The Writer (22 page)

Dan knew that Dun was trying
to wind him up. He knew that was what he was up to, so it shouldn’t
have any effect on him. But it did. “What do you want me to say?
There’s a reason people still live in hick places like that. They
can’t survive in a big city. Probably don’t even realise the big
city exists, some of them. Ask them what year it is, they would
probably ask you why you wanted to know that for. I’m not kidding,
the main attraction of the place is the local food house and they
only have one of them.”

“You talked to Gendry’s
sheriff, right?”

“And he’s the chief clown of
the whole circus.”

Dun looked at him evenly,
devoid of any humour now. “You think they’ve botched that case,
Dan?”

“I didn’t say
that.”

“But your left
eye—“

“They probably did, yeah,
all right? Are you happy? They wouldn’t know what shoe to put on
what foot, or care if they got it wrong. A murder? Forget it. They
probably thought a rock happened to fall from the sky, like they
used to back in peasant days, and hit the guy when he was out for a
stroll. In this case it was some unknown driver going way over the
speed limit. Hit, kill, drive off, never seen again. How
convenient.”

“But you don’t think that,”
Dun said, knowing that his man, his best detective, had something.
“You think there’s more to it.”

“You want to reopen the
case, then send some rookie chasing after it. I’ve got actual
police work to do.”

“No you don’t. And you’re
the best rookie I have.”

Dun enjoyed his joke and
laughed as he walked away to his lunch destination. Then he stopped
and instructed, “Leave no stone uncovered, Ironwright. It’ll be all
your fault if anything gets missed.”

Benny Taylor was sitting at
the next desk and he had listened carefully to every word without
understanding most of it. A five-year veteran, he still had trouble
coming to grips with his job. He waited for Dun to leave before he
leaned over to Dan. “Your eye twitches, Dan?” he asked in all
seriousness, and then wondered why Dan ignored him.

“This was Dale’s,” said
Dan.

“What’s that?” asked Benny.
“You think Dale missed something?”

Dan sat quietly for a few
moments and then abruptly stood up from his desk and went in search
of his lunch. “The body was moved,” he said to Benny as he walked
past him.

“Dale knew that?” Benny
asked but Dan didn’t stop.

It was in the evening when
Dan called in on the Evans. He had put aside his wife’s very nice
pineapple desert; a simple concoction of bread chunks, milk and a
dab of vanilla essence that when baked became something astounding.
That was no mean feat, to walk away from his desert, but he knew he
needed to get the visit out of the way. If he started in on all
that rich pineapple loveliness he would not want to move out of his
monstrous lounge chair, and it would have coincided with the sports
segment on the TV news. Sam promised it would be easy to reheat
when he got back home, but all he could think about was that it was
currently a long way away from his mouth, and he didn’t like
anything about that thought. He found that he passed an attractive
corner store on his way to the Evans and a quick stop there saw him
collect some cut-price cream rolls, ones that actually had real
cream in them. He made a note in his notebook of the address. His
notebook was full of such addresses, and he had more of them than
for anything work related.

“Sorry to be a pain,” he
said as Sarah opened the door for him, “but I need to go over what
I talked about with your husband a few days back.”

She welcomed him in, and she
was quickly joined by Paul. He shook their hands and regretted that
they were still a little sticky from the buns. Both looked excited
at his presence and were happy to provide all the high-class coffee
he wanted, as well as a very tasty selection of fruit slice. Dan
knew that he was not being polite in eating down the first one in
about three or four bites. What was worse was when they noticed
that he tried to put another in his pocket. It was an old habit
that he had from childhood, when he saw a lot of food he would try
to take as much as he could at once. He had tried to stop the habit
but then realised how much food he missed out on.

Both Paul and Sarah didn’t
seem to notice as they gave him all kinds of questions and then
answers, none of which interested him. He waited for them to stop
talking before he took out his notebook and pen.

