by David Martin
Paul Milton had died more or less instantly, he landed on the floor like a puppet would, you cut its strings. People with fatal gunshot wounds to the head mostly just drop, they don’t get blown back against walls with arms and legs spread out, they don’t twirl or dance or call out for loved ones … they fall without sound or ceremony, most of them. Paul did.
Annie went to him and got blood all over her white dress while holding Paul’s head … Camel didn’t see any point telling her not to move the body, he didn’t bother checking for a pulse either. A man drops like that, he’s dead.
Camel washed the blood off Annie’s hands and arms, then called the state police. He also telephoned his lawyer because the idea you don’t need a lawyer if you haven’t done anything wrong, Camel had been disabused of that his first year on the job.
Waiting for the police Camel asked Annie if she had anyone in the area she could stay with, of course she didn’t … newly arrived up here from North Carolina knowing no one is why she came to Camel in the first place. He said he’d call Eddie Neffering, reminding Annie that Neffering was the owner of The Ground Floor, the big guy with the bushy mustache. Annie said she remembered but her eyes were glazed and Camel wasn’t sure anything he said registered with her. Eddie will be waiting when the detectives finish questioning you, Camel explained … you go home with him. What about you, she asked. He said the police would probably take a little longer with him. Why? Because that’s the way things work, though Camel knew the exact two reasons he’d be held for interrogation … one, Annie’s husband killed himself with Camel’s gun and, two, Camel had powder burns on his right hand.
It was too hot in this room probably on purpose, Camel felt greasy-skinned and tired-eyed, wishing he could shower and change clothes. He needed to take a piss and became self-conscious about his posture and facial expressions, whether he stood or sat, how he carried himself when he walked around the room … knowing he was being watched and how his watchers were analyzing him.
He’d be a fool not to worry. Even putting aside the suspicious setting of Paul Milton’s death (comes in to find his wife kissing another man), Camel was aware that grabbing for the .22 magnum just as Milton fired it had put powder marks on Camel’s hand which could be interpreted as evidence that he had done the shooting.
A lot depends on the detective who’s assigned the case … if he believes me, Camel thought, I’ll be out of here before dawn. He checked his wrist having forgotten they’d taken his watch, no clock in this room of course, Camel estimating the hour at three A.M.
It was in fact one-thirty Tuesday morning when the associate superintendent for criminal investigations entered the interrogation room … Camel surprised that a guy so high up on the state police food chain would bother with a case like this.
Parker Gray carried in his own chair. “Mr. Camel, I’m Parker Gray—”
“I know who you are.”
They’d met a long time ago. Gray was thirty-six, Camel recognized in this man something of himself when he was Gray’s age, the same kind of hard-on anger Camel used carry, a lack of appreciation for the art of compromise, a tendency to roll over people with the iron certainty of always being right.
When Gray asked Camel for his version of what happened, Camel didn’t say well gosh I already told the other officers, I already gave a statement … he knew the drill and recounted for Gray the events leading to Paul Milton’s death.
“Your lawyer’s with Mrs. Milton,” Gray said. “Same lawyer representing both of you?”
“She didn’t know anyone to call, Mark’s helping her until—”
“But you knew to call a lawyer right away huh?”
“After I called the state police, yes.”
“Call an ambulance?”
“He was dead, the state police would send out an ambulance anyway.”
“You know the routine huh?”
“Yes.” Camel also knew enough to wonder why Gray hadn’t given him the usual explanations and warnings, hadn’t reread him his rights, hadn’t turned on the camera.
“Mrs. Milton an old friend of yours huh?” After he asked the question Gray who hadn’t yet used the chair he brought in went around and stood behind Camel. Most suspects won’t turn to look at their interrogator, they’re glad not to have to face him, but Camel moved to maintain eye contact.
“Yes Annie’s an old friend.”
“I bet.”
Even in his dark suit and striped tie Parker Gray looked like a trooper … you could easily picture him gazing out sternly from under a Smokey Bear hat, lecturing a speeder. He had a square jaw and a five o’clock shadow that came out at noon. His eyes were brown and unusually narrow, he had a petite nose that didn’t seem to fit with the other features of his face … the overhanging brow, the big-knuckle cheekbones, the stone jaw. The man wasn’t that tall, five-ten maybe, but the general impression you got was strength and a lot of testosterone.
“You and Mrs. Milton were having a sexual relationship huh?”
“No.”
“Never had sex with the woman?”
Camel figured it was going to come out, Annie might have already told them about the summer they spent together. “We had a relationship fourteen years ago.”
“A relationship?”
“An affair.”
“Sexual?”
“Yes.”
“So last night was like a reunion huh?”
“I told you why she came to me, her husband—”
“She hired you huh?”
“Yes.”
“Give you a check, retainer, what?”
“We hadn’t formalized—”
“Handle it off the books, old times’ sake huh?”
“Something like that.”
