Текст книги "The Simple Truth"
Автор книги: David Baldacci
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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 26 страниц)
Half a million bucks worth of life insurance, Chandler muttered. He flipped rapidly through the pages, passing by the legalese until he got to the end, where more specific information was set forth.
Michael Fiske was the insured.
McKennas finger suddenly stabbed at the bottom of the page. Chandler paled a little as he read the line the man had so energetically indicated. And John is the primary beneficiary.
The two men looked at each other. Would you like to take a walk and hear a theory of mine? McKenna asked. Chandler wasnt sure exactly what to do.
It wont take long, McKenna added. In fact, some of it youre probably thinking right now, I would imagine.
Chandler finally shrugged. You got five minutes.
The two men walked out onto the sidewalk in front of the row house. McKenna took a moment to light up a cigarette and then offered one to Chandler. The detective held out his pack of gum. I can be overweight or I can smoke. I like to eat, so there we are.
They strolled along the dark street as McKenna began talking. I found out that Fiske doesnt have an alibi for the probable time his brother was murdered.
Might be something in his favor. If he killed his brother, he wouldve worked hard to establish one.
I disagree for a couple of reasons. First, he probably never thought he would become a suspect.
With a half-million-dollar life insurance policy?
He might have thought we wouldnt find out. We go down a different trail and thats it. He waits awhile and then collects his money.
I dont know about that. Whats your second point?
If he had some perfect alibi which there is no such thing if youre guilty then a hole would come up in it somewhere, sometime, somehow. So why bother? He was a cop and now a lawyer. He knows all about alibis. He says he doesnt have one and then he doesnt have to worry about it blowing up in his face. And then he counts on everybody reaching the conclusion you just did, namely, that if hes guilty he wouldve concocted a good one.
McKenna took a long drag on his cigarette and looked up at the few stars visible in the sky. So hes got motive and, by his own admission, opportunity. I checked him out. Hes got a dip-shit law practice in Richmond, defending the scum of the earth. Guy never even went to law school. Hes third-rate at best. Unmarried, no kids, lives in a shithole. A real loner. Oh, and he left the Richmond police force under a somewhat dark cloud.
How do you mean? Chandler asked sharply.
Lets just say that there was a shooting incident that was never fully explained other than the fact a civilian and another police officer were dead as a result.
Chandler looked shaken, but recovered. So why does he come up and offer his assistance in the investigation?
Again, a cover. Fiskes position would be, How could I have pulled the trigger? Im up here working my butt off to find the person who murdered my brother.�
How does that explain Wrights death?
Who says it has to? Like you said, the two murders could be unrelated. If they are, then if I were Fiske Id jump on it and argue that they are connected. See, hes got an alibi for Wrights murder.
Evans again, Chandler thought. McKenna continued, So if we believe theyre connected, hes home free.
And Sara Evans? Remember? She said she saw the guy running out of Michael Fiskes apartment building. You say shes lying too? McKenna stopped walking and so did Chandler. McKenna took a last puff of his cigarette and then crushed it out on the sidewalk with several twists of his foot. Sara Evans too, McKenna repeated Chandlers words, eyeing the detective closely. Chandler shook his head. Come on, McKenna.
Im not saying shes in on the whole thing. Im saying maybe she has a thing for Fiske and shes doing what he tells her to.
They just met.
Is that right? You know that for sure?
Actually, no.
Okay, he convinces her hes done nothing wrong, but some people might try to frame him.
Why do you have such a thing against Fiske?
Now McKenna erupted. Hes got a smart mouth. He comes off as holier than thou, the defender of his brothers memory, only they seemed to have no contact recently. He and Evans spent the night at her house doing who knows what the day after his brothers body is found. Hes got a shotgun for some reason. Hes nosed his way into the investigation, which means he knows just about everything we do. Hes got no alibi for the night of the murder and five minutes ago we found out hes a half million bucks richer because his brother is dead. What the hell am I supposed to think? Are you saying your cop radars not even tingling over this?
