to ask you some questions. Anything you can tell me and Detective Mills now could help catch your wife’s killer. We need to catch him fast, before he does this again.’
‘I understand.’
‘We’ll start at the beginning, and I’m sorry if we repeat questions you’ve already been asked. We just have to get everything clear. Did you know of anyone who might wish your wife harm? Enemies, people she fought with, anyone like that?’
Harper’s face registered surprise. ‘She was such a warm, giving person. Everyone loved her.’
Jake saw a flicker cross Mills’s face, but he said nothing.
‘When did you last see your wife?’
‘I had dinner with her last night, then we watched some TV. That English thing about King Henry. She … loved that.’ His shoulders shook, but he managed to get a grip on himself and looked at the two detectives.
‘And after?’
Harper hesitated, but Jake already knew some of the answer. The two-day-old shirt told its own tale.
‘You didn’t spend last night with your wife?’ he prodded gently.
Harper looked at his feet. When he answered his voice was small.
‘No, I didn’t.’ He looked down for a moment, and when he looked up he didn’t meet the investigators’ eyes. He went on in a low voice: ‘I had to go out around ten, to meet a campaign sponsor. I had a few beers with him, so I decided not to drive home. I slept in my office. The campaign headquarters office, not the City Hall one. I have a little pull-out bed there. I often sleep over when I’m working late. Election year and all.’
It was a lie. Harper had volunteered too much detail. But Jake still had to go through the motions. In any case, it was not a crime to lie about your whereabouts.
‘We’ll need the details of the man you met,’ said Jake. He would be able to confirm what time Harper had been out, but that still left a full night with no supported alibi. Quite convenient.
‘That’s not a problem,’ said Harper. ‘But I’ll have to call him first, to square it with him.’ He fixed the detectives with a stern, patronizing stare as he explained: ‘I know this is a murder investigation, but these guys donate big sums, and they expect a certain amount of discretion.’
Unbelievable. Your wife has been murdered, and you’re playing politics. But Jake said nothing.
Harper was sniffling again, the tears never far from the surface. He took a linen hanky out of his suit pocket and dabbed his face. It was all very affecting. A bit too affecting, thought Jake. He had sympathy for the man, but somehow he felt the emotion was being displayed. Harper was genuinely grieving, but at the same time he was aware of his pain and playing it to the hilt. He and Belinda had been the perfect power couple, and now Mitch would be the perfect widower. Jake felt it was all a bit impersonal. Political grief. But he had to admit the guy was good.
The cameras would love it.
‘At your earliest convenience,’ said Jake. He was beginning to tire of the bullshit, but what could he do? Some day Harper might be his boss.
The councilman was sobbing now. He held his head in his hands, and the tears flowed freely.
‘If only I had gone home,’ he railed, clenched fist raised like he was going to pound the desk. Then he stopped and let it slowly ease down on to the wood. Every gesture calculated, almost practised. That he was able to be so deliberate mid-sob was nothing short of impressive. Jake wondered if it could also be classed as sinister. ‘I wasn’t drunk. I could have driven. Then she might still be with me.’
Jake had no answer to that. He was saved by the sudden arrival of Sara. The bubbly receptionist was smiling as she looked into the office.
‘There’s a visitor for you, Detective Austin,’ she said.
She looked at the sobbing Harper, and a look of maternal concern crossed her face.
‘Excuse me, Councilman.’ Jake got up and went out of the door. Mills followed.
Jake closed it behind him so that Harper could be alone.
Sara looked up at Jake, and a miniature smile was still hovering over her eyes. She whispered, trying to keep it for Jake alone. ‘He says he’s here to confess.’ She giggled.
Jake could feel his blood pressure rising. And that ulcer, the one whose ass he thought he’d kicked, released its acidy sensation into his stomach.
26
Wednesday, 12.40 p.m.
Jake tightened his jaw and ground his teeth. He followed Sara down the corridor to where Johnny Cooper was waiting for him at the front desk, looking as dishevelled as on the previous day. He had a hangdog face, and he was fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes.
‘Detective Austin,’ he began, ‘I need to speak to you in private.’
‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment, Johnny,’ said Jake.
‘Belinda Harper, I know. That’s what I need to talk to you about.’
‘Sorry, buddy, I don’t have the time.’
Jake had felt sorry for Johnny yesterday, but today the nut bag was adding to his stress levels, bringing up the acidic prickles in his belly. But Johnny wasn’t smart enough to pick up on Jake’s mood.
