Mercy Falls co-5

by William Kent Krueger

  “So, was I a complication or simply a diversion?” The acid in her tone surprised her, and she saw Jacoby flinch.

  “You were love,” he said. “I wanted to tell you, to explain everything, but there never seemed a right time. I always thought that in the end I might make a different decision. When I walked out that night, I knew I was turning my back on happiness. I told you I didn’t have a choice, but I did. I chose family.” He breathed deeply, his broad shoulders rising. “Sometimes when my father stood up for Eddie, protecting him after the schmuck had done another stupid or cruel thing, I’d shake my head and wonder. I have a son now, and I understand. People fall out of love, but family is different.

  “You told me about your mother, the Captain, about how awful you had it growing up, all the moving and the drinking and the fighting. That was your experience. Mine was different. My father isn’t perfect, but I grew up knowing he loved me, knowing my family loved me. The idea of turning my back on them…” He shrugged. “I just couldn’t do it. So I gave you up. I gave up love.”

  “You could have told me all this then instead of just walking out.”

  “Would it have made a difference? Would it have hurt you any less? Would it have made me any less a bastard in your eyes? I’d seen you argue on behalf of your storefront clients. I didn’t want you to dissuade me from what I believed to be the right thing. And you found happiness. You met Cork. Me, my whole life I’ve loved one woman, and I didn’t marry her.”

  “People fall out of love, you said. But love also fades, Ben, especially if it isn’t nurtured.”

  “That’s not been my experience.” He finished his drink and signaled for another. “I have a confession. When I found out that Eddie was dealing with you in Aurora, I imagined for a little while that I might be able to step back into your life, still somehow create everything we might have had together. Then I saw your family and Cork and how happy you are, and I knew it was stupid and impossible.” He looked out the window, stared into the distance above the cold lake water. “In the end everything fades but family, doesn’t it?”

  His cell phone bleated and he answered it, listened, and smiled. “I’m at a bar, actually. You’ll never guess who with. Nancy Jo McKenzie.” He laughed. “No, really. Would you like to talk to her?” He glanced at Jo with a welcome humor in his eyes. “I’ll ask but my guess would be no.” He said to Jo, “It’s my sister Rae. You remember her?”

  “Of course.”

  “She’s at my father’s house. We’re sitting shivah tonight for Eddie. Rae wants you to drop by so that she can say hello in person.”

  “I don’t think so, Ben.”

  “We’re just fifteen minutes away. Stay fifteen minutes and leave. It would be less than an hour out of your life.”

  “I’m not dressed-”

  “You look fine. It would thrill Rae no end. Please.”

  Jo thought it over. “All right. Fifteen minutes.”

  Along Lake Drive in Lake Forest, the homes became palatial. Jacoby pulled through a gate and into a circular drive that was lined with cars. Jo, who’d followed in her Toyota, parked behind his Mercedes, got out, and joined him.

  “Very rococo,” she said, looking at the house.

  “My grandfather had it built to remind him of Italy, where he studied as a young man. The happiest time of his life, he used to say. He came to America to seek his fortune, something that didn’t make him very happy, I can vouch for that.”

  “Looks like he succeeded in making the fortune.”

  “He was a harsh man in a lot of ways, but he knew how to handle money.” He took her arm and gave her a brave smile. “You ready for this?”

  As they neared the front door, a Jeep Cherokee pulled into the drive and parked behind Jo’s Toyota. A six-footer got out, attractive, with long dark hair, thirtyish.

  “Just arriving, Ben?” There was a Spanish roll to his r’s.

  “Good evening, Tony.”

  Tony looked long and appreciatively at Jo.

  “Tony, this is Jo O’Connor. Jo, Tony Salguero.”

  He wrapped Jo’s hand very warmly in his own. “You’re here because of Eddie? Did you know him well?”

  “Not well.”

  “A pity, his death.” Tony turned his attention to Ben. “By the way, that package I flew back from Aurora. Any word?”

  “Aurora?” Jo said. “Minnesota?”

  “That’s right.”

  Ben said, “Tony flew some samples back yesterday for DNA testing.”

  “My husband is Sheriff O’Connor,” Jo told him.

