She paused again as Evan took a slurp of his wine.
‘You know what I want to know?’
‘What?’
‘If that’s what you were planning, why wait so long?’
‘I wasn’t. You know that.’
‘Of course I do. I’m just telling you what they said. I know it’s to do with the messages from Hendricks.’
She dug in her purse and brought out a coffee-stained slip of paper.
‘I thought you left that in the diner.’
‘I did. I went back for it.’
She laid it on the table between them.
I know where she is.
You were so close.
How’s it feel, Buckley?
Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.
He was sure his face must be giving him away. He felt like a complete shit as he sat and stared at the piece of paper with two messages missing. He took a bite of his steak, couldn’t taste a thing.
‘And you brought it out with you tonight?’
‘I had a feeling the topic might come up at some stage, yes.’
She went back to her dinner but her heart wasn’t in it either. If he hadn’t gone out to Hendricks’ farm, they might have got through the evening without this coming up. She pushed her plate away and took a slug of wine.
‘Is this really what you want to do now, Kate? I thought this was supposed to be a thank-you for all the work you’ve done for an ungrateful—’
‘Keep going.’
‘An ungrateful ... person like me. Not more work.’
She smiled at him.
‘Why, what else are we going to do? Play footsie under the table? Or—’
‘Okay, okay.’
His hand was resting on the table. She put hers over the top of it, leaned in so he couldn’t avoid her eyes.
‘Do you really think Sarah’s down there?’
He pulled his hand out from under hers and leaned back. The more distance you put between yourself and another person, the easier it is to lie to them, everyone knows that.
‘It’s that line, You were so close, isn’t it?’
He didn’t know what to say, what to think.
Should he say, no, actually it’s the line Nobody found the second level? You know, one of the ones I didn’t tell you about. Or should he sit here and discuss with her why it was or wasn’t the line she thought it was? She took his silence as confirmation.
‘He’s playing with you, Evan. It’s the other threatening ones you should be worrying about.’
‘I thought you said we couldn’t do anything about those.’
‘We can’t do anything about any of them. That doesn’t mean you have to waste your time running around after all these clues’—she made quote marks in the air with her fingers—‘like he wants you to.’
He stared at the table top. There weren’t any easy answers there, tucked under his plate or hiding behind his wine glass.
‘Okay. Talk me through it,’ she said.
‘Talk you through what?’
‘Where would she be? There were four doors off that basement under the barns.’ She counted them off on her fingers. ‘One leads to the house, one to the barn. Another one to the chamber where the Claytons were buried and one to an empty room.’
They stared at each other across the table. He swallowed, hoped she didn’t notice.
‘There’s something you haven’t told me.’
He kept his face deadpan. There were so many things he hadn’t told her. His hands were back resting on the table. She put hers on top of his again, like one more bit of physical contact and he’d crumble. He turned his over under hers and ran his finger along the middle of her palm. The first intimate contact between them, the first that wasn’t a slap or a shove like a couple of guys horsing around.
She pulled her hand away.
‘Stop it! Tell me what it is.’
He didn’t tell her fast enough. She planted her hands on the table, pushed herself up, shoved the chair away with the back of her leg. It was a bluff. But he relented anyway.
‘Okay. Sit back down.’
She lowered herself slowly as if any false move from him and she’d be outta there. The anger in her eyes watered down to frustration.
He grinned at her.
‘People will think we’re a regular couple. They see you counting things off on your fingers and think, she’s giving him a hard time, listing all the poor guy’s faults—’
‘Ha! I’d need a lot more than ten fingers.’
‘Then they see us holding hands, aw, they made up. Next thing you’re off again, typical unmanageable woman—’
‘Five.’
‘But the guy doesn’t want to lose her—’
‘Four.’
‘So he digs in his pocket—’
‘Three.’
‘And brings out something that shuts her up good and proper.’
‘I’d like to see what.’
He placed his Zippo lighter on the table between them.
‘As you can see, it’s not an engagement ring.’
‘Your sister will be so disappointed.’
He raised his eyebrow as if to ask is she the only one?
‘Idiot.’
They were back on track. She picked up the lighter, turned it over in her hand.
‘I found that in the empty’—he did the air quotes like she had—‘basement room.’
‘You never told me.’
‘I’m telling you now.’
‘It’s obviously got some significance to you. You going to tell me, or do I have to guess?’
‘You have to guess, you being the real detective.’
‘It belonged to Sarah.’
‘Sarah wasn’t born in 1970.’
It only took a moment’s thought to make the leap.
‘It was her father’s. He gave it to her.’
‘You got it. Read the verse.’
‘I already did. It was meant to be something to help her get or keep a grip on her life.’
He nodded, knew what was coming by the faint twitch at the corner of her mouth, so he beat her to it.
‘And no, my old man wasn’t over there, so he didn’t have one to give me.’
‘I wasn’t going to say that.’
The smile in her eyes made a liar of her.
‘You have to admit, it’d be a good idea.’
She put it down on the table and studied him carefully. He had a strange desire to reach out his hand for hers. How would she respond?
