I lie-what are my choices? — and assure him his thoughts are normal, and as a psychiatrist, I am perfectly qualified to make such assurances-everyone has such thoughts.
He talks of “escaping” without going into detail; though several meanings can be inferred, none good. In the best of all possible worlds I would be allowed to medicate him. Forestall what I feel is the inevitable.
It is not a choice.
For a few moments he becomes agitated and angry. There are clouds in the sky and I point upward and remind him of the relaxation techniques. I never know what creates such moments. It is like walking beside a normal and respected person who has decided to become a suicide bomber, never knowing when he will grasp the plunger.
Then, a week later, the final entry:
This marks the last of this series. I have made my decision to extricate myself from this situation. Everything is a spinning mirror and my share of the blame is large and horrendous. I suspect the subject has come to see me as an enemy. How do I know? He is nicer to me than he has ever been, solicitous of my health. Gentle.
I smell his hand on the plunger.
I must get out.
Five weeks later, Rudolnick was dead.
“What do you think?” Harry asked when I had finished reading.
“I think there’s a decent chance he was treating our killer,” I said, a cold knife tracing circles over the base of my spine.
“I figured you’d agree,” Harry said.
Near midnight, I got a call from the reporter, Ted Margolin. Dani, bless her, had contacted him. She had told Margolin two local dicks were wondering how certain political procedures worked in Montgomery.
“Naturally,” Margolin said, “it intrigued me.”
“We’re interested in a former Mobile County officer, Benjamin Pettigrew. He is not-repeat, not — the subject of any form of investigation. We’d like to know, in general, how Pettigrew got hired.”
“I got a real good source for that kind of stuff,” Margolin said. “I’ll need time to make some calls, maybe wait until a friend can get to some locked files. How about we get together late tomorrow morning?”
I didn’t try to hide my surprise. “You’ll have it by then?”
“If it’s have-able. Oh, Detective Ryder?”
“Yes?”
“I haven’t talked to DeeDee in a few months. She sounded pretty down. She all right?”
“She’s fine,” I said. “Something to do with the change in the weather.”
After wrestling with the notion for several minutes, I decided to call Dani, thank her for the assistance. Maybe buoy my conscience. Her number was still first on my speed dial.
Tap. Connect. Ring.
“Hello?” Her voice tentative. “Carson?”
“It’s me, Dani. I just wanted to let you know that-”
“Buck’s here,” she whispered.
I clicked the phone off and stared at it for several seconds. I pulled up my call list and deleted her number.
CHAPTER 32
Harry and I went to the office in the morning and caught up on every bit of paperwork the case had generated. We had the feeling that something was due to break. We wanted to be caught up if the shit got delivered to the fan.
The Crandell character had come to light and we were using it to leverage Barlow. A four-year-old murder appeared to have been done by Taneesha Franklin’s killer. I suspected Dr. Bernard Rudolnick had treated-or at least observed-the perpetrator. The man who killed Rudolnick had been poisoned after being interviewed by our primary victim, Taneesha. It was a rat’s-nest of tangles, but we were picking it apart a twig at a time. Something was going to bust loose on one of the angles.
At ten forty-five we headed to Harry’s house, where we’d arranged to meet Margolin. The day had turned too hot for sitting outside, so we paced in the living room, Harry north to south while I went east to west. After a few crossings we got the rhythm right. At eleven-thirty we heard a car door slam and Harry went to the window.
“He’s here.”
Margolin strode into the living room with a black leather bag over his shoulder. He was a small, fit guy in a blue seersucker suit and white shirt, no tie. His eyes were dark and electric, his steel-gray hair buzzed short. He moved like a Jack Russell terrier, fast and choppy. The guy looked closer to fifty than sixty; investigative journalism must have agreed with him.
We did introductions. Margolin took the couch, Harry and I pulled our chairs close.
“What you got?” I asked.
Margolin reached into the bag, dug out a folder, set it on his lap.
“First off, don’t get the idea I jump like this for anyone. Cops especially. I’m doing this because DeeDee told me to. I do mean told, like an order. I owed her one for a tip she passed on last year. This is me paying back.”
“Understood,” I said.
Margolin snapped open the folder, put on reading glasses.
“Pettigrew, Benjamin Thomas. Started with the Montgomery force four years back. Patrolman second grade, the rank owing to three years’ experience as a county cop. Made detective one year later. Nicknamed ‘Bulldog’ because of his investigative tenacity. A perp once found out Pettigrew was on his case, came in and surrendered. Actually, I think that’s happened twice.”
“Pettigrew’s not a guy to give up,” Harry said. “And known for it.”
Margolin looked over his glasses. “If you’re looking for a downside to Pettigrew, I never found one. This boy’s all silver and no tarnish.”
“Actually, we’re more interested in how he was selected,” Harry said.
Margolin shuffled through his papers, reviewed one for a few seconds.
“Pettigrew got lucky, actually.”
“Lucky how?”
“The city got a special grant to add cops that year. I mean, like the week before. Over a half million bucks in money drops in from a KEI grant-”
Like touching me with a live wire. I jerked forward, waving my hands in the time-out motion. “Wait a minute, Ted. KEI?”
“Kincannon Enterprises, International.” Margolin’s reporter sense kicked on. “I say something interesting, guys?”
Harry said, “Keep going, Ted.”
“KEI tossed big money on the table, special one-time grant-use it or lose it. It was a little out of KEI’s range to provide funds for direct hiring, but welcomed by the city, of course.”
Harry said, “Would folks at KEI have any sway over who was chosen?”
“If the Kincannons had a candidate for a cop position, the candidate would get heavy consideration. No, he’d flat-out get hired.”
Harry said, “What if the Kincannons wanted a guy out of their hair? They’d do the same, right? Have him plucked away by Montgomery?”
Margolin started to reply, but his eyes turned cautious. He looked between Harry and me.
“I’m late for an appointment. That’s all I know about Pettigrew. I do know the Kincannons are rumored to have inroads into law enforcement.” Defiance in his voice, and veiled anger.
Harry held up his hands. “Wait a minute. You think we got you here under false pretenses? Maybe dope out your view of the Kincannons?”
Margolin picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, stood. “Nice talking to you fellows.”
Harry reached out and snatched the bag from Margolin’s shoulders.
“Hey!” Margolin snapped.
Harry slid the bag over a cannonball shoulder. Margolin looked between his bag, Harry’s shoulder, and Harry’s face.
“Have a seat, Ted,” Harry said. “Please,” he added.
The reporter sat warily.
“You need a quick history lesson,” Harry said. “Buck Kincannon helped me create an inner-city baseball team. A year later, when the team’s mentors wouldn’t play dirty political ball with family interests, Kincannon deep-sixed the dreams of about fifty kids I cared about. I’d personally like to rip Kincannon’s face off and shit in it.”