Okay, youve made your point. Maybe I have been too lax with him. Rule number one: Dont trust anybody.
Good rule to live by. McKenna paused and then added, Or die by. He walked off leaving a very shaken Chandler staring after him. ["C45"]CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Fiske knocked on Riders office door. He squinted through the glass. Dark inside.
Hes probably at home. We need to find out where that is.
Well, the guy also might be eating dinner out, or out of town on business. He might even be on vacation. Or
Or something could have happened to him, Sara said.
Dont get overly dramatic. Fiske clasped the doorknob and it turned easily. He and Sara exchanged a significant glance. Fiske looked up and down the hallway. Thats when he saw the cleaning cart and relaxed slightly. Cleaning crew?
And theyre cleaning in the pitch-dark because . . .? Sara responded.
Thats just what I was thinking. He pulled Sara away from the door and over to the cart. He rummaged around, before pulling out a pair of Vise-Grips from a toolbox. Whispering, he said, Go down near the exit stairs. If you hear anything, run to the car and call the cops.
She grabbed his arm and whispered back, I have a much better idea. Lets go call the police together right now and report a burglary.
We dont know that it is a burglary.
We dont know that it isnt either.
If we leave, they could get away.
And if you go in there and get killed, what exactly is that going to accomplish? You dont even have a gun you have that thing, whatever the hell that is.
Vise-Grips.
Great, they could have guns and you have a tool.
Maybe youre right.
Lady is for sure right. Too bad you didnt listen.
Fiske and Sara whirled around. Josh Harms stood there, his pistol aimed at them.
Walls mighty thin. Figured when we heard the door start to open, and then all that whispering, you two were going to go for the cops. Cant let you do that.
Fiske studied him. He was big but not bulky. Unless they had run into a routine burglary, this man had to be Josh Harms. He eyed the gun and then scrutinized Joshs features, trying to size up quickly whether he had it in him to pull the trigger. He had killed in Vietnam; Fiske knew that from reading the news reports. But killing them would have to be in cold blood, and Fiske just did not see that in Josh Harmss eyes. But that could always change. Mouth, do your magic, he told himself.
Hello, Josh, my names John Fiske. This is Sara Evans with the United States Supreme Court. Wheres your brother?
Behind him, from the open doorway leading into Riders office, appeared a man of such huge proportions that both Sara and Fiske knew he could only be Rufus Harms. He had obviously heard Fiskes words.
How you know all that? Rufus said while his brother kept his pistol tightly on the pair.
Id be glad to tell you. But why dont we talk inside the office? You have that APB out on you and everything.
He motioned to Sara. After you, Sara. Out of the Harms brothers line of sight, he gave her a reassuring wink. He only wished he could feel as confident on the inside. They were confronted with a convicted murderer who had been in a hellhole for twenty-five years, which had probably not made him any nicer, and a wily Vietnam vet whose trigger finger was looking itchier with every passing second. Sara walked into the office, with Fiske behind her. Josh and Rufus eyed each other quizzically. Then they followed the pair inside and shut the door behind them. *����*����* The Jeep sailed through the back roads on the way to Samuel Riders office. Tremaine was driving; Rayfield sat beside him. The two-seater Jeep was Tremaines private vehicle. They were both off duty now and had decided against checking out a military vehicle from the motor pool. In case anyone came upon them while they were searching Riders office, they had settled upon a cover story: Sam Rider, Rufus Harmss old military attorney, practiced in the area and had recently visited Harms in prison for an unknown reason. Rider and his wife had been killed. Harms and his brother could have committed the murders; perhaps Rider had mentioned to Harms that he kept cash or other valuables at his home or office. Tremaine glanced over at Rayfield.
Something wrong? Tremaine asked. Rayfield stared straight ahead. This is a big mistake. Were taking all the risks here.
You think I dont know that?
If we get the letter that Harms filed, along with Riders letter, maybe we can forget about Harms.
