Code 61

by Donald Harstad

  “Great music,” I said to Hester.

  “They've got a half hour to think,” she said. “Get ready to work.”

  I watched the two dancers as they faced in opposite directions, and did precisely the same moves as they maneuvered apart. Hands and feet in slightly different positions, due mainly to the difference in their heights, they clapped in perfect unison, as they moved to the music.

  “I could watch this for hours,” I said.

  “Me, too,” said Harry. “Hours and hours.”

  “That's good,” said Hester. “You'll probably have to.”

  “Hey,” I said. “My pleasure.”

  “You know, Houseman,” she said, deadpan, “it's probably a good thing you're over the hill. Otherwise, you could be influenced by this.”

  “My age is my consolation.” I leaned up against the wall, rapt.

  “Again,” said Jessica. Tatiana walked quickly over to the boom box, and started the music again.

  Exactly the same moves, repeated flawlessly. Well, that's the way it looked to me, anyway. Jessica had Tatiana stop the music.

  “How about like this, starting with the first 'sexy body,' and then two, three … ” intoned Jessica, and shifted from side to side, with her hands on her hips.

  They did that four or five times, with Jessica counting it. Satisfied, they started the music up again.

  My favorite part was where they were back to back, then moved about thirty feet apart, but in the same plane. They moved sideways across the floor, coming together again, and snapping their fingers to the music. When they were directly opposite each other, they each put their arms at shoulder height, and clapped each other's hands while they were back to back. Precisely in time to the music, and at the precise instant when the musicians clapped. I was astonished. I couldn't do that even if I were facing my partner, and never if it involved moving my feet at the same time.

  Hester apparently noticed my fascination. “It's in the counting, Houseman.”

  “Bullshit,” I whispered. “It's supernatural.”

  “I can't help thinking,” said Harry, “that they … Oh, never mind.”

  “You two aren't thinking about the case,” said Hester.

  They went through “Body Language” five times. Then Jessica got out a mat, and signaled to us. “We just have to rehearse this one bit, then we'll eat.” “Fine, go ahead,” said Hester. With the music off, Jessica clapped her hands in time, and Tatiana spun, and went over onto the mat, slapping her cheek into the plastic surface, with her weight on her raised right arm and her left wrist, which was under her hip. At the same time, her left leg went straight up, foot pointed directly at the ceiling, and her right leg came up with her right foot on her left knee, forming a tripod. Damndest thing. She froze in that position for a full five seconds, then collapsed with a heartfelt complaint.

  “Oh, man!”

  “Again,” said Jessica.

  Tatiana stood, and as Jessica clapped time, spun into the floor, assuming the same position and holding it for five seconds.

  Relaxing again, she said, “Aw, boy, that hurts.”

  “Now the other side,” said Jessica.

  “Aw, geeze,” said Tatiana, but with complete good nature. You could tell she would do almost anything to excel, and to please Jessica. “You know that isn't my best side.”

  As Jessica clapped, Tatiana reversed, and did it going the other way. Perfectly, as far as I could tell.

  “Ow,” said Tatiana.

  Once more, and then both of them walked over to us.

  I was thinking lunch. Like, in food. Instead, Jessica motioned us through the divider, and to the three chairs. As we three cops sat, she and Tatiana just sort of flowed into a sitting position on the floor, near a black gym bag. Jessica opened a door under the counter, and removed two bottles of water, some crackers, a small brick of white cheese, and some grapes.

  “Would you care for some?”

  “No, thanks,” said Hester. “We just had brunch.”

  “Oh?” asked Jessica, handing Tatiana a water bottle. “Where?”

  “The Geneva Inn,” said Hester.

  “Oh, very nice,” said Jessica. “That's where you're staying?”

  “I am,” said Hester sweetly. She gave them the name of our motel. “Do you know the place? These two are staying there.”

  “Wow,” said Tatiana. “Who'd you piss off?”

  “It's a long story,” I said. “But it's worth it, just being here. I don't think I've heard Jamal playing 'Poinciana' in fifteen years.”

