Snowjob (25 page)

“I was jus’ visitin’,” Kelly said but Hinton laughed. “Cuff the bastard, Charlie.”

His partner handcuffed Kelly and Hinton picked up the automatic from the couch. “Heavy artillery,” he said.

“It was loaded and cocked. Here’s the magazine.” I handed it over. Hinton took it and grinned. “Well, well, Kelly. Well, well.”

“It’s not mine.” Kelly was snarling now. He’d lost his fear of Doug now the regular troops had arrived. He was pulling a jailhouse act, giving away nothing, acting tough.

“Who’d you steal it off?” Hinton asked casually, then without waiting for an answer told his partner, “Throw him in the car, charged with possession of an unlicensed weapon, and read the sonofabitch his rights.”

“Sure.” His partner liked the chance to act macho. He prodded Kelly in the back and said, “Let’s go, cowboy.”

When they’d gone Doug shut the door and said, “Who called in, Pat?”

“Don’t know. The dispatcher didn’t say. He just said, report of a prowler at this address. I knew it was your place so I came over on the double.”

“Can you check with the dispatcher? She’d’ve taken it down for sure,” Doug said.

Hinton said, “Okay,” and wait to the phone. He spoke for a moment or two, then said, “Thanks,” and hung up. “Says it came from Mr. Davenport at 239.”

“The Davenports are in Florida,” Doug said. “They didn’t call. It must’ve been the same guy who sent Kelly in here.”

“You sure?” Hinton frowned.

“Sure’s you’re born. Knock on the door when you go by. They won’t hear. They’re in Fort Myers.”

“Take your word for it,” Hinton said. “An’ listen, I hear you came up with Grant’s papers, Reid. Nice goin’. Anything worthwhile?”

“Didn’t Cassidy tell you?”

“Not in detail. Said you’d found a book and some odd stuff.”

Doug and I looked at one another. “I wonder if the bastard’s planning to bury it,” Doug said.

“Bury what?” Hinton asked.

“Well, Grant’s book lists all the women he’s slept with, including Cindy Laver, the night before she died. Plus there’s two IOUs. One of them is marked paid, the other one discharged,” Doug explained. “And it’s dated the day after her death. Plus Reid also found out it was signed by young Huckmeyer at Cat’s Cradle.”

“Have you reported this?” Hinton asked excitedly.

“I told Schmidt around nine o’clock. He said he’d follow up.”

Hinton frowned. “He went off duty around eleven. He didn’t say anything to me.”

“They’re trying to shut you out, him and Cassidy,” Doug said. “They don’t like anybody else taking credit if they can keep it for themselves. Likely they’re going to talk to Huckmeyer in the morning, bring him in over the hood of the car like a dead deer.”

“What if they’re going easy on this? What if they’re afraid to turn him in?” I asked.

Hinton jumped on that one. “Are you saying they’re on the take?”

“No. I’m wondering if they’ll want to involve a prominent citizen in what’s going on. They’ve got the obvious suspect, Grant. He’s dead. Nobody’s gonna miss him a whole lot. If they pin the Laver killing on him, and the Tate killing, everybody’s going to think it was some sex thing. All they have to do is try and find the guy who killed Grant.”

“Okay,” Hinton said. “Yeah, there’s some logic in that.”

“So we need to know who killed him,” Doug said. “And I figure it was the same guy who sent Kelly here to off me and Reid.”

“Who was likely the same guy who called in to report a prowler,” I said. “My guess is he was scared we’d work Kelly over and get the truth out of him. He wanted him out of here and in the station where there’s Miranda rules and lawyers and all of that stuff.”

“We keep a tape of incoming calls,” Hinton said. “I’ll listen to it when I get to the station house, see if I can identify the voice.”

“Must be a local,” Doug said. “No out-of-towner would know the name of the people at 239.”

“Leave it with me,” Hinton said. “If I recognize the voice I’ll be on his case so fast his head’s gonna spin.”

Doug reached out and bumped him on the arm. “Thanks, Pat.”