Tremaine looked sharply over at him. What the hell are you talking about?
Harms wrote that letter because he wanted out of prison. He killed the little girl, but he really didntmurderher, right? Well, hes out of prison. He and his brother are probably in Mexico right now waiting on a plane to South America. Thats exactly what Id be doing.
Tremaine shook his head. We cant be sure of that.
What else is he going to do, Vic? Write another letter to the Court and say, what? Your Honor, I wrote you before with this crazy story I cant prove, but something happened to my appeal, and my lawyer and the clerk who got it are now dead. So I escaped from prison, Im on the run and I want my day in court. Thats bullshit, Vic. Hes not going to do that. Hes going to run like hell. Heisrunning like hell.
Tremaine considered this. Maybe. But on the off chance that he isnt as smart as you think he is, Im going to do everything I can to blow him away. And his brother. I dont like Rufus Harms. Ive never liked the guy. Im getting my ass shot up in Nam and hes back in the States safe and sound, three squares a day. We shouldve just let him rot in the stockade, but we didnt, Tremaine added bitterly.
Too late for that now.
Well, Im going to do him a big favor. When I find him, his next cell is going to be seven feet long, four feet wide and made of pine. And he aint getting a damn flag on it. Tremaine punched the gas even more. Rayfield shook his head and settled back down in his seat. He checked his watch and then looked down the road. They were almost at Riders office. *����*����* Sara and Fiske sat on the leather couch while the Harms brothers stood in front of them.
Why dont we just tie them up and get the hell out of here? Josh said to his brother. Fiske jumped in. I think youre going to find were on the same side.
Josh scowled at him. Now, dont go taking this the wrong way, but youre full of shit.
Hes right, Sara said. Were here to help you. Josh snorted but didnt bother to respond.
John Fiske? Rufus said. He studied Fiskes features, remembering where hed seen similar ones. That clerk they killed was family, wasnt he? Brother?
Fiske nodded. Yes. Who killed him?
Josh broke in: Dont tell them nothing, Rufus. We dont know who they are or what they want.
We came here to talk to Sam Rider, Sara said. Josh looked over at her. Well, unless youre gonna put on a s�ce or something youre gonna have a real hard time doing that.
Fiske and Sara looked at each other and then back at the brothers.
Hes dead? Sara asked. Rufus nodded. He and his wife. Made it look like suicide.
Fiske noted the file clutched in his hand. Is that what you sent to the Court?
You mind if I ask the questions? Rufus said.
Im telling you, Rufus, were your friends.
Sorry, but I dont make friends nowhere near that easy. Whatd you want to talk to Samuel about?
He filed that for you at the Court, didnt he?
I aint answering no questions.
Okay, Ill just tell you what we know and then you can take it from there. Hows that sound?
Im listening.
Rider filed it. My brother got it and took it out of the Courts system. He came to the prison to see you. Then he ended up dead in an alley in Washington. They made it look like a robbery. Now you tell us Rider is dead. Another clerk was killed too. I think its connected to my brothers death, but Im not sure why. Fiske stopped talking and studied the two men. Thats all we know. Now, I think you know a lot more. Like why all this is happening.
You know so much. You with the cops? Josh demanded.
Im helping the detective in charge.
See, Rufus, I told you. We got to get out of here. Cops probably on their way right now.
No, theyre not, Sara said. I saw your name in the papers Michael had, Mr. Harms, but thats all I saw. I dont know why you filed it or what was in it.
Why does a prisoner file something with a court? Rufus asked.
Because you want out, Fiske said. Rufus nodded. But you have to have grounds to do that.
I got me the best grounds of all: the simple truth, Rufus said forcefully.
Tell me what it is, said Fiske. Josh edged toward the door. Rufus, I got a bad feeling about all this. We stand here talking to them and the cops are closing in. Youve already said too much.
They killed his brother, Josh.
You dont know if he really is his brother.
