Instead, with the little John Harris had given me, I was beginning to sense a threatening pattern forming. It was illusory as yet-a fragile linkage of names and events-but it had purpose behind it. A girl had been killed after being sedated for a week. A bum had been paid off, who’d then died of an unlikely disease. A once outspoken activist had become inexplicably mute. And hovering near them all, vague and yet oddly persistent, was the biggest single real estate deal this town had ever seen.
Somewhere in this quiet, peaceful town, behind a set of windows throwing yellow light upon the snow, there was ambition brewing and ruthless conniving. I only hoped I could identify it and stop it, before it reached its goal-and disappeared.
13
Circling the municipal center to reach the parking lot, I had been planning on heading home without stopping at the office. I wasn’t anticipating a good night’s sleep-I knew how my brain worked better than that. But I thought I might try thinking horizontally, maybe getting lucky around four in the morning, and passing out for a few hours.
Seeing Tony Brandt’s office lights on, however, I changed my mind.
He was working at his computer, smoking his ever-present pipe, filling the office with a thick cloud of smoke he’d been recently told was now strictly forbidden, under penalty of state law.
I left the door open to air the place out a bit. “Still at it?” I asked, parking myself on a low filing cabinet.
He sat back and pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes. “Yeah-budget crunching. Last year’s level funding is looking generous compared to this. I’m considering cuts I would have laughed at a few months ago.”
I didn’t answer, reconsidering the impulse that had sent me in here.
“So,” he added, seemingly out of the blue, “I guess Milo did have rabies.”
I looked at him closely. “How’d you hear about that?”
“The ME’s office released it late this afternoon, following standard protocol, and the Reformer picked it up, along with a lot of other people. It’s the first U.S. death of rabies in two years, the first urban death in twenty, and they’re going to paint the town with it. Between the Davis remains, the convention center rescue, and this, Stanley Katz’s subscription drive is going to go through the roof.”
His voice made it clear he didn’t share Katz’s joy. “I wish someone had asked Hillstrom to sit on the story until we had a chance to sort it out. It was a little embarrassing handing out a suitable quote when I didn’t know what the hell I was talking about.”
I was grateful for the mildness of his reproach. We both knew Hillstrom would’ve honored just such a request-if I’d asked her. “I didn’t even think of it. She and I talked right after the staff meeting. That’s when she confirmed it was rabies. I asked her to do some more homework on it, but it never crossed my mind she’d release what she had to the media.”
“She always does, Joe. It’s part of her job.”
“I know. I blew it. I guess I was distracted by her saying there were no animal bites. She says that’s extraordinarily rare.”
Tony gave me a quizzical look. “You think it was something other than an animal?”
“Milo had come into money recently-supposedly enough to keep him going for life-at least his kind of life. But he was very coy about its source. Point is, if someone was paying him off for some reason, they don’t have to anymore.”
Tony was skeptical, and still obviously irritated with me. “Murder using rabies? Sounds like a movie.”
“We’re already considering murder using phenobarbital.”
I gave Tony credit-he didn’t reject the comparison out of hand.
“How would you do it? Inject it?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t the slightest idea. The body’s a big place to hide a small hole, though, and that body especially had its fair share of hiding places-sores, pimples, bug bites, Christ knows what else. I suppose you could smear rabid saliva on a piece of toast.”
Tony raised his eyebrows.
“Hillstrom’s the one who wants to do more tests,” I said defensively. “And you have to admit, Milo’s death is hardly clear-cut.”
He changed the subject after a slight pause. “Your crew find anything new on any other front?”
I shook my head. “Too early, and I’ve been out of the office since this afternoon finding one of Milo’s buddies. Willy’s checking Shawna’s local contacts, such as they were, but I think if anyone’s got more to tell us, it’s Mary Wallis-assuming we can get her to open up. Her grief is real, but I think it’s connected to something she’s not telling us.”
Tony didn’t respond, presumably underwhelmed by how much guesswork I was passing off as substance.
I rose to my feet and left, unwilling to give him any more to think about.
I wasn’t really expecting to find anyone in the squad room, but a light radiating from Sammie Martens’s small enclave came as no surprise.
I circled the workstations and leaned against the edge of her partition. She was bent over a yellow legal pad, making lists of names. “What’re you working on?”
She looked up at me, her expression keen. “Tabulating the canvass-or what I’ve got so far. Shawna Davis wasn’t just there for a few hours, Joe. I’ve got three people on Mary’s block who saw her on different days. And the contexts are interesting, too. Except for the mailman’s, all the sightings were either through a window or an open door. Nobody saw her going for a walk, or hanging out on the lawn, or riding in the car with Mary. One of them even said she asked Mary who her friend was, and Mary basically told her to mind her own business.”
I smiled at having my suspicions confirmed. “What time span are we talking about?”
“Right now, I wouldn’t stick my neck out further than four days. People don’t remember dates. I had to ask most of them what they were doing at the time, so they could pin it to a day of the week, but it hasn’t been a total success. Two solids are a guy who swears he saw her on a Tuesday; the woman who actually talked to Mary says she saw Shawna on her way to play bridge, which is always a Friday. That gives us the four days, but with no guarantees that Shawna was there throughout, or even that those memories are a hundred percent. Still, the odds of four neighbors witnessing someone visiting for a few hours only are pretty slim. A week or so is more likely.”
“I think you’re right. How did they say Mary was acting?”
Sammie made a face. “Fine. Totally normal. They all said that, including the one who was told to bug off. Two of them claimed she even seemed happy. Hardly the lurking conspirator.”
“She may’ve been telling the truth about the thousand dollars.”
Sammie didn’t look convinced. “I suppose, but then why the effort to keep Shawna under wraps?”
I straightened and checked my watch. A little after eleven-not a bad time to catch someone off balance. “Maybe I’ll let you know.”
My plan had been to get Mary out of bed, putting her at a psychological disadvantage. But as I drew even with her house, I could see her lights were still on.
The response to my knock, however, was a long time coming. And when the door finally opened, her face was neither mournful, sleepy, nor conspiratorial. It was plainly frightened.
“Are you all right?” I blurted, looking over her shoulder into an empty hallway.
Her expression quickly switched to an all-too-familiar anger. “What do you mean, am I all right? It’s almost midnight. What do you want?”
“To talk.”