Deception

by Randy Alcorn

  Three minutes later came the explosion. The sound of a high-velocity handgun.

  Ten pistols were drawn simultaneously. Mine wasn’t one of them.

  Six cops rushed down the hallway, a raging flood of law-enforcement adrenaline, into Jack’s office.

  I stayed seated in the dark, near the grand piano, where I turned my eyes away from the motionless profile of Linda Glissan, hanging on to a plate of vegetables and dip. Before a word came from the bedroom, while there was still only the silence of disbelief, the plate slipped out of her hands and crashed on the kitchen floor, shrapnel flying everywhere.

  54

  “I put myself in the man’s place, and, having first gauged his intelligence, I try to imagine how I should myself have proceeded under the same circumstances.”

  SHERLOCK HOLMES, THE ADVENTURE OF THE MUSGRAVE RITUAL

  WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 15, 2:00 P.M.

  I STOOD AWKWARDLY at Jack Glissan’s wake, at his sister’s house, eating but tasting nothing.

  The four days since Jack’s suicide had been a blur of trauma, shock, and remembrance. Brandon Phillips had died Wednesday, Jack Saturday. Brandon’s service had been Monday, Jack’s two days later. Counting Carly’s, it had been my third funeral in two weeks. The Grim Reaper was getting more than his share of people I knew. I wondered if I’d be next.

  I stepped out on the back porch, wishing I smoked.

  Linda walked up next to me. “He was a good man.”

  “I know,” I said, mostly believing it.

  “After I left his office, did you think he might take his life?”

  “No,” I lied.

  “I can’t believe he did this to me. Not after Melissa’s suicide. He didn’t just kill himself. He killed me. I’m almost as angry as I’m sad.”

  I’d walked away from Jack’s office thinking of him, not her. I knew now I’d done her wrong. Jake and Clarence would say Jack should have faced the consequences of his sin, repented, turned to God. Maybe that would have happened to him in prison.

  “He loved you,” I said. “He probably thought he’d save you the agony of newspapers, trial, imprisonment.”

  “You think I’d rather be spared that than have him alive?”

  “No.”

  “He wasn’t thinking of me.”

  “He loved you.”

  “Would you have done that to Sharon?”

  “I don’t know. In the same situation? Maybe.”

  “Then you’re as selfish as Jack was.”

  “I’d try to figure out how to spare Sharon the most grief. Maybe I’d make the wrong choice.”

  “Who else knows Jack killed that professor?”

  “We felt like we could sit on it till the funeral, to do more fact-checking. We didn’t want anything to cast a shadow on Jack’s memory. For now. Sarge sat down with the lieutenant and captain. I’m sure the chief knows.”

  “You could have let Jack go.”

  “If things were reversed, you think Jack would have let me go?”

  “No.”

  “Would you have advised him to?”

  “Maybe not. But I can still hate you for it.”

  “I hate me for it. Why shouldn’t you?”

  I’m not a hugger, but Linda is. I felt I should take a step toward her. I did. She turned and walked away, like a robot, where the parts work but it’s all stiff, as if there’s no flesh, nothing human.

  Some sins can’t be forgiven, Jack said.

  If that was true, I’d committed at least one of them.

  I stayed on the wake’s fringes. I was in a hallway without a bathroom, so it was low traffic. I wanted to leave but was putting in my time.

  Someone stopped and looked up the hallway at me. Noel. I’d managed to stay away from him that night at Jack’s. We hadn’t been alone since.

  He approached, his eyes red and tired. “What did you say to him?”

  “I’m sorry, Noel.”

  He pushed me, then came at me and landed one fist on my chest, then another and another. I stood there, taking it, hoping it counted for penance. But his blows weren’t that heavy. He quietly ran out of steam, then put his arms around me. He sobbed. His hug lasted five seconds. I was not born to be a man-hugger.

  “I don’t believe it,” Noel said. “Jack wouldn’t kill himself. And he would never kill anybody else.”

  “He admitted he did.”

  “But … how could he keep it from me?”