‘I think you need to talk to me,’ he said. ‘You see, I did it. I killed her. The rage came on me again, because of the moon, so I went out and I killed her. She was walking round the construction site on her own. She was asking for it. I need help. I need to be locked away for the good of everyone.’ Johnny dropped the pack of cigarettes on the desk and put his head in his hands. He began to weep. ‘You could have stopped this,’ he mumbled into his hands. ‘Why didn’t you arrest me yesterday?’<
br />
‘I think you need to stop walking around construction sites at night,’ replied Jake. He tried to keep his voice gentle, like how he spoke to Faith when she was in one of her moods. ‘You don’t need to keep coming in like this.’
‘Are you going to arrest me now?’
Jake shared a look with Sara, who was pretending that her keyboard was the most interesting object in the world, then turned back to Johnny.
‘If you just go down to the interview room, I’ll have one of the guys come down in a while and take a statement from you. You know your way. Better still, why don’t you get yourself a coffee and go home. I’ll have one of the guys swing by later and you can tell him all about it.’
Jake reached into his pocket and took out a ten, which he tried to press into Johnny’s hand. But Johnny pushed the bill away. He reached forward and grabbed Jake’s jacket lapel.
‘I need someone to talk to me!’ he shouted. ‘Don’t put me back out there.’
Jake’s frustration was growing, and this was all being played out in public. He took Johnny’s hand and snapped it from his lapel, then looked the man straight in the eye.
‘I’ve got it. You killed her. But we have procedures,’ he said in a low, firm voice. ‘You go home, I’ll send a guy out. It’s the best I can do. I won’t let you down.’
The two men stared at each other for a moment, then Johnny broke eye contact.
‘Thank you,’ said Johnny, seeming to relax. ‘I needed to get it off my chest. Make sure someone comes by. I don’t want to kill any more women.’
Jake took him by the shoulder and led him out the door and watched him shuffle down the steps and away. Sara, who had followed the exchange with growing amusement, giggled again.
Jake rounded on her. ‘There’s a man there who’s just lost his wife,’ he hissed. ‘What the fuck were you thinking, disturbing me in the middle of an interview with this shit?’
‘Aw, c’mon. It was a bit of fun,’ she gulped.
‘This isn’t a barroom brawl we’re investigating! If it’s so fucking funny, why don’t you go into the colonel’s office and explain the joke to our new widower. What were you—’
When he saw the tears welling up in her eyes, he realized that he was towering over her in a very threatening manner. He was scaring her and he was out of control. Worse still, he didn’t feel the least bit bad about it. With difficulty he took a step back and got himself under control.
‘Sara, don’t …’ But he tailed off. There was no way to finish that sentence that would leave him satisfied so he turned from her and walked back inside. ‘Just get back to work,’ he said.
27
Wednesday, 12.50 p.m.
Jake was still boiling as he walked back to the detective bureau. As he reached the door his phone buzzed. He didn’t want to talk to anyone now, but it was Leigh. They hadn’t made up last night. Somewhere he had read that it was not good to go to bed angry, but life has a way of screwing up even the best of intentions. He forced some sunshine into his voice, hoping that she was just calling to ask if he could pick up a Christmas tree or something like that. Something mundane that they could not possibly argue over.
‘Hi, Leigh. Everything all right?’
‘No,’ she sighed. ‘Your mother has gone missing.’
Jake froze. She had gone walkabout before but Leigh had never needed to phone him in the middle of an investigation. ‘What happened?’
‘I don’t know. She didn’t come down for breakfast this morning. I thought nothing of it. It’s happened before. But when I settled Jakey down for his nap I went into her room to check on her. Jake, I don’t even know if she slept in the room last night. She’s been gone for hours. I’ve phoned around the neighbours, and no one has seen her.’
Jake could feel the waves of tension banding his forehead. ‘Maybe—’
‘No “maybe”, Jake,’ Leigh interrupted. ‘She’s a danger to herself. You can’t just look away from the fact that your mother is losing her mind.’
His stomach tightened and he felt that ulcer again. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then said, ‘I’ll be right over.’
Mills was at his desk, phone in hand. He hadn’t dialled yet. He cradled the phone when Jake walked in.
‘Howard, I need to go out for a while.’
Mills nodded. He didn’t ask where Jake was going. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Where do we take this case?’
Jake pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally shifting thoughts of his family to one side, allowing his professional mind to tick over unimpeded. ‘Start with the victims. Both of them. See if there’s something that links them. But something tells me Belinda Harper is the key. So find out everything you can about her – her friends, her enemies, who she calls, her personal trainer. We need to know everything.’
