by Frank Zafiro
“Skulking?”
“What would you call it?”
“I’d call it whatever you call what you all were doing up there.”
“So you were conducting surveillance on the Brassart residence?”
I smiled. “Is that what you were doing?”
Matsuda pressed his lips together slightly. It was the first sign of frustration he’d shown yet. “I can see we’re still sparring. If you don’t want to have an honest conversation, maybe our best route is to simply charge you.”
“With what?”
“Trespassing,” Cole interjected brusquely. “For starters.”
“Really?” I raised my eyebrows at him. “And who’s going to press charges for that? Marie Brassart? Because I’m pretty sure that the state can’t.”
“You want to sit in jail while that gets sorted out?”
I shook my head. “No. But I’ll get through it somehow. Probably pass the time thinking about what I’ll do with your house after I sue you for false arrest.”
Cole’s jaw clenched. “Listen, wise ass—”
“The charge would be obstructing an official police investigation,” Matsuda interrupted, his voice even. “And while you may or may not be successful in defending against that charge in the long run, you will spend time in jail waiting for that opportunity, and it will hold up as a valid arrest.”
I turned back to Matsuda. His expression gave nothing away, but I didn’t care. Between the two of them, I already knew what was going on. They may have had home field advantage and a stronger power base, but I was pretty sure I was going to win this one.
“What do you want from me?”
“Why were you there?” Matsuda asked.
“None of your business.”
“See,” Cole cut in, “that makes us think that maybe you’re connected to the murder somehow. Because otherwise, you got no business up at that house.”
“I’m not involved in any murder.”
“Funny, but most of the bad guys I talk to say the same thing.”
“I’ll bet.” Cole’s smarmy expression was really starting to piss me off. “But who knows? Maybe some of them aren’t.”
“Yeah, yeah. Prison’s full of innocent men. Boo-hoo.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said. “But if you’re running around grabbing people up like you did me, then maybe so.”
“Oh, so I’m the bad guy now?”
“If the shoe fits.”
Cole bristled at that. “How about I fit my boot up your ass?”
“That how you conduct most of your interrogations?”
I watched him struggle with his anger, trying to bring it under control. I don’t know what he would have done if it had been his interview, but this one clearly belonged to Matsuda. He was just there for muscle and counterpoint.
Cole pushed himself to his feet. “Fucking piece of shit. You’re going to talk smack about my police work? I never killed no little kids, you puke. I never turned into a criminal, either. So go fuck yourself.” He turned and strode from the room, slamming the door behind him.
I thought you didn’t know who I was, I thought. I turned to Matsuda. “Not quite housebroken yet, huh?”
Matsuda ignored my comment. “You still haven’t answered a very simple question. Why were you in the wooded area outside the Brassart residence?”
“I’m not going to answer that question, Richie. No matter how many times you ask it. Or threaten to arrest me.” I shrugged. “Or even if you follow through and actually do arrest me.”
Matsuda considered me for a little while. Then he said, “Cole may be prone to emotion, but he has a point. One possibility for your presence there is that you’re directly involved in the murder itself.”
“Another possibility is that I was working up the nerve to try to sell her a magazine subscription so I could go on a class trip to Washington, D.C.”
Matsuda frowned. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“Oh, come on.” I leaned forward. “Do you even know the facts of the case? Is it your case? Because if it is, then you already know I’m not involved.”
Matsuda hesitated. “It’s not my case,” he admitted. “But I am involved in the investigation.”
I knew it wasn’t his case. I knew whose it was, too. Katie MacLeod’s. And there were more than a few reasons for her not being the one sitting at the table with me right now. “Then you know this talk of me somehow being involved is bullshit.”
He shook his head. “I know no such thing.”
I rolled my eyes. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”
“You mentioned the facts in this case,” he said. “Do you know what they are?”
“Just what was in the newspaper.”
“Then don’t try to tell me what is ridiculous and what isn’t. From where I sit, you being an accomplice to this murder, or an accessory after the fact, is completely plausible. Especially given your track record.”
“My track record? Of what? Being treated like shit by this department?”
“Being involved in criminal events, for one.”
“You won’t let go of that, will you? You can’t really believe I was in business with that pornographer.”
Matsuda shrugged. “I can’t prove it.”