  “Your husband?” He looked to Ben, then back to Jo, and smiled wickedly. “A long way from home, are you not?”

  “What about the DNA?” Jo said.

  “They were hairs taken from Eddie’s SUV,” Ben explained. “And a cigarette that had been smoked by a woman in Aurora. There’s a lab here that’s doing a match. Your husband thinks the woman might have been with Eddie the night he was murdered.”

  “What woman?”

  “Her name is Fineday.”

  “Lizzie?”

  “You know her?”

  “I know who she is. Is she a suspect?”

  “Dina reports that she’s the focus of the investigation at the moment.”

  She was thinking like a defense attorney, thinking that Lizzie’s presence in the SUV meant nothing in itself. There had to be more to tie her to Jacoby’s murder.

  Jacoby said to Tony, “Why don’t we go inside. Gabriella is there, I’m sure.”

  A cadaverous white-haired man in a black suit opened the door for them all.

  “Good evening, Evers,” Jacoby said.

  “Mr. Jacoby,” Evers replied with a trace of a bow. “Mr. Salguero.”

  “Everyone here?” Ben asked.

  “They come and go, sir. May I take your wrap?” he asked Jo.

  “We won’t be long,” Jo said.

  “Safer to surrender it,” Ben advised her.

  Tony left them as Jo removed her coat and handed it to Evers.

  Beyond the expansive foyer, the house opened left and right onto huge rooms filled with people. Some of the guests wore black, but many-the family members, like Ben-had only a torn black ribbon pinned to a lapel or bodice. They didn’t appear necessarily to be dressed for mourning, but all were dressed elegantly.

  Ben led her into a room dominated by a Steinway baby grand. There were two mirrors in the room, both completely covered by fabric to block any reflection, a custom of sitting shivah, Jo figured. Seeing them arrive, a woman separated herself from a small group on the far side of the Steinway.

  “Ben,” she said, languorously drawing out the word. She took both his hands and kissed him on the cheek. Her hair, dark red and expensively cut, brushed against her shoulders. Her face, tight skin over wonderfully sculptured bones, was so skillfully made up, Jo guessed it had been done professionally. She carried herself with finishing-school panache. Although her dress was the appropriate color for the occasion, it was cut low enough to show off substantial cleavage with freckles like splashes of rusty water. She looked forty, although Jo had the feeling that she was much older. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Rachel.”

  Rachel seemed to notice Jo as an afterthought. “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

  “This is Jo O’Connor. An old friend. Jo, Rachel Herschel.”

  “How do you do?” Rachel’s eyes cut into Jo, but she forced a smile, then looked back at Jacoby in a knowing way. “Lovely,” she said, with an edge of ice.

  “Have you seen my father?”

  “It seems to me he was heading toward the veranda. For a cigar, no doubt.” She still hadn’t let go of Jacoby’s hands. “I’d love to have a moment to talk with you. It’s been…a while.”

  “Call me,” he said, extracting his hands and looking past her toward a set of French doors on the far side of the room.

  “Of course.” She gave Jo another lengthy appraisal, pursed h
er pomegranate-red lips, and turned abruptly back to the piano.

  They made their way through groups that were like floating islands on the soft white sea of carpet. Everywhere it was the same. Jacoby was greeted heartily, sometimes greedily, and Jo was addressed through a veil of civility that barely hid the looks of appraisal and approval, as if she were something that had been bought at auction for a good price.

  Jacoby finally reached the French doors and opened them for Jo to pass through ahead of him. Outside on the veranda, the air was cool. Jo could see the back of the estate stretching to the lake, the long expanse of lawn turned nearly charcoal in the fading light. The water of an unlit swimming pool flashed now and again with a reflection from the windows of the big house. In a corner of the veranda sat a man in a great chair of white wicker, the glow of a cigar reddening his pinched, narrow face, lighting a dull fire in his eyes as he stared at Jo and Ben Jacoby.

  “Escaping, Dad?” Ben said.

  “What needs taking care of is being seen to. Has there been any more word from Minnesota?”

  “Nothing from Dina.”

  “What about that yokel sheriff?”

  “There’s someone here you should meet,” Jacoby said.

