This was all happening too quickly for Cliffie. He was getting whiplash from gaping around so much. All he knew for sure was that he wasn’t the center of attention any more. And here he’d dressed up so well for the occasion, too. Cliffie secretly thinks he’s Glenn Ford. I can’t put that down, because I secretly think I’m Robert Ryan. Cliffie’s too chunky and ugly to be Ford and as I’ve remarked elsewhere, except for the height, the good looks, the voice and manly poise, I’m pretty much a dead ringer for Robert Ryan.
Cliffie stood hip-cocked with his hand resting on the butt of his gun. The way he sneered at Spellman made me think Spellman wasn’t such a bad sort, after all.
“There’s no doubt that Mr. Murdoch has done some things that he truly regrets,” Spellman said to the battery of microphones pointed at him. And that was a good strategy. Get the kept-woman problem out of the way up front. “He’s a decent man and admits that he feels shame for some of his conduct and for the grief he’s brought to his family. His days as a public man are over. He’s already stepped out of the race for governor.
“But what we’re talking about here is an error—and a major one—in moral judgment. But we are not—and let me repeat are not — talking about murder. He did not murder Karen Hastings nor did he have anything to do with putting her body in his bomb shelter. It is clear to me that the real killer managed to secrete the body inside Mr. Murdoch’s home. I have no idea how this happened. But with the help of my investigators—and one of your own local investigators, Mr. Sam McCain, who has already been extremely helpful to our investigation—we’re going to clear Mr. Murdoch’s name long before this matter is brought to trial. And that’s a promise.”
He had no more paused for breath than the reporters began shouting questions at him.
“The blonde woman in the blue hat asked me what about the other three men involved in this. And I can’t speak to that. I haven’t been asked to represent them and I’d imagine they’ll each want their own lawyers—if there are even any charges. Again, the arrangement they had with the Hastings woman was morally indefensible but it doesn’t seem to me that any laws were broken. Police Chief Sykes has chosen to arrest my client, and it’s my client I’m concerned about. I’m sure Chief Sykes would be happy to answer your questions.”
I was standing next to Spellman. When the cameras and microphones swooped over to Cliffie, Spellman said, “Cliffie’ll probably tell them about the time he had a gunfight with Jesse James.” He looked at all the reporters. “This guy should be a campaign manager. He can really get the press to turn out.” Then he smiled at me. “Sorry we got off to a bad start inside. I can be a bit of a prima donna. But the next time I express my true and profound love for myself and all my sage opinions, remind me that I grew up in Groverton, Illinois, population eight hundred and seventy-two. That always keeps me humble.”
I smiled. “Thanks for the plug. I can use the business.”
“Could you meet me at Murdoch’s office tomorrow morning at nine? I always like to review things. You can meet my guy from Chicago.”
“See you then.”
Then Deirdre came through the front door and said, “Sam, could you come inside a minute, please?”
Spellman winked at me. “I’d come inside that gal any time she asked.”
I went up the steps. She stood aside for me and I went inside to the light and warmth and splendor of her home.
We stood in the vestibule. She flipped off the light. “My dad wants my mom to go into the hospital again.”
“When did he say this?”
“Earlier tonight. He called and made the arrangement himself. He has a pilot and plane standing by in Cedar Rapids to take her.”
“You don’t want her to go?”
“I’m just wondering what his thinking is.”
I didn’t say anything. I wanted her to say it herself.
Outside, Cliffie was still talking. He allowed as how this was a scandal that would probably be picked up everywhere in the country. And because of that, he said, he wanted to bring swift justice to the murderer so that the fine Midwestern folk who lived here could get on with their lives. Never mind that the poor, sensitive folk were enjoying the hell out of this; and never mind that the town would enjoy an economic boost when the trial was in session. There’d be more reporters than citizens. And never mind that the man Cliffie had already convicted was likely the wrong man.
“I think he thinks she did it.”
“Your father thinks your mom did it?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s why he’s sending her away.”
She pressed herself against me. Her hair smelled sweet and clean from a recent shampoo and she was a marvel of soft flesh and gentle curves. She clung to me the way a child would. But her grip wasn’t strong. Weariness had set in. She was fatigued both physically and mentally. She could probably use a hospital stay herself, just to recover from her anxiety and exhaustion.
“I still can’t believe this is happening,” she said.
“You need some rest.”
She leaned away from me. “What if she really did it?”
“There’s no answer to that. It’s hypothetical. You’re reading things into a situation that may be just what it seems to be. I mean, your dad loves your mom and wants her to be healthy. The strain you’re all under and her past psychiatric record—this is the best thing, I’m sure.”
“You really think it could be that simple?”
“I really do.”
She clung to me once more. Cliffie was speaking in an especially loud voice now. He was going into his “morality” speech about how the US of A was such a decadent country these days, the commies wouldn’t have a hard time taking us over at all. Hell, we might even want them to take over, all of us dancing naked around a huge statue of Khrushchev, as the pagan fires burned higher and higher.
The assembled reporters groaned, tittered and a few of the braver ones laughed out loud. Cliffie never sounded dumber than when he tried to save the national soul.
She stepped back from me. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m so tired I’m just making things up. Getting really paranoid.”
“For now anyway, I’d just let your mother go. Make sure she packs everything she needs and say goodbye. You could always drive her to the airport yourself.”
“I’d thought of that, Sam. But what if I’m needed here?”
I took her hand. “I’m going back to work. Your dad’s going to jail for a couple of hours, just till Spellman bails him out, and your mother needs a ride. There isn’t anything for you to do but sit here and worry. And your mom would appreciate you for taking her rather than one of your dad’s staffers.”
“No staffers left,” she said. “He gave them all very big checks and said goodbye. To the ones who worked here in town, anyway. The other paid staffers will get their checks tomorrow or the next day. Dad feels guilty about letting them down. They worked very hard for him. And then it ended like this. But that’s dad’s style. He has this sense of guilt and when that takes over, he’ll give you anything he owns.”
“Take your mom, Deirdre. She’ll appreciate it and it’ll get you out of this house.”
“It still seems unreal, Sam.”
“That’s how these things go. Most people never experience this side of the law. And it’s scary when you realize that even if you’re a powerful man—like your father—that an incompetent like Cliffie can completely take your life over and make you jump through any kind of hoops he puts up for you. Then think of what it’d be like if you didn’t have any money or power at all. No bail. If you’ve got an honest cop, an honest judge and a fair-minded jury pool—and you’re innocent—you’ve got a fifty-fifty chance of going free.” I took her by the shoulders. “Your father’s going to go free, Deirdre. The charges’ll be dropped.”