"And what is it you think I did?"
"My perception? My perception is that as soon as you got the word that Evan was dead, you had your Chinese friends kill Ron LaSalle. And soon after that you had them kill Wanda Chinkle. You had one of them try to kill me, too."
"And why would I do all that?" Berdon said.
"I've already given you a few of my theories. I'm still looking for a few specifics. And you'll be the first to know when I prove them. But right now, the best I can do for sure is that you're a son of a bitch," Justin said.
Lincoln Berdon laughed. "That is very true," he said. "I am one mean son of a bitch. And so is Mr. Harmon here. Isn't that right, Herbert?"
"Yes," H. R. Harmon said quietly and seriously. "I am. But I'm not as big or as mean a son of a bitch as you."
"Then that's settled," Berdon said. "So if that's what you came to find out, Officer Westwood, you got your answer. And you can go."
"Not yet," Justin said. He said he needed to know how to get in touch with Ellis St. John.
"I'm afraid he's not reachable," Berdon said. "At least we don't know how to reach him. He had some sort of family emergency. We told him to take as long as he needed."
"And why would you be so generous?" Justin asked.
"Ellis is one of our most valuable employees. We're like a family at Rockworth and Williams. We do what's best for everyone."
"Who's handling his clients while he's away?"
"Everyone's helping out. It's difficult but we're managing."
"You have all the answers, don't you?" Justin said.
"I just want to be as cooperative as possible," Berdon told him.
Justin exhaled a long, slow breath. "What the hell am I not seeing?" he asked. "What the hell is it that you two crazy old bastards know that I don't know?"
"The truth," Lincoln Berdon said.
And he started laughing again.
35
Justin let Martin, the chauffeur, out of the trunk. He decided he had the upper hand so, what the hell, he told the driver to take him back to East End Harbor. Martin said he had to ask Mr. Harmon and Justin said it was okay, he thought he could safely speak for Mr. Harmon.
Sitting in the backseat, he opened a crystal decanter and sniffed. Scotch. Nice touch. He poured himself a small glassful, leaned back in the plush leather upholstery, and called Reggie.
"It's right here in front of me," he said. "All I have to do is make sense of one or two things. But I just can't do it. I can't see it."
So she had him go over the whole thing again. Step by step. The murders. The connections. The path of the money. The corporate cheating. Lenny Rube's role. Bruno's role. Hades. The still unsolved meaning of the word "Ali" that Wanda had written. The limo was almost to the East End Harbor town limits and they were still on the phone when he said to Reggie, "I'm going to pick you up. Come over. We're too close to let this go." She hesitated and he said, "It's business, Reggie. You said we had to finish this before we could move on to anything else, so let's finish it. Now."
She agreed and the limo showed up at her motel a few minutes later. When they got back to his house on Division Street, Justin checked to make sure his car was back, saw that it was, then he told Martin he could head back to the city but to make sure that Mr. Harmon was billed for the extra time. They walked into the house, and Justin expected to find Bruno there, but the big man was not around. He and Reggie didn't waste any time. They started in all over again. From the beginning.
Justin sat down on the couch, absentmindedly picked up one of the yearbooks that Vince Ellerbe had given him, and began leafing through it.
"It doesn't make sense," he said. "I don't see the domino effect. If Evan Harmon was murdered, why does that mean Ron LaSalle had to be next? And why Wanda? And why weren't they just killed? Why were they tortured? What information did they have that someone wanted? That Lincoln Berdon wanted?"
"You're sure it's Berdon?" Reggie asked.
"It's the only thing that makes sense. He's the link to Togo and the Chinese woman…"
"Who we're searching for, by the way. We've got a bureau-wide alert out for her."
"… and he's the only one who's connected to everyone else: LaSalle, St. John, H. R., now even Silverbush. But why? Why would he want Evan Harmon dead? He doesn't benefit by Harmon's death. He only benefits if Harmon lives and he gets to buy what Harmon's selling. He needs what Evan Harmon has-so why would he want him dead? Why would-" He stopped talking. He bit off the rest of his sentence and stared at the yearbook page in front of him.
"What is it?" Reggie asked.
"Oh my god," Justin said. "Oh-my-god."
She knew enough not to say anything. She didn't ask a question, she just waited.
He didn't say anything either, not immediately. He couldn't say anything, too many images were flashing through his mind. Too many pictures, too many bits and pieces of conversations. It was as if the pieces of the puzzle were raining down upon him.
And suddenly those pieces were forming themselves into a whole:
Vince Ellerbe talking about Evan Harmon: "His friends were mostly sycophants. He usually found one or two brainiacs who were frightened of him and that's who he spent time with… He liked the cheating better. He was just basically dishonest… He could always get people in authority to look the other way, to break the rules just for him… At heart, Evan Harmon was a crook. He liked to steal and he liked to lie. He just liked it."
The talk he had with Reggie after they saw Dave Kelley.
"… The tip wasn't just that Kelley was having an affair with Abby Harmon. It said he owned a stun gun."
"So somebody had to know how Evan was killed."
"It does seem kind of strange, doesn't it? Kind of…"
"Orchestrated."
"Yes. Orchestrated."
Ellis St. John's calendar.
EH/EEH (see directions/adbk)
Reggie saying, "This guy Ellis was spending the weekend with Evan Harmon?"
Him saying back to her: "Seems like. But I'm telling you, it doesn't make sense."
The phone conversation with Abby Harmon.
"How'd you know I was working with the FBI?"
"I don't know, Jay. Someone told me… I'm sorry, Jay."
Him thinking: What the hell had she done? What was she apologizing for?
Lenny Rube, in his den in Providence. "We used to deal with unions. With business, small businesses. Now we deal with Wall Street, with investors, lobbyists."
Dave Kelley, talking in the Riverhead jail about the Harmon security system.
Him asking Kelley: "Who had laptop access?"
"Evan. On the laptop he used to travel with."
"Abby?"
Kelly nodding, saying: "But I don't think she really knew how to use it. She didn't have much interest in it."
Wanda. The horrible image of the words she'd managed to scrawl on her naked body, words written in her own blood: The last word tailing off. The final thought she'd ever have. The last two letters barely legible as her life was ending.
"Ali."
And now the yearbook in front of him. Evan Harmon's last year at Melman Prep. Photos of his classmates. Photos of one particular classmate. One classmate who'd conveniently not mentioned that he'd been a classmate.
Quentin Quintel. Now the dean of Melman.
Lincoln Berdon's town house.
Justin saying, "What the hell is it that you two crazy old bastards know that I don't know?"
Lincoln Berdon saying, "The truth."
And back to the crime scene. Back to the Harmon bedroom. Justin standing over the body.
The body that was beaten to a pulp, beyond recognition. Blood everywhere. Pools and splashes of red.
The wedding ring… the favorite sweater… the shoes.
He remembered looking into Ellis St. John's closet. And the image that refused to materialize. Now he knew what that image was.