Did you pick out the guilty guy on Saturday? In theory?
Sloan shook his head. Theyre a pretty tough group. Robles was in a sweat, but I think he might sweat everything. Bone seemed to think that Kresge getting murdered was mildly amusing; he was cooperative, though. And hehad to stop to think at all the right places. ODell was almost too busy figuring out the consequences to talk to me about whether she did it… and that made me think she didnt. If she had, shed have already figured out the consequences. I had a harder time getting a reading on Mc-Donald. He acted like the whole thing was a plot to personally inconvenience him.
Cold? Sociopathic?
Mmmm. Sloan scratched his chin. No… If he is, he covers it, he said after a minute. Id say hes more like… unpleasant. Arrogant.
So whats it all mean?
If Robles did it, we might get him, eventually. If its one of the others, forget it. Unless the guy does something really stupid, like tell somebody else about it. Or if it was a group effort. But thats. ..
Unlikely, Lucas said.
More like ridiculous.
Perfect crime?
Just about, Sloan said. Lots of people probably heard the shot, but nobody thought anything about it. Nobody was looking for the shooter. Once he was off the scene… theres no way were gonna get him. The only chance to get him was to have somebody see it happen, and recognize the shooter. That was it.
But we know some stuff, Lucas said. He leaned back in the chair and put his feet on the edge of Sloans desk. The shooter knew his way around there, in the dark. And he knew which tree stand Kresge would be in. That means that he was either close to Kresge or he worked for him, maybe out at the cabin. Is Krause checking any employees out there?
Yeah. There were only two or three peoplea handyman whod do maintenance work around the place, an old guy who patrols some of the cabins, just checking on them two or three times a day. And some guy who plows out the driveway in the winter. None of them had any apparentproblem with Kresge. The sheriff doesnt think theyre suspects.
If this was a movie, the handyman would have done it, Lucas said, staring blankly at the ceiling. Hed be like a Stephen King character, a secret psycho who everybody thinks is retarded…
… but whos really pretty smart, but only behaves the way he does because he couldnt get a date to the prom, which is why he burned down the high school.
How about Sherrill? Is she around?
I dont know. She was working yesterday, but I havent seen her today. I know she was going to try to nail down people in Kresges office and talk to the ex-wife.
All right…
But suppose it is somebody close to Kresge, Sloan said. Suppose we find a guy who hated Kresge, but knew the farm, knew where the tree stand was, knew Kresge would be in it, and we can prove that he has a rifle, is a great shot, and has no alibi for opening day. You know what? We got all that, and we still aint got shit.
There might be one more way, Lucas said.
Like what?
We build a pattern around him.
Good luck.
Rose Marie got some mail this morning, Lucas said. He leaned forward and slid the copies across Sloans desk. One letter nominates ODell, the other one McDonald.
Sloan read them slowly, then read the McDonald letter a second time, and finally looked up at Lucas: Two more dead ones, huh? But wed need more than a pattern. Wed have to push him out in the open.
That could be done, Lucas said. If its McDonald.
Are you buying into the case? Sloan asked.
Rose Marie asked me to take a look… if you dont mind. If Sherrill doesnt mind.
I dont mind, Sloan said. Ive got the Ericson file. I could use some extra time.
I thought the boyfriend did itthe Ericson thing. I thought he admitted it.
Not exactly, Sloan said. He says he might have. He doesnt deny it. But we cant come up with any physical evidence, and he was so fucked up at the time, he cant remember anything. And Im wondering, if he was so fucked upand he was, he had enough chemicals in him to start a factorywhatd he do with his clothes? They had to have blood all over them.
Youve got nothing physical? No hair or semen…
No semen. And he had no blood on him, under his nails or in his hair. And the problem is, she was killed on the bed and he slept there every night and half the day. So hes all over the place… but so what? Hes gonna be. And Im really worried about the clothes. He says hes not missing any, and I think he might be telling the truth. He doesnt have all that much to begin with. Couple pairs of jeans, couple T-shirts, a coat, some sneaks.
Huh. Check the drains in the bathroom? Maybe he was naked…
Sloan nodded: Yeah. The lab looked at it. No blood.
Okay. So Ill take the McDonald thing, Lucas said. Ill talk to Sherrill about it.
Shell go along, Sloan said. He said it with atone.
Yeah?
Shes got the great headlights, Sloan said.
Not exactly a key criterion for a police investigation.
Yeah, but…
Youve been married too long; all you can think about is strange tits and adultery complaints, Lucas said.
Not true. Sometimes I think about strange asses… Seriously, I heard them talking about yousome of the women. The idea was, dont rush him, let him get a little distance away from Weather.
Fuck em, Lucas said, pushing away from Sloans desk. Ill take McDonald. Id like to see the interviews you did Saturday…
Krause tape-recorded them, hes getting a transcriptmade. Probably today. He said hed shoot a copy down as soon as its ready.
All right, Lucas said. Ship it over.
And youll talk to Headlights? I mean, Sherrill?
Lucas grinned. Yeah. If you see her, tell her Im looking for her; Ill be around later in the day.
FIVE
DAMASCUS ISLEY WAS A VERY SMART FAT MAN WITH A taste for two-thousand-dollar English bespoke suits that almost disguised his size. Lucas spotted him at a back table at the Bell Jar, hovering over a chicken breast salad that had been served in what looked like a kitchen sink. Lucas told the mai^tre d, Im with the fat guy, and was nodded past the velvet rope.
Lucas, Isley said. He made a helpless gesture with his hands, which meant, Im too fat to get up. Are you coming to the reunion? Gina asked me to ask.
Lucas shook his head, and took a chair across from Isley, who was sitting on the booth seat. I dont think so. Ive busted too many of them.
Mary Big Jos gonna be there, Isley said.
Fuck Mary Big Jo.
I certainly did, Isley said cheerfully. Made all the more glorious by your abject failure to do the same.
Lucas grinned: No accounting for taste, he said. Isley was six-five, a bit taller than Lucas. Hed once been a rope instead of a mountain, a basketball forward when six-five was a big man; Lucas had been hockey, and theyd chased several of the same women through high school and college.
A waitress stepped up behind Lucas, slipped a menu in front of him, and said, Cocktail, sir?
Ah no, I just want… He thought for a second, then said, Hell, give me a martini. Beefeater, up, two olives.
I could give you three olives, if you need more vegetables in your diet, the waitress said.
All right, three, Lucas said; she was pretty in a dark-Irish way.
The waitress went to get the drink, and Isley, following her with his eyes, said, The way she looked at you, something would be possible. Maybe youd have to come back a couple of times, get to know her, but itd be possible. He looked down at the vast salad, the chunks of chicken breast, avocado, egg, tomato, cheese, and lettuce, covered with a bucket of creamy herb dressing, then back up at Lucas. You know how long its been since that was possible with me? With all this fuckin… He couldnt say fat… lard?
Lucas tried to put him off: So you work out for a couple months.
Lucas… when I was playing ball, my last year, I weighed two-oh-five. So I go to this fat doctor and say, Give me a diet I can stay on, something simple, thatll get me back to two-oh-five. He says, Okay, do this: Go to lunch every day and eat one Big Mac with all the fixings. And as much popcorn as you want, all day. Nothing else. I say, Jesus Christ, Ill starve. He says, No you wont, but youll lose a lot of weight.