No Good Deed

by Lynn Hightower

  ‘And big board fees, these are. One thousand a month, just board. Fifteen hundred to foal. More to train. Mr Bisky, he calls this bread-and-butter funds.’

  ‘So he farms the horses out.’

  Vincent took a large swallow of cherry Coke, and picked a fallen peanut up off the table. Sonora pulled another candy bar out of her jacket pocket and laid it in front of him. Pay-day. He picked it up, said ‘Oh, thank you,’ opened it and gave her half.

  This guy was amazing.

  ‘It is a bad business, this. These places are bad – I have grown up with horses, they are where I will spend my life.’

  If you’re not in prison, Sonora thought.

  ‘And the Delaney people, they do not feed or worm these animals. The pasture is very bad. This is true also in my own country. People are not good to animals if there is money involved. I have worked and studied with many farms – it is a hard way to make a living. Money is so hard, even good people do bad things. From here my plan is to Kentucky, then to Ireland. They have more horses per capita than anywhere in this world.’

  ‘I get you, Claude. There’s no doubt – look at your hands there, look at the calluses – you’ve studied and worked hard. Probably done a million and one odd jobs.’

  He nodded.

  ‘I mean, you cleaned stalls, and—’

  ‘No, I have done that, but I have learned to train, studied the nutrition—’

  ‘Probably even worked with a vet, haven’t you?’

  He sat up straighter and smiled. ‘Yes, this is true, for many years.’

  ‘Probably get board-certified, if they’d let you.’

  ‘I could pass every test. Dr Vooherman, he let me take care of even some high-dollar horses.’

  ‘Even the hard stuff? Like surgeries? That advanced?’

  His smile of pride was a ray of sunshine in Sonora’s heart. She wished she’d looked at his feet earlier, but he was a hunk – she would have bet anything that his shoes would match the print outside Delaney’s window. They had their finger-ripper.

  ‘So what happened with Delaney?’

  He tapped a finger on the table. Clearly thinking. Coming to a decision. About what, Sonora could only imagine.

  ‘Delaney will not give back this horse. Bisky, he tells her the client is coming to town, I think this is unexpected, and Delaney says no horse unless she gets more money. It is blackmail. Bisky, he thinks she is waiting for this opportunity. She has taken such bad care of others that he is deciding not to use her again, and he thinks she has figured this out and wants to stick him for what she can.

  ‘She will not give back this horse, so there are some visits and much argument, and a payment of money, they are in agreement. And then the horse disappears with this little girl. And Bisky …’ He leaned closer. ‘He is out of town but he calls the sister and they are angering like you cannot say. They think Delaney has done this so she will not give back the horse. This little girl who disappears, she is the daughter of Delaney’s man who cleans the stalls. They think Delaney just has moved the horse and the girl a while. And the sister, Vivian, she does not like to be beaten down, not by a Delaney woman. They never do get along, both are strong and mean.’

  Sonora nodded.

  ‘So she has the idea for me to do.’

  ‘Do what exactly?’

  He sat back and shrugged. ‘Apply the pressure. Just tough phone calls and such.’

  ‘And such.’ Sonora leaned back too, a big believer in advance and retreat when you were trying to catch a man or a horse. ‘The riding glove was inspired.’

  He tried very hard to look blank.

  ‘But not very nice. You scared some of the children. I bet you were following orders.’

  He did not seem to know where to look – at her, or the floor.

  ‘But you know, scaring kids is one thing. Killing them’s in a whole other league.’

  ‘I have killed no one.’

  ‘See, Claude, we’re going to have to sort out what you did and didn’t do. What you did to Delaney – in your favor, she was blackmailing your boss. And it’s not like you were irresponsible. She could have bled to death when you made the cut, except you made sure to stitch her up.’

  ‘Yes, I am most careful, there is almost no bleeding, no pain.’

  ‘The ER doctor was pretty impressed.’

  ‘It is in the sharpness of the knife.’

  ‘You used a scalpel, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I believe strongly the right tool for the job.’

  ‘How’d you get her doped up? Didn’t you come in through the window?’

