“All right. We’re about done up here and we didn’t find much to help. Just another negative,” Virgil said. He told Barlow about the missing camo.
“What does it all mean?” O’Hara asked.
“It means we may have to go to my Plan B,” Virgil said.
“ Your plan B?” Hands on her hips. “Wait a minute, buster…”
27
John Haden found himself in something of a trap. Not a legal trap, but a relationship trap. Sally Wyatt had come over and had thrown her… psyche… at him, after she’d come back from the scene of her husband’s death. She’d been overcome with remorse, both at his death and about her relationship with Haden.
She still loved him, she said, but this death changed everything: she needed space to think, she needed time to grieve, she needed to be alone with her children. She needed help. He calmed her down, as much as he could, he let her weep, he gave her the name a grief counselor he’d heard about from another instructor whose wife had died.
“She’s supposed to be really good, and as I understand it, she really did help Jeremy get through his wife’s death,” he’d told her, sitting beside her on the couch, one hand on her shoulder. “You think you have to go through it on your own, but you don’t. It helps to have somebody who understands the fault lines of family tragedy.”
As soon as she was out the door, he said aloud, “Jesus Christ, this is gonna be a pain in the ass.”
The trap part of the relationship was… he needed to keep her close, but he wouldn’t want Flowers to see them together. Actually, he didn’t want anyone to see them together, at least for a while, and that wasn’t easy, in a small city like Butternut Falls. So he needed her close for strategic reasons-their potential marriage-but at the same time, for tactical reasons, he now needed a little distance. At least until Flowers got out of town.
He got Flowers’s cell phone number off his own cell phone and called him.
“Virg: you never called to tell me what happened out there,” he complained. “Was Bill the guy? We’re hearing that up at the school.”
“We’re about ninety-eight percent and climbing,” Flowers said. “The thing we don’t know is, was it an accident, or was it on purpose? There’s no question that most of the remaining Pelex must’ve been touched off. There’re pieces of that farmhouse in fuckin’ Farmington. And probably far-off Faribault.”
“To say nothing of freakin’ Fairmont,” Haden said. “Well, you know what? I’m still not sure. So when you get to a hundred percent, let me know.”
“I’ll do that,” Flowers said. “You could buy me another beer or two.”
“You’re on,” Haden said.
When he got off the phone, Haden got a half-full bottle of red wine from the fridge, popped the vacuum cork, and carried the bottle over to the couch, where he could think.
This whole thing would have to be carefully handled. He’d made Sally fall in love with him-that wasn’t difficult. She’d needed somebody, in the biggest emotional crisis of her life, and there he was. He’d been funny, and sensitive, and sexy, had listened thoughtfully to her complaints about Wyatt, and to her intellectual and political positions.
Had argued with her, from time to time, had confessed that as a mathematician, he was sometimes pulled toward the arguments made by the Republicans about the economy. He’d only done that, though, after hearing that her father had been a longtime Republican county chairman, and figuring out that her father was a major force in her life. The old man was, thankfully, dead, so at least Haden wouldn’t have to deal with that.
But.
The big But.
When their relationship came out in the open, there’d be talk. There was always talk, especially in the academic community. He could handle that, as long as it was off in the future… when the bomber had faded, at least a bit, from people’s concerns.
He took another long pull at the wine.
Almost done, now.
Then… well, he knew she was going to be a pain in the ass. He’d finished the bottle of wine, and then had driven to the grocery store and stocked up on Smart Dogs and Greek yogurt, had gotten a premade black-bean salad and a baguette and a six-pack of Dos Equis, stopped at the coffee shop for a cappuccino. He’d had a quiet dinner, took to the couch again, to digest it, then spent ninety minutes at the Awareness Center, his yoga school.
He was in the parking lot, throwing his yoga bag back in the car, when his cell phone rang. He looked at the LCD: Sally Wyatt.
“Sally? Everything okay?” he asked. He let concern seep into his voice.
