He relaxed as best he could on the hard bench, closing his eyes and raising his face to the sun, on the off chance that emptying his mind would make room for a touch of inspiration.
“Nice spot, isn’t it?”
Gurney opened his eyes and saw a tall, colorfully dressed woman standing on the lawn in front of the bench. She was holding a leash in each hand with a tall, shaggy dog at the end of each one, their curious eyes fixed on him.
“Very nice,” he answered.
“First time? I haven’t seen you here before.”
“Yes. First time.”
She gave him an appraising look. “Are you a dog person or a cat person?”
“I’m not sure I’m either.” Then he added, he wasn’t sure why, “My wife has an interest in alpacas.”
“But you don’t?”
“I’m usually too busy to take care of animals, or even think about them.”
“So, what are you doing here?”
“It was a convenient place to meet someone,” he said, not entirely honestly, and changed the subject. “The big house here, with all the surrounding property—how did it come to be an animal shelter?”
“Sanctuary,” she said pointedly. “Shelters are prisons. This place is about freedom. A miracle, really.”
“Oh?”
“A deathbed conversion. Well, close to that. Do you know about Halliman Brook?”
“Doesn’t sound familiar.”
“He was a horrible lumber baron. Responsible for deforestation, erosion, pollution. Treated his workers like dirt. Paid them starvation wages and fired them the minute they got injured. His personal life was just as ugly. He nearly beat his first wife to death.”
“This is the man who had the conversion?”
“At the end of his life. He knew he was dying. He suddenly saw that he had to get rid of everything he’d accumulated in his mean, ruthless life. He was afraid that the weight of it would drag him down into hell. So he gave it all away, including this estate and a huge endowment to transform it into a sanctuary for homeless animals.”
The story reminded Gurney of Ziko Slade—how seeing death could change one’s life.
“We’re looking for dog walkers,” she said, suddenly cheerful. “And the paths are lovely. You should consider volunteering.”
GURNEY STOPPED AT Leapin’ Lizards Latte Lounge in Winston for a much-needed coffee. The shop embraced the local style of mercantile cuteness. He ordered a large coffee and a toasted bagel with cream cheese.
Back in the car, he took out his phone and entered “The Viper” as a search term. He found hundreds of entries but nothing that led in a promising direction. Despite the vividness of that underworld moniker, the man seemed to be as elusive as Great-Aunt Angelica’s report suggested.
Finding out more about Lenny Lerman, however, might not be so difficult. His GPS location data and Visa records had provided interesting facts that Stryker had overlooked or chosen to ignore. Perhaps there was more information to be mined from those sources. Kyra Barstow was still, as far as he knew, a reliable ally. He called her number and left a message.
“Kyra, it’s Dave, with yet another request. The Lerman data you sent me led to some weird discoveries, and I’d like to take another look at that resource—especially any GPS data you might have for the two or three months prior to Lerman’s murder.” He paused before adding, “FYI, my situation with Stryker has deteriorated, and she’s more eager than ever to stop my inquiries. For your own protection, discretion is important.”
As he was ending the call, another was coming in—from Adrienne Lerman.
“David here.”
She spoke rapidly, her voice high with anxiety. “I just got a call from some woman—I think it was a woman—named Sam Smollett, a producer at RAM News. She said there’s been a frightening new development in my father’s murder case, and they want to do a remote interview with me tonight on that Controversial Perspectives show.”
The frightening development, thought Gurney, would probably be the Thanksgiving delivery of the snake. “What did you tell her?”
“About the interview? That I didn’t want to do it. When I asked her what development she was talking about, she just kept using the word ‘frightening.’ What on earth was she talking about?”
He knew he had to tread carefully to find a path that involved neither a flat-out lie nor the appalling truth. He chose deflection rather than deception.
“I haven’t heard anything from her. In fact, I’m not in touch with anyone at RAM, and I hope it stays that way. I have no trust in anything they do or say. As for there being new developments in your father’s case, anything significant would be under the control of the Rexton Police Department or the District Attorney. They’re the ones who get to decide how much to reveal.”
“Well, according to this Smollett woman, RAM will be revealing everything they know tonight on that awful program.”
“More likely, they’ll be revealing whatever they believe will boost their ratings, regardless of its accuracy.”
Adrienne let out a shaky sigh. “This is so awful.”
“I agree.”
To Gurney’s relief, the call ended without his having to directly deny any knowledge of what Smollett might be referring to. He wanted to maintain Adrienne’s trust as long as possible, and a direct lie could destroy that trust.
What interested him now was how much the slimy “journalists” at RAM actually knew, how they came to know it, and what slant they planned to put on it. At RAM there was always a slant.
Knowing the RAM penchant for promotion, he figured this instance would be no exception. He used his phone to go to their website. And there it was, in pulsating red letters:
LERMAN MURDER BOMBSHELL!
TERRIFYING NEW DEVELOPMENT IN THE CASE OF
THE BEHEADED BLACKMAILER!
TONIGHT ON CONTROVERSIAL PERSPECTIVES!
After wasting the next couple of minutes speculating on how Tarla Hackett and Jordan Lake would handle the snake event—and from whom they’d gotten their information—his phone rang. It was Sam Smollett.
His first instinct was to let it go to voicemail, especially after what he’d just told Adrienne about his unwillingness to engage with RAM. But the temptation to make his position perfectly clear was too strong to resist.
“Dave Gurney here.”
“This is Sam Smollett, executive producer of Controversial Perspectives.”
“Yes?”
“As you may know, our program recently devoted a special segment to the Blackmore Mountain murder. We’ll be revisiting that tonight from the perspective of the original Lerman murder, because there’s no doubt now that the two are connected—and you’re part of the connection.”
“Is that so?”
“Considering the delivery you received on Thanksgiving Day, I’d say it’s absolutely so.”
Gurney said nothing. Smollett went on, a chilly smile in her voice.
“Because of your unique perspective, we’d like you to be part of tonight’s discussion. You can do it from wherever you are—totally convenient. I’m sure you’ll have a lot to say to our audience.”
“What questions would I be asked?”
“That would be up to Tarla and Jordan. But I’m sure they’ll want your reaction to the item that was delivered to your home. It was clearly a warning to stop stirring up doubts about Ziko Slade’s conviction. So, an obvious question is, are you going to drop your investigation?”
Gurney paused. Sure that Smollett was recording the call with an eye to airing it, he carefully considered his response.
“Everything I’ve learned about Lenny Lerman’s death points to the innocence of Ziko Slade. And everything that’s been done to discourage my investigation has strengthened my resolve to see Slade exonerated, and the actual murderer exposed.”