  ‘She is doped already. In the beer. Sleeping hard.’

  ‘Who was helping you out with that?’

  He got that wary look she never liked to see in the interrogation room. It was a look that often shut things down. She’d been too direct. No choice now but to go with it.

  ‘Hey, Claude, don’t be the sucker who takes all the heat. You made sure she didn’t bleed to death, you stitched her up. You’re almost clean here, but we need somebody to hang. Don’t risk your future for somebody else.’

  ‘It is Vivian.’

  ‘Vivian Bisky?’

  ‘Yes. She goes ahead to give more money, is what she says, but the truth is she puts chloral hydrate in the beer. And I go in and do the job.’

  ‘Did she make it easy for you, leave the door unlocked?’

  ‘No, I have to do that through the window.’

  ‘She did that on purpose, you know that, don’t you? We couldn’t have gotten you for the breaking and entering if you’d gone in through an unlocked door. She’s rich, she knows the law, and she wants you at risk. So then what happens?’

  ‘This little girl, she is a very big deal, and the Biskys are most nervous. The brother is in Florida and will not come home, and leaves this all to Vivian.’

  ‘What’d she do?’

  ‘She says keep the pressure on Delaney, then after the girl is found dead, she says pull out and back off. This is much too hot.’

  ‘And she was right too. Whoever did the girl – we give the death penalty, here in Cincinnati.’

  ‘I have nothing to do with little girl.’

  ‘Here’s what you need to do, then. You need to give us hair and blood samples, so we can rule you out. You don’t have a problem with that?’

  ‘No, no problem. I invite you.’

  ‘Good. The business with the girl, that’s all a mistake, so I’m going to help you out. Let’s do it like this.’ She shoved a legal pad and a pen across the table. ‘You write out a statement. Keep it simple, tell it in your own words. Explain everything just like you told me.’

  ‘I do not know.’

  ‘It’s brave and loyal of you to want to protect people, Claude, but you’re going to have to use your head if you ever want to make it to Ireland. Vivian Bisky is the one who had the big idea. She’s the one who wouldn’t even unlock that door, and if you don’t think that was on purpose, you were born yesterday, which you weren’t, right?’

  ‘Right.’ His response was slow. He looked at the paper. The pen. Shook his head like a wet dog.

  Sonora pointed to the tape recorder. ‘Look, we got all this on tape already. Writing it out is for your benefit. So you can add stuff if you need to, say why and that you’re sorry. I’m trying to clear the way for you, okay? As best I can? You just write it all down and sign it, to let the judge know you were cooperative. That kind of thing carries a lot of weight. A lot of weight. And then an apology.’

  ‘On the paper?’

  ‘Let’s do it up right, Claude. I want you to make an apology to the lady you hurt, to Donna Delaney. You write this down, then I’ll take you out in the bullpen and you can tell her you’re sorry in person. That should take care of about everything. It’s the Biskys who are at fault here, they’re the ones making the money. And it’s not like you didn’t give the finger back, right?’

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Sonora gave Vi
ncent one final look, saw his blond head bent over the yellow legal pad like a child at his homework, and headed into the hallway, shutting the door softly.

  Ran, literally, into Hal McCarty. She stared at him with her mouth open. She’d been so into the interrogation of Claude Vincent she’d forgotten Hal. Her warrior juices started to ebb. Two seconds ago she had been all the way up, now she was all the way down.

  His smile faded, and he took her elbow, guiding her into the corner, as if they were not under the casual observation of about ten other detectives in the bullpen.

  ‘Tell me what’s wrong.’ He spoke quietly, and it was annoying that he seemed to know exactly what she was thinking. They could have been so good together.

  ‘You didn’t happen to bring up that you were married, Hal.’

  His face went stiff and Sonora found herself wondering if he had a lot of little moments like this one.

  ‘I figured you knew. I figured you’d run me through the computer, check around. You didn’t ask.’

  ‘You didn’t tell. And you don’t wear a ring.’

  ‘I’m working undercover.’

  ‘I’ll say.’

  He laughed, and grimaced, shook his head. ‘I’m really taken with you, Sonora.’