“Oh, God, that man was here. That agent. He thinks… I don’t know what he thinks. I’m worried about… things.”
“You want me to come over?”
“Better not. The neighbors are having a barbeque, there are people all over the street. I really don’t need any… questions.”
He mentally sighed in relief.
“Could I come over to your house?” she asked. Nearly a whimper. She was falling apart. “I sent the kids to my mom’s, until I could get the funeral stuff taken care of.”
“I didn’t think… Never mind. Come over, please.” He got off the phone and groaned, and then half-laughed. He’d almost said, “I didn’t think there was enough left to bury.” Christ, that would have been sticking his foot into it. He had to be more careful. Thinking about it, he started laughing again.
Boom!
She was there in ten minutes. When she came through the door, he went for a little squeeze, a little hug, a quick kiss on the neck, but she fended him off and perched on his easy chair. She said, “John, my God, what am I going to do? I’ve got no money, I’ve got nothing, the funeral expenses… and now, maybe I need a lawyer. This Flowers, he kept asking about what I thought about PyeMart and if I’d noticed anything going on in Bill’s workshop. He thinks I was involved.”
“I’ve talked to him,” Haden said. “He thinks he’s a pretty smart guy, but he’s not as smart as he thinks he is. What you do is, you’re just honest. You don’t know anything about anything. If they make an actual accusation, tell them you need a public defender. But, I really don’t think it’ll come to that. Bill was obviously unbalanced. It’s not something that two people would do.”
“I can’t believe… I lived with Bill fourteen years. He could be a jerk, but I don’t see this. I’m, I’m…”
“Well, you know… the prospect of that money,” Haden said.
She looked away from him. “That’s something else that Flowers said. Virgil said. He tells me to call him Virgil, like he’s a friend of mine, but I can tell he isn’t. I can tell he’s up to something… .” She trailed off, put her face in her hands for a moment.
He was sitting on the couch opposite her, and asked, “What was the other thing he said?”
“He said that if the town development went back the way it was, I’d be rich,” she said. She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands, one after the other. “He thought that might be a motive. He thought that was Bill’s motive, and he thought it might be mine.”
“What’d you say?” Haden asked.
“I told him that Bill didn’t care that much about money,” she said. “When the town changed direction, he just laughed it off. Said he didn’t need the money for another thirty years, and by then, it’d be even more valuable.”
“And what’d he say?”
“He said that was interesting,” she said.
Haden looked at her for a moment, and then asked, “When did you send the kids away?”
“Right after the bomb… right away. Oh my God, they’re going to be so messed up. Bill would come over every other day, take them out. He really was a good father. Good as he could be, anyway, you know… He never even said good-bye to them.”
“Okay.” Haden got up. “You want a beer? Or a glass of wine?”
“No… but I need to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“I just remembered, you asked a lot of
questions about the farm,” she said. She twisted her hands together. “You know, that first night I came over. I just, I mean, you seem really interested…”
He frowned. “Sally, where are you going with this?”
“Well, I don’t know.” Her hands flopped in her lap. “It just seemed you were always more interested in the money than Bill was, and you started talking about maybe us getting married, and I started to think… I mean, oh, God…”
He laughed. “You think I’m the bomber?” This wasn’t good.
“No. No, of course not. It’s just that you came on so hard with me. Nobody ever did that before. You’re so good-looking and the other women, you know, are always looking at you. I wondered why you… I mean, I know what I look like, I’m pretty average… I’m not that smart…”
“Sally, for Christ’s sakes.” That ol’ sinking feeling.
“And then…”
There was more? “What, what?”
“I remember last week, you were telling me how we’d slept together the night before that bomb went off at Pye’s building… but we didn’t. The bomb was on a Wednesday, and Billie has her dance line on Tuesday evening, and then her cello lesson, and we’re never home before ten o’clock. It was on Monday we slept together. And on the way over here, I wondered why you’d even bring it up-that we’d slept together the night before the Pye building thing, when we didn’t, and I thought… I don’t know what I thought.”
