Death Angel (35 page)

Kate realized that those two goals were
all that mattered to her now. For the moment, neither was likely to happen. The
police hadn’t been able to come up with the murderer. She was aware that
Leidecker didn’t have all the facts. His focus on Richard had frightened her so
much that she purposely withheld things, afraid they would somehow make matters
worse.

Was that what Leidecker was trying to
tell her that day in the library?

She squinted up at the sky, trying to
bring back his words. He had asked for her help. She remembered that much. And
he’d said she couldn’t hurt Jenny or Richard anymore. God what a quandary! What
if she told Leidecker something that would prove conclusively that Richard was
the murderer?

Could she take the risk? Slowly the
answer came to her. In a sense, Richard had already been found guilty, so no
matter what she told Leidecker it couldn’t be any worse for him.
 

She got in the car and took out her cell
phone. If Leidecker was at the station, she’d take it as a sign and agree to
talk to him. She took a deep breath and dialed.

“Pickard police station. May I help
you?”

“Is Captain Leidecker there? This is
Mrs. Richard Warner calling.”

The operator hesitated for a fraction of
a second as she registered the name. “Just one moment. I’ll check to see if
he’s in.”

Kate could feel her heart hammering as
she was put on hold.
 

“Kate?”
 

Leidecker’s voice made her jump. She was
breathing through her mouth, her lips too dry for speech.

“Kate,” he repeated, “are you there?”

“Yes. I’m here.” Once she got the words
out, she didn’t know what else to say.

“Are you all right? I can barely hear
you.”

“It’s my cell phone. I’ve been doing
some thinking.” She stopped to organize her thoughts. “In the library the other
day, you asked me to think about things and I did, and I thought maybe sometime
when you were free I could talk to you.”

“I’d really appreciate that, Kate.” She
sensed he was choosing his words, so he wouldn’t sound too eager. “Would you
like to talk now? I’ve been sitting here doing paperwork, and I have nothing
scheduled for the rest of the day.”

“I’m free for the day too. I’ll come to
the station.” She swallowed her fear and checked her watch. “Is ten minutes all
right?”

“Fine. I’ll be here.”

She didn’t really know what she could
tell him that would be helpful. And what about Garvey? Should she tell him
about her suspicions? By the time she turned into the parking lot of the police
station, she was no closer to a decision on Garvey. She’d just have to play it
by ear.
 

She was nervous as she got out of the
car and walked around to the entrance. Leidecker, dressed formally in his
uniform, was sitting on a bench outside the front door. He got up at her
approach, holding out a hand in greeting. Chatting casually, he led her into
the station, whisked her through the main rooms and, once they were in his
office, closed the door behind her.

She had only been in Carl’s office once
before and then she was too nervous to look around. The room was neat but not
fanatically so. Diplomas, certificates, and commendations vied for wall space
with pictures of fishing boats, fishing resorts, and endless strings of dead
fish. On the opposite wall was a large bulletin board. Catalog cutouts of
fishing rods and reels and notes of various sizes were pinned to the cork.

Leidecker stood behind the desk, one
hand on the high back of the black leather swivel chair. It was obvious he had
been watching her, but he made no comment. His eyes were direct, and he held
himself straight as if for her inspection.
 

His walnut desk was big, old-fashioned,
and battle scarred, looking incongruous in the otherwise modern office. A pile
of papers and folders took up the left-hand corner. On the right there was a
desk lamp, a daily agenda book, and the telephone. Telephone numbers and
doodles were scribbled on the blotter. The only personal touch was a
wood-framed picture of an older man and woman who were probably his
parents.
 

She sat down on the chair in front of
his desk.

“Do you want anything? Coffee? Tea?
Water?”

“Water, please.”

Picking up a tray from the computer
table, he brought it over to the desk, pushing papers out of the way as he set
it down. He unscrewed the top of the ceramic carafe and poured two glasses of
ice water. He handed her one.

He sat down behind the desk. His posture
was relaxed. As she looked at his face, she was reminded of the character,
honesty, and sense of fair play she had noted in the early days of the
investigation. She didn’t know if she could tell him everything, but for the
time being her level of trust was acceptable.

“I am afraid of you.”

He blinked in surprise at her words.
Slowly a thin smile softened his expression and lit up his eyes. “My sister’s
kids used to call me ‘granite face.’ After awhile they got used to me, and
stopped fleeing the room when I came to visit.”

She could feel her face flush with
embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to say that, but in part that’s the reason I’ve
come. You have a quiet tenacity that terrifies me. It’s the kind of power, like
water dripping on stone, that finally wears away the outer layers and reveals
the truth. Only doggedness and determination will solve Jenny’s murder. I
thought about what you said the other day. I am willing to do what I can to
help find the killer.”

“No matter who it is?”

Although Leidecker’s posture had not
changed, Kate could feel the tension in his body. She sat very straight,
staring directly into his eyes, knowing exactly what he was asking.

“No matter who it is,” she said.

The ground rules were set.

Leidecker let the words hang in the air
for several seconds while he examined Kate’s face. Since Jenny’s death, she had
been less than forthcoming, caught between her loyalty to Richard and her
desire to find Jenny’s killer.
 

Something was different about her. He
sensed a resolution, absent during the investigation. She appeared more alive
than he’d ever seen her. Fear, excitement, and hesitancy all registered in his
mind.

He had known all along that the best
hope of solving the case was with Kate’s help, but when Richard became a
suspect that avenue was closed. Now that she’d had time to sort through her
feelings, her loyalties shifted to finding Jenny’s murderer.

