"Interesting," I said in a neutral tone.
Mosely parked in a corner of the lot, close to the picnic table, and got out. I followed him toward the table. There was a used condom draped over the edge of the trash can. Mosely picked up a stick, pushed the swollen rubber tube all the way into the can.
"Fucking kids can't even clean up after themselves," he said with disgust as he heaved the stick away.
Mosely eased his tall frame down on top of the picnic table, facing the river, rested his feet on the attached bench. I climbed up beside him, stared out over the breathtaking panorama before me-puffy cumulus clouds in a blue sky above me, sheer rock faces behind and on either side, and the broad, winding expanse of the Hudson below me. Closer to the Westchester side, a dozen sailboats were heeling nicely against a brisk wind blowing from the south. In the deep channel three quarters of the way across, three squat, muscular tugboats were shepherding a train of chain-connected barges loaded with what looked like concrete sewage pipes toward New York City.
I said, "Nice view."
"Frederickson," Mosely said in a slightly exasperated tone as he ran the fingers of both hands through his thick, curly hair, "I like it here in Cairn. I really do. I like the community, I like the atmosphere, I like the people, and most of all I like my job."
"And you feel that I somehow pose a threat to you, which is why you've been keeping track of my whereabouts."
Now he turned and looked at me, hard. When he spoke, his deep voice had developed a decided edge to it. "Cairn doesn't need a holy terror, Frederickson; we've already discussed how you attract trouble, and we've already seen evidence of it. You also attract publicity, and the kind of publicity you generate could definitely end up making me look bad."
"Are you trying to tell me it's high noon, Chief?"
"I thought we'd agreed that I was going to take another, closer look at this case, and that you were going to let me do my job."
"Chief, I had two stops on my schedule when I came to Cairn; you were the first stop, and the Community of Conciliation was the second. As a matter of fact, I was just on my way back to see you."
This caught him by surprise, and it showed in his steel-gray eyes. "Oh? Why?"
"To tell you that I'm now certain that Michael was murdered, and then let you get on with your job."
He shifted his weight around on the table so that he was facing me, crossed his arms over his chest, and narrowed his eyelids.
"What the hell makes you so sure now that your friend was murdered? What did those friendly, peace-loving folks in the Russian embassy down the road tell you that they didn't tell me?"
"They didn't tell you because they didn't think it was important."
"What didn't they think was important?"
"The fact that Michael didn't ask the owner's permission before he supposedly took that canoe out on the river."
"That's all?"
"It's enough. I've already told you that Michael hated even being near water, but that could have changed. His character wouldn't. He would never have taken that canoe without asking permission. It means somebody nabbed Michael and drowned him. Either before or after they killed him, they stole the canoe and set it adrift, knowing that the empty canoe, whenever and wherever it was found, would be connected to Michael's drowning; the police would naturally assume he'd been in it. Michael was murdered, Chief, and I wanted you to know it."
"And if I don't start looking real hard for this murderer, the famous Dr. Robert Frederickson will. Right?"
Dan Mosely and his apparent insecurity were starting to annoy me. I shifted my own position, turning to face him so that our knees were almost touching. "I think you may have an attitude problem, Chief," I said tersely. "I don't need any more of this 'holy terror' and 'famous Dr. Frederickson' shit from you. I came here because a friend of mine died under what I considered to be questionable circumstances. You were the first person I talked to about it, and I'm talking to you now. I've never suggested that you didn't do your job or that you won't continue to do it. Since you've indicated that you'll extend me the courtesy of letting me know whatever you may turn up, I'll be more than happy to get back to the city so I can get on with my own work. So get off my back."
Mosely continued to study me through narrowed lids for a few more moments, then abruptly turned away and resumed staring down at the river. "Who'd you talk to there?"
"I spoke to everyone who was in the house."
"Yeah, but who did the most talking over there?"
"What difference does it make? I assume you'll be talking to them again."
"Mary Tree."
"If you're going to answer your own questions, why bother asking me?"
"What else did she have to say?"
I shrugged. "More town gossip. I've given you the salient points of our discussion."
"Did she mention her notion that there's a death squad operating in the towns along the river?"
"The subject was touched upon."
Mosely dug out a splinter from the weathered wood of the tabletop, casually tossed it into the air; the wind caught it and carried it over the edge of the cliff. "You think I'm a crooked cop, Frederickson?" he asked in an even tone. "You think I'm letting killers operate right under my nose?"
"Chief, since you're the one I'm counting on to nab the man or men who murdered my friend, I certainly hope not."
He was silent for some time. Finally he nodded slightly, said, "I interpret that as a vote of confidence, Frederickson. I appreciate it. I know I'm an honest cop; I like to think I'm also a good one. Yes, there've been execution-style killings around here lately, and they're being investigated jointly by the police forces in all the river communities. I don't have to tell you that we're not immune to the problems you'll find in the rest of the country; we have drugs and drug dealers; we have crazy people living on the streets. Except for the vagrant, we think the deaths represent a struggle for turf among drug dealers. The vagrant may have just gotten in their way. Check it out, if you'd like."
"Chief, I didn't come here to investigate you. What about the vandalism and the threats to the leftist groups around here? I'm told that business started at about the same time as these execution-style killings."
"Those are being investigated too. The letters are almost impossible to trace, since they're mailed from outside the county. As far as the vandalism is concerned, we can't be everywhere at once. The place the Community of Conciliation owns covers four acres, much of it wooded, and with river frontage. It's easy to get at. We suggested that they hire private security guards, but so far they haven't done it." He paused, laughed without humor. "I think they're afraid that employing a security force will hurt their pacifist image."
"But what about the link-if there is a link-between the killings and the threats? Why would warring drug dealers concern themselves with a group like the Community of Conciliation?"
Mosely looked down at his hands. "I don't have an answer for that, Frederickson. I don't think there is an easy answer."
"What about a guess?"
"Okay, I'll give you a guess. There's been a change in the political makeup of Cairn and the other river towns, a rightward shift. Personally, I don't think there is a link between the deaths and the threats, at least not a direct one. There are some types around here who actually like the idea of a death squad to carry out political killings, even if there isn't such a group. They like the idea that drug dealers and child molesters are being taken care of without a lot of judicial fuss, and they'd like to see the same thing happen to people they consider communists or communist sympathizers. They weren't prepared to actually start killing people, of course, but they thought it was a neat idea, if you will, to kind of climb on the bandwagon and piggyback vandalism and heavy threats on top of the actual murders; they wanted- want-the Community and similar leftist groups to think there may be a death squad on their case. In short, the vandals and letter-writers are being opportunistic. They want the Community of Conciliation to set up headquarters someplace else, and they're trying to scare them out of town."