Like her brother Frank.
Quayle was smiling at her, as if he’d seen something in Nadine’s face that validated his own line of thinking. “You know what I’m talking about,” he said. “You’ve got one of your own.”
“Several,” Nadine said. “But there’s no statute of limitations on murder. So in a way, no one really forgets.”
“The case is only a part of it,” Quayle said. “The killers, the ones who get away, that’s what I’m talking about. They need to be reminded that someone still cares.”
“Was Andrew Gordon one of these ones who got away?”
“Hardly. He was a good man.”
“So then what’s so important about the note?”
Quayle seemed to need a minute to resolve something for himself. “I wrote those words. Burned them on a piece of wood a few days ago. There’s a man living in town who—“
The radio on his desk erupted. Jennifer Eng’s voice. The chief sounded out of breath. “Peter, if you’re there, Bill and I have a line on Gary Gordon. He’s heading northeast through the woods towards Keefer Bridge. Intercept there if you can, over. ETA fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that, Chief,” Quayle said. He looked at Nadine. “Shall we?”
Nadine was already on her feet.
They drove north, then veered onto a residential street. The houses here were older and slightly larger than the ones in the Gordons’ neighborhood. They were close to the Cowlitz River. The water moved faster here, and the shores were steep and rocky.
Quayle pointed at a dilapidated house obscured by laurel hedges. “That’s where he lives, the fellow I was telling you about.”
“Shouldn’t we be getting to the bridge?”
“We are. This is the way.”
Quayle took the corner slowly, turning onto a logging path. The car bounced over uneven gravel.
“You ever hear of the Cover Model Killings?” Quayle asked. “One of them happened in Seattle, the other in Spokane. We’re talking more than twenty years ago.”
“Vaguely.” Nadine tried to recall. She’d worked so many of her own cases, and paid so little attention to the news, that it was difficult to recall what had made the case sensational enough to earn a moniker. “Male and female victims, posed with unusual clothing.”
“The victims were taunted,” Quayle said. His level of tension seemed to increase as he spoke about it. “The girl in Spokane survived. She said the killer choked out her boyfriend while laughing about how she was next. She described him as a tall blond man who spoke with a foreign accent.”
“But the survivor didn’t ID anyone,” Nadine remembered.
“She was scared. And a long time had passed. His hair had turned white.”
Quayle stopped the car abruptly as a thin figure came along the road towards them, carrying a fishing line and tackle box. Lank white hair hung below the brim of the hat. The man was gaunt, dressed in a beige vest and hat and a dark green sweater. He shuffled along as he walked.
Seeing the prowler, and who was in it, he grimaced and paused on the side of the road, watching Quayle. Nadine thought he looked ready to bolt if Quayle jerked the wheel in his direction. Quayle sped up as they neared, but kept to the center of the road. The fisherman easily sidestepped the car.
“That’s him,” Quayle said. “The one who got away.”
They left the car near parked to the left of Keefer Bridge, where it couldn’t be seen by someone crossing. The cage of the bridge cast a shadow on the water the color of cement.
Quayle radioed that they were in position.
The bridge connected to the Old Pacific Highway. Traffic was minimal—in five minutes, only two cars and an empty flatbed truck had passed. No foot traffic.
“You think the Gordons’ murder is connected to the Cover Model Killings?” Nadine asked.
“I do.”
“Does Chief Eng know of your suspicion?”
Quayle spat into the snow. “The chief knows but doesn’t approve. She thinks I’m obsessed.”
Smart woman, Nadine thought.
“Last time I questioned him, Jen made me promise not to quote-unquote harass him. You believe that? I tried explaining to her that just because he’s not—look.”
Someone was coming across the bridge. First a bobbing head, then shoulders. Exhausted, stumbling. It was Gary Gordon.
Quayle and Nadine moved to meet him, their hands open and up in a calming gesture.
Gary didn’t look up until he was a few feet from them. Then he stopped in his tracks. Quayle began speaking to him as he closed the distance. “Easy, kid, let’s just talk.”
