Resurrection Blues

by James, Harper

  ‘It—’

  ‘Was a long time ago. I know that. It’s everybody’s stock answer.’

  Eckert got up and went over to a small kitchen area. He poured himself a glass of water from a bottle in the fridge, didn’t offer Evan any.

  ‘What does it matter anyway?’ he said.

  ‘A couple of things. He turned up at Lauren’s funeral. Seems everybody except Levi knew who he was but couldn’t remember his name either. Maybe the grief temporarily erased their memories.’

  He stood up and headed for the door.

  ‘That’s only one thing,’ Eckert said.

  Evan stopped and turned back to him, gave him his glad you asked that smile.

  ‘It’s nothing really, except when everyone I ask denies knowing a man they all recognize, I have to ask myself why.’

  ***

  EVAN WAS ABOUT TO get in his car when he saw the door to the hangar was half open. He glanced back at the office to make sure Eckert wasn’t watching him, then went over to take a look. The same aircraft he’d seen in the photo in Eckert’s office—the Cessna 208 Grand Caravan or just plain Grand Caravan to people in the know—sat in the middle of the huge, otherwise empty space. The words Jumpin Jake’s covered the whole of the tail fin.

  It looked like any other small plane to him, but he bet Eckert could have told him the maximum cruise speed, the fuel tank range, it’s rate of climb with a full load of—he remembered this—twenty-one skydivers, plus a bunch of other useless statistics that would even bore an aviation nerd. Anything in fact, other than answer questions about why he wouldn’t let his ex-partner’s daughter fly it.

  He wondered what it was that Eckert had almost let slip and then refused to talk about. Had there been some kind of incident involving this plane? An accident? He was sure there must be an organization that would investigate crashes and other incidents. He crept across the hangar, his shoes squeaking on the polished concrete floor, got out his phone and took a picture of the number on the side of the fuselage. He’d give it to Elwood Crow for something to do.

  There was nothing else of interest. Just as he got to the main door at the front a regular-sized door at the back opened. A man took a half-step into the hanger, caught sight of Evan and drew back again. He pulled the door shut after him. Evan didn’t get a chance to see his face. Maybe it was David Eckert and he didn’t want to answer any more awkward questions.

  Evan stepped outside, glanced at the office. There was David Eckert, staring at him through the window. From the look on his face, the surprise and irritation at seeing Evan coming out of his hangar, it was obvious it was the first he knew of Evan snooping around. He hadn’t been the man who saw Evan from the door at the back. It meant nothing, a mechanic or maybe the pilot—Eckert had said he didn’t fly himself any more—who started to come through the door.

  But another thought pushed itself into his mind. Was it anything to do with the fact that Eckert had conveniently forgotten to show him a better picture of Jake Kincade? The thought made him realize he’d forgotten something himself—to ask Eckert when the last time he saw Jake was.

  He was about to get his chance. The office door opened.

  ‘What they hell do you think you’re doing?’ Eckert said and walked to the hangar, pulled the door closed.

  ‘Just having a closer look at the Grand Caravan,’ Evan said feeling like an old hand at jump plane game.

  ‘Yeah? You want a closer look, book a jump.’

  Evan let him get back to his office door before he asked his question.

  ‘When was the last time you saw Jake Kincade?’

  There was no hesitation, no asking why he wanted to know.

  ‘I haven’t seen him for twenty years.’

  Eckert went back inside the office, slamming the door after him.

  Evan had watched his face carefully, been alert to any hesitation or tremor in his voice. There’d been nothing. He was left with the distinct impression that Eckert had just uttered the truest words he’d spoken all morning.

  Chapter 31

  ELWOOD CROW WAS NOT a big fan of the telephone which is why Evan found himself on Crow’s front step once more, feeling like a fresh laboratory rat reporting for duty.

  The bottle of Pappy Van Winkle’s was already out and waiting when Crow showed him into the back room. The sight of it made Evan’s stomach clench. What had Crow discovered about Adamson’s story that made him think Evan would need a drink? He shook his head at the offer as if the refusal would influence the outcome. That didn’t stop Crow.

