'Why? Guillory started me on this and he's still on the force so he's got access to more resources than you.' And he hasn't got his precious reputation to protect.
'That's what you think. Besides, he wasn't even there at the time. You need to get it from the horse’s mouth.'
‘The horse’s what?’
‘Do you want me to help you or not?’
Evan didn't think for a minute that Faulkner had suddenly decided to be über-helpful. More like he wanted to control the information Evan had access to. 'So is this an invitation to come over and have you fill in all the gaps for me?'
'Why not? Tell you what – let’s reinforce all those preconceived notions you've got in your fat head and I’ll tell you all about it over a beer. I'm not drunk, but it sounds like a plan to me.'
'Okay, where do you want to go?'
'Well, I'm afraid that's where the old clichés end. We're not going to some dive of a bar to drink cheap beer. I like up-market cocktail lounges - especially when you're paying. And since I'm going to be doing most of the drinking, why don't you come by and pick me up.'
Evan was happy to go along with that. There was a chance Faulkner would loosen up once he had a few drinks and Evan would be in a sensible condition to take it all in. He would have liked a bit more time, so he suggested picking Faulkner up about seven the following day. Unfortunately Faulkner wasn't having any of it and Evan reluctantly agreed to pick him up that evening.
After he finished on the phone with Faulkner, he called Guillory to give him an update on Schneider.
'So what have you found out, Mr P?'
It looked like Guillory wasn't going to let the peeper moniker drop. At least there didn't seem to be any malice in his tone.
‘First off, max Schneider is a certifiable fruitcake.’
‘Okay, that’s useful. I’ll be sure to make a note of that. Anything else we can actually use?’
'It seems Barbara Schneider was Max Schneider's sister, not his wife.'
'What makes you say that?'
'That's what Schneider told me.'
'That would be Schneider the fruitcake? I'm sure that's not right. Let me check.'
Evan could hear Guillory tapping away in his two-finger style at his keyboard. They ought to send him on a typing course. The tapping stopped.
'No, she was definitely his wife. That's what it says right here in the report.'
'He gave me some story about her running wild after their parents died. Living it up, lots of different men.'
'Uh huh. That doesn't mean she wasn't married to him.’ Evan could have kicked himself. He felt stupid for not thinking about the possibility himself, especially given what he’d spent the last five years doing. Guillory didn’t miss it either.
‘I would have thought your career before you became Mr Ex-Peeper would have alerted you to that possibility.’ He could feel Guillory’s amusement oozing down the phone line.
‘Sorry, that life’s been expunged from my memory.’
‘It sounds like he's invented some story to make himself feel better; soothe his injured pride. Tell yourself something for long enough and you come to believe it.'
'That's possible. As I said, he's not firing on all cylinders.'
'It could also explain her disappearance if there was another man. Either that or she's buried in the back yard.'
'He did get quite angry at the end. Called her a filthy whore and smashed a picture of her.'
'Really? I might just take a look into that.'
But not Daniel Clayton? Evan wondered ending the call. Did that mean he thought it was a dead duck and he’d just put Evan onto it to give him something to do. On the other hand, things were getting more complicated, the more he dug into them. He’d been hoping to be able to eliminate the running-off-with-another-woman line of enquiry but now it seemed to be growing legs.
CHAPTER 15
The time had come to talk to Hendricks. Evan realized he'd been putting the moment off, but when he thought about it he wasn't sure why. He'd picked up all the animosity towards Hendricks coming from Ray Clements and Linda. Subconsciously he was siding with them because Hendricks sounded such a degenerate. More preconceived ideas; he couldn't argue with Faulkner about that.
He wanted to talk to Hendricks before he talked to Faulkner again, so he didn't have much choice but to drive straight out there. Hendricks' place surprised the hell out of Evan. All he knew about him was that he'd been the school bus driver. If he'd been asked he would have said that Hendricks probably lived in a trailer park like Faulkner.