“Which is why she was in your bedroom huh, handling it off the books?”
“Cheap shot Parker.”
“It wasn’t your bedroom?”
“I live in one room so yeah it was my bedroom, my kitchen, my—”
“Her husband comes in catches the two of you having sex huh?”
“No.”
“You and Mrs. Milton were what, sitting in separate chairs, looking at old photo albums, what?”
“I was holding her.”
“Holding her in your arms huh?”
“Yes.”
“But not kissing her?”
“I’m sure Annie has told you—”
“You were kissing her?”
“Yes.”
Gray went back to the other side of the table, forcing Camel to move again. “Paul Milton comes in, finds you and his wife kissing or maybe you were doing more than just kissing, Milton lunges for you with a butcher knife he brought from his place, you pull a little twenty-two magnum and shoot the husband in the mouth.”
“You forgot to say huh.”
“What?”
“I didn’t shoot Annie’s husband.”
“No?”
“He killed himself the way I told you.”
“But you being an experienced homicide detective I bet you can see real clear how I could make a case for the way I told it huh?”
“Yes.”
“Especially since you have powder marks on your right hand, you are right-handed aren’t you?”
“I explained that, I grabbed for the revolver just as—”
“You’re going to have a tough time selling it … guy comes in, catches you with his wife, grabs your gun which you conveniently left out on a counter for him but then he doesn’t shoot you or his wife like you’d expect of an irate husband, decides instead he’s so pissed off at catching his wife with another man that he’s going to shoot himself in the mouth? And to top it all off you say you’re the hero trying to save the husband’s life by grabbing—”
“Charge me or release me.”
Gray smiled like it was something he had to practice in front of a mirror.
“I’m making a formal request Parker, I want to talk with my lawyer.”
&nb
sp; Gray sat in the chair. “I remember when we met, I remember you were a good detective too … and I’m not unmindful of professional courtesy.”
So that’s why the camera’s not on, Camel thought … Gray’s warming to some sort of deal he wants to offer.
“What do you know about Cul-De-Sac huh?”
“Only what Annie told me.”
“I hear you been calling around asking about a homicide case occurred there seven years ago.”
Bingo. “How’s that related to Milton killing himself?”
“You tell me huh?”
“Don’t know.”
“How’d he get a key to your place, we found it in Milton’s pocket.”
“Don’t know that either.”
“Milton was beat up bad, some of the wounds several days old … who was doing that to him huh?”
“Sorry don’t know.”
“Here’s something else I bet you don’t know, Paul Milton had been buggered.”
“Buggered?”
“As in up the ass.”
“You’re right Parker I didn’t know that.”
“Not a friendly buggering either … so what was going on out there at Cul-De-Sac huh?”
“I don’t—”
“Mrs. Milton hire you to find something?”
“You mean find something at Cul-De-Sac?”
Parker Gray nodded.
The elephant … Camel deciding to throw it out there and check Gray’s reaction. “Are you referring to the elephant?”
“The what?” Complete miss, Gray totally baffled. “Did you say elephant?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
Camel didn’t know what else to say.
“Teddy … come on, talk to me.”
“The man Annie saw at Cul-De-Sac Sunday night, that’s the reason she came to me, because she was scared, he said he was looking for an elephant and then tonight before Paul Milton killed himself he said he’d found the elephant.”
“But you don’t know what any of that means, what they’re referring to?”
“No I don’t.”
“Did Paul Milton or his wife ever talk about finding photographs?”
Camel was about to say no one’s mentioned photographs when he caught Gray’s worried expression, the anxiety in his eyes. “I’d prefer not to discuss that.”
Gray stood. “You son-of-a-bitch I’ll have you indicted for shooting Milton, would you prefer that huh?”
“Did you work on the homicide at Cul-De-Sac seven years ago?”
“Don’t question me—”
“Why’s everyone worried about that old case, is the killer, Donald Growler, is he out of prison … or maybe he’s got new lawyers—”
“You’re not here to question me!” Gray started to say something else but then put a hold on his anger, crossing his arms and turning around, speaking with his back to Camel. “There’ll be another detective coming in to record your statement.”
“You’re not even assigned to my case are you?”
Gray said nothing, his back still to Camel.
“Someone screwed up on that old Cul-De-Sac homicide didn’t they … are Growler’s lawyers reopening—”
“Goddamn you Camel.”
“Hey Parker my only interest in this is protecting Annie.”
“Then if I were you I’d take her back to North Carolina.” When Gray turned around his eyes were sad not angry. “And stay away from Cul-De-Sac.”
25
Growler came home to Cul-De-Sac in a series of three cabs. A few miles from Elizabeth Rockwell’s house he’d fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed the car that Paul had rented for him. Growler wasn’t hurt in the wreck but he acted so deranged that the first cabbie chucked him out after two blocks, the second cabbie wanted to take him to a hospital, and the third cabbie threatened him with a tire iron all the way home. Growler finally arrived at Cul-De-Sac more confused than ever because it seemed to him that Elizabeth told the truth … that she had not taken part in a conspiracy against him, that at the time of his trial she really believed he’d killed Hope, and that although she discovered the elephants had been switched she didn’t in fact know where the real one was.