  “I don’t want to meet anyone right now.”

  “This is Jo O’Connor. She’s the wife of Sheriff Corcoran O’Connor in Aurora.”

  The cigar reddened considerably. “When your husband has the murderer of my son in jail, Ms. O’Connor, I’ll gladly take back the yokel.”

  “I’m sure my husband is doing everything possible to make that happen.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I asked her, Dad. Her daughter’s applying to Northwestern. They came to see the campus.”

  Lou Jacoby took the cigar from his mouth and studied the long ash beyond the ember. “You know each other?”

  “I told you,” Jacoby said. “We went to law school together.”

  “That’s right.” He seemed to be putting it together now. “You were Eddie’s attorney in that town.”

  “Not exactly,” Jo said. “I represent the Iron Lake Ojibwe. Your son was trying to negotiate a management contract with their casino.”

  “That have anything to do with his murder?”

  “I can’t imagine that it did, but that’s really a question my husband should answer.”

  “Does he confide in you?”

  “Sometimes. In this, he’s told me nothing that you probably don’t already know.”

  He slipped the cigar back into his mouth, took a long draw, and sent out enough smoke to temporarily obscure his face. “Then I don’t really want to talk to you right now, Ms. O’Connor. You either, Ben boy. I’d rather just be alone.”

  “All right,” Jacoby said dutifully. He opened the French doors and waited for Jo.

  “Grief can be blinding,” Jo said, standing her ground. “But at some point, you’re going to have to take a good long look at the man Eddie was.”

  “You think I don’t know? Hell, I know all about my son.”

  “And loved him anyway,” Ben said bitterly.

  “I told you, I want to be alone.”

  Without another word, Jacoby strode back into the house. In the corner of the veranda, the cigar flared and little points of fire lit the old man’s eyes as he glared at Jo.

  “He’s got himself a little blond shiksa this time,” he said. “A shiksa with spine.”

  Jo turned and followed Jacoby.

  She caught up with him in another room where he’d stopped under a chandelier to speak with a black-haired beauty who had two young boys at her side. As Jo neared them, the woman looked her way.

  “Jo,” Jacoby said, “this is Gabriella. Eddie’s widow.”

  “How do you do?” Gabriella spoke softly and, like Tony Salguero, with a Spanish accent. She offered a tanned hand with nails red as rose petals. A diamond tennis bracelet sparkled on her wrist.

  “I’m sorry about your husband,” Jo said.

  “Ben told me you worked with Eddie in Minnesota.”

  “Not significantly.”

  “Mommy,” one of the boys said. He was perhaps five years old, with his mother’s black hair and fine face, his father’s insolent eyes. “I’m tired. I wanna go.”

  “Find your cousin Mark, play with him.”

  “Mark’s a dork,” the other boy said. Similar features, older by maybe a year, bored out of his skull.

  Gabriella smiled, leaned down, and kissed her son’s black hair. “ Pobrecito,” she said. “Find your uncle George, then. He will entertain you.”

  The two boys wandered off, defeated.

  Gabriella turned back to Jo. “I’m sorry. Eddie kept business to himself, so I don’t know anything about what he was doing in Minnesota. I hope his death…” She hesitated. “I hope his death does not inconvenience you.”

  Inconvenience? Jo thought.

  “Excuse me, please.” Gabriella went in the direction her sons had gone.

  “She’s from Argentina,” Ben explained. “Her family have been clients for years, but the economy there is shot to hell. My father and her father made the arrangements for the marriage. Eddie sure got the better end of that deal. Poor Gabriella, she had no idea what she was getting herself into.”

  “Jo!”

  She turned as a woman swept toward her across the room. There was a bit of gray in her hair, a few lines at the edges of her mouth and eyes. Unlike so many of the other women Jo had seen that evening, she didn’t seem especially concerned about fighting time and age. She was smallish, a little round, and had a wry smile on her face. Although two decades had passed, Jo had no trouble recognizing Ben’s sister, Rae.

  “This is wonderful.” Rae threw her arms around Jo. “I can’t believe I’m seeing you again after all these years. How are you?”

  “Good. And you?”