What he actually lived in was a beautiful old farmhouse surrounded by three or four acres of land with a couple of well kept barns standing off to the side. There was a hand-painted sign that read Beau Terre and an old-fashioned farmhouse porch which wrapped expansively around the house. It was about as different to Schneider's farmhouse as you could imagine. Either he'd made a ton of money selling drugs to the kids on the bus, or he'd inherited it.
Hendricks himself was sitting in a rocker on the porch enjoying the late afternoon sun, looking like God was in his heaven and all was right with the world. He had a pinched, bony face with a scar across the bridge of his nose, which had been badly set at some time in the past. He had a mass of black and gray hair that made Evan think there must have been a sale of wire wool at the dollar store. The sybaritic smile plastered on his thin lips made Evan want to slap him before he’d even said a word.
'You must be Buckley,' he said, as Evan climbed the steps up to the porch. 'Have a seat. Can I get you anything?' There was a pitcher of iced tea on the table beside him and two glasses. He waved towards them.
Evan declined the offer. 'How do you know who I am?'
'Matt Faulkner called me. Said you were working for that crazy woman Clayton, digging all that shit up again and would probably want to talk to me.' He had a lazy, drawling way of speaking which just reinforced the air of smug contentment.
'He's right. I'm just surprised he called to...'
'Warn me? Is that what you were about to say?’ He rolled forward in his rocker and spread his arms, palms towards Evan, in a universal gesture of openness. ‘We haven't got anything to hide.'
A large white cat with a black patch on its head trotted up the steps and jumped onto Hendricks’ lap. He stroked it as it started to clean. ‘Have we, Armstrong?’ he said, rubbing the cat’s ears. It purred contentedly. Evan wasn’t really a cat person but he had to admit it was a good looking cat. He wasn’t sure which one of them was the most self-satisfied.
'I'm sure you haven't.' Evan said. He didn't know if he was sure of that at all. He also didn't know how to take Faulkner calling ahead. He thought warn was exactly the right word to use. He asked Hendricks to give him his view of the events.
'Personally I think it was Clements.'
It made a refreshing change for someone to say something other than they didn't have a clue. 'That doesn't surprise me. Clements doesn't have a good word for you either.'
'I'm sure he doesn't. But Ray Clements is a bitter old man and he's lucky he's not in jail if you ask me.'
'You seem pretty sure about it. What do you think happened?'
'Like I said at the time, the boy never left the campus. I don't care what anybody says about me not paying attention and letting him slip past. It didn't happen. That boy never left the campus except in Clements' car.' He jabbed the table with his middle finger as if that clinched it.
'What about the fact that Faulkner ended up believing Daniel made it past you without being seen and it was the father who did it?' Get out of that you smug bastard.
'Just because Matt Faulkner called me up to warn me, doesn't mean we're so tight I can't disagree with him. The boy did not walk past my bus without me seeing him.'
'And that automatically makes it Clements, does it?'
'He tried to hide the fact that he'd given him a ride before. Why would a man with nothing to hide do that?'
'And it was you who told
Faulkner about it.'
He nodded emphatically. 'You got that right. I think most people would agree it was the appropriate thing to do in the circumstances.' The self-righteous look on his face made Evan want to punch it.
'He lost his job as a result. Over an accusation that was never proven.'
'No he didn't. He lost his job because they wanted to get rid of him and this gave them the excuse they needed to do it.'
'Why do you say that?'
Hendricks poured himself another glass of iced tea. This time Evan accepted the offer of a drink. He wanted to see if the glass had been used. He asked Hendricks again why he thought the school had wanted to get rid of Clements.
'Because he was a pervert, a pederast.'
'You mean a pedophile.'
'No, a pederast - there's a difference. He only liked boys. Why else would you give young boys a ride in your car?
'Because he was a nice guy and the kid lived a block away?'
Hendricks gave him a scathing look. 'Doesn't happen if you ask me. You could see he was a pervert just looking at him.'
