“It definitely was a rifle,” I said. “And it was silenced, too. They used a laser scope. I saw the dot a half second before Hartwick got aced.”
A squad car pulled into the parking lot, lights flashing and siren wailing. The driver cut the siren when he stopped, but he left the lights on, bathing Hartwick’s body in colorful flashes and making me squint. Two officers in uniform approached, guns drawn, and shouted at us to step away from the table and raise our hands. We did as they asked.
“We all have firearms,” Joe said calmly. “Take them from us, but don’t freak out about it.”
The taller cop, who had a thin, pointed nose like a bird’s beak and a shrunken chest that left his uniform shirt hanging loosely, squinted at Joe.
“Holy shit,” he said. “Is that Pritchard?”
“Yeah, it’s Pritchard,” his partner said. He was shorter and rounder, and I recognized him. His last name was Baggerly, but I couldn’t remember his first name. They took our guns and then stepped back, studying the corpse at their feet.
“Ouch,” the tall cop said. “Put one right through his heart. Who is this guy?” He looked at Joe.
“His name’s Randy Hartwick,” Joe said. “You’re going to need to get someone from the detectives division out here as quickly as possible.”
“Looks like that, don’t it?” He looked at the three of us, then spoke in a whisper to Baggerly, who walked a few steps away and spoke into his microphone. After a minute he returned.
“Detectives are on the way,” he said. “Until then, we’ll sit tight. Medical examiner will be out shortly to deal with the body.”
We sat tight. Another squad car arrived, and Baggerly instructed those officers to establish a perimeter and keep away the curious bystanders who had gathered, attracted by the police car. A few minutes later, the detectives arrived. I watched them get out of the car and stifled a groan. It was Janet Scott and her partner, Tim Eggers. Eggers was a decent guy, but Scott was a colossal bitch. We’d never gotten along in my days on the force, and I knew she wasn’t Joe’s favorite person, either.
Janet Scott was dressed in jeans and a leather jacket, and she had her badge hanging around her neck on a nylon cord. Her short blond hair was cut in jagged ends that I supposed were stylish. She’d probably paid fifty bucks for the haircut, but I could have given her the same look with a weed whacker. Scott was a small, trim woman, and I knew plenty of the male cops thought she was dead sexy. I’d never been able to see past the abrasive personality and poor judgment, though. The few times I’d had to work with her, she’d been a tremendous pain in the ass. Her investigative skill was limited, to say the least, but her confidence in her ability was not. It was a disastrous combination. Eggers had been her partner for a few years now, and, although his meek personality kept him in the background, it was no secret that he was the brains of the duo.
“Lincoln Perry and Joe Pritchard,” Scott said as she strode toward us. “I’ll be damned. I remember when you used to be with the good guys.” She eyed the corpse. “Now it doesn’t look that way, does it?”
“Unfortunately, we didn’t kill him,” Joe said.
“That’s what all the murderers say.” She dropped into a crouch beside the body as I had done and studied Hartwick carefully, shaking her head and making a soft clucking noise with her tongue, like a scolding mother. Eventually, she got back to her feet and looked at me.
“Long time, eh, Perry?”
“Too long,” I said with mock sincerity. “I’ve missed you, Janet.”
“I’ll bet. Let’s see, when was the last time I saw you?” She frowned and looked at the sky as if she were trying to recall something. “Oh, right, shortly before you beat up one of the city’s most prominent lawyers and got axed for your stupidity.” She smiled sweetly. “How could I have forgotten?”
“It’s funny how easily things can slip your mind,” I said. The lawyer had been involved with my fiancée, and I’d been drunk at the time, but basically she had the facts right.
“So what have you been doing since then, Perry?”
“Working as a massage therapist in Belgium. I just got back to the States today.”
She gazed at me with unfriendly eyes. “Don’t get too cute, Perry. I’ve got all night to deal with you. And, thanks to your pal on the pavement, it looks like it’ll be a long time before you get to sleep.”
She turned away then and went to consult with Eggers. The medical examiner had arrived now to deal with the corpse. I looked back down at Hartwick and swore softly. He’d been ready to talk. Ready to do some answer-sharing, as he’d put it. Now he’d never share any answers with anyone. Someone had been awfully afraid of what Hartwick knew. It was up to us to find out what that had been.
CHAPTER 12
IT TOOK Scott ten hours to turn us loose. She held us at the scene for a while, and then she had some of the uniforms take us to the station to wait for questioning. We were there the rest of the night. Scott pressed us for details about Hartwick, but we didn’t have much to provide. Kinkaid told her he knew Hartwick only as Wayne Weston’s friend, and he didn’t mention Hartwick’s involvement with weapons smuggling. Joe and I admitted we’d come across Hartwick while working on the Weston matter. Scott’s eyes lit up at that news, and I knew she was dreaming of the headlines and prestige that would come with the case. I also knew she wasn’t going to see any of it. The FBI was calling the shots on it now. Even though the Hartwick murder was under CPD jurisdiction, they’d keep Scott out of the loop and away from the Weston case, no matter how intertwined the two seemed.
For a while Scott tried to bluff as if we were suspects in the murder. Probably she thought she could scare us into giving up more details about Hartwick. It was a stupid ploy, considering Hartwick had been taken out at long range with a rifle. They questioned us separately and then brought us together for more rehashing. After that session, Kinkaid left to go to the restroom, and Scott left to make a phone call, leaving Joe and me alone with Eggers.
“Hey, Tim,” I said, “you might want to check out Kinkaid.”
He frowned. “You think he shot the guy?”
Joe looked at me, too, eyebrows raised. I shook my head. “I don’t think he shot Hartwick, but I do think it would be worth taking a look at him. Kinkaid was in position for the shot, and we don’t really know much about him yet. He lied to Joe originally, or he says he did, then showed up in our office offering to help. It was a nice gesture, but we haven’t had time to check him out yet. For all we know, he could have been scared of what Hartwick was going to tell us. Maybe scared enough to kill him.”
“Why does he care what Hartwick tells us?” Joe asked. “The guy hasn’t worked with Weston in years. Hell, he hasn’t even been in the city in years.”
“I’m not saying it’s likely, I’m just saying he deserves a careful look.”
Eggers shook his head. “I’m sure we’re going to find the dead guy was killed by a rifle bullet. Kinkaid’s carrying a Colt Python revolver. It’s a damn big gun, but it’s not going to be the gun used in this killing.”
“He’s carrying a Colt Python,” I said. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t have another gun with him.”
“You’re saying he might have used a rifle from the cemetery, dumped it back in his car, and then ran out to meet you?” He shrugged. “We’re going to check all the cars, don’t worry, but I doubt that’s possible. It’s a hell of a run across that cemetery.”
Joe nodded. “Kinkaid didn’t do it,” he said. “To make that run and show up right after the shooting would have been impressive, and he wasn’t even out of breath. Besides, if he dumped the rifle anywhere in the cemetery, they’ll find it.”
Kinkaid stepped back into the room, his face clouded with anger. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Pritchard,” he said, then pointed at me. “And, you, Perry, are an asshole.”