Mills nodded and Jake backed out of the room.
‘I’ll have a radio and my phone. Any breaks, let me know.’
As he turned to leave Asher was walking up the corridor towards him. Jake nodded at his superior and walked out.
He was not going to tell the chief where he was going.
28
Wednesday, 12.55 p.m.
Jake lost a bit of time finding a patrol car with keys in the ignition. But when he found one he pulled out of the precinct yard and into the street, keeping his head low. The car had a radio and flashing blues, so he could get back in a hurry if he had to.
For a moment he wondered where to begin the search, but then logic kicked in and he decided to start where she was last seen.
He drove home.
He didn’t go in, though. This was just the starting point. Instead he drove slowly from there towards the convenience store that the family occasionally went to. His mother had been there once. As he drove he went through a mental checklist making sure Mills could find him if anything happened: mobile phone – on the dash; radio – tuned into dispatch. But mostly he just scanned the sidewalk on both sides, and peered into yards and down lanes. He saw no sign of her. He drove back towards his house, using a different route. Still nothing. So he began circling slowly, gradually expanding the radius of his search. He was forty minutes in and beginning to panic.
The radio crackled beside him, letting cops throughout the city know about traffic jams, muggings, all the minutiae of day-to-day policing. He had tuned it out – Mills would call his mobile if it was anything important – but suddenly his attention was drawn to the end of a bulletin. ‘… wandering on Berkshire …’ Shit! He had missed it. He lifted the mouthpiece and pressed the button, putting him through to dispatch.
‘Car 62, Detective Austin. Can you repeat that last announcement?’
‘Sure, Detective,’ said the dispatcher. ‘It’s an old woman wandering around, looking confused.’
‘Where?’ snapped Jake.
‘On Berkshire. There’s no cars in the vicinity so I put it out on the all-points bulletin.’
‘Where is she now?’
‘Five minutes ago she was passing the low fifties, heading east. She won’t have got far.’
‘Thanks, bud.’
Jake thought of putting on the lights, but then another thought hit him – what if another car responded? He didn’t want the whole station knowing his personal business. Some things were best kept in the family.
Jake hit a button on the radio, addressing all cars on patrol and forcing the tension from his voice: ‘This is car 62.’ He didn’t identify himself. ‘I’ve got the woman on Berkshire. I’ll see that she gets home.’
He slowed, found a spot for a U-turn and headed across town. It was lunchtime and traffic was light, but three stop lights went against him. He was tempted to run one of them, but the junction was too busy. It took six minutes to hit Berkshire. That meant it was more than ten minutes since the call came into dispatch. Would his mother still be there? He turned on to Berkshire and drove briskly up the numbers, past the fifties, then he slowed. He scanned both sides. No sign of her. Then he was past
the sixties, the seventies, up to the eighties. Where was she?
Finally he saw her. His heart rose and he breathed out a long sigh. She was coming down the street towards him, walking slowly, looking about her as if she was lost. He pulled up and got out of the car.
‘Mom,’ he called, feeling snow clutching at his feet, climbing above his ankles. His heart lurched with worry for her – these conditions were not good for a woman her age. ‘Mom, it’s me. Jake.’
She looked up at the sound of the voice, then smiled sweetly. She recognized him, a look of relief passing over her face.
He ran over to her and put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Are you enjoying your walk?’ he asked through gritted teeth.
‘Jake! I can’t find a street sign,’ she explained. ‘I was looking for a policeman to help me.’
‘Don’t worry, Mom. I know the street signs. I’ll take you home.’
‘Yes. That sounds good. Perhaps we’ll do that.’
Jake helped his mother into the car and drove back in silence – what was the point of asking her what she was doing? She wouldn’t answer, or she would talk nonsense. There was that band of tension around his forehead again, the stinging prickles of acid in his gut. This was just too much, on top of everything else. Something within him wanted to explode, but he was careful – it wasn’t her fault.
This couldn’t take long; he had just walked out on a homicide investigation that happened to be the biggest one the town had ever seen.
Jake pulled the car into his driveway and got out. His mother was just sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for the door to be opened for her. Sighing, he walked around and popped the handle. Then he put a hand on her arm and helped her out of the car.
‘We’re home now, Mom,’ he told her.
‘Home?’ She looked up at the house as if she’d never seen it before.
He fished out his door key and took her into the house. She smiled gently, but when she thought Jake wasn’t looking her lip trembled in terror.