So even if he had a lot of money, a guy might have reason to waste old Kresge.
Especially McDonald. Bone, ODell, and Robles are essentially hired guns. They are very good at what they do, but theyreheremostly by chance. They could go anywhere else. But everything Wilson McDonald is is tied to the Twin Cities. In New York or L.A. or even Chicago, they could give a rats ass about a Wilson McDonald.
Do you think Bone would talk to me about McDonald? Off the record?
Isley shrugged: Maybe. If the idea appealed to him. He played a little ball at Ole Miss.
Yeah?
Yeah. Good quick guard. Probably not pro quality, but he wouldve been looked at. Called him T-Bone, of course. If you want, I could give him a ring. Just to say you asked about him, tell him youre okay.
Lucas grinned. Maybe Im not.
Isley said, Ah, youre okay… if hes innocent. And Im pretty sure he is.
Anybody mourning Kresge?
Isley had been about to stuff a slice of chicken in his mouth, and stopped halfway to the target. Shook his head. Not a single person that I know. He spent his life fucking people in the name of efficiency. He stuck the chicken in his mouth, chewed, swallowed. Why would you do that? he asked. I know all kinds of people who do, but I cant figure out why.
Make money.
Hell, Lucas, Ive made a pile of money, and I dont fuck people. You made a pile, and your ex-employees think youre a hell of a guy. But why would you do things in a way that youd end up in life with a pile of money, but not a single fuckin friend?
Maybe you figure that if you get enough money, you could buy some.
Isley nodded gloomily. Yeah, probably; thats the way they think.
Lucas finished the last of the three olives, and the last of the pleasantly cool martini, and said, Listen, Dama. I got a pickup game once a week, bunch of cops, couple lawyers. You start eating those Big Macs and Id like to get you out there.
Goddamnit, Lucas…
Feel good, wouldnt it? Playing horse in the evening. Down on Twenty-eighth?
Isley tossed his fork in the salad bowl. Get out of here, Davenport.
Lucas stood up. Call Bone for me?
Yeah, yeah, soon as I get back. He looked at his Patek Philippe. Give me twenty-five minutes.
LUCAS GOT BACK TO THE OFFICE, STUCK HIS HEAD into Administration, and said, Got anything for me?
The duty guy said, Computers down.
How long?
I dont know, its not just us. Some state road guys cut a major fiber-optic. Half the goddamn citys down.
Road guys?
Shovel operators.
JAMES T. BONES SECRETARY SUSPECTED LUCAS OF MAKING sport of her. When she told him, peremptorily, on the phone, that Mr. Bone was making no new appointments, Lucas had answered, Go tell Mr. Bone right now that a deputy chief of police wants to talk to him, and if he says no, Ill have to come down and shoot him.
I beg your pardon?
I think you heard me, Lucas said. He almost added, sweetheart, but decided that might push it too far.
She went away for a moment; then another voice came on, feminine, cooclass="underline" Mr. Davenport? This is Kerin Baki, Mr. Bones assistant. Can I help you?
I need to talk to Mr. Bone.
When?
As soon as possible.
Come over, and well get you in, she said.
BAKI WAS A CHILLY NORTHERN BLONDE, WITH AN oval face and pale blue fighter-pilot eyes. She met him without any softening smile. In the spring, Lucas thought, she probably had genetic dreams of turning her tanks toward Moscow…
She led him through into Bones office, said, Mr. Bone, Mr. Davenport, and left them, shutting the door behind her.
Bone was dressed in a subdued single-breasted wool suit with a crisp white shirt and an Italian necktie; but somehow the ensemble came off as a wry comment on Yankee bankertude. He had a telephone to one ear and a foot propped on the N-Z volume of theNew Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, which lay flat on his desk. He waved Lucas in, and as Lucas dropped into a bent-oak chair across the desk, said into the phone, Two? Thats as good as you can do? Last week it was one and seven… Yeah, yeah, yeah. Ill get back to you, but I think we might have to talk to Bosendorfer or Beckstein… Yeah, yeah. By four.
He hung up, made a notation on a legal pad, and said, I can give you all the time youd need this evening, butif you gotta talk now, you gotta talk fast. And this is all off the record at this point, right?
Lucas nodded. Yes. If we need an official statement, well send you a subpoena and get a formal deposition.
Bone leaned forward. So?
So do you think McDonald did it?
If one of us did it, it was McDonald. I didnt do it. Robles, no motive. ODell, too smart. Unless Im missing something. And to tell you the truth, I dont think its McDonald. Way down at the bottom, I dont think hes got the grit to pull it off.
Then whys he running the place?
Hes not. Hes only speaking for it. And thatll only last until ODell and I get the board sorted out. Then itll be one of us.
Lucas said, Huh, and then, Have you ever heard of George Arris? Does the name ring a bell?
Yes, of course. He was a famous case around here, around the bank. He was murderedthis mustve been a few months or maybe a year or so before I came here. Mustve been back in 85.
How was it famous? The name doesnt ring a bell with me…
It was over on the St. Paul side of the river. Somebody started shooting white guys who were walking in the black areasthere were like three or four of them in a few weeks, shot in the back of the head.
Ah, jeez, I remember that, Lucas said. Never solved. And Arris was one of them?
Yup.
Whatd he do here? Worked with the trust department, setting up portfolios for rich folk.
Would he have worked with McDonald?
Bone said, Probably. Id have to look up the exact dates, but they probably overlapped. They certainly both went through that department. I dont really know the details. I wasnt here yet. I just heard about the killing later.
Okay. How about Andrew Ingall?
Andy? He was a vice president, also in the trust department, but he died a few years ago in a boating accident up on Superior. You think Wilson had something to do with it?
Why would he? Lucas asked.
Bone leaned back, then spun his chair in a circle, stopped it with one foot, reached into a desk drawer where he apparently had a stereo tuner hidden. A Schumann piano piece, simple, easy, elegant, and sweet, sprang into the office, and Bone said, Schumann, and Lucas said, I knowScenes from Childhood, and Bone said, Christ, were so cultured I cant stand it, and Lucas said, A friend of mine used to play them. Why would McDonald do Andy Ingall?
Because they were both candidates to run the operation. Then Andy sailed out of Superior Harbor one day, just moving his boat up to the islands. He never got there. No storm, no emergency calls, nothing. Just phhht. Gone. The theory was that he had a leaky gas tankhe had some kind of old gas engine, an Atomic, or something like thatand gas leaked into the bilge, and he fired up the engine out on the water somewhere, and boom. He was gone before he could call for help. That was the theory, but nobody ever knew for sure. No wreckage was ever found.
So McDonald got the job.