  ‘When you get to my age, you look at how much is left in the bottle and you think, what if I don’t wake up tomorrow?’

  There was a sudden loud crash coming from the direction of the kitchen. They both looked around, irritation crawling across Crow’s face.

  ‘What was that?’ Evan said.

  Crow looked at him like he wanted to say, do I look like I can see through walls?

  ‘I must have stacked the dishes too high. I’m always doing it.’

  Evan didn’t believe that for a minute. Maybe Crow’s wife had wandered downstairs. It wasn’t anything to do with him.

  ‘Tell me what you found out about Adamson’s story.’

  Crow watched him from over the top of his whiskey glass. The tightness in Evan’s stomach intensified. He’d have said he’d changed his mind about accepting a drink if he thought it would do anything for the dryness in his mouth.

  ‘And don’t ask me if I’m sure.’

  Crow smiled softly as if he’d just been told his dog had to be put to sleep.

  ‘I found a report of an incident down near Laredo in Texas—’

  ‘Laredo? What the hell was she doing . . .’

  Evan swallowed his words as he suddenly realized he was already assuming that Adamson’s story was true. That Crow was about to confirm it. And he didn’t know if he wanted to know or not. Either way. He closed his eyes for a second. Crow waited patiently. When Evan opened his eyes again, Crow raised his glass and an eyebrow in an unspoken question. Evan shook his head.

  ‘A man was found dead at the side of the road,’ Crow went on. ‘His name was Cole Nix.’

  It meant nothing to Evan and it wasn’t the sort of name you’d forget easily. It didn’t even sound like a real name. He knew all of Sarah’s friends, male and female, including her work colleagues. He didn’t recognize the dead man’s first or last name. He shook his head and Crow carried on.

  ‘He’d been shot. Once, in the gut.’

  ‘That’s not an execution. If you’re being paid to kill someone, you pop them one in the head. You don’t shoot them in the gut. There’s a chance they might not die.’

  Crow acknowledged the logic but didn’t remark on it.

  ‘The crime scene was a mess. It had been raining heavily. But there was evidence of at least two vehicles having been there and a number of people. Including a woman. Unless one of the men liked to wear women’s clothing.’

  ‘They found a woman’s clothes, but no woman?’

  ‘Not all her clothes, just a button from a woman’s blouse. And there were footprints from a woman’s shoes.’

  ‘But no woman.’

  Crow shook his head and they shared a look. No woman was a good thing, better than a dead woman. In a way it wasn’t news at all. If the woman had been Sarah and she’d been killed along with the man, the police would have identified her and notified Evan five years ago.

  ‘There were traces of ice—crystal meth—found at the scene,’ Crow said. ‘It looks like a drug deal gone wrong.’

  ‘That ties in with what Adamson said. But he also said the guys were called off at the last minute. So how comes we’ve got a dead body? Were they called off, or weren’t they?’

  The implication was clear. If Evan wanted to find out, he’d have to ask Adamson. It was looking increasingly likely that he’d have to go back to him with his tail between his legs, say sorry he told him to fuck off and how could he help him,
Mr Adamson, sir?

  ‘A button torn from a blouse suggests a fight or a struggle of some sort,’ Evan said, talking aloud as he thought things through in his head. ‘Which could mean the woman was abducted. There weren’t any cars at the scene?’

  ‘No. So if they did abduct . . . the woman after killing the man, they did something with their car as well.’

  Evan noticed the pause as Crow spoke. He’d been about to say Sarah, then caught himself. It seemed it wasn’t only him assuming it was her.

  ‘That doesn’t make any sense. According to Adamson, the woman wasn’t meant to be there. Yet they kill the man and take her. Then dispose of her car so nobody ever knows she was there. Something’s not right.’

  Crow leaned back and steepled his fingers.

  ‘There is another possibility. The woman got away in her own car.’

