“You don’t know what you argued with Rebecca about?” Kennedy inquired. “How much had you had to drink?”
McEnroe shook his head and rested his face in his hands. It was clear to Jason they were not going to get anything useful out of McEnroe, that this was tantamount to trying to squeeze blood from a stone. But it was Kennedy’s party, and Gervase seemed to be enjoying the game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey, so Jason kept quiet.
If the day had illustrated anything, it was that he and Kennedy could have been working for two entirely different law enforcement organizations, so unalike were both the scope and focus of their investigations. It wasn’t just what they investigated, it was how they investigated.
“We argue all the time,” McEnroe said. “It didn’t mean anything. I was tired of it, that’s all.”
“What kind of things do you argue about?”
McEnroe moaned. And Jason could have echoed him.
“Okay,” Kennedy said with suspicious affableness. He knew they had McEnroe for as long as they needed him. There was the little matter of pulling an unlicensed, unregistered Raven Arms MP-25 on a federal officer, not to mention disarming that law enforcement officer, resisting arrest…there were any number of charges with which to hold McEnroe. “What’s going on between Rebecca and Patricia?”
“Huh? How would I know?” McEnroe said with what seemed genuine astonishment.
“They were arguing the night of the party. Were they arguing about you?”
“Me?”
The alarm was genuine.
“How long have you been partnered with him?” Chief Gervase asked, jolting Jason out of his thoughts.
“Me?” Jason said with almost the same emphasis as McEnroe on the other side of the two-way mirror. “I’ve never worked with him before today. This is temporary.”
“Ah,” Gervase said, “that’ll be Wisconsin.”
What exactly had happened in Wisconsin? Jason only knew what SAC Manning had told him, which was that Kennedy had so antagonized the other members of the taskforce through his overbearing and bullying tactics, it had affected the course of the investigation. Kennedy—and the Bureau—had been called out on the evening news by the governor. Jason would have liked to pump Gervase for information, but gossiping about a colleague was out of bounds, so he’d have to do some web reconnaissance that evening. At the very least he needed to know what he’d got himself into.
He made a meaningless sound of acknowledgment.
“You’ll learn a lot,” Gervase said. “Just don’t get in his way. It’s his show and his show alone. He doesn’t like the bit players.”
What the hell did that mean? Did Gervase feel like Kennedy was overstepping his authority? It had been Gervase’s choice—his suggestion, in fact—to leave the interrogation to Kennedy. Just as it had been his decision to bring in Kennedy in the first place. Jason turned to study the older man’s profile. Gervase’s smile was bleak. He continued to watch the interrogation room.
“We’ll be out of your hair before you know it,” Jason said. “I’m supposed to be back in Los Angeles in a day or two.”
Three days, Manning had told him. A week at the most. Just enough time for Kennedy to reassure and advise the locals. Reassure them no mistakes had been made last time. Advise them on how to proceed this time.
“A day or two? I hope that’s true. I don’t mind admitting I’d prefer thinking McEnroe is our perp to the possibility of a copycat killer. Or…”
Jason nodded. Understandable. Also a lot more likely.
On the other side of the glass, Kennedy was silently reading—or rather pretending to read—through the file on the table before him. He closed the file and said, “Tell me about your relationship with Martin Pink.”
“Here we go,” Gervase said with quiet satisfaction. “He was just playing with him. Now he’ll go in for the kill.”
McEnroe looked stunned. “My…what? I never knew him!”
“You’re neighbors.”
“No, we’re not! Pink’s been in prison for years. Way before I ever moved out here.”
“Are you trying to tell me you aren’t aware the house you’re living in formerly belonged to Susan Parvel’s parents?”
“Is that true?” Jason asked the chief.
“Yep.” Gervase’s face was grim.
“No,” protested McEnroe. And then, defensively, “Well, so what if it did? The property was cheap. That was all years ago. The Pinks are all gone now. Why shouldn’t I live there?”
“I bet a lot of people could tell you why.”
McEnroe blinked at Kennedy’s stern face. He looked increasingly confused and scared.
Kennedy said, “The Parvels used to have one of those big above-ground pools. Susan used to go for long night swims during the summer. And one evening when she was out there floating in the water, staring up at the stars, Martin Pink came along and dragged her out of that pool. Her parents were out having dinner with friends. There was no one to hear her screams except Pink’s mother and brother over the hill. Pink dragged Susan into the woods where he raped and murdered her.”
McEnroe was gazing at Kennedy like a rabbit hypnotized by a cobra.
Kennedy said, “After their daughter was murdered, the Parvels had that pool taken down and planted a bed of roses in its place. Are you telling me you didn’t know any of this?”
McEnroe shook his head, but whether he meant no or you’re out of your mind was unclear.
Where was this line of questioning going? It made no sense to Jason. It was a horrible story, yes, but what was the point? He glanced at Gervase, and Gervase was smiling with sour satisfaction.
Kennedy said, “And then along comes you, Tony. You rip that rose garden right out without a second thought. And of all things, you replace it with a hot tub. A hot tub. How many young girls did you plan on luring into that hot tub?”
Gervase laughed quietly. He glanced at Jason. “Don’t worry, Agent West. You’ll be back in L.A. with plenty of time to spare.”
Chapter Five
“He’s not our guy,” Kennedy said twenty minutes later, rejoining Jason and Chief Gervase in the observation room.
“What?” Gervase’s jaw dropped. “But-but what about the hot tub? What about buying the Parvels’ old house?” He turned to the two-way mirror where they could see Tony McEnroe sitting at the table, crying.
“It’s not even circumstantial,” Kennedy said. “We’ve got nothing on him.”
The chief’s disappointment was approximate to Jason’s relief. He had been increasingly alarmed by the direction of Kennedy’s interrogation. It was comforting to know Kennedy had only been bluffing—it had been a frighteningly convincing performance given the craziness of Kennedy’s line of attack. How many young girls did you plan on luring into that hot tub? In other circumstances it would have been funny, but McEnroe had sure bought it. He believed that any minute now he was going to be arrested for Rebecca’s murder.
Gervase persisted. “He’s the boyfriend of the victim. He fought with her before she disappeared. He doesn’t have an alibi. He’s a doper. That’s plenty right there!”
“It sounds like Madigan fought with half the guests at her party,” Kennedy said. “She was alive and arguing after McEnroe went home.”
“She got mouthy with Officer Boxner when he arrived to tell her to turn down the music,” Jason said. “She was alive and well and still arguing with her guests until one in the morning.”