Hinton winked. “What’s a partner for?” He nodded and left and Doug shut the door behind him.

“This is getting complicated,” I said. “Hell, who’d want to get us two killed?”

“Manatelli,” Doug said firmly. “His ass is in a sling. He’s not afraid of us but he’s afraid of the mud that’s getting stirred up. If news of it gets back to his boss, he’s for the deep six with the concrete overshoes.”

“Yeah, but how would he have known your neighbor’s name?”

“Maybe Kelly gave him the name ahead of time,” Doug said thoughtfully. “Kelly knew he’d need some backup if we got to him. But it’s no use now. He won’t tell the police anything.”

“Not if he’s been arrested enough times to know the rules. And the most he can be charged with is trespass and having that gun.”

“You watch,” Doug said grimly. “I’ll bet there’s some fat-ass lawyer down there inside an hour, have him out before he says a word. I’ll check with Pat in the morning. You’ll see, Garfield will have sprung the guy.”

“So let’s get some sack time,” I said. “We can sleep safely now.”

“Yeah.” Doug gestured at the couch. “Leave that, come up an’ crash in Angie’s room.”

“This’ll be fine. I’ll set Sam to keep for us. We can sleep.” I yawned. “See you in the morning.”

“You sure about that couch?” he asked doubtfully.

“Sure as you’re born.” I gave him a bump on the arm and he went up to bed. I told Sam to keep and went to sleep. It took a little time to unjangle my head but at last I was gone and didn’t wake until Doug came down. It was almost nine o’clock.

He was shaved and fresh and waved hi. Then he put the coffeepot on and called the station. I heard him talking as I got up and folded the blankets. He came back in as I was heading up to the shower. “Surprise, surprise,” he said. “Garfield was waiting at the station when Kelly got there. Had him out before the guys could even talk to him.”

I paused at the foot of the stairs. “This is all being organized by someone local.”

“Someone with money,” Doug said. “And the best bet is Huckmeyer. I think we have to talk to that guy today.”

“You can’t. I have to,” I said. “How about a big breakfast? I figure this is going to be a tough day.”

I showered and shaved and came down to bacon and eggs. By the time I’d finished it was almost ten and I took Sam and set out for Cat’s Cradle, stopping first at a tire place to have a replacement put on my spare.

The mechanic showed me the damage, a clean slit, an inch long. “Somebody didn’t like you parking where you did,” he said cheerfully. “I’d watch before I parked there again.”

“That’s a promise,” I told him.

The skiers were out at Cat’s Cradle in full strength but I found a parking spot and went to the office. I was still fifty yards away when I saw Captain Schmidt coming out. He was alone and I jogged over to him. “Morning, Captain. What did Huckmeyer say about the IOUs?”

Schmidt had eyes like a bull terrier, sunk deep in the beef of his face. “Oh, it’s you,” he said and kept walking. I fell in beside him and he spoke without looking at me. “Like I expected. He said yeah, he’d been owned money by Grant. Two times. Both times the guy paid him and he canceled the IOU. That satisfy you?”

“Why did he mark one ‘paid’ and the other one ‘discharged’? Did you ask him that?”

Schmidt checked his stride and turned to face me. “You won’t be happy until Huckmeyer’s in trouble, will you? What is it with you?”

“Did you ask him?” I repeated.

“Yes. I asked him. He said that the second time he was in a hurry and just scribbled on it.”

“If he was in that big a hurry, why not scribble ‘paid’? It would’ve saved him a whole bunch of letters and a second of his valuable time.”

Schmidt took a deep breath and looked at me for a moment before answering. “Frankly, Mr. Bennett, you are starting to give me a pain in the ass. Just because you come up with something doesn’t make it any more important than anything else we find.”

I tried to speak but he held up his hand and kept on talking. “I am satisfied that this man, who I’ve known since he was a pup, is honest and can be trusted. If he tells me a perfectly valid reason why he did something, that’s okay by me.”

“How many people does he lend money to? Did he tell you that? Or didn’t you bother asking him?”

He looked at me for a moment, then said, “We’re through talkin’,” and walked away to his car.