“But you believe it?”
“I’ll tell you what I believe. I believe that a single incident deserves consideration as an anomaly. Your mistake with regard to Amy Dugger, for instance.”
A flash of cold anger shot through my stomach.
Matsuda pressed on. “Your situation with Roger Jackson could have occurred the way you explained it.”
“It did. Exactly the way I explained it. Only, you and Jack Stone refused to listen to me.”
“Detective Stone is on the cynical side,” Matsuda agreed. “And he has his biases against you, I agree.”
“He’s an asshole,” I said. “Plain and simple.”
Matsuda ignored that and continued. “More recently, I happen to know you had some involvement with organized crime. And that you were a suspect in another murder.”
“And if you knew anything about that, you’d know that was wrong, too. Ask Ray Browning. He worked the case.”
“So did Katie MacLeod,” Matsuda said easily. “And both of them liked you for it, despite the supposedly exculpatory evidence.”
Bringing up Katie was a low blow, and a calculated one. Matsuda didn’t give me time to recover from it.
“And then, after all of those previous events, we catch you sneaking around the Brassart residence during an active murder investigation. So while I could perhaps believe that any one of these singular events was anomalous, it is difficult not to see a pattern of some kind when you put them all together.”
“It amazes me,” I said, shaking my head, “how you people can look at facts and still come up with crazy shit that magically fits what you want to believe.”
“I don’t want to believe anything,” Matsuda answered. “I just want to know the truth.”
“The truth is I didn’t even know about the murder of Henry Brassart until recently. So go ahead and look for facts to twist to the contrary if you want, but that’s the simple truth. As for the rest?” I shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
“If you weren’t involved, why were you there?”
I didn’t answer.
“Are you working for someone?” Matsuda asked. “The newspaper, maybe?”
I snorted. “The River City Herald is the last place I’d go looking for a job.”
“Who, then?” Matsuda leaned forward. “Tell me, and we can be done with this.”
“I think I’m done now,” I said. “Book me or let me go. I’m finished talking to you.”
Matsuda stared at me for a long while, thinking. I reflected his flat stare back to him. Finally, he rose and left the room.
I went back to waiting.
22
It was Cole and Dan-o who came back to the interview room fifteen minutes l
ater. Cole was still seething, I could tell. He removed his handcuffs from his case, and for a second I thought they really were going to book me into jail. But Dan-o stepped in front of Cole and motioned for me to stand.
When I did, he handed me a plastic bag with my belongings in it. “We’re releasing you,” he said.
“For now,” Cole added.
I took my keys and wallet out of the bag, folded it and dropped it on the table. After I slid my wallet into my back pocket, I held up my keys and gave them a shake. “I’ll need a ride back to my car.”
“Take a cab, motherfucker,” Cole growled at me.
“Yeah?” I said. “Maybe after my lawyer’s done with you, I’ll take your car up there instead. If I can get the smell of bullshit out of it first.”
Fire flashed in Cole’s eyes, and he bowed up. I felt an odd combination of emotions in that moment. Anger, at him and the situation. For that reason, I was a little hopeful he’d make a move and give me a chance to tangle with him. Even if I lost, he was going to feel it.
Another part of me felt ashamed, though. Even as the words came out of my mouth, I knew I sounded like many of the shitheads I’d dealt with on the street myself. Always playing the lawyer card. Always threatening to sue and take the cop’s stuff. Or asking him to take off the handcuffs so we could see who was tough. It was a familiar dance, but now I was in a different role.
It didn’t feel good.
Dan-o saved both Cole and me from each other. “I’ll run you up there,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Cole stared intensely at me for a few, long seconds. I couldn’t tell if it was an act or not any more. Finally, he shrugged and turned and walked away without another word.
Neither Dan-o nor I spoke as we walked out of the building to his car. He led me on a circuitous route through the building, and I realized he was doing it to avoid running into more detectives. I didn’t know whether to thank him for that, or tell him off, so I opted for silence.
Silence seemed to suit him just fine, too. We rode back to Namaste Estates without a word. When he pulled up behind my Toyota, he put the car into park.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, not sure if I meant it or not.
“No problem,” he said.
I reached for the door.