“I’ll be honest with you, Kate. I had a
pretty good circumstantial case built up against Richard when he disappeared. I
was planning to arrest him, and I think he knew it. But no matter how often
I’ve gone over the evidence, I can’t prove the case against him. I’m not as
close minded as you think. Once I have all the pieces to the puzzle, I’m hoping
to be able to fit them into one cohesive picture. I’m not absolutely sure I’ll
see Richard’s face.”

The glow in Kate’s eyes was reward
enough for Carl.

“I don’t know how to begin.”

“Can I make a suggestion?” She nodded.
“I think you should start right at the beginning and tell me everything you can
remember. It’ll be easier and less painful than going back and forth. And
you’re less likely to forget something that might turn out to be important.”

Kate nodded again. While she took a
drink of her water, Carl reached for a pad of lined, yellow paper, setting it
directly in front of him. He tried not to set his expectations too high. He
didn’t expect any revelations; the most he could hope for was an isolated piece
of information that might give him new insights.
 

She began speaking, words halting as she
talked about Jenny’s disappearance and death. Once that hurdle was passed, the
narrative went smoother. She faltered again describing Leidecker’s
interrogation after the funeral, and her realization that Richard was lying.

Carl leaned across the desk, trying to
keep any judgmental tones from his voice. “Do you remember the exact wording of
your question?”

“No. I think I asked him if he’d been in
the forest preserve. He got really annoyed at my questioning him. He said he’d
driven around, but he hadn’t gone near the forest preserve. I’m not sure I’m
quoting him correctly. All I remember is that I was really frightened because I
knew he was lying to me about something.”

He could see that she was upset. Her
hand shook as she took a sip of water. Guessing that she felt disloyal to
Richard’s memory, he let her catch her breath. After a moment she continued.

“When I’d had a chance to think it over,
I realized that no matter what else Richard might have done, he would never
kill Jenny.”

“Do you still feel that way?” When Kate
looked at him sharply, he said, “It’s not a trick question. I need to know the
answer.”

“I am absolutely convinced that Richard
did not kill Jenny.”

Carl held her gaze for a moment. He
heard the sincerity in her voice and accepted it. “All right, let’s assume
you’re right. Can you think of any reason for him to lie about where he was the
day Jenny disappeared?”

“I think he was having an affair. That
would explain why he lied about where he was that day.” She blurted the words
out, then took a deep breath. “I know in this age of sexual freedom, that
sounds stupid, but Richard was very old fashioned. He had seen the hurt his
father’s infidelity caused.”

“Do you have any proof he was having an
affair?”

“No. It’s a guess. It was something that
Chris Mayerling said. Or didn’t say.” She told him about the phone call from
Chris the day Richard said he was going to Milwaukee. “I may be wrong, but I
got the distinct impression that Chris tried to cover for him. Whether it was
just because he didn’t want to upset me or because he knew where Richard had
probably gone, I don’t know.”

“Could it have been someone at the
office?”

“Maybe. It’s just like the joke about
the wife being the last to know.”

“Had he ever been unfaithful before?”

“I don’t think so.” Despite the tremor
in her voice and her heightened color, she didn’t dodge his question. “Once
Jenny was born, sex wasn’t a priority for him. It was no longer a driving
force.”

Carl got the picture of an old-fashioned
marriage, where Richard was in full control of all aspects of Kate’s life. He
began to see why she had never been assertive. The household revolved around
Richard, and Kate had been content to follow his orders.
 

She presented a picture of vulnerability
that appealed to a man’s protective nature. A knee-jerk reaction he’d been
guilty of himself. Listening to her quiet narrative of everything she’d been
through, he could not believe how much strength of character it must have taken
for her to survive.

Watching her now, it seemed to Carl that
since Richard’s disappearance she had begun to take the first steps to become
an independent person. Where she had been ravaged by grief, she appeared to be
energized by anger. He could hear flashes of it in her narrative.

She continued with her story, giving him
some idea of how the pressure had built for her once Richard became a suspect.
She held nothing back, describing how friends had abandoned them and others had
rallied to their support. When she told him about the tomato throwing incident,
he was appalled.

“Was it after the tomato thing that he
said, ‘I should have told the truth’?” Carl asked.

“Yes. He sounded forlorn, not guilty. It
was as if he suddenly realized that if he’d told the truth in the first place,
he never would have been a suspect. I felt he was apologizing to me for the
ugliness of the boys’ attack.”

Kate looked at him, seeking confirmation
for her theory. He could only shrug. He had no way of knowing what had been in
Richard’s head. When he made no comment, she continued.

“I’d like to tell you something that I
couldn’t tell you earlier. The night the jogger was killed, I had my meeting
with Chris Mayerling. When I got home Richard was passed out on the bed. His
clothes were wet. I might not have thought anything about it except I’d just
left Chris who had also gotten wet changing a flat tire in the rain. Richard’s
jacket was soaking.”

Carl sighed, and Kate glared at him
accusingly.

“I know you see this as further evidence
that he killed Walter Hepburn, but I’m convinced he didn’t. According to the
accounts I read in the paper and what Richard and I guessed, someone who knew
his identity killed the jogger. Right?”

He nodded.
 

“I saw Richard’s face when he learned
the jogger’s name. It meant nothing to him. Nothing. He didn’t have the
slightest idea who Walter Hepburn was. Mike had to explain to Richard that it
was the man who’d discovered Jenny’s body.”

“I’ll reserve judgment on this point.
Let’s get back to his wet clothes. Did he give you any explanation?”