Veritas

by Anne Laughlin

  “‘Erection’ is a pretty clinical term for you, Mother.”

  “It’s business. And business hasn’t been great lately.”

  Beth sighed. She was sure her mother would devise an effective marketing strategy to counteract this loss of business. Free Viagra at the door, penis pumps discreetly stashed in the bathrooms. Mae was nothing if not inventive.

  “Maybe I can help you while I’m here,” Mae proposed. She popped open her suitcase, the inside filled with carefully labeled packing cubes, removing the one on top and holding it in her lap. “That is, if you’ll let me stay for a day or two.”

  “I’m not sure pimping and whoring are exactly the skills that are needed just now, but I’ll check with Chief Sullivan if you’d like.”

  “Don’t be so crass, Beth. I was actually proposing taking care of you a bit while all this is going on. I’m sure you have your hands full. I could cook, for instance. Do the shopping. Whatever you need, sweetheart.” She looked at Beth with a sincerity so intense that Beth completely mistrusted it.

  “Let’s just see how things go today. And don’t unpack everything. One cube—that’s it.”

  “Agreed. I’ve missed you, Beth. It will be good to spend time together. You won’t regret it.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. Please promise me you won’t go out unless you’re with me. I’m dean of the college now, remember. Your eagerness to talk about the ranch’s success isn’t something I want spread around campus.”

  “It doesn’t seem like that would make much of an impression around here,” Mae said. “Murder trumps prostitution any day.”

  Chapter Ten

  Sally steered her car toward the station, her thoughts divided between what she still needed to do before the end of the day and the interview she’d just concluded with Delilah. The only thing she’d learned was that Delilah and Beth had been an item a while back, a fact not relevant to the investigation perhaps, but Sally felt its impact. Beth seemed to be attracted to women with big personalities, and while Mel couldn’t be more different than Delilah, they did have something in common—they both sucked a little more air out of a room than the average person did.

  Her mood was on a steady downward course. She had a murder investigation that was stalled and she didn’t seem to be able to get it unstuck. The only thing she felt capable of doing was going through the motions of the investigation, but she knew that methodically doing so formed the bulk of police work. Inspiration would have to wait.

  Sally walked into the station through the back door, making her way unseen to her small office. On Saturdays there was a skeletal administrative staff, but the front was overseen by old Henry Barda, retired from the force several years ago and happy to play desk sergeant/dispatcher on the usually quiet weekends. Most of the rest of the daytime roster were out recanvassing Barrow’s neighborhood or on patrol. Sally picked up her phone and called the front desk.

  “Henry, it’s the chief.”

  “Yeah, Chief.”

  “Send Ted Benson in to see you me, will you? And maybe brew up a fresh pot of coffee. I can smell that burnt pot from my office.”

  Sally put the phone down without saying good-bye. She knew she’d sounded short on the phone, which she didn’t like to be with her staff. Sometimes unfriendly was the best she could do. Compared to some of the superior officers she’d worked for, she figured she had a light touch most of the time. She pulled her file on the Barrow murder off the top of the growing pile of paperwork on her desk, wondering again whether she should call in some help from the state police.

  “Hey there, Chief. Henry said you wanted to see me.” Ted Benson stood just outside her office door.

  “I need a report from you.”

  Ted took a step into the office and assumed an at-ease position.

  “Ted, I thought we’d talked about this at-ease thing you keep doing. Now come in and sit down.”

  “Ma’am, I’m more comfortable giving my report while standing.” Ted relaxed his posture somewhat, but kept his eyes straight ahead and his hands behind his back.

  “Officer Benson, sit down in the fucking chair. That’s an order.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Ted moved quickly to sit in the chair in front of Sally’s desk.

  “You’re doing the ma’am thing also.”

  “Sorry, Chief.”

  “Okay, let’s hear what you got off the computer from Barrow’s house.”

  “I’ve been through ninety percent of it, Chief, and there doesn’t seem to be anything interesting, though he does have some porn on there.”