“That I was building an alibi?”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Did you tell any of this to Flowers?” Haden asked. “I really don’t want him jumping down my throat.”
“I didn’t tell it to anyone. Nobody knows about us, not even the kids. It’s so embarrassing. Bill leaves the house, and three days later I’m in bed with a friend of his. I mean… I’d be ruined, if my friends found out.”
“Sally, people don’t get ruined anymore,” Haden said. “They only get ruined in Victorian novels.”
“And small towns,” she said. “Anyway, you didn’t do it. I mean, Flowers asked if I’d been seeing anyone, and I lied and said no, and that’s when all this silly stuff started going through my head. And then I started thinking, I just lied to a police officer. I think I could really be in trouble, I think I might have to go back and tell him that I was seeing somebody. I think that would be best.”
Oh, shit. The whole plan goes up in smoke.
He thought, Nobody knows where she’s at. Nobody knows that we’ve been sleeping together. If Flowers finds out, finds out I mentioned marriage… that would be inconvenient. If Flowers kept coming, if he ever stumbled over that FedEx store in Grand Rapids… and who knows what would happen if they took too close a look at that videotape? Would there be some way they could tell it wasn’t Wyatt?
He felt a surge of anger, ran his hands through his hair. Hated to give it up. Hated it.
But the anger was running so hot, and the frustration. He’d been one inch away…
Wyatt stood up and stepped toward him. “John,” she said. “They won’t care. I mean, I won’t tell them, you know…”
He slapped her, hard, and she fell on the floor. “You bitch!” he shouted. “You’re taking it right out of my pocket.”
She was weeping, and trying to turn and crawl away from him. He straddled her, and dropped his weight on her hips, pinning her facedown. She cried, “You did it.”
“You silly bitch. All my work. All my planning.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she screamed. “I won’t tell anyone.”
“Yes, you will. You’ll tell everybody,” he said. He swatted her on the side of the face with an open hand. “Now, I want you to tell me something, and I want you to be honest about it, because if you’re not honest about it, I’ll catch that little bitch of a daughter of yours, and I’ll spend two days raping her virgin ass, then I’ll strangle her and throw her body in a ditch so the animals can eat her. You hear me? You hear me?”
He hit her again, and she sobbed, “Yes.”
“Who did you tell about us?”
“No one,” she sobbed. “Honest, no one, and I never will tell anyone. Just let me go, let me go, I’ll never tell anyone.”
“You’re fuckin’ lying.” He hit her yet again, and her head rocked with the blow.
“Why… why did you kill that car man? Why?” She tried to push herself up against him, but he pinned her. “I know why you killed Bill, but why… that car man…”
“Because I needed him to lead Flowers to Bill,” he said. “Now, listen, Sally, I’m really sorry about this, but I’m going to have to choke you a little-”
“Please don’t do this, please don’t…” She thrashed against him, and he felt the hard knob in her back, and cocked his head, and frowned and she shouted, “Safety.”
Haden said, “What?”
Virgil stuck his head in the door and said, “Get off her, John.”
Haden, stunned, looked down at Wyatt, then back up at Virgil, his mouth open. He said, “Virgil…”
Virgil said, “Get off her, John.”
Haden stood up and said, “She accused me-”
Virgil said, “Too late, John.”
Haden took a quick step toward Virgil, as if to push him out of the way. Virgil’s response was instantaneous: the punch came from somewhere behind his waistline. As it passed his shoulder, his fist was already traveling at the speed of sound-well, almost-and when it collided with Haden’s beaked nose, there was an immensely satisfying crunch, at that perfect distance where your hand and knuckles don’t feel it too much, and your shoulder takes up some of the recoil, and the nose guy’s head rockets off your knuckles like a tennis ball flying off a racket.
