Riker was mentally digging himself a foxhole underneath his chair.
„So,“ said Mallory, so casually, as if she were not in deep trouble for lying to Heller’s staff, „you got a match on the fingerprints?“
And now it was her turn to receive a flying object – the small white card with Nedda Winter’s elimination prints from a more recent crime scene. It sailed across the desk and landed in her lap.
Riker regarded Finnegan’s Bar as the front room for his upstairs apartment. It saved him the trouble of picking up his dirty socks when company came calling. And now he greeted his first guest of the evening and waved the man to an empty bar stool reserved in his honor. „Hey, thanks for coming.“
Charles Butler had been to Finnegan’s before, but he still turned heads with the regulars, men and women with guns. He stood a head above the rest, broader in the shoulders and entirely too well dressed for this dive and this company of wall-to-wall police. „When will they release Nedda?“
„She’s not a prisoner.“ Riker held up one hand to flag down the bartender. Two fingers in the air netted him a nod and a promise of two beers. „She can walk out any time she likes. This wasn’t Mallory’s idea. Nedda wanted to do it. I’ll get a call when it’s over. You’re sure the lady doesn’t want police protection tonight?“
„No, she was adamant about that. She’s positive that her niece attempted suicide. And I agree with her. Maybe it was a cry for help, but not attempted murder.“
„So Nedda’s moving in with you?“
„For a few days.“ Charles accepted a beer from the bartender. „Maybe longer.“
„You didn’t discuss any of the evidence with her, did you? I mean the will, the trust fund.“
„No, it never came up in the conversation. And I don’t think she gives a damn about money. That’s Mallory’s fixation, not Nedda’s.“ Charles sipped his beer, not inclined to volunteer any more.
„So I’m guessing you and Mallory are at odds right now. I’m guessing ‘cause the kid never tells me anything.“
„I suppose I question her methods.“
„Yeah, she does things that you’d never do.“ Riker drained his glass. „And a few things I wouldn’t do, either. That’s what makes her a great cop. Now, if she was working for the opposition, I’d lose sleep at night. Did you have any time to look at my file?“
Charles laid the ancient folder on the bar. It contained more of Pinwitty’s collection, pictures recently acquired for the next revision of his book. The old crime-scene photographs showed all the dead bodies of the massacre, some large and some painfully small. „I agree with you. It fits better with a murder for hire. Not the work of a lunatic or someone with anger issues.“ He lowered his head and spoke to his glass. „You know what’s most disturbing about the massacre at Winter House? Oddly enough, it’s the lack of rage. Assembly-line carnage. How do you profile a killer like that? Someone sane who kills for the money?“
„Well, Charles, you don’t. You know why? These people don’t drop in from another planet. They don’t start out as psychos. They’re us.“ He could see that Charles was resisting this idea. „I can tell you how it’s done, how they’re made. You take a youngster out in the woods. The boy’s first kill is all set up for him. The victim is kneeling on the ground, hands tied behind his back. All the kid has to do is put the gun to the back of this man’s skull and squeeze the trigger. But the victim is begging for his life and crying. There’re maybe two, three other men watching the kid. They’re all junkyard dogs, but they wear silk suits. They drive nice cars. And the boy looks up to them. He can’t back down, can he? Naw, too humiliating. Plus, he’s scared shitless. He’s either one of them or he’s a liability. Hell of a choice he’s got. So he does it. It’s a small thing, they tell him. Just squeeze the trigger, kid, they say. And that’s what the kid does. He blows a human being away and gets sick all over his shoes. He’s crossed a line, and he can’t get back. The next time is easier. Soon it’s just his job. He wasn’t born to do this. I guess that’s why the mob would call him a made man. He’ll spend most of his life in prison, but the boy doesn’t know that yet. You can make a hitman out of almost anybody, but it’s better if you get ‘em young.“
Riker nodded toward the window. Beyond the glass, a twelve-year-old boy stood on the sidewalk talking to a girl, his flawless face growing pinker by the second. He was falling in love for the first time, his whole shining life ahead of him. „That kid would do.“
Charles turned his face to the window and the youngster on the sidewalk, so innocent, the raw makings of evil. „What about Mallory – when she was younger?“
„Naw. She wasn’t the best scratch material.“ Did that sound reassuring? Would Charles buy a lie? „When she was ten years old, she was a fullblown person.“ He smiled at this memory of a wildly talented street thief with the chilling eyes of a small stone killer. „And she hasn’t changed all that much.“
Charles seemed genuinely relieved. What a gift for denial. Poor bastard, he was always seeking evidence of a beating heart and a bit of a soul, never appreciating the true marvel of Mallory – that she functioned so well without them.
Chapter 10
LIEUTENANT COFFEY WAS IN THE DARK, AND HE WAS IN AWE. On the other side of the one-way glass, Nedda Winter was seated at the long table, passively watching a police aide, who laid out the polygraph equipment, the rubber tubes, the clips and their wires.
„So that’s Red Winter.“ Jack Coffey’s words were as soft as whispers in church. „When the lady came in, she told the desk sergeant that your polygraph exam was never finished.“
The lady?
Nedda Winter’s supporters were legion now.
„This was her idea, not mine.“ Mallory sat down beside the lieutenant.
„But no pressure, right?“ He kept his eyes on the woman in the next room. „I know her niece attempted suicide tonight. You didn’t make any threats against Bitty Smyth, did you?“
Even Bitty had champions.
When the police aide had departed from the interview room, Nedda Winter reached out for the transducer and attached this cardio device to her thumb. Next the woman bound herself with the rubber tubes that would record her breathing, and last she attached the clips to her fingers. Dragging her wires with her, she moved her chair back to the wall. After removing both her shoes, she sat there, very still, staring at the one-way mirror, the window for the two police sitting side by side – watching.
„All the years I’ve been on this job,“ said Jack Coffey, „I’ve never seen anybody do that before.“ He turned his eyes to Mallory. Unspoken was the question What did you do to that woman? He could never voice his suspicions. Contrary to policy, Mallory had failed to tape the previous polygraph examination. Now he was assuming the worst of her and only grateful that there was no proof.
Mallory’s hands curled into fists under cover of darkness.
Rising from his chair, the lieutenant said, „Lock up this room before you go in there. I don’t want anyone to see this.“ And he would not watch either, no stomach for it.
„Wait,“ said Mallory. „You think I’m a monster, right? So why dorityou take over?“ Her tone was pure acid. „Go on. Fix the old lady a nice cup of tea. Be her new best friend. See if she tells you anything useful – anything at all.“
Jack Coffey’s hand rested on the doorknob. He would not turn around, and he could not leave.
„But first,“ said Mallory, „you can take my badge.“ She rose from her chair and stepped closer to the window on the interview room, then leaned her forehead against the glass. „I’m so tired of everybody lining up behind Nedda Winter. What’s the point of me showing up for work anymore?“ Mallory reached into her back pocket and pulled out the leather folder that held her gold shield. „The old woman’s holding out on me, and that’ll get her killed. But what the hell. If she dies, she dies, right? And nobody cares who massacred her family. And Sally Winter – more old history. Who cares if that little girl’s body was stuffed in a hole like a dead dog? Not me – not you.“