Up in Paul’s bathroom Growler looked in a mirror and touched the bite mark Elizabeth had left high on his cheek … he still intended to kill her, that big corn-fed Murray too. But killing them like killing the Raineys and Kenny would put him no closer to answering the questions that had gnawed those brain holes over the years … who masterminded his betrayal, why?
Growler went looking for St. Paul. His workshop was locked from the outside. Growler checked all the second-floor rooms and was halfway through the third level when he realized the futility of searching further … the son-of-a-bitch had absconded.
When Growler went to the balcony and looked down three floors he experienced a powerful desire to lean forward and go headfirst over the railing, end all this maddening doubt.
At first he’d considered Paul Milton a loyal partner who had nothing to do with the elephant’s disappearance, then Growler became convinced that St. Paul used the three weeks he was here alone, before Growler arrived from prison, to tear Cul-De-Sac apart until he did find the elephant … but then, after torturing Paul in the most terrible ways imaginable, Growler changed his mind again and accepted Milton’s word that he hadn’t taken the elephant.
Now, however … Growler gripping the balcony railing so tightly his muscles trembled from the pressure … now, now with Paul having left Cul-De-Sac after he’d promised to stay here until Growler’s return, now Growler was reconvinced that Milton was the one who’d taken the elephant, that he passed it to his wife when she was here Sunday night, and now, now the two rotten lying ratfuck conspirators are probably back in North Carolina, getting a line on selling the elephant, laughing their smug asses off for pulling a fast one on Old Scratch.
This time when he leaned forward, the tread on his heavy boots slipped on the hardwood flooring, Growler catching himself at the last possible moment. Shaken, he stepped back from the railing … too many people needed killing for him to end it all just yet.
He had maybe twenty-four hours to finish what they, his betrayers, had started seven years ago because soon bodies would be found, the Raineys’ and Kenny Norton’s, and it wouldn’t take long after that for the cops to trace Growler from prison to North Carolina to here. He had to find Paul Milton and his wife, he had to force them to turn over the elephant, then he’d kill them. And if they didn’t have the elephant he’d kill them anyway. That was his philosophy now, kill them all anyway.
26
Day was coming dawn on April 16, not that Teddy Camel would notice in a windowless holding cell, sitting on a fold-down bench, elbows on his knees as he stared at the floor. State police detectives had questioned him for another hour or so after Parker Gray left, Camel thought he was going to be released but instead found himself under arrest for manslaughter, charged with killing Paul Milton.
The way Parker Gray had outlined the case Camel could see how he might be convicted. The prosecutor will say Milton came in with a knife, found his wife with an old lover, Camel shot Milton in the mouth. Another point not in Camel’s favor … a man will commit suicide by placing a muzzle against his heart or his head or inside his mouth but the detectives who questioned and eventually charged Camel said they’d never heard of a suicide where a man shoots himself through his teeth. Neither had Camel. He knew how it happened of course: Milton intended to get the muzzle in his mouth before firing but he was once again pulling back on the trigger not realizing how close the hammer was to striking. This would be one more complication Camel’s lawyer would have to explain to a jury … along with why Camel, a normally cautious man, had left his firearms out on a counter … and why he was kissing another man’s wife. Juries didn’t process complications very well, they preferred simple stories: husband catches man with wife, man kills husband. Camel didn’t like juries.
&nbs
p; He figured he had at least three things going for him. First but least compelling, he was innocent. Second, Annie was a witness though a prosecutor could say she was Camel’s lover, her testimony tainted. Third, whatever Paul Milton was involved in at Cul-De-Sac, whoever had beaten and raped him … these elements could be assembled to show Milton’s suicidal state of mind.
Camel was reviewing all of this when he heard breakfast call, surprised to realize how hungry he was … then surprised again when Eddie Neffering came in carrying the breakfast tray.
“I thought my lawyer was the only one who could get in to see me.”
“Hey Teddy when I retired I left behind a lot of friends.”
Another of Eddie’s life lessons Camel thought as he accepted the tray, uncovered it, sat on the bench and began eating.
Eddie stayed standing.
“You want some of this?” Camel asked between bites.
“No I have a friend who’s in jail, I’m too upset to be eating.” Camel squinted a smile as he continued with breakfast.
“I bet I could take your blood pressure and pulse, they wouldn’t show any elevations would they?”
“How’s Annie?”
“Shaken up pretty bad.”
“Still at your house though.”
“Yes, trying to get some sleep … she couldn’t eat anything either.”
“Yeah well …”
“I hear Parker Gray’s got his ass in a sling.”
“Really?”