  “Marvelous. Couldn’t be better.” She looked Jo over and shook her head as if in disbelief. “Twenty years and you’re still gorgeous. Come on, let’s go somewhere and sit down. I want to hear all about you.”

  “What about me?” Ben said.

  “Go have a drink, Benny. I’ll fetch you when I’m done with her.”

  Before they could move, from outside came the crunch of metal and the shatter of glass. People crowded the front windows, and someone called, “Ben, you better get out there.”

  Jacoby moved quickly. Jo and Rae followed.

  Outside, they found Phillip Jacoby standing beside a Jaguar that had plowed into one of the brick pillars that flanked the entrance to the drive. He was staggering a little but seemed unhurt. A woman, also unharmed, stood near him, her arms crossed as if she were cold.

  Phillip pointed at the pillar. “That damn thing’s been out to get me for years.”

  “You’ve been drinking,” his father said.

  “I’m still drinking.” He reached into the Jag and hauled out a bottle of Cuervo Gold. He put his arm around the waist of the woman, several years his senior, with brassy gold hair and dressed in a tight midnight-blue dress that was too skimpy for the cool evening, though it did advertise very nicely her wares.

  “This your place?” she said to Ben with a slur.

  Jacoby extended his hand. “Give me your keys, Phillip.”

  “Like hell.”

  “Give me your car keys. You’re in no condition to drive.”

  “My fucking car,” Phillip said.

  “My fucking insurance,” Jacoby shot back.

  “Come on, Phil baby,” the woman in the blue dress said. “This is a drag.”

  “Don’t worry, baby, we’re getting out of here.”

  He turned toward the Jag. Ben caught his arm, spun him, and used his son’s drunken disequilibrium to throw him to the ground, where he pinned him quickly with his knee against his chest. The young man struggled briefly, then gave in.

  “I’ll take those keys.” Jacoby reached into the pocket of his son’s pants and extracted a plastic Baggie and a key ring
. He studied the Baggie.

  “Ecstasy? A parting gift from Uncle Eddie?”

  Phillip glared up at him, his eyes bloodshot, his nostrils wet with mucus. “Fuck you.”

  Ben stood up, taking his weight off his son. “Get up. I’m driving you back to campus. We’ll drop your friend wherever she wants.”

  Phillip picked himself up. He kicked at the bottle of tequila, which had fallen from his hand when his father tackled him. “I’ll walk.” He spun away and staggered from the drive into the street.

  His woman companion watched him go, then said in a quiet voice, “I don’t want to walk.”

  “I’ll call you a cab,” Ben told her.

  She seemed to realize how alone and out of place she was. She folded her arms across her thin body.

  “Why don’t you come inside and wait,” Rae said. She turned to Jo. “I’d love to talk, but this probably isn’t the best time. Maybe lunch tomorrow?”

  “I’m at the zoo with the kids.”

  “What if I met you there?”

  “All right.”

  “What time?”

  “Eleven. At the sea lion pool.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  Rae turned her attention to the woman, who’d made no move yet to go inside. “Come with me,” she said gently. “It’ll be all right.”

  Most of those who’d come out had, by now, returned to the house. The others followed Rae inside.

  Jo walked to Ben, who was inspecting the damage to the Jaguar.

  “I’ll give him a few minutes to cool down and sober up, then I’ll go after him.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t imagine this was the way the evening would end. I guess I’ve never been very good at endings, huh?”

  “Good night, Ben.”

  She kissed his cheek softly and left him standing beside the ruined car, looking toward the dark that had swallowed his son.

  33

  They moved on Stone’s cabin after nightfall, before the moon rose. Cork, Larson, Rutledge, Willner, and a dozen deputies. They went silently, on foot, in armor, and carrying assault rifles, semiautomatic AR-15s. In the trees that crowded the dirt road, the black was almost impenetrable, but as they filed along the lake with the open sky above them, the ambient light of the stars lit their way. Ahead, the ridge behind Stone’s cabin cut a jagged silhouette against the star-dusted sky. Several of the men, including Cork and Larson, had night vision goggles. They crept single file up the rise that led to the cabin, which was completely dark. Cork put on his goggles.