Fiske pulled out his wallet with his drivers license.
Thisll at least prove we have the same last name.
Rufus waved it off. I dont need to see that. You got the same way about you too.
Even if they aint in on it, what the hell can they do to help? Josh asked. Rufus looked over at Fiske and Sara. You both talk real good and quick. You got an answer to that one?
I work at the Supreme Court, Mr. Harms, Sara said. I know all the justices. If you have evidence that shows youre innocent, then I promise you it will be heard. If not by the Supreme Court, then by another court, believe me.
Fiske added, The detective on the case knows something is fishy. If you tell us whats going on, we can go to him and get him to explore that angle.
I know the truth, Rufus said again.
Thats great, Rufus, but the fact is, in a court of law its not the truth unless you can prove it, Fiske said. Sara said, What was in your appeal, then?
Rufus, dont you answer that, dammit! Josh yelled. Rufus ignored him. Something the Army sent me.
Did you kill the little girl, Rufus? Fiske asked.
I did, he said, looking down. At least my hands did. The rest of me didnt know what the hell was going on. Not after what they done to me.
What do you mean by that? Who did what to you?
Rufus, hes looking to trick you, Josh warned.
Messed with my head, thats what, Rufus said. Fiske eyed him sharply. Are you pleading some sort of insanity? Because if you are, you dont have a chance in hell. He watched Rufus intently. But its more than that, isnt it?
Why you say that? Rufus said.
Because my brother took whatever was in that appeal very seriously. Seriously enough that he broke the law by taking it, and lost his life trying to help you. He wouldnt have done that for some twenty-five-year-old insanity plea. Tell me what it was that cost my brother his life.
Josh put one big hand on Fiskes chest and pushed him hard against the back of the couch. Look here, Mr. Smart-ass, Rufus here didnt ask your brother to do jack-shit for him. Your brother was the one that blew this whole thing up sky-high. He had to come check Rufus out cuz hes some old colored man sitting in some old prison for some old crime. So dont sit there singing that song bout your righteous brother.�
Fiske ripped the hand away. Why dont you go to hell, you sonofabitch!
Josh moved the pistol closer to Fiskes face and said menacingly, Why dont I send you there first? I catch up with you later. Hows that sound, whitebread?
Please dont, Sara implored. Please, hes just trying to help.
I dont need no damn help from the likes of you.
Were only trying to get your brother justice in a court of law.
Josh shook his head. I can get me justice in a court all by myself. We done overwhelmed your white asses. Prisons full of us and you just too cheap to build more. So I can get me morn justice in a court. Problem is I cant get me none on the outside, and damn if that aint where I spend most of my time.
This aint the way to handle things, Rufus said.
Oh, so now you know the way to handle everything all of a sudden? said Josh. Fiske was growing more nervous. Josh Harms sounded like he was at the point where maybe even his brother would have no control over him. Should he make a jump for the gun? Josh was probably fifteen years older than he, but the man looked as strong as an oak tree. If Fiske made a grab and got tossed on his head, he would probably be eating several rounds from the 9mm. The screeching of rubber against asphalt made them all look toward the window. Rufus hustled across and cautiously looked out. When he turned back from the window they all could see the fear in his eyes.
Its Vic Tremaine and Rayfield.
Shit! Josh exclaimed. What they carrying? Rufus took one long breath. Vics got a machine gun.
Shit! Josh said again as they all listened to the heavy boots clattering into the building. In another couple of minutes, maybe less, they would be here. He suddenly glared at Fiske and Sara. I told you. They set us up. We been sitting here jawing with them while the Army surrounds this place.
In case you didnt notice, were not in uniform, Fiske said. Maybe they followed you.
We didnt come from the direction of the prison. When they see the two of us, theyre gonna shoot, and thats it.
Not if you give yourselves up, they wont.
That aint an option, Josh said loudly.
It aint an option, Rufus repeated. They aint gonna let me live, knowing what I know.