  Evan knew where that would leave him. Back at square one. If the woman was Sarah, then all he’d learned was she’d had an exciting and bizarre episode down in Laredo with a bunch of drug dealers. Now she was in the wind again.

  ‘None of it really helps you, does it?’ Crow said. He left the second half of the sentence unspoken.

  Without Adamson’s help.

  ‘It’s better than nothing. Some of it fits with what Adamson said.’

  ‘Now you have to decide whether you want to deal with him. Because even if he can explain exactly what happened, you have no way of knowing whether that lighter I can see you playing with in your pocket belonged to the woman. And if the woman was Sarah.’

  Crow got up and helped himself to another shot of bourbon. Evan said he’d have one now, saw Crow’s hand shake as he poured, something he’d never seen before. Crow seemed less sure of himself than normal. As if he still hadn’t got to the most difficult part and he wasn’t sure how it would pan out when he did.

  ‘It’s going to be difficult, isn’t it?’ Crow said, handing Evan the glass. ‘Going back to a man you dislike so much, cap in hand.’

  ‘Very. I’m sure Adamson will make the most of it.’

  Crow put his glass down on the side table and rubbed his hands together, a grin cracking his wrinkly old face. Evan wondered if he’d like the rest of his drink thrown in it.

  But he was wrong about Crow. As usual.

  ‘Which is why I’ve done all the hard work for you.’

  Then Crow leaned sideways, towards the door and the kitchen beyond it.

  ‘Mr Adamson,’ he yelled in a surprisingly loud voice, ‘maybe you’d like to stop breaking things in there and come in here.’

  Evan’s jaw dropped, words failing him. His mouth flapped uselessly. He knew now why Crow had been more insistent than normal about Evan coming to the house.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind, but it seemed to me you needed a bit of a kick up the backside.’

  Evan wanted to say it was a bit late to be asking.

  ‘I’ve told him I had to twist your arm to come here today, that you’re only doing it to shut me up. You don’t have to worry about him crowing.’ He smiled at the play on words and his name. It was clear who in the room was doing the crowing at the moment.

  ‘Why does he think you’re so interested?’ Evan hissed, his voice low, as he heard a hand on the doorknob.

  ‘I told him—’

  The door opened, cutting short any chance of further discussion, and Jack Adamson stepped into the room.

  Chapter 32

  NOBODY SAID ANYTHING as Adamson stepped further into the room, leaning heavily on his walking stick. Crow jumped up, offered him his seat. Adamson shook his head. Evan stood as well, not wanting to be the only one sitting down, looking up at them.

  ‘No friend today?’

  Adamson ignored the taunt. ‘Seems your uncle has got more sense than you.’

  Evan bent quickly and picked up his glass to stop Adamson from seeing the look of surprise and amusement in his eyes. He got his features under control and looked at Crow’s deadpan face, got a quick wink back.

  They all stood looking at each other awkwardly for a long moment. Then Crow put his hand on Adamson’s elbow, steered him gently towards the chair he’d vacated.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down? I’ll get you something to drink.’

  Adamson dropped cautiously into the chair as if it might be some kind of trick. Evan sat back down opposite him. He crossed his legs, tried to look like he was there under sufferance. Crow handed Adamson a glass and Evan was glad to see the color looked different to the liquid in his own glass. Then Crow sat on a wooden chair at a table covered with stacks of papers and his laptop. He looked like an umpire, a very-pleased-with-himself umpire too.

  ‘So?’ Adamson said.

  ‘So, what?’ Evan replied, not sure what he was talking about.

  ‘Do you agree or not?’

  Evan’s head snapped sideways towards Crow as if Adamson had delivered a right hook to his jaw. Crow gave an apologetic little shrug. Adamson caught the look on Evan’s face.

  ‘You didn’t tell him?’

  Crow shook his head.

  ‘Thought it’d be better coming from you.’

  ‘Just tell me,’ Evan said, sick of this already.

  Adamson took a sip of his drink, his face twisting as it hit his throat. Evan glanced at Crow, got another wink.