  It was unthinkable to Noel that Jack could murder somebody. But it was even more unthinkable that he could leave Noel out of it if he did. I wondered what he would have done had Jack asked him. Kill the professor along with him?

  “Phillips was his alibi,” Noel said. “Why would Phillips lie? I don’t get it.”

  “Wouldn’t you lie if Jack asked you to?”

  “Probably. But … why did he ask Phillips instead of me?”

  “Because he cared more about you than Phillips,” I said, choosing not to correct the details. “He told me he wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

  “He could’ve told me.”

  “He didn’t want you to be an accessory to murder.” I sipped more Irish whiskey, which I don’t even like.

  “Why didn’t he talk to me before he killed himself?”

  “Maybe he didn’t want to face you after what he did. He told me to let you know how sorry he was.”

  “He said that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Jack was no killer.”

  “He confessed it.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Remember when you and Jack came to the professor’s house? You noticed a picture missing from the mantel?”

  He nodded. “It looked fishy.”

  “I found it at Jack’s house. It was a photo of the professor and Jack’s daughter. We enlarged a picture in which that same photo was visible on the mantle.”

  “But … maybe Jack had his own print of the same picture.”

  “Got a rush on the fingerprints. The professor’s prints are on the one at Jack’s. Perfect wear marks on the photo matching Palatine’s frame. No doubt.”

  “Theft isn’t the same as murder.”

  “Come on, Noel. It places Jack at the crime scene.”

  “We were at the scene the next morning. You called Jack and asked us to come.”

  “You’re saying he could have stolen the picture then?”

  “Why not? He sees his daughter’s picture and grabs it, then takes it home and cuts out the professor.”

  “He admitted to me he killed Palatine.”

  “You have a signed confession? Maybe you want to cover up for somebody. And Jack killed a cop too? No!”

  “Then why did he take his life, Noel?”

  He swallowed hard. “That’s what I keep asking myself.”

  “He’d go to prison for the rest of his life. Two homicides. Three if he pushed Frederick at the apartment. Four if he killed Hedstrom.”

  “You believe Jack was a homicidal maniac?”

  “Well … when a guy confesses and then offs himself, it’s pretty convincing.” He glared at me. I raised my hands. “Sorry.”

  Suddenly I had Gumby legs. I slunk to the floor, back against the wall, just as I’d done at Jack’s. Noel paced.

  “Did he talk to you much about his daughter?” I asked.

  “Melissa? One day, last summer I think, he was quiet and moody all day. He yelled at me. Then apologized. Turns out it was his daughter’s birthday. Jack was ripped up about it.”

  I looked down the hall and caught a glimpse of Suda and Doyle. My instinct kicked in.

  “Jack ever say anything about Kim Suda?”

  “Why?”

  “Did he?”

  Noel blew out air. “Six months ago Tommi kept saying I should ask Suda out. This was before she and Chris were dating … or whatever. Anyway, I mention it to Jack and he says, ‘Stay away from Kim Suda.’ I ask him why. Jack says he didn’t trust her, and I should j
ust stay away. Wouldn’t tell me why.”

  “Any guesses?”

  Noel shook his head, eyes dazed, looking like one of Peter Pan’s lost boys.

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 17, 10:00 A.M.

  Two days after Jack’s funeral, I was trying to tie up loose ends. They weren’t tying. Jack had killed the professor. But three innocent people, including Phillips? I couldn’t buy it any more than Noel could.

  I went over it again and again. Had Phillips killed the others, and Jack executed him for his crimes? But why would Phillips do it?

  A thought surfaced in the gray cells. Had Jack given Phillips an alibi for a murder Phillips really committed? He’d confessed to an affair and wanted an alibi. But Jack wouldn’t have asked for proof he’d been with a woman that night, would he?

  Or could Phillips have been with Jack, not in the Glissan home, but at the professor’s? Could they have committed the murder together?

  I didn’t want to face Linda Glissan again. But I had to.

  The woman answering the door at Linda’s looked like her skinny cousin, ten years older. But it was Linda. She’d shrunk. In just two days, she looked hollow, like a discount liposuctionist had vacuumed away her flesh, especially in her face and shoulders.

