We may be talking of someone who’s hysterical, schizophrenic, clinically depressed, or any number of other things.” I was listening, but I didn’t want to get sidetracked. “Are borderlines suicidal?” “No, well, they can end up that way, but generally pain is the goal, not death. Often, they regularly slice themselves, usually in places that can’t be seen; they become quite adept at it. I’ve had borderline patients who were literally covered with scars, but not where it showed when they were fully dressed. Incidentally, since the subject of sex has been mentioned, these people often also engage in painful sex.” “Can this desire for pain be turned around? Can they harm others?” “Anyone can.
Little old ladies have been known to summon homicidal instincts at just the wrong moment. Obviously, someone who whittles on her arm or leg every night is going to have a violent personality. Do borderlines kill? No more than other people.” After I hung up the phone, I pulled Julie Wingate’s picture from my pocket and studied it. That bland, sullen face merely looked back at me, unanswering.
%177 I’d spent the day far from the center of action in this case, and yet elt now that new possibilities had been introduced like a truckload bricks at a building site; they weren’t part of any clearly defined ucture yet, but they had the makings of a firm foundation. Now Wingate’s death was the possible accumulation of years of nt-up anger.
If Wingate had killed Fox and the others, and if Fox and lie had been lovers, Julie’s motivation for revenge was iron-clad. Wingate had told me his 9 mm had gone missing just about the e Julie left for college.
Had that been a coverup, or had Julie stolen r father’s gun? Wingate’s recent purchase of the.38 certainly bolred that theory.
But if Julie had the 9 mm, and killed her father in the ravine, why d she used a knife? And why had a 9-mm shell, with Wingate’s print, rned up in the fire-gutted house? And who were the other people in at ravine? I turned away from my desk and stared out the window. Edward rris controlled the lives of almost half the population of Gannet. Was behind all this? Did he use Julie to lure her father to a meeting, and en take over from there? That might explain Julie’s vanishing act; she ight be under lock and key somewhere. Or she might be dead.
And what did Rennie have to do with any of it? And if he had been Iiberately framed, then by whom? And why?
I rubbed my eyes with my palms. The problem was, that even with e additional facts I’d dug up on the Wingate family, we still didn’t ve enough information to draw any conclusions. The truckload of icks I’d visualized earlier were still jumbled in a useless pile.
We needed more to go on-to find the missing pieces that might as a blueprint. I knew for a fact that Rennie was in the middle of I this for some reason I didn’t understand.
It suddenly occurred to me there was at least one man from whom might get some answers.
Pete Chaney’s place wasn’t hard to find. His store was advertised with a big Sign-PETE’s ~~~xET-right on Route I I 4 in East Burke. he place had the shopworn look of a local hangout, its outside walls pered with posters of local events, new and ancient, its entrance uttered with several sleeping dogs, the parking area half-filled with %178 pa~che~-up pickup Irucks. The mai’ke~ pare was ac~uany the
ron1 o~ a residence, an aggravated hallway extending the breadth of the building, each wall jammed with sagging shelves of boxed and canned goods.
Opposite the creaking front door, there was an ice-cream freezer with a counter behind it supporting the cash register, a large coffee maker, and a wide assortment of plastic-wrapped, inedible-looking doughnuts.
There were several men in stained work clothes standing around the coffee machine chatting and drinking coffee, making passage to the rest of the place a challenge. Considering the instant but brief attention my entrance made, I mentally pitied any good-looking shy woman who might blunder in here unprepared.
Behind the counter was a small, round man with an enormous nose and a single eyebrow, who greeted me with a friendly wave of a beefy hand. “Hi there, what can I do you for?” “You Pete Chaney?” One of the other men let out a whoop. “Watch it, Pete you’re in trouble now.” The others laughed as Chaney nodded, his smile fading. “I’m with the State Attorney’s office. I was wondering if we could haveachat.” More hoots followed that. “Better call your lawyer, Pete chats from those guys last from five to ten years.” Chaney made a face. “Sit on it, you clowns.” He gestured to me to follow. “We can talk back here.” He led me behind the counter to a door which opened to the rest of the house.
We stepped into an evil-smelling, ill-lit den of sorts with a TV in one corner, a half-smashed coffee table listing in the middle of the room, and an assortment of stained, disemboweled stuffed furniture shoved up against the walls. There might have been a rug, or even a floor underfoot, but it was invisible under the layers of old newspapers, magazines, paper plates, discarded clothing, and various mysterious piles, the identification of which was impossible in the gloom.
“Have a seat.” Chaney sank back into a sofa that damn near swallowed him whole.
I settled more gingerly on the edge of an armchair. I didn’t want to call for a winch later to help me to my feet. “You’ve spoken with the State Police a couple of times already.” “Yeah.” “Well, this is a followup.” He looked at me quizzically, but with very watchful eyes.
“You guys don’t talk to each other?” “Your problem is we talk too well to each other.” I’d decided on the way here that bluffing was about the only trick left in my bag.
%179 “I’m going to ask you roughly the same questions you’ve been ked before, but you’re going to give me totally different answers. ay?” His tongue quickly passed across his lips. “Why would I do that?” “Because you’ve been lying so far.” Chaney’s face darkened. Otherwise, he didn’t move. “One more thing: You have the right to remain silent, because anything you say might be used against you in a court of law.”
His mouth fell open. “Am I under arrest?” I put my thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “You’re that se. You want to talk?”
“Sure, I got nothing to hide.” “Was Rennie here last Wednesday?” “No.”
“Where was he?” “How would I know?” “Why did you claim he was here?”
“He’s a friend. I thought it might help.” “Pete, you’re on a slippery bank, heading toward deep shit. Coverfor Rennie is stupid. He’s wanted on a murder charge now, which kes you a possible accessory. Covering yourself will just cause a lay that I’ll make sure you pay for.” “I didn’t actually say he was here last Wednesday.” “You said he was here Wednesdays. How about that? Is that e?” He turned his head and scratched an ear, crossed his arms, shuffled feet.
“Was he ever here on a Wednesday night?” “No.” “So where was he?”
“Around. It depended… sometimes on the weather, you know.” I stood up, grateful I could do it with a certain controlled violence, tead of having to ask for a rope out of the seat. “Okay, you want talk weather?
Fine. Let’s close this place down and spend the next days talking about it somewhere less comfortable.” He looked up at me, his hands spread out and his eyes pleading. hat do you want? I’m talking; I’m telling you what I know.” “You’re giving me grunts and groans, playing twenty questions. on’t have the patience for that. You start talking now, or I’ll hand u more legal problems than you’ve ever dreamed of.” “He got his rocks off every Wednesday night, all right? He was king around on his wife and he got me to cover his ass in case anyone ed.” %180 “Who was he seeing?” “Hell, I don’t know. Different people.” “Give me some names.” “They don’t got names-not normal ones.” The effect of his words was like being hit with cold water. “Rennie was fooling around with women from the Order?” “Yeah.” A crucial and for me, a feared connection had just been made.