  ‘I want you to find somebody for me,’ Adamson said, ‘somebody who can prove I didn’t have anything to do with what Hendricks did.’

  ‘Somebody who doesn’t exist, you mean.’

  Adamson ignored the remark and Evan wished he hadn’t said it.

  ‘Find them and persuade them to come back. You might have to spend a little money. But you’ve got plenty of that.’

  ‘Why? Where are they? And why wouldn’t they want to come back?’

  Adamson shook his head.

  ‘You don’t need to know any of that until you agree.’

  ‘Great. It gets better and better. What else?’

  ‘My lighter—’

  ‘It’s not your lighter.’

  Adamson held his hands up in surrender.

  ‘Don’t get excited, I’m not asking for it back. The opposite. I want to forget all about it. I want you to, as well.’

  ‘You want me to forget I found it in that basement chamber, you mean?’

  ‘Yep. How difficult can that be?’

  Evan worked through the implications in his head. The only thing he knew for sure was that he’d found the lighter in Hendricks’s basement. He had no proof that it had ever belonged to Adamson, that Adamson had dropped it in the basement—only the word of Floyd Gray who was a compulsive liar himself.

  ‘You’ve got no proof I’ve ever touched it,’ Adamson said. ‘I’ve seen the way you play with it, rubbing it like it’s some magic lantern. You’ll have rubbed half the metal away by now. Good luck finding any of my prints on it.’

  Evan couldn’t fault his thinking. It had lost any use as a potential piece of physical evidence five minutes after he’d picked it up. The kicker was, in the absence of any physical proof, the only thing that would link Adamson to it now was the story he wanted Adamson to tell. And to get him to tell it, he had to promise to do nothing with the story. Otherwise Adamson would deny ever having seen it.

  Adamson was offering to give Evan something he could use to destroy him and would accept his word that he wouldn’t do it. It caused a subtle change in the way he viewed Adamson. It would create a bond of trust between them, a bond that extended both ways, because to commit to what Adamson asked, Evan would have to be very sure that he was in no way involved in the abduction and deaths of Daniel and Robbie Clayton.

  ‘If you’re as innocent as you claim, why are you so worried about it?’

  ‘Because I don’t believe in taking chances. If they believe Hendricks sufficiently to put me on trial, I don’t need the added problem of the local hero, that’d be you, standing up in court and testifying against me.’

  ‘I’ve already told people where I found it
.’

  It was true, he’d told Guillory.

  ‘Then you better hope you can persuade them to forget again.’

  You haven’t met Kate Guillory.

  ‘Is that it?’

  Adamson smiled. Nice try.

  ‘Not quite. If there’s a trial because Hendricks tries to drag me down with him, I want a good lawyer. I don’t want the public defender. Problem is, I haven’t got any money. Unlike you. As I said, you’ve got a ton of it.’

  Evan was silent a couple of beats while the enormity of Adamson’s demand, the slap across the face of it, sunk in.

  ‘You want me,’ Evan said, pointing at his chest, ‘to pay for your defense? Are you serious?’

  Adamson smiled at him again, a smile that said Evan had made a very basic mistake.

  ‘You’re looking at it all wrong. You’d be paying for the answers you want.’

  Evan thought about the other ways he’d be paying. For the rest of his life. Because any money he gave or loaned Adamson would be money he wouldn’t be giving or lending to Charlotte. The thought of that conversation made his blood run cold.

  He stared at Adamson’s smug face grinning at him. He wished he knew how Crow got his pet bird to do what he wanted it to. He’d have it pecking Adamson’s eyes out right now, wipe that smile off his face. Adamson crossed his legs and relaxed back into the chair. Across the room, Elwood Crow seemed to be holding his breath, fascinated by what he’d set in motion.

  ‘What will you be bringing to the party?’ Evan said.

  ‘Answers.’

  ‘You’ll have to be more specific than that.’

  ‘Okay. How about this? I’ll tell you what went down at the side of a road two miles outside of Laredo. I’ll tell you how comes they found a guy dead and evidence pointing to a woman being there when he was killed.’