  “What kind of porn?”

  Ted looked confused. “What kind? I guess the kind you’d expect. People doing it.”

  “Adult people? Vanilla sex or BDSM? Professional or amateur? There are clues in a man’s taste in porn.”

  “Well, I guess it was regular, then. Men and women just doing it. I couldn’t look long, Chief, with women walking by in the station.”

  “Ted, I am a woman, remember? I have seen porn where people are doing things that your mind, in particular, would never be able to think up. And so will you before your career’s over.”

  “There wasn’t anything like that. And the rest of the files in the computer all seemed to be about his school work.”

  Sally leaned back and sighed. “Okay. Finish going through that and then check with Bob on his look into John Barrow’s background.”

  “Uh, Chief. I was supposed to be off today. I was thinking I might be able to leave soon.”

  Sally stared at Ted, who had the good sense to look sheepish.

  “Do you have somewhere else you want to be, Officer?”

  “Well, it’s just that—”

  “Because I don’t know if you recall that we have a murderer running around Mount Avery. Did you forget that?”

  “No, ma’am. It’s just that it’s my girlfriend’s birthday and she’s kind of expecting me. And there’s the fact that the murderer is likely to be long gone.”

  Sally stared even harder at Ted, the silence growing longer and strangely louder, until Ted squirmed in his little chair.

  “Officer Benson, you’re absolutely right. We don’t know whether the murderer is long gone or not. In fact, we don’t know shit. And we’ll continue to not know shit as long as we have half-assed officers like you working on this investigation.”

  Sally stood. “Officer, stand at attention.”

  Ted stood and snapped to attention, his eyes fixed straight ahead. Sally positioned herself so she could look back at him. “If you want to be some kind of lifelong, half-assed cop who doesn’t care about anything beyond his pension, keeping his girlfriend happy, and complaining about his work conditions, then go ahead. There’s plenty like that on every force. Probably the vast majority, in fact. You’ll have a nice, boring, but very long career ahead of you. Is that what you want, Officer Benson?”

  “No, Chief.”

  “I happen to think you might have a little more on the ball than that. Did you know that I thought that?”

  “I was hoping you’d give me opportunities to show you.”

  “And I have. And you’re responding to a giant opportunity to show me what you’ve got by asking if you can go to a birthday party.”

  “No, Chief. It’s just that…”

  “I don’t care. The only thing I care about is catching this guy. You can leave now if you choose, but think carefully before you do.”

  “I’ll stay, Chief.”

  Sally looked at him for a bit longer before sitting back in her chair. “At ease, Officer. Continue your report.”

  “After working most of the morning on the computer, I joined the other officers on Third Avenue who were re-interviewing the victim’s neighbors. I’ll bring in the statements, but the short story is that no one heard anything or saw anything. Not at the time we think Barrow was shot or at anytime yesterday.”

  “That’s just damn odd,” Sally said. “It’s not that I don’t believe
them. I think they’d leap at the chance to be involved in the investigation. But a gunshot outdoors should have been heard by someone in a quiet neighborhood. What do you think, Ted?”

  “Silencer?”

  “Precisely. A silencer used on a James Bond gun to shoot an unpopular English professor in the middle of rural America. What does that suggest to you?”

  Ted looked stumped at this one. “I’m afraid I can’t guess, Chief.”

  “It suggests a professional hit. I’m not saying that’s what it was, but it doesn’t have the feel of a crime of passion. There’s no sign of struggle, no one heard any noise, no one reports ever seeing Barrow even with another person.”

  “Except for that college girl, Jennifer,” Ted remembered.

  “Yep. We need to get her tracked down.”

  Sally thought about this some more before getting up and moving around her desk. “Let’s see if Henry made a new pot. I need some coffee.”

  “There’s one other thing to report,” Ted said as Sally led them down the hall to the break room. She smiled for the first time in hours when she saw the fresh pot.