  ‘Are you happily married?’

  ‘I have a wife and five kids.’

  ‘Five?’

  ‘A combined effort. Two of mine, two of hers, one of ours.’

  There was an obvious affection in his voice when he spoke of them, and she wanted to scream, God, I don’t understand men, but she did. They were just like her.

  She had a flash of envy for the private moments between the two of them. That would never do. It was a requirement that any man in her life adore her.

  ‘Listen, Hal, casual sex just doesn’t do it for me. And God knows I’ve tried.’

  He laughed again. She gave him a small smile. After all, he hadn’t lied about being married. Listen to yourself, she thought. Was it genetics or plain stupidity, the way women, herself included, found excuses for men?

  ‘Look. I still want to see you. You’re very … different.’

  ‘Yeah, I just bet. Come on, McCarty, we got work to do.’ And she had no choice but to work with him.

  ‘What, I’m McCarty now?’

  ‘There’s worse things I could call you.’

  ‘I’m not letting you go. Not unless you want me to.’

  ‘Business, Hal. I need you to help me pull off a reverse lineup.’

  ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Just that I’m one hell of a cop. Try to keep up.’

  Chapter Fifty-Two

  None of the women would talk.

  Vivian Bisky already had an attorney, a chunky blonde with a sweet face and a killer reputation. Dead in the water, for the time being.

  Donna Delaney, lips tighter than the bandage on her hand, would not say a word. Not to Hal, not to Sam. Sonora was dying to give her a try.

  They had Donna in the bullpen, sitting in front of Sam’s desk. They’d rounded up every available female and scattered them throughout the office, to give Vincent a good choice.

  Sonora led him out of the interrogation room. Steered him toward Sanders. Molliter was getting it all on videotape and she wanted to go out of her way not to influence him.

  Vincent frowned, and moved away from Sanders, heading toward Donna Delaney. He stood over her, frowning.

  She glared at him.

  Sonora’s heart was pounding. If Delaney kept up the prison-yard stare, Vincent would never come through.

  He looked at Sonora, and she knew she had him. She smiled benevolently, and nodded to reassure him:

  ‘I wish to make the formal apology.’

  Delaney’s head went up. She stared up at him, eyes narrowed into slits. ‘What?’

  ‘For the finger of yours which I have unfortunately cut off, and then returned. I am telling you that I am sorry, and that this is not something that should be taken personal.’

  Delaney’s mouth opened and she made a small noise, but no words were intelligible. She looked around the room, at Sonora, Gruber, Crick, and then back at Vincent, who looked down at her, holding out a hand, as if he expected to kiss and make up.

  ‘Sonofabitch.’

  She was saying it again.

  Crick, sitting at Sanders’s desk, looked at Sonora and nodded. Gave her one of his very rare smiles.

  Chapter Fifty-Three

  Sonora looked at the faces around her – Sam, McCarty, Crick. Gruber, just for the hell of it, because he wanted in, because he had a good mind, because he was available. How many times had they gone over it? It was beginning to feel like a prison, this case.

  Sonora rubbed her right eye, smearing mascara. ‘I want to bring Chauncey in. I know I can sweat him.’

  Crick rubbed his chin, making a scratchy sound. They were all tired; all had spent the better part of the day trying to get something out of the women. All had spent the better part of the day getting nowhere.

  ‘Okay, Sonora. Bring him in.’ Crick’s voice was thick with fatigue.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You think he’ll do anything but cry?’ Sam said.

  ‘Take a vote,’ Gruber said. ‘Everybody who thinks he’ll cry say aye.’

  ‘Aye.’ Sam.

  ‘Aye.’ Gruber.

  Crick looked at Sonora.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘He’ll cry. So what? After he cries he’ll confess.’

  Crick shook his head. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Gruber waved a hand. ‘My take? This guy, he cries to get sympathy and to escape dealing with whatever is bugging him. It’s like a weapon. I mean, it’s a chick trick. He ought to be ashamed.’

  ‘Gruber, you’re a Neanderthal.’

