Her eyes drifted past the cop to Lucas, whod begun to feel sorry for the woman: but when her eyes landed on him, they hardened into small black diamonds, like a cobras, and he leaned back, though he was ten feet from her. Okay, she muttered, breaking her eyes away. But do I have to do anything? I feel awfully bad.
You just go sit down, and well do all of it, the cop said.
She disappeared inside and the cop looked over his shoulder at Lucas. Lucas said quietly, Keep an eye on her. Shes not what she looks like.
THE MCDONALDS HAD A SMALL CLUTTERED WORKSHOP area in one corner of the basement, nothing more than an old chest of drawers with two two-by-eight-foot sheets of three-quarter-inch plywood screwed together to make the top of a small workbench, and a couple of steel shelving units with plastic boxes for storage.
Lucas had seen the workshop the first time in the house, after Wilson McDonald was shot. He went straight to it, checked all the tools. No glass cutter. He found a roll of black plastic electricians tape, which he bagged, but that seemed unlikely to be the tape they wanted. He walked once around the basement, looking behind the water heater, the furnace, through racks of paint cans and a pile of hoses and miscellaneous gardening equipment: no gallon glass jugs.
Del was working the kitchen. When Lucas came back up the stairs, he said, Got lots of tape. Duct, plastic mending, bunch of it.
Good. Bag it up, Lucas said. Check the wastebaskets and her car, see if you come across any small balls of tape that might be the right length. Two would be good. He went on through the living room, found that the carpet had been removed. Wilson McDonalds blood hadnt seeped through to the wooden floor, which looked freshly waxed.
Sloan had run quickly through the bedroom, not expecting to find much, and had moved on to a large, first-floor guest room which had a walk-in closet the McDonalds used for general storage. This was where Audrey McDonald had gotten the shotgun with which shed killed her husband. The closet was jammed with motoring, golf, and boating equipment, all of it apparently belonging to Wilson McDonald. The homicide cops investigating the shooting of Wilson McDonald had taken the gun and shells, but hadnt dug into the back of the closet. Sloan hauled everything out, found nothing of special interest, and then, as an afterthought, was patting down the weather gear, life jackets, golf and hunting jackets.
Just as Lucas walked in, he felt a heavy lump in the pocket of a golf jacket, and manipulated it out through the layers of cloth. Box of cartridges.
Gimme a bag, he said to Lucas.
What is it?
Boo-lets, he said.
Lucas held the transparent plastic bag and Sloan manipulated the box into it. Lucas turned the box on its side and read:. 38 Remington. Excellent.
Sloan stood up and said, Itd be nice if her prints were on the box.
Yeah, but Im not holding my breath.
One of the uniformed cops stuck his head in the door: Del says no glass cutter in the kitchen. No gallon jugs either.
Okay… check the garage.
At the end of an hour, they still had no glass cutter or gallon jugs, but did have nine rolls of tape and the box of cartridges. Sherrill had been going through the house files again, and had pulled out a stack of Amoco credit card receipts; the McDonalds shared a single account, but the cards had separate numbers. If they go back far enough, look for credit card charges in the Duluth area in the days before Ingall disappeared, Lucas said. We found an Amex charge in Chicago, the day before, for Wilson…
They go back that far… She started flipping through them.
A little more than an hour after the search started, McDonalds attorney showed up. Whats going on?
Lucas said, Search warrant. Mrs. McDonald has a copy. Shes in the TV room. He pointed him through to the TVroom, and Glass asked, You really think theres something going on here?
I aint doing it for the exercise, Lucas said. Youve got a problem, I think.
Glass wandered off to find McDonald, and the uniformed cop came back from the garage: No jugs, no glass cutter.
Gonna have to give up on the jugs, Lucas said. The glass cutter could be anywhere, if she didnt throw it away. Anybody look in the silverware drawer?
Del looked at the cop, and they both shook their heads.
Watch this, Lucas said. He pulled open drawers nears the sink, until he found the silverware drawer, then pulled that out all the way and stirred through the contents.
Nothing. Same with the cooking utensils drawer. Nothing.
Fuck it, he said, pushing the drawers shut.
The guy is a genius, the uniformed cop said to Del, who nodded.
Sherrill came out of the back, carrying an Amoco billing statement. Got something, she said.
Duluth? Lucas asked hopefully.
No. But Audrey filled up on successive mornings, the day before Ingall disappeared, and the day he disappeared. So sometime in that twenty-four hours, she drove off a tank of gas.
Huh, Lucas said. She couldve been filling somebody elses car, or Wilsons car.
Wilson filled up that night.
Lucas nodded: All right. Thats something. Thats a straw, and we need straws.
And thats about all we got, Del said. Id bet you anything that door in ODells apartment was taped with duct tape, and we found duct tape, but I bet theres a roll of duct tape in every goddamn house in the city. A jurys gonna blow that off.
GLASS HAD BEEN WALKING BACK THROUGH THE house, Audrey McDonald limping along a step behind him, and he heard Dels last comment: Jurys gonna blow off what? he asked.
Just… nothing, Del muttered.
Mrs. McDonald says she thinks you, specifically, Chief Davenport, have targeted her for a personal attack. Wed hate to think that was true.
You know thats bullshit, Lucas said to Glassand then his eyes skipped beyond Glass to Audrey McDonald, who was peering at him with her snakes eye.
Itistrue, and I know why, she said. Because if you can pin something on me, then Wilsons father will inherit, and his father and his fathers friends run everything down there at City Hall.
Lucas was shaking his head: I dont even know Wilsons father.
Oh, bullshit, she snapped, picking up Lucass word. But she looked so gray, so old-lady-like, that hearing the vulgarity tripping so easily from her tongue was almost shocking. Theres no way that hes going to let McDonald money get out of that goddamned family.
Mrs. McDonald… Glass cautioned, but Lucas was becoming interested. Audrey McDonald was not quite visibly shaking, but he could sense it in her: she was very close to the boil. But he didnt know what would happen if she did tip over the edge. So he pushed a little.
Mrs. McDonaldcan I call you Audrey?
No, you may not.
Audrey, we know you killed your father, and we know why. We even know why you killed your mother, Im sorry to say. For the money. Its not so clear that you killed all the others, but we think weve got a pretty good list, and stuff is beginning to turn up. He picked up a bag on the kitchen counter, with a roll of duct tape sealed inside. You didnt use this duct tape on Susan ODells doors, did you? Because if you did, our lab will be able to tell…
Lucas, Lucas… Glass was sputtering, but Lucas wasnt looking at him. He was watching Audrey, the grayfaced, self-effacing little brown beetle, who was shufflingup to her attorneys elbow, then past him, and she said, My parents, my parents…
… and we know you went to Duluth the day before Andy Ingall disappeared, and that you fired that Contender pistol of Kresges, the one that killed him, and
And Audrey launched herself at him, so quickly that Lucas was surprised, unable to quite fend her off without hurting her. Her right hand, hard and bony as a crows foot, caught the skin at the side of his throat and when he wrenched away he felt her fingernails slicing through the skin; then Sherrill had Audrey around the waist and heaved her back, and Glass wrapped her up. You fucking… Audrey growled, still struggling to get at him, her black eyes fixed on Lucas. You fucking… You talk to that fucking sister of mine…