Code 61 ch-4

by Donald Harstad

  They showed us two little plastic vampires, a small plastic gravestone, and a large paper bat.

  “Where in hell did you get those?” I asked.

  They'd found them hanging from the mailbox, and from the gate pillars. One of the women in the Mansion had pointed them out. Probably placed there by local high school kids. Halloween was close enough that the things were probably on sale all over. It was to be expected because of the coverage, I guess. I was glad it wasn't more than that.

  “There are pictures of them in place,” said one of the reserves, a man named Vinton.

  I was impressed that they'd thought to take photos, and said as much.

  “Oh, it wasn't us,” he said. “One of the TV stations from Cedar Rapids had a crew up when we got here. They got 'em on tape.”

  Great.

  We radioed in when we got out of our car at the Mansion. It was 14:00 on the button. By 14:02 our plan was already in trouble.

  Huck greeted us at the door, dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks and shoes. Appropriate for the day. I noticed the tattoos on her face were gone. She ushered us into the parlor, with an explanation ready.

  “I'm really sorry, but Hanna can't join us. She's not feeling very well, migraine I think, and she's lying down upstairs.”

  No problem. Although I made a mental note that Hanna might just be the weakest link, and being kept out of reach. Sometimes it bothers me, that I think that way all the time. She could just as easily be having a real migraine.

  “And, I'm sorry, but Toby's still taking a shower; he got up late.”

  Two down. The two I'd have picked as the greatest liabilities. Interesting.

  “That's just fine,” said Hester. “No problem.”

  As we seated ourselves, me on the couch, and Hester in one of the overstuffed leather chairs, we were already down from five to Huck, Kevin and Melissa. So much for approaching the group as a whole.

  “We would really like to get to the wake as soon as we can,” said Huck. “We feel we should be there for as long as possible.” She smiled, almost apologetically and, I thought, quite sincerely. “Edie's been our friend for quite a while.”

  They'd arranged to limit the interview by controlling both the number of individuals present and the time spent. Not bad. I remembered what William Chester had said about them not going to cooperate, and gave him some points.

  “We'd like to go, too,” said Hester. “Since Edie was Lamar's niece.” “Of course,” said Huck. “So, then, what can we do to help?”

  “Well, for starters,” I said, “why didn't you let us know that Peel was up on the third floor?” I was really eager to see who was going to field that one.

  “We didn't know he was there,” said Kevin, “and I don't think it's fair you should assume that we did.” “But you knew he and Edie were meeting up there sometimes, didn't you?” asked Hester.

  “Sometimes, maybe,” he said, and made his first mistake. He was looking squarely at Hester, in order to appear sincere, and missed the look he got from Huck, which would have told him to let her speak. As it was, all Huck had gotten out was “Wuh-” before being cut off.

  I spoke very quickly. “Sometimes in her room, sometimes the third floor, then?”

  “Usually her room,” he said. “That's why we had no reason to suspect him to be on the third.”

  I smiled at Huck. Just to let her know that I knew, too.

  “But sometimes on the third floor?”

  “Sure,” he said, just as Huck interjected, “We really don't know.”

  “Anywhere else?” I asked.

  This time it was only Huck, who said, “Now, wait. We don't really know those things. We're guessing,” and she shot Kevin a glance.

  “Is there a reason,” I asked, “why you aren't letting Kevin speak for himself?”

  “I am speaking for myself,” said Kevin. A little too quickly. And, again nearly simultaneously, Huck said, “I am letting him speak.”

  I held up my hand. “Just a second. Whoa. One at a time.”

  They exchanged irritated looks.

  “Let's start again. Why don't you guys just listen up for a second, here, and I'll tell you some of what we know, and then ask some questions.”

  They were quiet; I'll give them that.

  “We've already established your knowledge of Peel.” That had been pure luck. There had always been the chance that Toby had tried to cover by giving us a wrong name. “We've already established your knowledge of a relationship between Peel and Edie.” I looked at the three of them. “We've already established that you knew that he was sometimes on the third floor.” I gave them a second to digest that. “I want to remind you that this is a murder investigation, and if you start to try to backpedal now, you may give the impression of complicity.”