Evan decided it wasn’t even worth asking him what he meant – what particular facial or bodily characteristics marked you out as a pervert. In fact Clements and Hendricks looked quite similar, particularly the hair.
'Were there other boys apart from Daniel?'
'Probably.'
'Did you ever see any of them?'
'No. Doesn't mean it didn't happen.'
Evan had heard enough of Hendricks' prejudices. 'Was there any proof? Did anyone make an accusation? Or were they just as prejudiced as you?'
'I'm not prejudiced; I'm just saying what everyone knew.'
'According to you.'
'Whatever.'
It was obvious Evan wasn't going to get anything remotely objective out of Hendricks, but that didn't surprise him. The trouble was, Hendricks' smug confidence in his own bigotry was really starting to irritate him. He decided to try to wipe the smile off his face. 'Why did you take a job as a school bus driver?'
It worked. Hendricks jerked upright in his chair and glowered at Evan. Evan saw him wince as the cat leapt from his lap digging its claws into his leg as it went. That’s more like it.
'You better not be suggesting it's because I like little kids.'
Evan gave him a supercilious look. 'Why not? I like kids, just not in the way you're thinking. Why is it people like you automatically assume if you like children, you want to have sex with them?'
'I don't think that.' Most of the smugness was gone now. The irritating smile had been replaced by an unpleasant curl of the lip.
'Yes you do. That's exactly what you think about Ray Clements.'
'Yeah, well he's different. I just needed a job.'
The comment had an unfortunate ring of familiarity about it. Evan had said pretty much the same thing to Faulkner to justify what he’d been doing.
'Do you know why Linda Clayton made Daniel walk home?'
The question threw Hendricks as Evan had hoped. His eyes narrowed and he leaned back in the rocker and contemplated Evan. He could see something coming but he didn't know what it was. 'Because exercise is good for you?' he said sarcastically.
'No. Because she didn't like the look of you. She didn't want Daniel on your bus.'
Evan had no idea what made him say it; Linda hadn't said any such thing. He wanted to try to rattle Hendricks to see what happened. It was also fun to annoy him just for the sake of it.
'Bullshit.'
'If you say so.'
There was no dismissive whatever this time. All trace of smugness had been scrubbed from his face. 'You're making that up.'
'I would say, ask her yourself, apart from the fact that she wouldn't talk to you if her life depended on it.'
Evan would have liked to carry on antagonizing Hendricks all night but he had to get away to meet Faulkner. 'You don't work there any more, do you?' he said.
Hendricks relaxed slightly at the change of topic. 'No, I retired just after the kid went missing. It was a stressful time all round. Lots of bad feeling.' Mainly being spread around by you ' I had this place and didn't really need the job so I quit.'
'I thought you just said you needed a job.'
There was a flash of anger in Hendricks' eyes. He was annoyed that he'd slipped up, but it didn't last long.
'What I meant was I wanted a job to give me something worthwhile to do. Keep me out of trouble.' He smirked at his own poor joke. He didn't say how it was that he came to own such a large property or that he didn't need to work. He could only have been in his late forties at the time it happened. Probably thought it wasn't any of Evan's business.
'I can see you're doing okay,' Evan said, looking around. 'It's a nice place you've got here.'
'Sure is. Come on, I'll give you a look around. You can check the barns for bodies if you like,' he sniggered.
Evan couldn't decide if he was jumping at the opportunity to change the subject completely, or he was simply a proud home owner. Evan had to admit he was just a bit jumpy as Hendricks showed him around. He knew he was being stupid but he had visions of Hendricks hitting him over the head with and axe handle and locking him in one of the barns. He didn't really relax until he was back in his car and driving away.
Once again he had the feeling that the more he talked to people, the more complicated it all became. All he had learned from his visit was that Hendricks owned a very nice house and he blamed Clements. Everybody was pointing the finger at everybody else. Hendricks might have been blaming Clements because the alternative - an innocent Clements - made him look stupid for sending the police barking up the wrong tree. Or he might have been using Clements to take the heat off himself.