  The door to Interview One opened. Mickey breezed in. Took a look at the empty pizza box, the crumpled coffee cups, the soft-drink cans and wads of yellow paper from the legal pad.

  ‘Looks like the Spanish Inquisition,’ he said. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Sonora brought down the finger-ripper.’ Gruber laughed. ‘Best reverse line up I’ve ever seen. It was beautiful, really. You ought to have been here.’

  ‘Hey, while you guys were sitting in here eating junk food, I’ve been doing a real cop’s work.’

  Sonora looked up. ‘What?’

  ‘We drained the pond. Drained it. Got all the way down to the muddy bottom.’

  ‘What’d you find?’

  ‘Not as much garbage as you might imagine. Old shoes. A couple of notebooks – you said that kid kept a journal?’

  Sonora nodded

  ‘Ink’s blurred, if they were hers. Illegible. I might be able to bring some of it up later. A BB gun, a dorky hat with flaps over the ears—’

  ‘Whoa, whoa,’ Sam said. ‘That woman, Barbara Adair, who bought Sundance and the trailer. She said the guy that sold it to her had a hat with flaps on the ears. All the witnesses mention that stupid hat.’

  ‘Makes a great disguise,’ Gruber said.

  ‘You get hair from the hat?’ Sonora asked.

  Mickey stood up straight and glared at Sonora. He seemed to be swelling like a show dog. ‘How can an artiste such as moi not get hair from a hat?’

  ‘What’s it look like?’

  ‘Black. Dyed. And a half-used spool of Weed Eater tape. Got hair from the blanket, from the cap, from the trailer. Dixon Chauncey. Defense can argue the ones from the blanket, maybe even the cap, are legit. But not the trailer.’

  Gruber rubbed his hands together. ‘Forget these bitches. Chauncey’s our man.’

  Sam and Sonora looked at Crick.

  He nodded. ‘And Counselor Bristol, being what he is, keeps Saturday hours till the workload comes down, so go to the DA’s office and do it up right. Then bring this guy in.’

  ‘What about his kids?’ Sonora asked.

  ‘Make formal arrangements.’

  She bit her lip. No other choice.

/>   Gruber looked up. ‘Need any help taking him down?’

  Sam shook his head. ‘Come along if you want to. But be sure and bring extra hankies.’

  Crick stood up. ‘He’s going to cry me a river now.’

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  Sam was driving fast. Sonora dug out her cellphone, called the DA’s office, got put on hold and flooded with muzak. As soon as anybody down there knew it was her, she got put on hold. They likely circulated memos – blah, blah, blah, and give Detective Blair hell whenever possible.

  ‘Sonora?’ Sam said.

  ‘I’m on the phone here.’

  She waited. The female voice came back, finally.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting, Detective.’

  ‘That’s okay, I always wanted to know all the words to “Mac The Knife”.’

  The woman did not respond. They must have put that on the memo too. Don’t laugh at Detective Blair’s jokes.

  ‘I spoke with Mr Bristol—’

  ‘So he’s still in the office?’

  ‘Yes, but he’s leaving soon. He says if you’re not here in the next fifteen minutes—’

  ‘We’ll be there. Tell him to please wait, as we’d hate to have to disturb his evening at home.’ Sonora cut the connection.

  ‘So, you’re mad at me now?’ Sam asked.

  Sonora looked at him. ‘Mad about what?’

  ‘About me running McCarty through the computer.’

  ‘Sam, just stick to business, okay? We’re breaking a case here.’

  ‘You’re mad.’

  ‘I’m not mad.’

  ‘I’m just trying to look out for you, Sonora.’

  ‘Sam, are you happily married?’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  God, she hated it when he said that. ‘Then leave me alone.’

  ‘Sonora, I want you to find somebody. I just want it to be the right somebody. I worry about you.’

  ‘My God, you’re the reincarnation of my mother. Let’s have lunch and trash Dad.’

  ‘Look, if you want to do that married man thing—’

  ‘Sam? Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not going to sleep with McCarty.’ She was like a kid with her fingers crossed behind her back. I’m not going to sleep with McCarty because I already did.