Gary pivoted and turned back, speed walking, a startled cat avoiding the grasp of a child. Nadine pursued, outpacing Quayle.
Chief Eng and Bill Coker had reached the other bank of the river. An approaching car shimmied to the side and slowed, giving the foot pursuit space. Gary ran towards them, stopped. His head swiveled between Nadine and Jen. Climbing onto the rail, he threaded his body through the support beams of the bridge, leaning out over the Cowlitz River.
“You don’t want to do that,” shouted Coker. “Gary, buddy, what are you doing?”
The desperate man’s feet kicked snow away from the ledge. He sagged back against the metal, out of breath. Below them, the moving water made a sound like a librarian’s shush.
“Let’s everyone stay calm,” Nadine said. “Gary, I’m going to approach just to talk. I’ll keep out of arm’s reach, and I promise I won’t try anything. Is that okay? Good, here I come.”
Chest heaving, Gary didn’t have the breath or time to deny her. Nadine stepped up to the edge. She could see snow-covered rocks jutting from the water below them. Maybe not a lethal drop, but when you factored in the boulders and the hypothermic temperature, the sensation would be pretty damn unpleasant.
“Gary, my name is Nadine Kelso. I’m here to help close your brother’s file. I’m guessing you know something pretty important. Something that could help us find who did this.”
Gary Gordon’s head whipped around, as Jen and Bill drew closer. They halted ten feet or so from Gary, the same distance Quayle kept on the other side.
“It’s my fault,” Gary said.
“I don’t know what your role was, but there’s a lot of unanswered questions. Why don’t we go talk about it? Maybe somewhere where we’re not in danger of a freezing plunge.”
Gary’s head shook. His eyes closed and he sobbed.
“That’s all right,” Nadine said. “We can talk here. You said you were responsible. How?”
“If I hadn’t—they’d’ve—”
He was blubbering, head leaning towards the water, then swinging back, as if nauseated but compelled. His arms wrapped tighter around the girder. Nadine forced herself not to look down.
“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, Gary. How about I ask you a really simple question. Did you tamper with the carbon monoxide detector in their home?”
“Huh?” Gary looked directly at Nadine for the first time, confusion written on his face.
“You didn’t know about that?”
“Nuh uh.” The man blinked. His arms threaded around the beam more tightly.
Nadine believed him. “I bet you didn’t tamper with the generator, either. So Gary, how is this your fault?”
“I shouldn’t’ve said anything to her. He found out.”
“Who found out, Gary?” Jen said. Using the distraught man’s name as much as possible was a tactic, a way to show that they still recognized his humanity, no matter what he might have done. These were still his people.
“Andrew,” Gary said. “He must’ve—then he—.”
“Do you think it was suicide?”
Gary’s eyes closed. He made long, slow ups and downs of the head.
“Because of something you did to him. That’s what you think.” Nadine ventured to lean a bit closer. “Gary, what if I told you that was impossible? That what happened was deliberate? That someone murdered your
brother and his wife?”
“No,” he said. “Andrew. He must’ve heard somehow.”
“About?”
“That I—Susan—“
“You were seeing her?”
“No.”
“But you had feelings for her.”
Through his tears, Gary grinned desperately and shrugged. Then nodded.
“No law against that,” Nadine said. “How about we go talk, Gary? I know a bit more about the case than you. I can promise you whatever happened, it wasn’t suicide. I’ll explain to you how I know that, maybe over a beer. Or a couple of beers. That sound good?”
Nadine extended her hand.
“What kind of beer?” Gary said.
The desperate man’s hand felt along the beam, eventually grabbing her forearm. He swung himself back over the railing.
“I’m real sorry,” Gary said to Jen and Bill Coker.
Bill patted his back. “Glad you’re safe, buddy.”
“We all are.” Jen put a hand on his shoulder, friendly, yet steering him towards Quayle’s prowler. “Let’s get you warm, get that beer, and then let’s talk about a few things.”
