But convincing a prosecutor and a grand jury is another, more difficult matter. They finally had enough evidence to take the suspect to trial in 1994, but the jury acquitted him. The case remains officially open.
I asked, “What kept you from making arrests?”
“The prime suspect killed himself.”
My breath caught in my throat.
He said, “Legal name Aaron Henry Edmonds, street name Chaos. He was the top enforcer of the motorcycle club. We had him in our sights as the prime suspect. But two weeks later, he slit the throats of his two children and his old lady, the common law wife. Then he shot himself in the temple.”
Or he was “suicided,” Amy’s first.
“Is Amy still a Mountie?”
“No,” he said. “She resigned afterwards. You can understand why.”
“You said you knew her.”
“Yes. A fine officer and she served in top units. We had occasion to work together. Everybody respected her. After this… Well, she had to get away. She took a private-sector job. Making more than the Mounties could ever pay. At Yellowknife in the Northwest Territories”
I felt cold merely hearing the words.
The microwaves carried the sound of him turning pages of a file and then he gave me her telephone number.
“What’s in Yellowknife?” I said.
“The Ekati diamond mine,” he said. “She became chief of security.”
Chapter Thirty-six
After I set down the phone, I made a note of our entire conversation.
Then I heard my name and turned to see Lindsey’s top surgeon. I had never seen him at this time of day and a spike ran into my solar plexus, my hand gripped the wooden arm of the bench.
Maybe if I didn’t acknowledge him, didn’t turn around and stand up…
He said, “I have good news.”
I almost leapt off the bench but he sat me back down.
“I don’t use the word miracle lightly but your wife’s recovery comes pretty close. A medically induced coma and hypothermic treatment…In other words, lowering her body temperature. It can take up to two weeks. But we’re ready to start bringing her out now.”
“Let’s go!”
“Hang on.” He put a firm hand on my arm.
“This will be very gradual and intermittent. In stages. Think of it like a deep-sea diver being brought up.”
I curbed my enthusiasm, at least on the outside.
He said, “The goal is to bring her to general sedation until she has recovered enough to sustain herself. She’ll come off the ventilator as soon as she’s strong enough to breathe on her own. We’re thinking twelve to twenty-four hours, but if anything looks bad, we’ll need to resume the hypothermic treatment.”
I nodded too many times. I must have looked like an idiot.
I said, “What will she be like?”
“Her brain didn’t sustain any oxygen loss. That’s very good. Toward the end, she should be able to respond normally. Her memories may be affected.”
He sat with me for a surprisingly long time, saying nothing.
Finally he stood. “We can’t declare victory quite yet, Mister Mapstone. But your wife is a very strong woman.”
I knew that.
Chapter Thirty-seven
After a few minutes, I had to get out of the hospital. The claustrophobia was overwhelming. In the waiting room, the television made it impossible to think, sleep, or write a report.
I needed to walk. So I went two long blocks to the light-rail station and rode the train down to the courthouse. Stepping off, I passed through a joyous flock of young girls in colorful quinceanera dresses, laughing and talking. I steered my briefcase through the extravagant flowing skirts. When I was fifteen, I couldn’t have imagined the adult me in this mess.
In the atrium, I saw a young woman in a miniskirt arguing with the guard. Seeing me, he said, “Here he is.”
She turned around. It was Zephyr Whitehouse.
I suppressed a sigh and said, “Come up to my office.”
She followed me to the elevator and we walked down the long hallway in silence.
That changed once I closed the door.
“I owe you an apology for this morning,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were a deputy sheriff. I had to rifle through Diane’s purse to find your business card. Then I called Chris and he told me you are a historian, too. I’m impressed.”
Good old Chris.
“No apology necessary.” I sat behind the desk. “No need to be impressed.”
“My therapist has told me about sexual competition between mothers and daughters,” she said. “It’s always been there between me and Diane.”
She called her mother by her first name, like Lindsey and Robin had done. Did anyone say “mom” anymore?
I invited her to sit but she walked around inspecting, pausing to look out the restored 1929 windows. She had that combination of beauty, grace, money, and-if she didn’t read serious books-at least a feral intelligence that allowed her to effortlessly be the sun of any solar system she entered.
She alighted on the 1950s photo of Camelback Mountain with nothing but citrus groves flowing out to the south.
She pointed. “Our house is right here now. Amazing. You must despise my father. Even though I loved him, I hated growing up with his last name. I thought about taking Diane’s maiden name, Jacobi. You know last names only became common in Europe in the sixteenth century, as people left their home villages? Of course you do.”
I would have nodded but her very nice back was still facing me.
She turned. “We both have the same middle name, mother and daughter. Colleen. Do you like that?”
“Colleen is a lovely name.”
She smiled. “But I’m a Zephyr.”
“Yes, you are,” I said. “What do you want, I’m-a-Zephyr?”
She straightened her shoulders. “You’re very direct, Professor. No time for postmodern irony and cynicism? Or maybe that’s what you did and I missed it.”
I put my hands flat on the desk. “This is not Stanford and these are not office hours. Please sit down and tell me…” I smoothed out my insides and finished with “…how I may help you.”
She sat, the skirt rode up, and long tanned legs crossed. I kept my eyes on her face.
“Your investigation of Chip. I’m assuming that’s why you came to see Diane this morning.”
“Chip?”
“Elliott Whitehouse, Jr., my half brother. Chip. He and James are sons of Daddy and the sainted first wife, Kathryn. The woman done wrong when Daddy left her for Diane, who was nothing more than a secretary in his office. It was a scandal. Very sexy. Kathryn and my half brothers hate me. James goes by the nickname Tanker, don’t ask me why.”
Diane Whitehouse had told me that she met Elliott while she had been working at Diamond’s.
I asked Zephyr to tell me about Chip.
“Nothing you probably don’t suspect.” She played with a thick strand of tawny hair. “He did bribe county officials to get land rezoned for his warehouses. He’s mean and lazy, but he’s also careless. I have copies of the checks.”
She reached in her purse and slid across sheets of folded paper.
I scanned them. They showed checks written on E2 LLC and signed by Chip Whitehouse. Each was made out to a different individual. I recognized one name from the Planning and Zoning Board and another who was a county commissioner. Each check was in the amount of ninety-eight hundred dollars. The payment was below the threshold where the bank would be required to report it to the feds.
I said, “Why are you doing this, Zephyr? He is your brother. What’s your angle?”
Her face flushed. “Chip destroyed an eight-hundred-year-old Hohokam site to build those warehouses. Never disclosed it.”
“You’re that passionate about historic preservation?”
Her face assumed an adult seriousness. “As a matter of fact, yes. And about the environment. Chip did all this and flipped those ugly tilt-up warehouses for twelve million dollars before the bust. He didn’t even have tenants. I don’t need an angle, David. It’s the right thing to do. It’s what I was taught by my father.” The legs uncrossed and her perfect knees met demurely.