  “I'm impressed,” said Jessica, in a warm tone. “So, what can we do for you?”

  “Well,” said Hester, “we have a few questions. Some things have come to light, and we need to see what you can tell us about them. Clarification, really.”

  “Do I need my attorney?” asked Jessica.

  “You're not a suspect,” I said.

  “Why don't you just tell me what you want to know, and I'll decide whether or not I need an attorney with me,” said Jessica.

  Reasonable. Not quite the way I'd hoped, but it was a good chance to get her mind moving in a direction we wanted.

  “Fair,” I said. “And Tatiana? What about you?”

  I really think she was both surprised and flattered that I'd asked.

  “I'll just listen, if this is for both of us.”

  “Good,” said Hester. “I think it might be.”

  Jessica reached into the gym bag and pulled out a Swiss Army knife, which she opened and used to slice the cheese for both of them. “Go ahead,” she said.

  I leaned back in my chair, and pushed my legs out in front of me, trying to look relaxed. I pulled a little notepad from my pocket. They're really handy. You can pretend to be writing, to buy yourself some time. I also put on my reading glasses. They're handy tools, since they can emphasize questions, when you look over the top of the frames at your witness. “Well, to begin with, we know that it was Dan Peale upstairs, who ran on us.”

  “Ah.” That was all Jessica said.

  “And, we know he killed Edie.”

  “For certain?” asked Jessica. Very calm.

  “It looks like it. The evidence is compelling.” I wanted to draw her out on that point.

  “Mind if I ask what kind of evidence?”

  “Nope. Mostly testimonial, supported by some physical evidence, and some observations.”

  “Really? Whose?”

  “Whose observations?” I love a good game.

  “No. Testimony, if I can ask.”

  “Toby's.”

  First point to me, as her eyes widened. “Really? Where would he hear that?”

  “He didn't,” I said. “He was there when Dan killed her.”

  Tatiana reacted that time, while Jessica just stared at me.

  I shrugged. “I was surprised, too, to tell the truth.”

  “When did he tell you that?”

  “When we arrested him,” I said.

  It got pretty quiet for a few seconds.

  “I'm just not sure what to tell you at this point,” I said. “Let me explain the sequence of events, here.”

  I started off with the pursuit of Peale the night Borman was attacked, and while Jessica and company were still at the Mansion. As I talked, she interrupted once, to tell me that their muscles would be getting stiff, and did I mind if they sort of stretched them while I talked. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. I think that was a mistake, though.

  When I interview somebody, I watch for cues they send my way, to tell if they're being truthful, or are becoming nervous, or seem to be inventing things. Gamblers call them “tells,” and that's a fine term for it. I listen to their voice. I watch their eyes. And I check the body language. If I'm really attentive, I can tell a lot about an answer regardless of the verbal content. But when Jessica, and then Tatiana a few minutes later, started to stretch and contort, the normal tells were taken right out of the picture. When they'd hold an awkward position, for i
nstance, they would send spurious signals. Sometimes, when they'd answer, I couldn't see their eyes. Their exertions would strain and contort their voices, just a little, and made it very hard to judge expression. I was stuck with relying solely on content.

  When I got to the part where Toby had stuck a stake in Edie's chest, though, both dancers seemed shaken.

  “That's horrible,” said Jessica.

  “It's sick,” said Tatiana, “is what it is.”

  I continued, and when I got to the part about Toby telling us about his holding Edie, despite knowing Dan was killing her, Tatiana stopped her stretching, and just stared at us with a horrified expression.

  “But, it was likely that it was an accident, wasn't it?” asked Jessica.

  “No. Not at all.” I leafed through my notepad, pretending to search for what I was about to say. I was not going to give them Huck's name under any circumstance. “Dan Peale wanted to experience death,” I said, and then tried to make it appear as if I was reading from my notes, “ah, here we go, 'secondhand.' ” I looked back at Jessica. “To do that, it looks like he not only had to bleed Edie to death, he had to make her fully aware she was going to die.”

