“You spoke earlier of your great fondness for the general. Do you like Eddie?”
“Not particularly. He’s spoiled, of course. And he does not speak to or of the general in the manner he should. He has so far squandered the advantages of his life. I suppose his life is what men often say would be the ideaclass="underline" enough money, no work, lots of liquor and women. Truth is most of us would not want that life. Eddie has it and seems to like it. I find life without an absolute dedication or clear purpose shallow and superficial. Men should be committed to something above all else.”
Mackie brought our fresh beers and took our plates and empty glasses.
“I ask again, could Eddie have killed Ileana?”
“I don’t think so, Mr. Kile. He seems never to be out of control, never to be angry. Everyone likes him, not much respect, but he has polished his social graces. Until Ileana’s death and his arrest, Eddie had never dealt with anything tough or hard or demanding in his life. I have to think killing someone would be all of that. No. I don’t think so. The general has never believed Eddie guilty, and I know no better judge of men.”
“Does the general like Eddie?”
“Ah. That’s a hard one. The general is disappointed in the choices Eddie has made. He has waited for Eddie to take his life in some direction. When he was a boy, we hoped he might become a doctor, an engineer, whatever. In college, he drifted, took quite a few legal classes and psychology. Whatever happened to interest him without concern for a degree or career. For years, the general has encouraged Eddie to contribute his time to some worthy cause, but none of that has taken hold. Eddie is happy being Eddie. Things have always gone as Eddie wanted them to go. Well, except for the devastation of losing his fiancee. He loved Ileana and needed treatment for depression for nearly a year.”
“When did Cliff join the staff?”
“About thirteen years ago, something like that. Karen came to live with us first. Her coming was part of the general’s reason for increasing the size of the staff. My duties also expanded to helping the general with some of his non-investment business matters. This made me less available as a driver and the general had become less capable of driving himself.”
“I’ve only seen Cliff once from a distance. He looks around fifty. How was he chosen?”
“That requires a bit of back story. First, Cliff is forty-five, but you’re correct, in the face he looks older. He’s a hard drinker but exercises vigorously. His focus is on his legs and gut and stamina, like a boxer trains. For years, the general had covered the costs of keeping five old soldiers, badly disabled men from his command, in a home. When the last one died, the general assigned me to find Cliff, the last soldier’s son. He had gotten into drugs and started running with a motorcycle gang. The general put him in rehab, with Cliff’s consent of course. After that Cliff continued weekly therapy for some time. He’s the general’s driver and takes care of the five vehicles used by the family and myself. He also cares for the pool and spa and oversees the work done by the landscaping service.”
Charles also told me the best time to catch Cliff at the house without his expecting me would be tomorrow midday. That Cliff had to take one of the cars into the dealer in the morning, but should be back by around noon. As for Eddie, he was a wisp of smoke that drifted in and out, but Charles agreed to call me when Eddie was home and looking like he wasn’t headed out.
“So,” I asked, “what’s your opinion? Who killed Ileana Corrigan?”
“The wisest thing I can say is that the general has a good man on that job, so I expect we shall finally find out.”
Chapter 12
I started the morning at the home of Robert and Melanie Yarbrough, the retired couple who had reported seeing Eddie Whittaker at Pea Soup Anderson’s restaurant in Buellton on the night of his fiancee’s murder. She was taller than her husband. Robert was stockier. Melanie had more hair, but they were tied as to who had more gray hair. I got to their house a few minutes after nine-thirty.
I would have arrived earlier except Axel wanted to talk about the case and be brought up to speed on what I had learned from Charles during our lunch at Mackie’s. And I wanted his read from watching Charles. That took about an hour. While we talked, I gave Axel another assignment. He had done a lot of computer work for the Warden and developed quite a reputation in prison as a computer guy, not so much as a technician, but a researcher for the warden. His assignment: dig into the retired middle school principal who also claimed to have seen Eddie in the restaurant. I told him for now to restrict his inquiries to the Internet. Later, based on what he learned or didn’t we’d decide how to proceed. I was hoping he’d find that former Principal Flaherty had some nasty habit which could have been used to leverage him into lying about seeing Eddie.
Robert and Melanie Yarbrough were each dressed in warm robes, sitting on their front porch, having coffee and sharing the newspaper. Their home faced east so they were enjoying the warmth provided by the morning sun. I introduced myself and we exchanged Merry Christmas greetings, and then I told them I was working on the death of Ileana Corrigan. The moment I mentioned her name, Melanie Yarbrough’s eyes got big, and she grasped the front of her robe as if it a cold breeze had sneaked inside. They had not forgotten the incident in the slightest. After a few more pleasantries I won’t bore you with, I dove into the water, so to speak. Well, my entry was more like a cannonball than a dive. I wanted to measure the size of their emotional splash.
“It’s been eleven years, folks. I know you lied about seeing Eddie Whittaker in Buellton. I just don’t know why you did. You are lawful citizens, honorable people. Why would you cheat justice and possibly help a murderer go free?”
“We saw him, Mr. Kile,” Robert Yarbrough said. “Just as we swore we did.” After he said it, he looked at his wife.
“We saw him, Mr. Kile. Just as my husband said.”
“The murder of this young woman, Ileana Corrigan remains unsolved. The murder of her unborn child remains unsolved. Neither mother nor child will rest easy until their killer is brought to justice. Folks, please, consider how you would feel if Ileana were your daughter and you were approaching yet another Christmas without knowing what happened.”
Neither of them said a word, but their body language screamed their discomfort. That and the numerous glances each made toward the other. Had they been telling the truth they would have resented what I said. Instead, it made them nervous and uncomfortable.
“Perhaps I should come back later and bring Ileana’s parents with me, the grandparents of the unborn child.”
They were ready to crack, but for now were holding firm. Their eyes flittered, their gazes everywhere but upon my eyes. Their claws dug into the lie that had lived for so long, hanging on desperately.
“Look at me! Damn it!” I hollered. “Look me in the eyes.” I sat still until they each had. “You are both grandparents. You have a grandson named Bobby. Can you imagine, just for a moment, enduring Bobby being murdered and the killer not being found for over eleven years. Imagine your living with that grief. That wound open. Come on!”
Melanie Yarbrough broke first. She covered her eyes and cried. Her husband slid his chair close so he could reach over and hold her. Her sobs temporarily drowned out by the scrape of the metal legs of his chair against the concrete porch. “Robbie, I can’t do this. I can’t do it any longer. This lie … I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry. We must tell the truth. Please?”