  Kevin proceeded, smoothly, to make his second mistake. “Let me remind you,” he said, “that you have neglected to advise us of our Constitutional rights.”

  I looked at Hester. It had to be her. She nodded, and looked coldly at Kevin.

  “A Miranda advisory,” she said, evenly, “is triggered by a custodial interrogation.” She didn't blink. “That's two complete and separate elements. Custody. Interrogation. This, right now,” she explained, “is a noncustodial interview. So, I'd suggest you lose the smart-ass attitude and pay close attention.”

  I watched Huck and Melissa's reaction very carefully. They were why Hester had to be the one to put Kevin in his place. So far, it looked like they were getting the hint.

  Kevin took the bait.

  “Don't condescend to me,” he said. “I'm no fool.”

  Hester made a little tent of her fingers, resting her elbows on the arms of her chair. “Want a second to consider the fact you're the only one in the room who had to say that?” she asked.

  Huck jumped in and rescued him. That was fine. The fact that she had to do so wasn't lost on anybody. “Wait,” she said. “Like you said a second ago, let's just sort of start over, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. I was becoming fascinated, watching Kevin try to stare Hester down. I reached across the coffee table, and tapped him on the knee. He flinched, and looked at me.

  “In all sincerity, I think you're not quite understanding what's going on here. Someone has been killed, and we're trying to get to the bottom of it. Someone you knew pretty well. Possibly while you were here. That's pretty weighty stuff.” I leaned back. “This isn't a game.”

  “I'm not playing games,” said Kevin.

  “Then it strikes me, Kevin,” said Hester, “that you're being very nonchalant about the death of someone who lived in the same house with you.”

  “I'm sorry to have upset you,” said Kevin blandly.

  “We're not upset,” I said, making some notes on my pad, “so much as we're curious about a lack of reaction.”

  “I,” he announced, “happen to be a Nihilist.” Although his facial expression didn't change, he sneered with his voice. “That's N-I-H-I–L-I-S-T, Deputy,” he said, watching me write. “It means that I believe that there's no purpose in existence.”

  “I know,” I said, not looking up. “We used to say it was a predictable result of an egocentric confronting reality.” I looked up, with the most pleasant expression I could muster. “Sittin' round the doughnut shop, we talk about that sorta thing a lot.”

  Before he could answer, I said, “Look, you guys are the ones we have to talk to, because you're the ones who might have some information. There really isn't anybody else. We can keep this on a fairly friendly basis, if we work at it. But you do have information we need. You may not know what you have,” I said, “but there could well be things you've noticed and don't realize they're significant.” That was pretty standard, and I wasn't so sure that they didn't know what they had, but it did serve the purpose of giving them an out, if they suddenly wanted to “remember” something. Or, in the particular case of Kevin, gracefully retract a lie.

  “Edie,” said Kevin, “is the
one who knew, if anybody did. Too bad she's not available.”

  He said it straight, but he meant it sarcastically.

  “Edie's been talking quite a bit to the pathologist,” I said.

  Just as I said it, Toby came through the dining room door, his jaw dropped, and he said, “What?”

  “Hi, Toby,” said Hester. “Have a seat.”

  “Oh, yeah. Right, right.”

  He looked really fresh, and it looked like they'd been telling the truth about his being in the shower when we'd arrived.

  “We're just discussing what we all know about Mr. Peel,” said Hester.

  “Oh,” said Toby. “Not much,” and he looked meaningfully around the room, “do we?” It was hard to tell if it was a question, or a really broad hint.

  “Well,” I said, “we know what he looks like. We know his name.” I figured it was time to jump in with both feet. “You told us he was a vampire… So, where does that leave you?”

  For a few seconds it got so quiet you not only could have heard a pin drop, I swear you could have heard it whistle as it fell.