  “What else do you have, Ted?” Sally poured and handed Ted a mug.

  “Jake was working on tracking down any purchases of Walther PPKs in the area. When he got called out to an accident scene he asked me to tell you he hadn’t come up with anything.”

  “Did you take a look at what he did?”

  “Yes, Chief. He did finish e-mailing and calling every gun shop in the eastern part of the state. No record so far of anyone buying a Walther anytime in the last few years. We’re still waiting for some responses.”

  “We know it’s unlikely we’ll find the killer from a list of registered gun owners. He will have picked the gun up some other way.” Sally drank some coffee and thought for a bit. “Okay. Put that stuff on my desk, and the interview statements too. Then you can go be with your girlfriend.”

  Ted looked surprised, and then resolute. “No, ma’am. I’ll stay on.”

  “No, you’ll go now, and I appreciate the work you’ve done today. But if something comes up tonight, I’ll haul you back in here. That understood?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Chief.”

  “I mean Chief. Thanks.”

  Ted left the room before Sally could change her mind again. She poured herself more coffee before she returned to her office. Ted’s files were already on her desk, and as she sat to review them Henry rang to announce that a Jennifer Manos was at the front desk to see her. Sally was reminded why she liked to work so much; usually there wasn’t time to think about anything else when she was on the job.

  When she reached the front of the station, Jennifer was standing near Henry’s desk. Her age and the backpack slung over her shoulder gave her away as a college student, but she showed none of the vibrant health Sally would expect to see. Her skin was pasty, her face was broken out, her hair greasy and pulled back into a tight ponytail, stretching the skin around her temples. Her clothes were too tight and the hand holding the strap of her pack looked doughy, as if a dimple would appear if you pressed a finger in the flesh. Sally was just able to recognize Jennifer from the photo that had been given to her when she went missing.

  “So, you’re back in town, Jennifer.”

  “I’m here because my roommates said you wanted to talk to me.” She didn’t smile, offer her hand, or look Sally in the eye. Her gaze was directed at about badge level.

  “It’s good to see you safe and sound. There were people at the college who were very worried about you.”

  She shrugged. “Not everyone at the college was worried.”

  Sally saw Henry shaking his head, still convinced after years on the Mount Avery force that Grafton College students were spoiled rotten. She regarded Jennifer. “Well, thanks for coming in. Why don’t we go to my office and talk?”

  After they’d settled in and Jennifer had refused an offer of coffee or tea, Sally asked, “What do you know about what’s been going on here since you took your unscheduled vacation to San Francisco?”

  Jennifer responded in a clipped, impatient voice. “It was hardly a vacation, not that it’s any business of yours. Nonetheless, in answer to your question, I am aware that Professor Barrow was murdered last night.”

  “Wasn’t Professor Barrow the reason you left town?”

  “No. I don’t know why you’d think that. I went to California to be with my cousin.”

  “With school in the middle of the semester? And graduation coming up? That doesn’t sound like the honors student people described to me when I spent a good amount of man-hours trying to track you down.”

  Jennifer was unperturbed. “I’m not sure why I’m here, Chief Sullivan. Why would Professor Barrow be the reason for me going to San Francisco?”

  “I talked to some of your housemates and they seemed to think you may have had a crush on him, and—”

  “A crush?” Jennifer’s voice climbed a few octaves at this. “A crush is something one has from afar, Chief. A crush is something a schoolgirl has. A crush is not what a woman feels for her lover.” Jennifer crossed her arms around the backpack sitting on her lap and held it close to her chest.

  “Jennifer, was John Barrow your lover?” Sally tried to speak gently.

  “I don’t have to speak to you about that. It’s not any of your business.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, I’m afraid. I’d love for your romantic life to not be my business, believe me. But John Barrow was murdered and it’s my job to find out who killed him, and everything is my business until I do.”

  Sally flipped open her file and pulled out a morgue shot of Barrow. He looked pale, but not gruesome. The hole in his chest was not huge. It almost appeared as if he were napping.

