“Yes.”
“… so it’s not an unlikely scenario. But if he thought we were in possession of the right number, why didn’t he just get the hell out of town before we pounced on him? Why kill Trinh? That doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“And why go after Bannion next? An investigator for the S.A.’s office? That doesn’t make sense, either. The man would have to be crazy.”
“Maybe he is.”
“So I can’t find any reasons out there, Matthew. It all seems too… suicidal. We’ve already got a man in jail for the crimes, why cast doubt on the case? Which brings me to Leeds.”
“Leeds is in jail, you just said so. He’s not out on the streets murder—”
“His wife isn’t in jail, Matthew. And his brother-in-law isn’t in jail, either. Who happens to have a record, did you know that?”
“Yes, I know it.”
“Nice family.”
“They’re not related by blood, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”
“Cheap shot, forget it. What I am suggesting…”
“Don’t say it, Patricia.”
“Hear me out, we’re exploring.”
“All right, explore. Cautiously.”
“Let’s say Leeds is guilty of the crimes as charged. Let’s say, further…”
“Maybe we ought to quit right there.”
“We are not in a fucking courtroom, Matthew!”
He looked at her.
“Okay?” she said.
“Okay,” he said.
“Good. Let’s say Leeds realizes he hasn’t got a chance of beating the rap… no reflection on your ability…”
“Thanks.”
“… but he’s seen what we’ve got, and he’s read the writing on the wall, and he knows the next stop is the electric chair. Okay,” she said, and nodded, and began nibbling her lip. She was reaching for ideas, he realized, searching her mind, her brow furrowed, actually trying to dope this thing out. He suddenly trusted her. To a degree.
“Let’s say his wife is still furious about the bum verdict the jury brought in. By the way, Matthew, we tried our best on that one. She was raped, no question about it. And we indicted the right people for the crime. It was just her tough luck — and ours — to come up against a bleeding-heart jury.”
Matthew nodded. “Let me hear the rest,” he said.
“The rest is the brother-in-law. Weaver. Who’s done hard time and who knows a trick or two about hurting people. He’s never gone the distance, true, but that’s an easy step to take, isn’t it? If you’ve already tried to kill someone, then actually killing someone is a breeze.”
“Maybe.”
“Trust me on that.”
“Okay.”
“So Leeds has an angry wife and a violent brother-in-law. And if he can get them to…”
“You’re saying…”
“I’m saying he could have engineered those murders from his jail cell.”
“But he didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
“Have you asked him?”
“No.”
“Then you don’t know for sure.”
“He’s innocent of the first murders. Why would he…?”
“Because the state doesn’t believe he’s innocent, Matthew, the state has him behind bars, the state’s going to try him for three counts of murder!”
“The state’s wrong.”
“Yes, Matthew, the state’s wrong, I’m wrong, you’re the only one who’s right. But you’re not listening.”
“Oh, I’m listening, all right.”
“Isn’t it at least conceivable?”
“No, damn it!”
“Then convince me.”
“One,” Matthew said, “there’s no love lost between Leeds and his brother-in-law. The very notion of Weaver doing a favor for him is ridiculous. No less a favor like murdering two people.”
“How about the wife?”
“She weighs what? A hundred and twenty pounds, max? Can you imagine her and Bannion…?”
“Okay,” Patricia said.
“Which is the second thing. I guess you noticed that Bannion wasn’t killed with a knife.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t become you, Counselor.”
“If your theory’s going to hold…”
“Yes, yes, I see where you’re going. In fact, it’s a good point.”
“Thank you.”
“In fact… maybe more than just good.”
She was nibbling her Hp again. He had to remember this habit for when the case eventually came to trial, if it ever came to trial. Whenever she started nibbling her lip, she was searching for something. And when she found it…
“Bannion had to’ve surprised him,” she said.
Her eyes met Matthew’s.
“The killer,” she said.
Their eyes held. Blue locked into brown.
“Because otherwise…,” she said.
“He’d have used a knife,” Matthew said.
Charlie Stubbs was working on a boat engine when Warren got to the marina at a little before noon that day.
“Just about to take my lunch break,” he said. “You’da missed me again.”
The parts of the engine were scattered all about him on the concrete floor of the tin-roofed shed adjacent to the office. Rods, pistons, valves, roller tappets, rocker arms, camshaft, crank — Warren wondered how he’d ever put all those pieces together again. He himself had never been good at assembling jigsaw puzzles.
“Had to go to a funeral up in Brandentown yesterday,” Stubbs said. “Which is why I wasn’t here when you stopped by.”
“Your son told me,” Warren said.
“All that rain yesterday, perfect day for a funeral, wasn’t it?”
“If you’ve got to have one, I suppose you ought to have rain to go with it,” Warren said.
“Seems like more and more of my friends are having them all the time,” Stubbs said. “With or without rain. Seems like the current thing to do, have yourself a little funeral.”
He was wiping his grease-stained hands on what looked like a pair of torn lady’s bloomers. Not panties. Bloomers. Very large bloomers. Warren had never met Stubbs’s wife, but if the bloomers were any indication…
“Man who got buried yesterday moved down here to Florida ’cause he was afraid he’d catch pneumonia and die up there in Cleveland, easy to get a bronchial disease where the climate’s so harsh. Either that, or he’d slip on the ice and land on his spine, be an invalid for life, something like that. He was scared to death of all the terrible things can happen to you up north. Get mugged by a street gang, something like that. Get shot by accident in a dope war, something like that. It’s terrible, the things that can happen to you up north. But you know how he died down here?”
Warren shook his head.
“He drowned,” Stubbs said.
He tossed the soiled bloomers into a gasoline drum, said, “Guess this engine’ll keep for a while,” and walked Warren down toward the docks. “There’s Mr. Leeds’s boat right there,” he said. “Felicity. Slip number twelve. Ain’t been a soul on her since that night he took her out.”
“You’re still pretty sure it was him, huh?” Warren said.
“Well, no, I’m not at all sure anymore,” Stubbs said. “Not after Mr. Hope played that tape for me. Because it sure as hell wasn’t that voice I heard on the telephone. So I got to figuring maybe it wasn’t Mr. Leeds going out on the boat neither. Sure looked like him, though. I got to tell you, it’s puzzling.”
“Maybe this’ll help,” Warren said, and took a tiny tape cassette out of his pocket and held it up between his thumb and forefinger.