He also had the feeling that there had been someone else with Hendricks just before he arrived. He was pretty sure the glass he’d drunk from had already been used. Unless Hendricks had some OCD issues that made him use a fresh glass every time he refreshed his drink, he’d had a visitor who hadn’t wanted to be seen there.
CHAPTER 16
Evan got to Faulkner's trailer just before seven. Faulkner wasn't ready so he had to wait around while he pulled on a pair of expensive-looking cowboy boots.
'I take it we're going to some shitkicker bar after all,' Evan said.
'Shitkicker my ass. These are alligator Luccheses, number five toe with a walking heel. Best boots you can buy.'
'According to Roy Rogers.'
'Why don't you do something useful and put that in the trash,' Faulkner said, tossing an empty beer bottle to him. Evan took it through to the kitchen and dropped it in the trash can. One wall of the kitchen was covered with more photographs, most of them of Faulkner's wife. A lot of them were duplicates of the ones in the living room - the two of them together on vacation and the ones of her with her parents.
'That's her with her folks,' Faulkner said joining him. 'I thought it seemed appropriate putting those up in here - a woman's place being in the kitchen and all.' He seemed to have completely forgotten that he'd told Evan the exact same thing the previous day.
They went to a noisy cocktail bar called Minge or Minx or something like that. It wasn't Evan's kind of place and he was surprised Faulkner chose it. They sat up at the bar and he ordered an over-priced beer and Faulkner started with a Margarita. The place was heaving and the music was way too loud, but Faulkner seemed to be enjoying it. Further down the bar a young woman in a pretty, clitoris-pink dress was having a very public argument with her boyfriend. The guy said something and laughed. The girl stood up and slapped his face hard before storming out. Evan was sure he heard the slap above the music. It made his eyes water just listening to it.
'Ouch,' Faulkner said. 'You know, I was in here last week and this guy walks up to a table of girls and sits down next to them and says, "The word of the day is legs; any of you girls like to come back to my place and spread the word"'.
Evan grinned. 'Did it work?'
'Depends on whether he se
t out to get a drink knocked into his lap.'
'Presumably you get lucky some of the time?'
Faulkner dug him in the ribs with his elbow. 'I've got better lines than that.' He was staring intently at a woman standing at the end of the bar. She had the largest bust Evan had ever seen and most of it was on display.
'Good God, unhooking her bra must be like opening a cupboard full of footballs,' Faulkner said.
'I think someone might step on your tongue if you're not careful.'
'Sorry,' Faulkner said without looking away from the woman, 'you were saying?'
'I went out to see Carl Hendricks today,' Evan said. 'You called him and told him I was coming,'
Faulkner finally stopped rubbernecking and turned to face him. 'Is that a problem?'
'No. I'd just like to know why you did it. You didn't call Ray Clements.'
'True, but I knew the minute you'd finished with Linda Clayton, she'd give him a call. I thought it was only fair to give Jason the same advance warning.'
'Who?' Evan said leaning towards him and straining to hear.
'Carl Hendricks. Isn't that who we're talking about?'
'You said Jason.'
'No, I said Carl. You must have misheard. The music's way too loud in here. I don’t know why you chose it.' He turned to see if he could get another eyeful of the woman further down the bar, but she’d gone. But it’s pretty obvious why you chose it, Evan thought.
'Whatever.’ he said. Despite the noise, he knew he hadn't misheard. ‘You called him up so he could get his story ready.'
He caught Faulkner staring steadily at him in the mirror behind the counter. The dim – sorry, mood – lighting made it difficult to read his eyes. Was that all part of the plan? Picking this place so that Evan couldn’t see or hear him properly.
'He doesn’t need to. His story hasn't changed in ten years as you probably found out.'
Faulkner finished his drink and ordered another. Evan hoped he got something useful out of him because it was going to cost him an arm and a leg.
Cruel Comfort (Evan Buckley Thrillers Book 1) Page 9