“This is over Max Marshall?”
asked Sarah. “Have you arrested him?”

Dan grimaced, thinking that
she might be a problem. He knew that having two excitable witnesses
together was about ten times as worse as than one calm one, since
they fed off each other and drove up their stress level.

“There is no reason to
arrest Max Marshall,” he said in a relaxed manner.

“Of course there is,” she
replied like he was a child.

He realised that he had been
too relaxed and given them the impression that he was
soft.

“He knew about the murder in
Gendry,” she continued. “It’s in his book. Paul told you about
that, didn’t he?”

That interested Dan. “What
book is this?”

“I don’t know what it’s
called,” she said. “I don’t think he told us. He’s very secretive
like that.”

“I was under the impression
he was writing it,” said Dan, “not finished it. You say it’s in an
actual book?”

“It’s not published yet,
no,” Paul explained. “It’s just some story he was writing. But he’s
detailed the murder, all about it. No one’s going to get that right
without knowing a thing or too.”

“Can we put the handbrake on
here for a second, folks?” Dan asked with a polite smile. “Allan
Longbottom was killed in a hit and run accident, most likely
unprovoked. By the looks of Gendry, speeding vehicles are a bit of
a plague, and this was bound to happen at some point. If what you
say is correct, that Max Marshall had prior knowledge, then he
would have had to have known Longbottom and had a reason for the
crime.”

“And wrote it down,” said
Sarah, appearing even more enthused now that she had heard some
details of the case from someone who was in authority.

“But not only that,” said
Paul. “When he told us about it, you should have seen the look on
his face.”

“Why, what was his face
looking like?” asked Dan.

“Satisfaction,” said Paul,
himself satisfied to say that.

“He was bragging, is what he
was,” said Sarah. “Yes, he was bragging all right.”

“What association does Max
have with Gendry?” asked Dan. “Does he travel there much? How many
people does he know there?”

Paul looked at Sarah and
admitted, “We have no idea.”

“We’re friends of his wife,
more than him,” said Sarah, which was no surprise to Dan. “She’s
Jill. She’s nice.”

“Max keeps to himself, I’d
say,” said Paul. “I couldn’t tell you anything about how he spends
his time or who his friends are. I don’t even know if he has any
friends.”

“How about yourselves?”
asked Dan, moving his pen closer to the notebook, which he knew
would throw them off their smugness. “Do you know anyone in
Gendry?”

“Us?” Paul asked, not
expecting that question. “No.”

“Been there
much?”

“I went there once when I
was a girl,” said Sarah. “With my dad, who was a keen fisherman. I
don’t remember much about it, other than discovering my dad was not
really any good at being a fisherman. He gave it up not long after
that. We never did go back, but I have wondered about what it looks
like now. One day we might stop in if we’re driving up there, on
our way somewhere more important.”

Dan made sure she knew that
he wrote all of that down. “There’s one thing I’m not clear about,”
he said like he was having trouble remembering. If they knew him
then they would know how deep his memory went and any time he
feigned forgetfulness was just a ruse. The scribble in the notebook
was more for show, to give him something to do when he wanted to
draw out the conversation. It wasn’t even his real notebook, since
he did not want to mess that up with worthless fluff like he was
getting from these two. “When you say he told you that he had
killed Longbottom, and this was in something he was writing, did
you see this document? Did he have any pages with him at the
time?”

“We didn’t see any,” said
Paul.

“We all heard him saying
it,” said Sarah. “Us and his wife Jill. We’ll swear that in
court.”

“Let’s not jump the guns on
this,” said Dan. “If he has something in writing, then we may be
able to put together some charges. It’s probably something
innocent, I wouldn’t be surprised. Just a misunderstanding. Thank
you for your time.”

“Let us know when you arrest
him,” said Sarah. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“If that happens I’ll be
sure to do that,” said Dan and then stopped himself from asking her
if there was anyone else she would like to know is arrested. He
took another fruit slice with him and thanked them for the very
nice coffee, but all he could think about was the reheated desert
waiting for him to come home to.