  Melissa broke the silence by speaking for the first time. “He is,” she said. Straight up, matter-of-fact, with no inflection. “We all know that, too.”

  She'd said, “He is,” without hesitation. Nobody else qualified it by saying “He thinks he is.” Just the silence of agreement and acceptance.

  “Why do you think,” she said, still with no emotion, “we call this Renfield House?” “Wasn't that the vampire's slave in Dracula?” asked Hester. “Renffeld?”

  Melissa nodded. “Of course.”

  I still didn't quite realize what I was dealing with. “You're saying that he is a vampire. You don't really believe that, do you? Don't you mean that he believes that he's a vampire?”

  “No,” said Melissa. “He is a vampire. That's all there is to it.” I glanced around the room. There sure didn't seem to be any visible dissent.

  “Now, really,” I said. “Come on. This isn't Transylvania. Hell, it's not even Los Angeles. There's no such thing as vampires.”

  She shrugged. “You're entitled to your beliefs. So are we.” She gave me a secretive little smile. “We know. That's enough for us.”

  I don't know that I was exactly surprised that somebody other than Toby would be capable of being conned into seriously believing in vampires, so much as I was just beginning to appreciate the ramifications for our case.

  “Okay,” I said, slowly. I pretended to write some notes, then looked up. “Okay, so, then, if he is, why stick around?”

  I half expected Toby to be the first to speak up, but it turned out to be Melissa.

  “We aren't afraid of him,” she said. “We learn from him. You have to try to imagine the knowledge of a man who has been here so long.” As she spoke, she became flushed. “The strength. The power. The confidence.”

  “And the wealth,” added Toby again. “Do you have any idea what compounded interest can amount to in three hundred years? But, like Melissa says, it's the power. Nobody fucks with him, believe me.”

  “But he possibly killed Edie,” I said. “Remember that.”

  “There's a downside to everything,” said Kevin, cynically. “Of course we don't agree with you, but if you say he killed her, then we have no choice but to believe you.”

  “Mind sharing how you think she died?” I asked.

  “I have no opinion.”

  “Do any of you happen to know one”-I pronounced it slowly, as though this might be the first time I'd heard the name-“Alicia Meyer?”

  “I do,” said Huck. “She works on the boat.”

  “Yeah, so do I,” said Melissa.

  “And, how long has this Peel been interested in her?” I was out on a limb, but it was just a short one.

  “What?” I'd evidently caught at least Melissa by surprise.

  “You know,” I said conversationally, “interested enough to show up outside her second-floor window, all duded up with the teeth and all, and asking if he could come in?”

  “I have no idea,” said Melissa, making a damned fine recovery. “That's his business. Like they say, 'All I know is what I read in the papers.' So, you want to hang that Peeping Tom incident on Dan, too?”

  “I believe it was him that night, behind her apartment. But, if you know how serious he is about her, I'd really like to know.”

  “Why?” asked Huck. Perfect.

  “Because Alicia's boyfriend is dead,” I said. “One Randy Baumhagen. I assume you read about him in the papers, too.”

  “That was in Wisconsin, wasn't it?” asked Melissa.

  “But, yes. In the Conception County Sentinel, in fact. Why does that have anything to do with us? He just drowned.”

  “Well, let's say that's up for grabs. Did any of you know him?”

  “I did,” said Huck. “I talked to him in a bar once or twice.”

  “Was he with Alicia when you talked to him?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And did Peel ever meet Alicia or Randy?”

  “I asked her up here last month. He met her then,” she said.

  “Why,” asked Hester, “did you bring her up here?”

  “To see the place,” said Huck. There was something about her voice. Confusion?

  “Not specifically to meet him, then?”

  “Not specifically to meet anybody. To see the house.”

  “But you knew he was here at the time?” Hester didn't sound at all like she was pressing Huck, but she was. By now she'd elicited the fact that Peel had been here “last month,” and at the same time as Alicia.

  “Oh, well… sure. I guess.”