  “Here’s your lover, Jennifer. Don’t you want to help me find who did this to him?”

  Jennifer could not avert her eyes in time. Her hand flew to her mouth as she tried to hold back a sob. “Oh, God.” She was clearly trying to contain her reaction, but racking sobs overtook her and she rocked back and forth in her chair, her pack tumbling to the floor as both her hands now cradled her face. Sally sighed as she got up to look for some tissues. She thought it unlikely Jennifer had killed Barrow, but her passion for him was clear. And passion equaled motive to kill, more often than Sally ever thought was possible.

  When the sobs subsided and the snuffling and eye rubbing began, Sally resumed her questioning.

  “Jennifer, whatever the story is between you and Barrow, I have to hear it. We’re not concerned with anything except who did this to him. Now, were you and John Barrow lovers?”

  Jennifer held her head high. “Yes.”

  “For how long?”

  “Since fall term.”

  “While you were missing from campus I was asked by the college to try to find you. Dean Ellis, in particular, was concerned. I searched your room.”

  “You what?” This came out as a shriek. “Am I living in a gulag? You can’t search my room.”

  “I can, and I did. I found a pregnancy test kit that was positive. Are you pregnant?”

  Jennifer hesitated. Her spotty, pasty face was now swollen from tears, her red eyes almost closed shut. “No, I’m not.”

  Sally watched her closely. “Let me rephrase that. Were you pregnant?”

  The hesitation was a little longer this time. She picked her pack up and held it again to her chest. “These are very personal questions and I will not answer them. Sorry.” She didn’t look particularly sorry.

  Sally leaned back in her chair and picked up the phone. “Henry, will you get Becky Reynolds back in the station, please?”

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer squeezed her bag more tightly to her.

  “I’m getting another female officer in here. It looks like I may end up having to arrest you and I’ll want Officer Reynolds to process you.”

  Jennifer bolted up from her chair, her pack swinging wildly from her arm, knockin
g Sally’s coffee cup off the desk and into the garbage. “Arrest me! You can’t arrest me. I haven’t done anything.”

  “Sit down,” Sally snapped. Jennifer sat, her eyes now huge in her face. Sally didn’t know if it was anger or fear behind them. She didn’t really care. “By not answering my questions you are not cooperating with my investigation. You have a motive for killing John Barrow, whether it’s that he dumped you because you were pregnant with his child or he dumped you simply because he was bored.”

  “No! He didn’t dump me because he wanted to. He was forced to. He had to make sure he got tenure in order to secure our future. He definitely didn’t dump me. It was just a break.”

  Sally continued as if not hearing her. “In addition to motive, you had opportunity. We only have your word that you were in San Francisco last night.”

  Now Jennifer’s mouth dropped open. “Am I in Mayberry R.F.D. here? If you’re looking for an alibi, I have several suggestions on how you can confirm my whereabouts. Like number one, I was on a flight this morning from San Francisco.”

  “This morning is not last night, and there are lots of flights between San Francisco and Chicago. You could have been here, flown to San Francisco, and then been back here again.”

  “Why would I do that? And can’t you check whether I was on any of those flights, if they even exist?”

  “I have checked that out, Jennifer, and the flight times do work. You are only listed as being on the one flight this morning, however.”

  Jennifer smiled, but it wasn’t a cheerful smile. It was a smile of triumph. “There you go. I just told you I wasn’t on any other flight.”

  “But you could have used an alias and false identification.”

  A small, sturdy woman in uniform appeared at her door. “Henry said you wanted me, Chief?”

  “Yeah, Becky. Grab yourself some coffee and sit tight. I’ll be with you in a few.”

  “Sure thing.” Becky had the slightest smile at the corner of her mouth as she looked at Jennifer. Her opinion of college students ran along the same lines as Henry’s. Jennifer watched her walk away and turned back to Sally. She now seemed to be edging more toward fear and away from anger.