“Important? Oh, yes, because it underlines what often happens in marriages. Sarah had the power, and it’s rumored that she began looking elsewhere for Arnold’s substitute.”
“Rumored,” Gates remarked.
“Without direct information, I can only speculate that Sarah left Arnold as sitter for the children more and more frequently,” Johnson said.
“There’s some evidence of that, yes.”
“Then, on the night of March twenty-ninth, roughly three months ago, Sarah left home, ostensibly to attend a meeting on ways to sharpen her skills. She drove the family car, a blue Volvo. Arnold was at home with the children, seeing that they did their homework.
“When midnight came, and Sarah had not returned, Arnold became worried. If Sarah was truly being unfaithful, she had not shoved it in his face, so far. Still, he called only one or two of her associates who were supposed to be at the meeting. They told him that she had been there, but had left when the session was over at ten-thirty.
“This made Arnold worry. She was really flaunting an involvement, or something had happened. He decided to call the police.
“However, they called him first.
“At a little after one A.M., on a tip from a person who had driven through the parking lot of a third-rate motel to turn around, the police discovered the Volvo in the back end of that lot. The door on the driver’s side was open. Beside it, slumped against the car, was the bloody body of Sarah Bedford, her throat pierced by an arrow.”
“The Robin Hood angle,” Stonehill remarked to Florence.
“The case has many unresolved angles,” Johnson went on. “What was Sarah Bedford doing there? Had she a rendezvous at the motel, or had she been forced to drive there for some reason? Arnold Bedford, the usual prime suspect, seemed unlikely to have killed her. He was sitting with his children. True, he could have waited until they seemed to be asleep, sneaked out, arrived at Sarah’s rendezvous, and killed her. But his boy Arthur had trouble going to sleep, and he says that his father didn’t leave the house. As for another man, none has been fingered yet. And the weapon: why shoot her with an arrow? Because it was silent? So much for information from the press.”
He stopped, waited in vain for comment, then resumed.
“Now, my own speculation. As for alibis, it’s now well known that guilty individuals can hire hit persons to commit crimes for them. If I were a police detective, I would have checked the Bedford bank account, or accounts. Were any unusual sums of money withdrawn? Was Sarah insured in Arnold’s favor? This, I admit, would require lots of patience in Arnold. Insurance companies are reluctant to pay without clear answers to their questions.”
Gates remained silent. He had made a few notes on his pad.
Stonehill whispered to Florence, “Watch Johnson. Until now, he’s been looking the cop in the eye. Now he’s glued to the notes Gates is making.”
“Of course,” Johnson went on, “payment doesn’t have to be in money. But transfer of property — car, expensive entertainment appliances, whatever — is just as noticeable.
“Or it could be barter. Services. Does Arnold have a talent or ability the perpetrator lacks? A valuable talent, capable of generating a service worth lots of money? I don’t know. I doubt that a restaurant manager has it, but maybe the police know things they’re not telling.”
“He’s a very smooth talker, I must admit,” Florence whispered.
“That’s why he’s stayed out of that chair so long,” Stonehill murmured.
“Anything to volunteer, Lieutenant?” Johnson asked. “No? Then I’ll get on with it. What have we? Bedford has a good alibi. If he hired it done, how did he arrange payment? If Sarah had a lover, who is he?
“The weapon. It’s evident that no bow or other arrows were found at Bedford’s property. The papers would surely have headlined WEAPON FOUND AT BEDFORD HOUSE. Rather curious. When I was a boy, my father made me a bow and turned some dowel rods into arrows. You would have thought that young Arthur... I suppose it’s all video games.
“Did Arnold Bedford belong to an archery group? No evidence reported. Have the police scanned such groups for names they could connect to Sarah Bedford? I don’t know. I hope they have.
“But let’s take a look at that arrow. Who says it was shot from a bow, eh? Suppose she was stabbed with it?”
Gates lifted his head and stared at Johnson.
“That’s right, Lieutenant. Stabbed. As with a knife or dagger. You’re thinking, how stupid can this jerk get? I’m saying, not stupid at all. Yes, I know the wooden shaft could snap.
“Consider two things. First, Sarah Bedford was struck — or stabbed — in the throat, a very soft area that would have little resistance, even to a hand-held arrow. Second, an arrow’s rigidity could be enhanced either by tightly wound cord or by wrapping with several turns of Velcro-type fabric. Either could be removed quickly after the blow was struck.
“I must say that such use of an arrow is not impossible. Four years ago, an effort was made at this prison to expand the recreation program. An archery range was set up. It was popular until one convict used an arrow in this very fashion to attack another. He inflicted a very serious wound, although he missed the neck and the thing glanced off a shoulder. They dismantled the archery project immediately, of course.”
Air hissed involuntarily from between Gates’s teeth. He wrote furiously.
“Bull’s-eye!” Stonehill exclaimed. “He gave ’em something to think about that time.”
Warden Peters’s jaw dropped. He had hoped that this incident would never be known outside the prison walls. Some mistakes could never be forgotten. He had hoped to curb his impatience about the execution, but he found the sweat starting again.
Gates addressed Johnson. “You were here when this happened, weren’t you? You have direct knowledge?”
“I was,” Johnson answered. “I knew the guy who was wounded.”
“So,” said Gates, writing hard, stabbing at the paper.
“So,” Johnson remarked, “you now realize that you’ll have to check all of the records of whoever was released after the incident, won’t you? Everybody knew about it.”
“Christ on the mountain, yes!” the detective spat.
“I can save you the trouble,” Johnson said quietly.
The verbal buzzing that began when he finished discussing the arrow halted abruptly, leaving an aching quiet.
“You mean you can finger somebody?” demanded Gates.
“I think so.”
“Who?”
“Of course, you’ll have to fill in details of this person’s relationship with Sarah Bedford, whether any other arrows are still in his possession, and other details.”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll go into all of that.”
“Because I won’t be around to consult.”
“If you’re any kind of a direct link, you will. We’ll get you a postponement until everything’s over and done with.”
The warden stepped into the execution chamber. “You can’t make such a promise, Lieutenant. I am obligated to see that the law is carried out, and carried out it will be as soon as this man’s statement is finished.”
“In my opinion, it would be murdering a witness in a homicide case, and I’m not about to let that happen.”
Gates stood up, drew his gun, and put it to the warden’s temple. “Somebody out there get on the phone and tell the governor about this,” he called.
“I’ll do that,” the doctor volunteered.
“Good,” Gates nodded to Johnson. “Now, finish what you were about to say.”