  She said nothing. I sat on the couch. She didn’t offer me coffee. This was Linda’s ghost.

  “How much did you know, Linda? About Jack and the professor?”

  “Before it happened?” I nodded.

  “Jack told me I shouldn’t talk about that.”

  She looked like she might crumble if I pressed her. I couldn’t. Not now.

  “Did Noel know anything?”

  “Jack was protective. He would’ve kept Noel out of it. Don’t know what Noel’s going to do without him. Don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “I know you feel I didn’t handle things well with Jack. You’re probably right. But if Jack didn’t kill Phillips and the others, we need to know who did. If you think of anything, would you call me?”

  She said nothing. Maybe this time she’d hug me. When it was clear she wouldn’t, I considered putting my arm around her. I’ve invested many hours at the firing range. But nobody taught me how to comfort. Skeptics aren’t built to comfort.

  I said an awkward good-bye, leaving Linda to her tears.

  “There’s so much confusion and deception there,” Carly said. “Why can’t they see things as they really are?”

  “For the same reason that so often, when you lived there, you didn’t,” the Carpenter said. “There’s a veil of blindness over that dark world. It goes far deeper than you realized.”

  “It’s insanity,” she said.

  “They long for light, but hate it because it hurts their eyes. They prefer the comfort of darkness to the pain of sight.”

  Carly walked beside the Carpenter till they came to the portals, where both humans and angels stood looking at the Shadowlands.

  “They complain about evil and suffering,” the Carpenter said, “yet commit acts of evil and inflict suffering on others and on themselves. They ignore My warnings, then wonder why I permit what they choose.”

  “I’m amazed at Your patience, Lord.”

  “Earth under the curse is about to end. The day of judgment, and of deliverance, draws near. Justice comes as surely as sunrise—the question is which of them will be ready for it.”

  FRIDAY, JANUARY 17, 2:00 P.M.

  As I stepped out of the car by the Nine Darts Tavern, my 24 control room phone rang.

  “It’s Linda. We need to talk.”

  “Thought we just did.”

  “Can you come by tonight? Around seven?”

  “I can. But the last person who said they needed to talk to me was Brandon Phillips. He died before we talked. It would have been nice if he’d told me what was on his mind when he called. Can you give me a hint?”

  “Be here at seven.”

  “Between now and then, don’t answer the door, okay?”

  I sauntered up to the Nine Darts, walked to the bar for the first time in fifteen years, and showed my badge to the extra-large guy in the medium T-shirt. I figured him for the owner because no employee could get away with looking so sloppy. He seemed unimpressed by my badge.

  “I’m here to ask you about two cops, regulars. Jack Glissan and Noel Barrows.” I described them. “Sometimes they sit in that booth.” I pointed. “You may have heard. Jack’s dead.”

  “Offed himself,” the guy said, a hint of regret at lost revenues. “What you want?”

  “I need to see their receipts.”

  “Not without a court order. Lots of coppers come here. I don’t give information.”

  I took out my badge again. “Take a closer look. I’m a copper too.”

  “I don’t care if you’re the Sultan of Bahrain. You get a court order, I’ll talk. Otherwise, you can walk.”

  “You’re not their attorney or their priest. There’s no bartender-client privilege. Show me their receipts.”

  “Why should I?”

  I looked around the room. “So I won’t have to turn you over to my buddies at the fire department.”

  “Whadda ya mean?”

  I looked at the ceiling then hit my fist on the wall. “You’re up to code for Afghanistan, maybe. USA, you’re subcode everywhere. Exposed wiring there in the corner. See those cracks outside the bathroom? Where that hairy insect just disappeared? I’m seeing half a dozen violations, and I’m not even trying. This place is a firetrap. Nothing you can’t fix. With twenty thousand dollars in repairs.”

  “I don’t have a thousand dollars.”

  “Then you better cough up receipts. Pronto.”

  “We just keep ’em six weeks, till the credit charges clear.”

  “I’ll take what you’ve got.”