Chapter 20
In the break room at the station, Gary warmed up with coffee and a change of clothes from the donation bin. A black sweater with a pink design, matching sweats, thick wool socks. The sweater arms flopped over his wrists and made him seem childlike. He drank two coffees and was working on his third when Nadine and Chief Eng brought the conversation back to the deaths of his brother and sister-in-law.
“New Year’s is ‘sposed to be a fresh start,” Gary said. “After Andrew stormed out, New Year’s Eve, I stayed with Susan and Ingrid. All of us crammed on Ingrid’s couch, watching TV. Bobby had fallen asleep. It was a little awkward, and we were drinking, but it also felt, I dunno…”
Nadine let him cast about for the correct words.
“It felt right, I guess. If Andrew had been there he would’ve ruined the moment, talking trash about whatever was on the screen. But without him it was nice. Hearing Susan laugh, especially after that dinner, was real nice.”
“You had feelings for her before that?” Chief Eng asked.
“Since forever. Yeah. I guess I loved her.”
He turned the Styrofoam coffee cup in his hands. Embarrassed by the confession, Nadine suspected, but also relieved to have finally given it voice.
“What happened on the 1st?” Nadine asked.
“I woke up alone,” Gary said. “It took me a while to get started. I had a couple things to do at the shop, but I just couldn’t concentrate. All day it was bugging me. New Year’s. A fresh start. Better she knows and turns me down than never suspects.”
Jen refilled Gary’s coffee—from the decaf pot, Nadine noted. Gary tore open packets of brown sugar and aspartame, dumping them indiscriminately into the cup. He sipped without stirring.
“She was still at Ingrid’s. I called her there. This was about seven, after dinner. I asked could we go for a walk, me and her. I had something to tell her.”
“You drove right to Ingrid’s?” Nadine asked.
“Only I parked a little ways down the block. Susan came out to meet me.”
Nadine let that go for the moment. “This would have been quarter past?”
“Around that, yeah,” Gary said. “I showered and put on my best shirt. Every year she gets me cologne for Christmas, Stetson, so I splashed a bit of that.”
“And then you walked at 7:30. Whereabouts?”
“Oh, just around the neighborhood, the woods out back. But far enough away from the house.”
“Why was it so important that Ingrid didn’t see you?” Jen asked.
“It was more I didn’t want to see her, not till I’d said my piece to Susan.” He paused to drink and scan the faces of his questioners to see how his response was playing. Finding something there, he added, “And I didn’t want to see Bobby at that moment, you know? I knew that would be harder for Susan. I just wanted one moment alone, me and her.”
“How did you broach the subject of your feelings?” Nadine asked. “What did you say?”
“That I’d loved her for a while, since she’d been Andrew’s date, and that all the years since just added to what I felt. Andrew wasn’t ever going to appreciate her, not like I would. Hell, I’d moved here for her. I didn’t have much to offer her, but it was all hers if she wanted.”
Gary’s head dropped, his gaze taking in the scars and coffee rings on the table. He was probably more eloquent now than at the time, Nadine thought. She could imagine him, not particularly well-spoken to begin with, trying to verbalize the most deeply hidden, all-consuming passion of his life. Grasping for words, plunging through sentiments and promises out of sequence. A profession of love like that could be frightening—for both involved. Nadine felt sympathy for Gary Gordon.
“How did Susan respond?” she asked.
“She didn’t say anything at first. We kept walking. Then when we turned back towards her mom’s place, Susan squeezed my hand. ’You’ve always been sweet,’ she said. ‘Sometimes I wish Andrew had your sweetness.’”
Gary used the sweater sleeve to dry his eyes.
“I just knew from the look on her face what was coming. Susan would get this look, biting her lip, head kind of on an angle, whenever she had a really big problem to tackle. That was me, I guess.”
Nadine and Jen didn’t interrupt.
“She told me she was married and had a kid. They fought, sure, her and Andrew, but at the end of the day she loved him, and she knew that I did, too.