Fiske looked at Rufus Harms. The mans eyes darted left and right. He had admitted to killing the girl. Shouldnt that be an end to it? Why not let the Army put him back in his cage? But Mike had wanted to help him. Fiske jumped up. Josh covered him with his pistol. Dont make this no harder than it is.
Fiske didnt even look at him; his eyes were squarely on Rufus. Rufus? Rufus!
Rufus finally seemed to break out of his inertia and looked at him.
Maybe I can get you out of this, but you have to do exactly what I say.
Josh said, We can damn well get ourselves out of this.
In about thirty seconds those two guys are going to come through that door and itll be over. You cant match their firepower.
How bout I put one of my bullets in you right now? Josh said.
Rufus, will you trust me? My brother came to help you. Let me finish what he started. Come on, Rufus. Give me a chance. A bead of sweat trickled down Fiskes forehead. Sara couldnt even speak. All she could hear were those boots, all she could see was that machine gun, coming closer and closer. Finally, almost imperceptibly, Rufus nodded. Fiske launched into action. Get in the bathroom, both of you, he said. Josh started to protest until Rufus cut him off and pushed him toward the private bath adjoining the office.
Sara, you go with them.
She looked at him, stunned. What?
Just do what I say. If you hear me call your name, flush the toilet and then come out. You two he nodded at the brothers stay behind that door. If you dont hear me say your name, Sara, stay put.
And you dont think them Army boys might just want to come take a peek at the toilet, especially if the doors closed? Josh asked sarcastically.
Let me worry about that.
Okay, Josh said slowly. But let me give you another thing to worry about, smart boy. You sell us out and the first bullet I fire is gonna hit you right about here. Josh placed his pistol against the base of Fiskes skull. But you wont even hear my pistol fire. Youll be dead before your damn ears tells your damn brain.
Fiske nodded at Josh as though accepting his challenge, which, in effect, he was. He looked at Sara; her face was pale. She leaned into him, shaking hard, trying, without success, to catch her breath, as the pounding feet drew closer.
John, I cant do this.
He gripped her shoulders hard. Sara, youcando this. You are going to do this. Now go. Go. He squeezed her hand and then she and the Harms brothers went into the bathroom and Sara shut the door behind them. Fiske looked around the office, fighting hard to get his composure. He spied a briefcase against one wall, grabbed it and unsnapped the lid. It was empty. He stuffed files from the top of Riders desk into the briefcase. As the boots boomed down the hallway, he raced to the small conference table set up in one corner. As he sat down, he heard the outer door open. As he pulled a file from the briefcase and opened it, he heard the inner door start to open. He leaned back in the chair and pretended to study some of the papers as the door opened. He stared up into the faces of the men.
What the hell he started to say until he saw the machine gun pointed at him and fell silent.
Who are you? Rayfield demanded.
I was about to ask you that question. Im here for a meeting with Sam Rider. Ive been waiting ten minutes already and he hasnt bothered to show up.
Rayfield edged closer. Youre a client of his?
Fiske nodded. Flew in from Washington this evening on a chartered plane. The meetings been planned for several weeks now.
Little late for a meeting, isnt it? Tremaines eyes bored into Fiske.
I have a very busy schedule. This was the only time I could meet. He looked at both men sternly. And why is the Army bursting in here with machine guns in the first place?
Tremaines face flushed angrily, but Rayfield assumed a more diplomatic tone. Its not our business, Mr
Fiske started to say his real last name, but then decided not to. Rufus had known these men by name. That meant these men were somehow involved with whatever had happened to Rufus. If that was true, they might have killed Mike.
Michaels, John Michaels. I run a real estate development company and Rider is my land-use attorney.
Well, youre going to have to get another lawyer, Rayfield said.
Im happy with Sams work.
Thats not the point. The point is Riders dead. He committed suicide. Killed his wife and then himself.