  “Don’t have time to sort them out.”

  “I do.”

  “You can’t take them outta here.”

  “Sit me down at a table with a light, and keep the roaches away.”

  Three hours later, at 6:30, I pulled up across the street from Linda Glissan’s. Since we needed dinner anyway, I decided to keep an eye on Linda’s place while we ate. Mulch and I shared three Burgerville Tillamook cheeseburgers, a blackberry shake, and a large fry. I told him I was headed for the house and he should stay out of the glove box, which still smelled like Izzy’s pizza. He gave me that look dogs give you, then put his snout up to the glove box.

  Linda let me in. She asked why I wasn’t wearing my trench coat. I told her I had my reasons. But I was relieved to see her alive and hoped she’d talk quickly. She did.

  “I don’t know what Jack would want me to tell you. But he left me alone, so he can’t blame me for doing what I think’s right. Late one night last July or August, I came to the kitchen to make tea. Jack and Noel were just around the corner, here in the living room. I heard them talking. Jack said, ‘I could do it and I wouldn’t get caught.’

  “Naturally, I listened. Noel said something like, ‘Jack, you can’t. You’ve been a model cop.’ Jack said, ‘He killed our daughter, just as if he put that noose around her neck. He deserves to die.’ Noel insisted Jack couldn’t do it. Then Jack asked Noel if he’d turn him in if he did.”

  “What did Noel say?”

  “He said he wouldn’t turn him in, but Noel begged him not to put him in that situation. Noel refused to give him an alibi. He said he couldn’t live with himself if he did that. Then Jack said he had to figure out a way to do it that didn’t put himself at risk. He said he loved me too much to put me through that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before? Why that other story?”

  “Because I didn’t want to admit I knew about him killing the professor. I was afraid you’d consider me an accomplice. But now … I feel like I have to tell you or you’ll think Noel was involved.”

  “So … what happened when you heard all this?”

  “I scared them both to death. I stood right there, just out of sight, and s
aid, ‘I couldn’t sleep that night; Jack and I stayed up after midnight watching Air Force One.’ Then I stepped out from the kitchen and said, ‘Will that alibi work?’ ”

  “What’d they do?”

  “Jack jumped up. He said, ‘This is a private conversation.’ I laughed at him, asking if he was actually bawling me out for eavesdropping while he was planning a murder! Then I told him I’d reread Melissa’s journal. I knew how smitten she was with … that professor. Her journal documented the slide, page by page, until she was so depressed and drugged she stopped writing. I told Jack I’d thought for years the man deserved to die.”

  “You said that?”

  “That’s why I took that class with Sheila Phillips. I wanted to watch him up close, see what attracted Melissa to him. After three weeks I couldn’t stomach it. The last night of class I saw him talking to one of the students. I watched the professor and the girl in the parking lot. She followed his car, and Sheila and I followed hers. He went into his house. She parked around the corner, then went through a fence to his back door. I got out and watched, in the shadows. He let her in. I saw him kiss her. That was it for me. I wanted him dead.”

  “You hadn’t told Jack that?”

  “Not till then. I didn’t want him to think I was a terrible person. Truth is, when I heard him talking to Noel, I was relieved. Isn’t that weird? I was relieved Jack wanted to kill him too.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Jack asked Noel to leave, which Noel was happy to do. He kept telling Jack not to do it. He warned me not to be part of it. I suppose he thought we’d come to our senses. Jack said later he told Noel not to worry, that we’d given up on the idea.”

  “You’re positive Noel wasn’t involved?”

  “Absolutely. You know that, right? Noel was in a bar with a bunch of people when the murder happened. Jack was mad at him for drinking when they were the up team. But he was relieved that Noel was off the hook. Jack said it was an airtight alibi. Isn’t that true?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I just need to know what Noel knew about Jack. And the murder.”

  “Well, Noel must have put it together once Palatine was killed, since he knew Jack had talked about it. Even I didn’t know when Jack was going to do it. He kept me in the dark, to protect me I guess. He said I was never to tell anybody about anything. I’m violating that now.”