“’So what do we do now?’ I asked her. A dumb question, I guess.
“’Let’s not talk about it further,’ Susan said. ‘Why don’t we head back and we’ll leave things where they are.’ Like it never happened. Like I never said anything. This big moment, my biggest ever, and she wanted me to forget it.”
“That must have been agonizing,” Nadine said.
Gary shrugged, but his gaze still roamed the coffee table. “Yeah, I guess it was. I made up something about how I had to go phone a buddy of mine, and I left her before we got back to Ingrid’s.”
“And did what?”
“Drove around,” he said. “Sometimes I just go up and down the highway. Clear my head.”
“Sober?” Nadine asked.
Gary didn’t reply.
“And that was the last time you saw Susan,” Jen said.
“Till the next morning. And then she was dead.”
For a moment there was silence in the small room.
“So what you thought happened,” Jen said, “the reason why you ran away, was that Andrew somehow got wind of your confession, and figuring he’d been betrayed, opted to kill himself and his family.”
Gary gave a sullen nod.
“That isn’t what happened,” Nadine said. “The CO in the house didn’t come from a leak. It was done on purpose.”
“Think carefully,” Jen said. “Could you have closed their bedroom window, or done anything else that morning that would make it seem like murder?”
“I just walked in and found them,” Gary said.
“You didn’t touch anything?”
“I really don’t remember. I had coffee and I know I dropped that.”
Jen stood and refilled the bowl of coffee creamers that sat in the center of the table.
“Let’s go back to January 1st,” she said. “You phoned Susan around seven. On her cell?”
“No, I phoned Ingrid’s house to see if she was still there.”
Nadine made a note—Check phone records.
“Timing is critical,” Jen said. “We believe Susan took Bobby home at seven. Now you say her and you went walking half an hour after that.”
“That’s what happened,” Gary said.
“You see anyone on your walk?”
“I don’t think so. I can show you where we walked if you don’t believe me.”
“Maybe,” Nadine said. “Could Ingrid have
seen you, either when you met Susan or on the way back?”
He shook his head. “I parked on the corner and Susan met me there.”
“Between work and meeting Susan, were you home?”
“Mostly, yeah.”
“’Mostly’ is no good, Gary.”
“I had an emergency call around two, someone stuck on the I-5. I towed him to his place in Longview, then had lunch and a beer at the Traveler’s Lounge. I still have the guy’s address and the receipt in my cab. Joe something, I think his name was.”
Nadine wrote it down. “Anyone see you at the Lounge?”
“The wait staff, probably.”
He patted down the pockets of his unfamiliar clothes, fished his wallet out of his sweatpants. Opening the billfold, he found a scrap of receipt paper. It was date- and time-stamped, 4:14 pm on the 1st. Gary had ordered a pitcher of beer, two shots of Wild Turkey, and a chicken burger, fries, no tomato.
“Let’s put the timeline aside for now,” Nadine said. “Did your brother have any enemies? Anyone you can think of who’d do this?”
“Andrew wasn’t like that. He could be mean sometimes, but no one hated him.”
“What kinds of things made him mean?”
“Lots of little things. Money especially. You got to understand, we grew up poor. Our folks put everything into their business. Me and Andrew worked there since we were kids, and when Andrew took it over it became his whole life. Then he met Susan, they had Bobby, and he sold it to move here. Suddenly he wasn’t the boss anymore. That money only went so far.”
“Did you get a piece when he sold the business?” Nadine asked.
“It wasn’t mine.”
“But you must have inherited a share of it.”
Gary shook his head. “Andrew put in the work. He bought our parents out. It was his.”
“I’d be a little upset about that, being cut out of the family business.”
Gary shrugged. If it was a sore subject, he was good at hiding it. “Andrew always got intense about money. I figured, it’s not the be all end all. He wants it so bad, let him have it.”
The Long Dark January: A Nadine Kelso Mystery Page 9