  Hester has a sense of just where to find the jugular, so to speak. “Now, be kind of careful, here,” she said, “because you aren't the only person we've talked with.” She let that sink in for about a beat. “Now, are you sure you didn't bring her here because of him? Maybe even because he”-and she paused, again-“requested it?”

  Huck shot a glance at Melissa. It was quite a tell, for a professional dealer.

  The honor of capping the screwup belonged to Melissa. “I never said anything,” she said, her voice up about an octave. “Not even before you came home. Just ask Toby!”

  Good old Toby, the only one who had been in a real position to spill his guts, let her dangle. “Hey, I wasn't with you and Deputy Houseman when you two were out in the yard. Who knows what you told him then?” He was a little smarter than I'd given him credit for.

  “Well, you little prick,” said Melissa, with commendable accuracy.

  “I really hate to change the subject,” said Huck, “but we all do have to be at Edie's wake, and if we don't get going now… ”

  We'd gotten our wedge driven into the group. Not exactly where, nor in the manner, we'd expected, but it was in place. Good enough for government work, as they say. Hester and I excused ourselves after making an appointment to talk with Huck after the wake. We weren't really expecting to get much from her, but we wanted to deprive the group of who we considered its strength right after the wake. Emotions would be high, and without the moderating efforts of Huck, the cracks could become much wider. We had high hopes, even though they would have a chance to regroup on the way to the wake. I thought they were rattled enough to stay that way.

  TWENTY

  Monday, October 9, 2000

  16:45

  When we got to the funeral home, there wasn't much of a crowd, except for five or six media folks hanging about outside. They at least had enough good sense not to go in. I brushed the spatters of mud off my pants as best I could, and made sure I'd scraped all the leaf particles from my shoes. I did notice that Hester didn't seem to have suffered any negative effects on her clothes from the climb up the ravine. I was, as usual, amazed by that. Inside we found Lamar and his wife, along with Edie's mother and a couple of Lamar's relatives I'd never met before. Embarrassingly, I couldn't remember Edie's mother's name. I had just about decided on directly asking
her, no matter how stupid it might make me sound, when Lamar came over. He thanked us for coming, and led us immediately over to his sister.

  “June, this is Carl Houseman, I think you know him? And Agent Hester Gorse, of the DCI.”

  “Hello, June,” I said.

  “Hello,” said June.

  I recognized her, but barely. She seemed to have aged a lot more than I would have anticipated in the five or six years since I'd met her the first time.

  “I'm sorry about Edie,” I said.

  “Don't feel sorry for her,” she said. “Feel sorry for Shanna, her kid she left in the lurch. But thanks for comin'.” She gestured to a small table with a lace cloth, where somebody had placed four photos of Edie. One was a framed graduation picture, color, taken with her in a maroon cap and gown. The other three were taped to a piece of black construction paper. One of Edie with her mother in a swing when she was about six, I'd guess. Another one of Edie in her graduation robes, and one with Edie and her daughter, Shanna. Cute little kid. It was kind of a pathetic photo memorial, though.

  While Hester said the obligatory things, Lamar and I approached the coffin, hardly making any sound at all on the soft carpet. Edie's body looked just like what it was, a dead woman in her mid-twenties. She was clad in a nice knit beige dress, with a white scarf concealing the wound in her neck. Her hair was a lot lighter than it had seemed when she was in the tub, and for a second I thought she might have a wig. Nope. Washed, dried, and nicely combed. Too young to be there, I thought. I took a breath and spoke to Lamar.

  “They did a nice job,” I said softly. Having been at her autopsy, I could hardly believe they'd managed to put her back together as well as they had.

  “Yep.”

  Cops tend to be connoisseurs of that sort of thing. Especially when we've viewed the deceased at a crime scene, and know what the mortician has accomplished. Lamar knew; he'd been there often enough.

  When I turned around, I saw several more people had entered the main room. Three young women, well dressed in dark colors. They were all in slacks and sweaters, and obviously together for mutual assistance. They looked to be about the same age as Edie, and seemed pretty sophisticated.