Dan started off driving home
but took a different corner and headed for the Marshall’s apartment
building. More than what the Evans’ said was the memory of his
first visit and knowing that something was being hidden. That
something, whatever it was, bugged him. He knew from experience
that what was hidden may not be incriminating, and more often than
not it was innocent and nothing to do with the case. But the very
fact that there was something there made Dan want to find it. He
wanted it enough to put off, just for a short time, eating his
desert, and that made him grumpy.

Max was so startled to see
Dan at his door that he was speechless. Dan noticed the fear in his
eyes and that made him smile. Sometimes his job could be easy. Here
was someone trying to hide something from him. Like a trained
sniffer-dog, Dan went straight to work on finding it. His stomach
demanded he hurry.

“Detective Ironwright, is
there something else I can help you with?” Max asked.

“If you don’t mind,” Dan
said in an easygoing manner, “I have a couple of follow-ups
regarding the Gendry case. If you don’t mind?”

Max let him in. “I didn’t
know you guys worked this late. Crime never sleeps,
huh?”

“It doesn’t, but I do. To
tell the truth, I have a nice pineapple pie waiting for me when I
get home, so this won’t take long.”

“I have already said I know
no one in Gendry, or anything about that murder up there. I really
don’t know how I could be part of your case, but I think I already
told you that.”

“And I have your statement
about that. But since then it has come to my attention that you
have been writing stories about the Longbottom case.”

They only went as far as the
dining room table, where Max offered him a chair. In the middle of
the table sat a large and square crystal bowl full of very lifelike
imitation grapes. Dan was about to help himself before he saw that
they were plastic. The mood he was in, he probably would have eaten
one anyway.

“It’s a free country,” said
Max.

“Then it’s true, you have
been writing about it? May I see what you have done,
please?”

“Mr Ironwright, I didn’t
know you were a fan.”

Dan was about to say it was
only for the case but then decided it would be best to humour
him.

“My latest book is set
there, in Gendry,” said Max. “Let me burn you a disk of what I’ve
done so far, and you can read it to your heart’s content. Remember,
it’s only a draft, and I don’t usually let people see drafts.
Seeing as this is a special circumstance, and you’re not some kind
of snotty critic, I don’t see how it could hurt. You’re not a
snotty critic are you? Don’t worry, I was only kidding.”

Dan was not expecting Max to
cooperate so readily and for once he was speechless. Max went to
make a copy and it only took a minute. When he returned with a
silver disk already in a plastic case, Dan was amazed at his
efficiency.

“How did you know about the
Gendry case?” Dan asked as he inspected the disk and saw that it
was just a computer disk like any other and he felt dumb for
looking at it like that.

“Since it hasn’t been a
secret it would be unusual if I had no knowledge of it. Wouldn’t
you agree?”

“Why write about
it?”

“Why write anything? Because
it’s there. Because it wants to be written. Because it’s easier to
write it than not write it. Because it’s on people’s minds. Because
in a month or two nobody will remember it, even the residents of
Gendry, so I’m keeping it in the public eye. If I didn’t write
anything, no one would remember. That’s just the way the sad world
is. One moment we’re in awe over some tragedy, the next we’re
laughing at some pointless reality show. Tragedies are everywhere,
and if you ask me, there is no difference between reality shows and
the news channels; both revel in human suffering and make money
from it. Someone gets run down in a small town; shocking. Someone
gets voted off an island; more shocking. But the ‘shocking’ part is
why we’re tuning in in the first place. I suppose, if I was honest
with myself, my book is trying to take advantage of that, the same
as any other kind of media. I suppose I’m glad Gendry was rattled
by that murder. And if you push me, I guess I’m pleased the man
died, if it means I can sell my book about it. That’s just the way
this sad world is.”