“Meat packing and railroads, I think. And one of their ancestors married into lumber, as well.” He held his cup up in a “toast” gesture. “Here's to diversification.”
“It's going to be a little intimidating just going to the door for an interview,” I said.
“You can probably find Jessica at her studio during the day,” he said. “That's right at the end of the lake, here, in Lake Geneva. Got a map?”
I was disappointed, I have to admit. I'd had hopes of getting inside the estate.
Hawkins smiled. “Unless you'd care to wait until this evening.” My disappointment must have showed.
“No, that's okay. Some things are just best left to the imagination.” But I felt pretty certain that the residents of the Mansion in Nation County had been guests at the Hunley estate, at the invitation of Jessica. No wonder they were impressed. Just being ushered in there must have been an event.
Hawkins led us to Jessica's dance studio, on Geneva Street, just about downtown Lake Geneva. We all parked, and got out, except for Hawkins. He stayed in his car, with the engine running. He pointed to a door between two stores. “The dark red one, there. The studio is upstairs. Only thing up there.”
“Thanks.”
“You want company? If you do, I could make the time.”
I shook my head. “No, that's okay. We can piss her off all by ourselves.”
“Well, feel free to keep in touch. You need anything, just let me know.”
We squared ourselves, and walked across the street to the dark red door.
“You all set?” I asked.
“You bet,” said Harry. “You two take the lead, and let me just listen in for a bit, okay?”
“Fine with me,” said Hester.
“Well, then… ” I said.
There was a small, brass plaque on the door that said, “Hunley Studios.” The buildings looked pretty old, and I was expecting kind of a dingy, narrow stair in a dingy, narrow staircase. Hardly.
The blond wooden stairs were nearly brand new, nicely varnished, and the pale yellow stairwell was both wider and more brightly painted than I'd expected. The stairs didn't even creak. The stairwell was lined with dance posters, most of them featuring either Jessica Hunley or “The Hunley Dance Repertoire Company.” At the top, we found a large, oak framed, glazed door, again with the sign “Hunley Studios.” As we entered, I noted the time at 11:39.
The music was loud, but pleasant. I recognized it instantly, a thing by Ahmed Jamal and his group, called “Poinciana.” We were in a small waiting room, for want of another word, with three new wooden chairs, and a bulletin board. On it, there were several notes, and a “rehearsal schedule” that indicated today, October 11, was for “rep rehearsal, J amp; T, 9–5.” I pointed it out to Hester.
“They rehearse for eight hours?”
“Sure,” she said. “Repertory. That's a series of their performance dances, you repeat those all the time so they stay fresh in your head.”
One more reason to be glad Hester was along.
The divider between the waiting room and the studio was only waist-high, and the door was on a swinging hinge. On the other side, I could see a nice hardwood floor, flanked on the right by a line of floor to ceiling windows, and on the left by a long mirror. No bar in front, unlike in the movies I'd seen, which were as close as I'd ever been to a rehearsal. At the far end was a set of lockers, and a table with a large boom box.
There were two dancers working on the floor, in black tights, leg warmers, and sweatshirts. Their feet were bare. They were both facing away from us, but the one with the iridescent hair could only be Tatiana. I guessed the other to be Jessica, and when they both turned in unison, I saw I was right.
I don't know what they thought when they saw us standing there, but they never missed a beat. Now that they were facing us, I could hear Jessica counting cadence, sort of.
“Down and up and down and up,” she said, as they went down on the floor, rose, went down and rose again. Very gracefully, with flowing movements. “And turn two three, ten two three, and point and twist and point, and turn… ” and with that, they had their backs to us again.
I turned to Hester. “Wow.” Not only graceful, it looked a lot like hard work. Not the way they did it, but the way I knew I'd have to do it. Hester just smiled, and watched them as they moved away from us.
Harry nudged me in the ribs. “You get to investigate them? I wanna work in Iowa.”
The music stopped, and so did the dancers. They sort of stood, talking for a second, and then Tatiana walked over to the boom box, and opened a tape case. Jessica came over to us.
“My two favorite officers,” she said. “And are you an officer, too?” she asked Harry, with a pleasant voice.
“Detective Harry Ullman,” he said. “I'm a Wisconsin deputy sheriff.”
“What brings you all to Lake Geneva?” She stood in a completely relaxed pose, and I noted that her breathing was entirely normal. If I'd been moving the way she had, I'd still have been breathing hard.
“Business, I'm afraid,” I said. In the background, Tatiana closed the boom box, and started walking over toward us.
“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” said Jessica. “Should we hold up our hands?”
“Only if you do it to the music,” I said.
“Actually,” said Hester, “we need to talk to both of you for a short while.”
Tatiana had joined us by then, and I stuck out my hand. “Hello, again.”
We shook hands, and she said, “Taking a break?”
“Working,” said Hester.
Jessica looked at her watch. “Unfortunately, we are, too. We have a lot to do today,” she said. “But we'll be taking a break to eat in about half an hour.”
“Fine,” said Hester. “We'll wait.”
With that, both Jessica and Tatiana turned, and walked all the way to the end of the floor, and turned on the boom box. I recognized “Body Language” by Queen.
“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 whisp
ered. “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 instance, 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.
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