  “Oh,” said Jessica, “No. I simply don't believe that. Not for a minute.”

  I did note that Tatiana was silent.

  Hester came in from her position of observer for the first time. “All the physical evidence, and all the testimonial evidence, are in complete agreement with that fact,” she said. “Trust me.”

  “I believe you think you're right,” said Jessica. “I know you're being honest with me. But if you're relying on the testimony of that Toby, after he mutilated Edie's body … ”

  “Oh, no. No, we're not,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Hell, Toby didn't decide to go after the body with a stake,” I said. I had her.

  “But you just told us … ”

  I was paying special attention to Tatiana, who was absolutely hanging on our every word. I spoke slowly, for best effect. “Dan told Toby to do it.”

  “Impossible!” Jessica was quite convincing at that point. It was the strongest vibe I got from her during the interview.

  “Not in the age of cell phones,” said Hester, with a smile.

  We let that sink in for a minute.

  “Can I have a turn?” asked Harry.

  I know Harry Ullman pretty well, and I trust him implicitly. If he wanted in at this precise point, I knew it was a good idea.

  “Sure, Harry,” I said.

  “When was the last time this Dan went mountain climbing?” he asked. “I mean, the last time you have knowledge of.”

  Jessica looked startled. Too bad, because it gave Tatiana a slender opening.

  “Last August, wasn't it?” she asked Jessica.

  I could see Jessica's mind racing. She didn't know why Harry had asked, and the sudden change of direction had thrown her off.

  “Possibly,” she said. It was the only answer under the circumstances. She was fast. She was also cool. She looked directly at Harry. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just a second,” he said. “I have another question first. Would that be okay, and then you can see where I'm goin' with this?” He grinned apologetically. When Harry gets humble, I know he's on to something. “I can't think of any other way to say it.”

  “All right.”

  “Do either of you know of a gal named Alicia? Works on the gaming boat at Freiberg?”

  Jessica and Tatiana exchanged glances. Tatiana shrugged. “No,” said Jessica. She sounded believable on that point.

  “Well, this Dan dude knew her, and he went and did his mountain climbing thing with the ropes and stuff behind her second-floor apartment. Asked her to let him in, I'm told. She told him no.”

  “That's bizarre,” said Jessica.

  “It gets worse,” said Harry. “This Alicia had a boyfriend named Randy Baumhagen. Ever hear of him?” Both dancers shook their heads.

  “Well, Randy Baumhagen got invited in by Alicia, where Dan didn't,” said Harry, “and it looks like that pissed Dan off. Dan snuck up behind him one night, and whacked him in the head with a blunt instrument.” He watched the disbelief on both women's faces. “No shit, ladies, that's what he did. Know what else he did that night?”

  He got two blank looks.

  “He used some pliers on Randy Baumhagen, after he was dead. He tore a hole in his neck. Sort of a signature, we think.”

  “That's absurd,” said Jessica. “It's absolutely … ”

  Harry used an old ploy. He looked at Hester. “You agree with me?” he asked.

  “Yes I do,” she said.

  “You, Carl?” he asked.

  “You bet. All the evidence leads there.”

  With that, Harry had established that three of the five people in the room were in agreement. It's surprising how well that can work.

  “Why are you telling us this?” Jessica looked at each of us in turn.

  “Because,” I said, “we think you can tell us where Dan Peale is.”

  It got very quiet in that room. Neither Hester, nor Harry nor I were about to say anything at that point. We wanted Jessica to come across with some information herself, and we wanted to see what it was going to be.

  “If you can't find him”—and she looked quizzically at us—“then what makes you think I can tell you?”

  “To begin with, our information indicates,” I said, “that you know more about him than anybody connected with the Mansion. We've been told about your, uh, relationship with Dan Peale.”

  “Long-term relationship,” said Hester. “You know we were on the third floor. Believe me, we didn't miss a thing.”