I stood and watched as he got in and drove away, spurting snow and gravel from under his wheels in an angry rush. Then I turned and went on to the office.

The same receptionist was at the desk. I told her, “Walt’s expecting me,” and walked through to Huckmeyer’s office.

He was at his desk and he jumped up when I came in. “You can’t come in here.”

“You don’t think so? Phone the chief of police. He’s given me permission to follow up on the Cindy Laver killing.”

He picked up his phone, watching to see if I was going to chicken out. I just turned my head away, humming a little song, and he hung up and sat down. “I’ve just been talking to the police,” he said.

“I’m aware of that, Mr. Huckmeyer. I spoke to the captain but he didn’t ask you a couple of questions which I’d anticipated, so if you don’t mind, this will only take a minute.”

“That’s all the time I’ve got,” he said. “I’m going out to check the operations.”

“Fine. First, can you tell me please how many other people you lend sizable sums of money to?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” he said sharply.

“No, but if you don’t, you leave the nasty suspicion that you only lend to rounders who end up getting killed on your property and being charged, posthumously, with another murder.”

He stood up. “Talk to my lawyer.”

“Who’s that? The lovely and talented counselor Garfield? The same guy who sprang Kelly last night after he came to kill me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It came out right but he wasn’t looking at me.

“The same guy who knew the names of the people on Doug Ford’s street, so somebody could use their name and call for the police before we had a chance for a good talk with Kelly?”

“I don’t care what the chief has told you. This isn’t a police investigation and you’re not a cop. I want you out of my office.”

I wagged a finger at him. “I’ll go, but I have to tell you that Mr. Manatelli isn’t going to be pleased. All this fuss at Cat’s Cradle is going to get back to him. He may dump another body on your slopes. Only this time it might be yours.”

He was white, either from anger or from fear, there was no way of telling. “Get out,” he hissed.

“’Bye. See you again when you feel more like talking,” I told him.

I turned to the door and asked, “Oh, just one more thing. How much cash was in the bag that Cindy Laver took home that night?”

I could see the question had rattled him but he just repeated, “Get out. And stay out. I’m going to put a security man on the door to keep you out.”

“Better get two, one to go with you when you visit Brewskis,” I said and left.

I looked in at Brewskis but the staff people I knew hadn’t come on duty so I drove back, slowly. Kelly’s pickup was beside his shack and so was a Cadillac. I pulled in behind it, noting the license. A Vermont plate.

As I walked up to the front with Sam at my heel, Kelly opened the door. He had his shotgun at the ready. “Get offa my property,” he said. “Do it now before I shoot that fuckin’ dog.”

I pulled Doug’s pistol out of my pocket. “Pull that trigger and you’re one dead rounder.”

“You think so?”

“Wanna try?” I kept the gun aimed squarely at his eyes.

He let the muzzle of the gun droop. “We’ll talk,” I told him. “If not now, after your shyster lawyer’s gone home. I’m gonna be in your face until you tell me who sent you.”

It was the kind of shoving match you see in schoolyards. We both knew we couldn’t do anything but I knew his kind. You have to keep the pressure on or they forget the trouble they’re in. He lowered the gun completely and then, surprisingly, looked back into the shack and then stepped aside.

A man came out of the doorway, dark, fifty-five or so, well dressed, Italian. And then another man. The one who had kidnapped Angie Ford.

The first one spoke to Kelly, very low, and Kelly dropped his eyes and went back inside. Then the guy spoke to me, a low voice that let you know he expected to be listened to. “Put the gun away,” he said.

I did and he came down the walk toward me. “You got a problem?” he growled. Pure godfather. Marlon Brando has a lot to answer for.

“Not me. But it seems you do.”

The bodyguard had his hands in his pockets but I figured there was a gun in one of them. He spoke to his boss first. “That’s the guy I told you about, from Canada.” He seemed like he wanted to be more respectful, to call his boss Mr. But he was afraid to say the name where I could hear it. The boss said nothing and the bodyguard spoke to me. “You said you was goin’ home.”