Fiske stood up, trying to make his expression as horrified as possible. It wasnt too hard, given the fact that he was trying to scam two armed men, with two more armed men in the adjoining room. If he failed, he would be the first casualty, if Josh Harms had anything to say about it.
What the hell are you talking about? I spoke with him recently. He seemed fine.
Thats all well and good, but the fact is hes dead, Rayfield said. Fiske sat down abruptly, looking numbly at the files in front of him. I cant believe it, he said, slowly shaking his head. I feel like an idiot. Sitting in the mans office waiting to hold a meeting. But I didnt know. No one told me. The door to his office was unlocked. Christ! He pushed the files away, then looked up sharply. So what are you two doing here? Why is the Army involved?
Tremaine and Rayfield exchanged glances. Theres been an escape from the military prison nearby.
Good Lord, you think whoever escaped is around here?
Dont know. Fact is, Rider was the escapees lawyer. We thought he might hit this place for some cash or something. Who knows, the prisoner might have murdered Rider, for all we know.
But you said it was a suicide.
Thats what the police think. Thats why were here. To look around, catch the guy if hes here.
Fiske watched with a sinking heart as Tremaine headed to the bathroom door.
Susan, can you please come out here? Fiske called in a loud voice. Tremaine stared hard at Fiske as they all heard the toilet flush. And then the door opened partially and Sara came out, trying her best to look astonished. She did a pretty good job, Fiske thought, probably because she too was scared shitless.
John, whats going on?
I told these gentlemen about our meeting with Sam Rider. Youre not going to believe this, but hes dead.
Oh, my God.
Susan is my assistant. She nodded at both men.
I didnt get your names, Fiske said.
Thats right, Tremaine shot back. Fiske hurriedly continued: These men are from the Army. Theyre looking for an escaped prisoner. They think the person might have had something to do with Sams death.
Oh, my God. John, lets just get back on the plane and get out of here.
Thats not a bad idea, Tremaine said. We can search the place a lot faster with you two out of the way. He once again looked over at the bathroom door. Holding his gun with one hand, he reached out to push the door all the way open.
Well, I can tell you theres no one hiding in there, she said with as straight a face as she could.
If you dont mind, maam, I like to see these things for myself, Tremaine said curtly. Fiske watched Sara. He was sure she was going to start screaming. Come on, Sara, hold on. Dont lose it. Behind the door of the darkened bathroom, Josh Harms had his pistol pointed directly at Tremaines head through the slight gap between the door and doorjamb. Josh had already sized up the tactical advantages he had, slight though they were. Vic Tremaine first, and then Rayfield, unless Rayfield got him first, which was a real possibility given Joshs very limited field of vision. Well, there was no way he could miss the little Sherman tank of a target Vic Tremaine represented. His hand tightened on the trigger as his brother loomed over his shoulder, pressing his bulk up as far as he could against the wall. But there was barely an inch of space between him and the door. As soon as Tremaine touched the wood, it would be over. At that moment Fiske started to stuff the files in his briefcase. I cant believe it. First two black guys almost run us over and now this.
Tremaine and Rayfield jerked around and stared at him. What two black guys? they said in unison. Fiske stopped what he was doing and looked at them. We were coming in the building and they ran by us, almost knocked Susan down.
Whatd they look like? Rayfield asked, his voice strained as he edged closer to Fiske. Tremaine quickly moved away from the bathroom door.
Well, they were black, like I said. Now, one of them looked like he was ex-NFL or something. You remember how big he was, Susan? She nodded and then started breathing again. I mean, he was huge. And the guy with him was pretty big too, six-two, six-three at least, but a lot leaner. They were running like the devil and they werent young either. Forty-five, fifty if they were a day.
Did you see which way they went? Tremaine asked.
They jumped in some old car and took off on the main road heading north. Im not good with cars, I dont know the make or anything, but it was an old model. Green, I think. He suddenly looked frightened. You dont think it was the escaped prisoner, do you?