‘Come on Kate, you’re nearly there. You’re always telling me how well you know me.’
The waiter came over with the last of the wine. He saw the lighter and his mouth turned down. Evan felt like setting fire to the tablecloth. They waited for him to leave again.
‘I liked it when they used to turn the bottle upside down in the ice-bucket,’ Evan said. ‘Don’t suppose they do that sort of thing at places like this.’
Guillory waited patiently for him to finish, waited even longer for him to meet her eyes.
‘You think it might be Sarah’s, but you can’t be sure.’
He gave her a quick, sharp nod.
‘If they’d let you smoke, I’d buy you a cigar.’
He saw her thinking back behind her eyes, her mind continuing to work through the implications. He’d be lucky to get away without revealing the rest of it. Maybe not tonight, but she’d get it out of him eventually.
She put her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her hands, stared at him. He thought maybe it was a good time to go to the men’s room. He went to push himself up.
‘Stay right there.’
‘But—’
‘Wet yourself if you need to. You’re not going anywhere until I get to the bottom of this.’
He settled back down. He didn’t need to go anyway.
‘Let’s assume this is Sarah’s, not just one of the millions like it.’
‘Okay.’
�
��Let’s also assume it was in that room because Sarah was in there with it and lost it.’
He nodded.
‘Well, she definitely wasn’t in the room that night. So where is she? Or’—her words slowed as her mind worked through the logic—‘where do you think she is that makes you go back there and look for her?’
‘I don’t know.’
The look on her face said you don’t get off that easily.
‘Where do you think she is, Evan? I know it’s all complete nonsense. I want to know what you think. And why? Because even though everybody thinks you’re an idiot—’
‘You included.’
‘Me included, yes, there’s normally something you think is a good reason behind the stupid things you do.’
It was a strange mix of an accusation—a little bit of a compliment with a lot of criticism. He couldn’t deny it was spot on, though. There wasn’t any good reason not to tell her now. She already knew he’d been out to Hendricks’ farm, could guess he’d be going back out there again. She knew the general reason why.
Unfortunately, it was the specific reason that was going to get him the smack upside the back of his head.
‘Got a pen?’
She found one in her bag, passed it over. Then she leaned towards him and dropped her voice, her eyes flicking from side to side as if checking for enemy agents.
‘Let me guess. You’ve found a secret map. You’re going to draw it for me now.’
He picked up the piece of paper with the four messages written on it and added another two.
Nobody found the second level.
Shame Faulkner burned down the barns. Now you’ll never know.
He pushed the slip of paper across to her side of the table and made a quick dash for the safety of the men’s room.
He prayed there was a window big enough to climb through.
Chapter 26
ELWOOD CROW LIVED ALONE in a big old Victorian property, set back in substantial grounds. Despite the fact it gave Evan the creeps just standing on the doorstep waiting for the old man to come to the door, it made him think Crow must have been a better investigator than he was. The door swung smoothly open without a sound from the old hinges, leaving Evan a little disappointed. If he owned a house like this he’d make damn sure the door creaked.
‘Mr Buckley, come on in.’
Evan wasn’t exactly surprised.
‘Anthony Fox gave you a call?’
Crow nodded, the spare skin hanging from his neck flapping. It crossed Evan’s mind that at some point in the past, a change of name to Turkey might have been appropriate. Crow stepped aside and Evan entered the hallway, took in the musty smell, the threadbare rug. Maybe not so successful after all. He hoped people didn’t judge his performance in the same way.
Crow led the way down the hall, striding past tired-looking animal heads and faded pictures, to a sitting room in the back. He gestured to a chair in front of a long-dead fire, took the one on the other side himself.
Cocksucker.
Evan jerked forward, spun around in his chair to see where the voice came from. An American crow hopped along a wooden bar in a cage behind him, repeated the greeting.
‘Plenty likes you,’ Elwood Crow said with a wrinkled old grin. ‘What else am I going to keep with a name like mine? A Canary?’
‘Might be more polite. What’s he say to people he doesn’t like?’
‘Wait and see. He’ll call you it before you leave. You’ll know it when he does.’
Evan said he couldn’t wait, sat back in his chair and tried to ignore the bird chattering to itself behind him.
‘Anthony told me you’re interested in Jesús Narvaez. And Francisco. He also says you don’t want to say why.’
Evan shrugged.
‘You know how it is. How many years were you in the job?’
‘Sixty or so. Still am, if anyone wants to hire me.’ He gave Evan another wrinkled grin. ‘Not so good at the rough and tumble as I used to be.’
The comment made Evan study him more closely. He’d been a big man when he was younger. Looked like he still wore the same shirts. His collar was buttoned tight—although tight was the wrong word. Evan could have got his whole hand down the gap between his collar and wrinkly neck. Even so, despite the liver spots and loose flesh, his hands were still large, faded white scars criss-crossing the knuckles, his wrists thick.
‘Research is more my thing now.’
He inclined his head towards the cluttered desk on the other side of the room. Evan looked, saw a new laptop and all the other toys to go with it.