  Jessica said, “All right.” Just like that. Tatiana let her cheeks puff out, and let out a long breath. She'd apparently been holding it in.

  Jessica took a quick drink from her water bottle. “He and I have been lovers for years. I admit it freely, although not publicly. You do understand? He's involved in another relationship, and I would not want to embarrass him.”

  “Sure.” I tried to sound encouraging.

  “You must know he's into a bit of blood tasting. Not often, but we both consider it to be an intimacy enhancing act. I would like to keep that private. Many people don't understand that sort of thing.” With that, she graced us with a smile. “Especially my Aunt Bridgett.” She shrugged. “But all that aside, I have only contacted him at his office. I presume he is not there?”

  “You presume right,” I said. Office?

  “That doesn't surprise me,” she said.

  “Why not?” asked Hester.

  “Well, the night he escaped,” she said. “You knew who he was as soon as the shots were ffred. We could hear your officers calling him by name, on the loudspeakers.”

  You know when, in cartoons, the little lightbulb comes on over the character's head? Epiphany city.

  “They did his name over the PA systems in the cars, now that you mention it,” I said. “I heard it myself. We were calling him by name, all right. But at that time, we were spelling it P-E-E-L. Not P-E-A-L-E. We had no idea who he was, then, or where he lived.”

  “Oh?”

  “That's right,” said Hester. “But if he could hear, then he must have thought we had him dead to rights, and that he couldn't go home.”

  “Certainly,” said Jessica. “How very silly of you.”

  Shit, in a word. We'd prevented his running to the only place we were going to know where to look. His home. Silly wasn't the word for it.

  “So,” said Hester, “you don't know where he is?”

  “No,” said Jessica.

  I got mixed signals on that one. Her head was turned more to Hester, so I didn't get a good look at her eyes. Her body was kind of levered up on one hip, and she had her hand on her ankle, pulling toward the center of her back, stretching her quad muscles. No signals or tells from the body language, that was for certain. But her voice was just a tiny bit too high. Strain from
lying, or from stretching? I thought from lying.

  Tatiana was just sitting with her legs straight out in front of her, pulling a perfect “L.” I looked at her squarely.

  “What about you?”

  “Me?” She sounded a bit surprised.

  “Yes. Do you know where he is?”

  “No. Why would I?” She answered as she bent forward, pressing her rib cage to the tops of her thighs. She stretched and extended her neck, so that we didn't break eye contact. A difficult read. But the nonchalant “question with a question” told me that she, too, was lying to me. It also told me she wasn't as adept at lying as Jessica. She was the weak link, all right.

  I smiled at her. Flies and honey. “Now, I suppose a really good cop would say something like”—and I lowered my voice—“I dunno, 'Why would you?' Right?”

  “Maybe,” she said, with a hint of a smile.

  “Well, speaking as one of the cops who unintentionally misled our suspect into eluding us, I think I better ask something else instead.”

  “Good idea,” she said, straightening back up into a seated position.

  “So,” I said, “who would you ask if you had to find out where he was?”

  It worked. Her eyes shifted to Jessica for an instant, and then back to me. I don't think she was aware she'd done it, even after it had happened. Jessica was looking directly at me, and I was pretty certain she hadn't noticed it, either.

  “I can't think of anyone.”

  “Okay.” I made a totally bogus check mark on my little notepad.

  Jessica made a large point of pulling a watch out of the bag, and checking the time. “We really have to be getting back to work,” she said. “I can't think of anything I know about this that I haven't told you.”

  “One more question,” said Hester. “Why does Dan Peale pretend to be from London?”

  Jessica handled that one on the fly. “It's an affectation. A charming one. We just play that he is.”

  “Ah. But it's made clear that it's an affectation, then?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “But there are a lot of people at the Mansion convinced he's from England,” persisted Hester.

  “And,” said Jessica, “if they choose to believe it … What's the harm? Some people are more naive than others.” She replaced some of their luncheon items in the cupboard under the counter.