Haden stumbled over Wyatt’s legs and smashed into the wall, and went to his butt. O’Hara pushed past Virgil and said, “That’s what happens when you resist.” Jenkins was right behind her, and said, “Good punch.”
Wyatt wailed, “He was on top of me, he had me by the throat, he was choking-”
At that moment, Haden, who’d rolled up on one leg, as though he were just coming to his feet, suddenly fired off the floor, like a runner coming out of the blocks. He was headed toward the patio door…
Which was closed.
He hit the glass headfirst, full tilt, went through in an explosion of splintered crystal, crashed into the lawn furniture, and went down again.
Virgil and Jenkins and O’Hara were on top of him before he could recover again. O’Hara put the cuffs on.
Ahlquist had come through the front door in time to see the sprint.
Haden looked up at him, his face a mass of blood, and said, “I think… I think I’m really hurt.”
Ahlquist bent down, looked at him for a moment, then said, “Tough titty.”
28
O ’Hara and five other cops, in three sheriff’s cars, lights all flashing and sirens screaming, drove Haden through town to the hospital, leaving no doubt in the mind of anyone who heard them, or saw them, that the bomber had been caught.
At the hospital the docs propped up Haden’s nose and sewed shut a few cuts from when he’d gone through the glass door, and then O’Hara and the escort cops drove him with sirens screaming and lights flashing through town to the jail, and locked him up.
When all that was done-it took three hours-Virgil and Ahlquist, O’Hara, Barlow, Theodore Wills, the county attorney, Good Thunder, Pye, and Chapman took part in an hour-long press conference jammed with TV, newspaper, and online reporters, and the one public radio reporter with his recorder and microphone. Ahlquist wore a silky pale blue suit from Nordstrom and served as master of ceremonies, giving broad credit to Virgil, Barlow, and O’Hara for cracking the case.
When they were all done, Ahlquist took the stage back from Wills, who was the final speaker, to shout, “We’re all headed down to Bunson’s, folks. You’re all invited.”
They all trekked down to Bunson’s and Pye stood on a table to announce that i
t was all on PyeMart, and got half-and-half boos and cheers, and one fat guy who shouted he’d never drink Pye’s beer. The fat guy was wrestled out of sight by the Aussie scuba diver, whose name Virgil couldn’t remember.
He did remember the name of the short-haired scuba blonde with the snake tattoo down her neck-Gretchen-and he said, “Hey, Gretchen: How’d you find us?”
“Retrief can smell free beer from miles away,” she said. “I was going to call you up. I’d like to hear about your muskie research project…”
They talked about that for a while, and Virgil found her to be intelligent, well informed, and stacked. She touched his chest: “Slobberbone-I haven’t seen one of their shirts since UNT. They’re one of my favorite bands.”
George Peck showed up, and patted Virgil on the back and said, “Told you.”
Virgil said, “George, I’m gonna have somebody contact you about this whole market research thing. We need to write something about it for the FBI or somebody.”
“I would be flattered,” Peck said. Peck was wearing a gray banker’s chalk-striped suit, a blue shirt, and a bright yellow necktie. He was on his third Rusty Nail and muttered, “I don’t think Pye saw the sign outside of town.”
“What sign?”
“The one that says, ‘Butternut Falls-a Little Drinking Town with a Nasty Fishing Habit.’ This free booze thing will cost him a fortune. I’m soaking up as much as I can, before he calls it off.”
Somebody put Willie Nelson’s Stardust album on the Bunson’s sound system, and people started dancing on the lakeside patio to “Georgia on My Mind.”
Virgil danced with Gretchen, the snake girl, and then O’Hara, and then took Good Thunder and Chapman around the floor, scuffling along in his cowboy boots, thinking only rarely of Lee Coakley.
Barlow stuck strictly to beer, and was mostly sober when he got Virgil in a corner and asked, “You think we got him? You know, enough for a trial?”
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