‘The internet’s a wonderful invention. Used responsibly, of course.’
Something about the way Crow said research gave Evan an uncomfortable feeling—that he was already about to lose control of the direction the conversation was going. He guessed he’d be doing a lot of giving before he took any information away.
The way Crow said used responsibly was a strange comment to make too. It implied he was just as at home using it irresponsibly. Surely the wrinkled old fart wasn’t a hacker.
Crow suddenly remembered his manners. He pushed himself out of his chair, his movements still fluid for a man his age.
‘Can I offer you something to drink?’
Evan said he’d have some coffee. Crow left him alone with the other crow, the one with the feathers and the beady eyes—and the foul beak. He got up and went over to the bird’s cage, got the same greeting as before. He smiled to himself. He bet Plenty was good at moving the Jehovah’s Witnesses along when they outstayed their welcome. The bird hopped up and down the bar, nodding its head, then dropped into the bottom of the cage, started throwing seed everywhere.
Evan went over to the desk. The laptop was switched on. He ran his finger lightly over the touchpad. A dialog box popped up asking for a password. His hand hovered over the keyboard, his mind racing.
‘It’s not Plenty, if that’s what you were going to try,’ Elwood Crow said from behind him.
Evan spun around, the color rising up his cheeks. Crow carried two cups of coffee across to their chairs and put them down on a low table between them. Evan looked down at Crow’s feet, at the house slippers he wore. Had he deliberately left him alone and then crept back?
‘I don’t blame you, it’s my fault,’ Crow said. ‘I mentioned research. You wouldn’t be much good at your job if you weren’t nosy.’
‘No, I shouldn’t—’
‘And you were right, it was you I was looking up.’
Evan dropped into the chair, his premonition about where the conversation was headed proved right, a nagging worry in the back of his mind. Just how thorough had Crow’s research had been?
‘I read about the Clayton case,’ Crow said.
‘My finest hour.’
Crow gave a slow dip of the head.
‘Don’t knock yourself. I read another interesting, older article.’
Here it comes.
‘It can’t have been easy to have your wife disappear like that. I hope you don’t mind me bringing it up.’
Evan shook his head. He took a sip of his coffee and watched Crow over the rim of the cup. Like a coffee cup was all it took to hide from the past.
‘Bet you feel like you can’t ever escape it, eh?’
‘Sounds like you’ve been spending time inside my head. I’m surprised you found anything. I don’t remember it making the front page of the newspaper. And the police sure as hell didn’t make a lot of fuss about it.’
‘Ah. Sorry. Didn’t mean to touch a nerve.’
Evan waved it off.
‘Don’t worry about it. It was a long time ago.’
Crow’s expression told him exactly how much he believed that. Thankfully he didn’t push it.
‘I could help, you know.’
Evan wanted to know how it had happened, how it was suddenly all about him. There was something compelling about Crow’s words, about the man himself. Evan’s gut clenched, the back of his nec
k suddenly clammy. He believed if anyone could help, this enigmatic old man could.
‘I’m sure you’re thinking stupid old fool, leave me alone and go back to your foul-mouthed bird. The offer is there, if you want it.’
The bird chose that exact moment to utter the phrase Elwood had warned Evan about. A laugh exploded out of Evan’s mouth before he could stop himself. The bird responded by repeating it. Evan had the distinct impression Crow was somehow able to make the bird speak when he wanted it to, to interrupt the conversation or move it in a different direction.
‘Told you. And don’t laugh. It encourages him.’
‘I bet that gets rid of your visitors pretty quick. I won’t ask where he learned it.’
Crow shrugged, a small smile on his lips.
‘I don’t get many visitors these days.’
Evan didn’t bother to say he wasn’t surprised. He didn’t need to, the old man seemed to be able to read his mind.
‘Can we talk about Jesús Narvaez now?’
‘And—’
Evan was sure he was about to say Francisco, but Crow had more surprises up the sleeve of his too-big shirt.
‘Frank Hanna?’
A pregnant silence hung between them.
‘I don’t know how long you’ve been working this case,’ Crow said, ‘but I guarantee you it’s not as long as I did fifty years ago. The Foxes, Anthony in particular, despite how it might look now, were desperate. They had plenty’—the bird suddenly squawked at the sound of its name—‘of money and didn’t mind spending it. There wasn’t much I didn’t find out about Frank Hanna and his father, George.’
‘And—’
‘And Thompson too, yes.’
They stared at each other, both knowing the other man’s thoughts. It was as if a bond had formed between them already. Their minds worked along the same lines.
‘Did you ever meet him?’ Evan asked.
Crow shook his head slowly, his eyes losing some of their focus.
‘Once.’
The shaking of his head wasn’t a denial, more a reflection on the whole sorry sad situation.
‘What happened?’
Crow snapped out of his reverie.
‘I’d rather not say.’ He smiled at Evan’s obvious frustration. ‘I know. It’s all a one-way street, isn’t it? You have to show me yours, but I won’t show you mine.’
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