Tremaine and Rayfield didnt answer because they were rushing out the door. As soon as they heard the outer door open and the boots running down the hallway, Fiske and Sara looked at each other and then they both, as though tied together with string, collapsed onto the sofa. They reached for each other and huddled together.
Glad I didnt have to shoot you. You think fast on your feet.
They looked up at the grinning face of Josh Harms as he jammed his pistol into his pants. Were both lawyers, Fiske said hoarsely, still clutching Sara tightly.
Well, nobodys perfect, Josh said. Rufus appeared behind his brother. Thanks, he said quietly.
I hope you believe us now, Fiske said.
Yeah, but I aint gonna take your help.
Rufus
Everybodys tried to help me up till now, theyre dead. Except Josh, and we all almost bought it tonight. I aint having that on my conscience. You two get back on that plane of yours and stay the hell out of this.
I cant do that. He was my brother.
Suit yourself, but youre gonna do it without me. He went to the window and watched as the Jeep sped off, heading north. He motioned to Josh. Lets get going. No telling when they might get the itch to come back.
As the two men started to turn away, Fiske reached in his pocket and took out something, which he held out to Rufus. This is my business card. Its got my office and home numbers on it. Rufus, think about what youre doing. By yourself, youre not going to get anywhere. When you finally realize that, call me.
Fiske looked surprised as Sara lifted the card from him and wrote something on the back. She held it out to Rufus. Thats my home and car phone numbers on the back. Call either one of us, day or night.
Slowly, the huge hand reached out, took the card. Rufus slipped it in his shirt pocket. In another minute Sara and Fiske were all alone. They again stared at each other, completely drained. A full minute passed before Fiske broke the silence.
Well, I have to admit, that was pretty close.
John, I never, ever want to do that again. Sara walked unsteadily to the bathroom.
Where are you going?
She didnt bother to look back at him. To the bathroom. Unless you want me to throw up out here.
["C46"]CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
An hour after his conversation with Warren McKenna, Chandler climbed out of his car and walked slowly to his house. It was a comfortable brick and siding split-level set in a neighborhood of like structures. A nice, safe place to raise kids at least it had been twenty years ago. It wasnt as safe or as nice today, but then what was? he thought. Many years ago, when he wanted to unwind after work, he would shoot a few hoops in the driveway with his kids using the basketball net he had hung over the garage doors. That net had long since rotted away and the hoop and backboard had been removed. Now he went into the small backyard, where he sat down on a weathered gray cedar bench, situated near a spreading magnolia and in front of a small in-ground fountain. His wife had pestered him into putting in the fountain and he had bitched and complained the whole time. It was only after he had finished the project that he had understood her insistence. Building the thing had been cathartic for him: the planning, the measurements, the selection of materials. It was a lot like detective work, meaning a jigsaw puzzle where, if you were equal parts competent and lucky, all the pieces fit. After ten minutes of quiet he finally lurched to his feet, his coat thrown over his shoulder, and ambled into the house. He looked around the quiet, dark kitchen. It was well decorated, the whole house was, due entirely to the efforts of his wife, Juanita. Kids raised, doctor visits made, bills paid, flowers tended to, grass clipped, beds made, clothes washed and ironed, meals cooked, dishes cleaned she did all those things while he worked horrendous hours on his way up. That had been their partnership. After the kids were gone, she had gone back to school, become a nurse and worked at a local hospital on the pediatric wing. Married thirty-three years now and still going strong. Chandler had no idea how much longer he could continue being a detective. It was all getting to him. The stench of the work, the feel of his hands in rubber gloves, the taking of tiny, measured steps for fear of trampling a bit of evidence that might cost somebody his life or let a butcher go free. The paperwork, the slick defense attorneys asking the same questions, plotting the same verbal traps, the bored judges reading off the sentencing guidelines like they were parceling out test results. The robotic looks of the defendants who said nothing, showed no emotion, went to prison with all their buddies, their institution of higher learning, coming out much more accomplished criminals. The ringing phone cut short these depressing thoughts.