“I’m supposed to tell you,” Dan-o continued, “to stay away from the Brassart house and this investigation. It’s a formal warning, and Detective Matsuda has instructed us to arrest you if you violate it.”
I thought about arguing, but Dan-o was just the messenger, so what would have been the point? Instead, I just nodded that I understood. “Thank you, Daniel,” I said, and got out of his car.
I could feel his eyes on me when I opened the door to my car and got inside. Immediately, I knew that they’d been in it. For one, my driver’s seat was moved at least two notches further back. For another, I could smell a wispy trace of Cole’s cologne inside.
I clench my jaw in anger. Unless case law had changed radically, they had no right to search my car. I almost got out and laid into Dan-o for it, but once again, what would have been the point? He didn’t do it, and that reaction was probably what Cole was hoping for.
So instead, I started the car, made a careful U-turn and drove away.
23
I spent the afternoon driving around, thinking. While I was pretty sure the interview had been a complete waste of time for Matsuda, it had yielded a couple of useful nuggets for me. I kicked them around in my head for a couple of hours, then called Clell.
“Can I run something by you before you head to work?”
“I can’t,” he said. “I’m actually at work now.”
“I thought you were on nights all month.”
“I am. But someone called in sick, so I’m covering part of his shift.”
“Oh. Well, never mind.”
“It’s no problem. You can come by after five. All the businesses are closed by then, and I’ve just got the lobby.”
I agreed, and hung up. That’s when I realized I was famished. I made a quick turn into the parking lot of The Steer Inn. The sharp screech of brakes came from behind me. I glanced in my rear view mirror to see a blue Taurus come to a hard stop right behind where I’d been. The sun was behind me, so I couldn’t make out the driver, except for a vague shape. I waited for the horn honk, or a fist shake, or more likely, a middle finger. But after a moment, he lurched forward. I saw a long white scrape in the blue paint of the front quarter panel, and then the car was gone from my rear view.
“Maybe don’t follow so close next time, asshole,” I muttered. Him driving that way was probably what caused that damage in the first place.
The Steer Inn wasn’t the healthiest of choices, but it was fast. I went inside and ordered a burger and fries. While I sat in a window booth and chewed, I ran things through the meat grinder in my head.
By the time I finished, it was well after five. I found the building Clell was guarding, parked nearby, and made my way to the front door. Clell spotted me from the nearby desk, and rose to let me in.
“What’s so urgent?” he asked.
“I spent my afternoon with the cops.”
He gave me a concerned look. “You didn’t get arrested again, did you?”
“Almost. Or at least, that’s what they wanted me to believe.”
I filled him in on the details. As always, he listened with little or no interruption. He cocked his head slightly, like a dog encountering an unfamiliar sound, and occasionally nodded and stroked his mustache.
When I finished, he pursed his lips in thought. “Sounds like this case is going to be like all the others,” he said quietly.
“What do you mean?”
“Trouble with the police, is what I mean.”
“It’s not like I seek them out,” I said. “I couldn’t avoid it this time, either.”
“Maybe not,” Clell admitted. “But I don’t like it.”
“Neither did I, if you want the truth. But it was worth it.”
“Because…?”
“I learned a couple of things. Matsuda was coy, but he let a couple of things slip.”
“Like the fact that they’re watching that lady.”
“For starters, yeah. In fact, it’s my bet that they got a judge to lower her bail so she could afford to bond out exactly because they wanted to watch her.”
“Why, though?” Clell asked.
“The only thing I can figure is that their case against her isn’t as solid as they’d like. Something’s missing, and they’re hoping that by letting her out of jail, she’ll screw up and show them.”
“She could run, too.”
I shook my head. “Not with the surveillance team. If she made it to the airport, they’d pick her up. Even if she got onto I-90 and headed out of the county, I’m sure it’d be a violation of her release and they’d stop her.”
Clell considered, then nodded in agreement. “Okay, say that’s true. What makes you think their case isn’t solid?”
“Maybe that’s not the way to put it. I’m sure it’s solid, or she wouldn’t have been charged. But they’ve got gaps, and they don’t know what goes in those gaps.”
“How could you know that without the file?”
I held up a finger. “First off, because they’re still working the case with this surveillance. Second, when they took me in for questioning, they kept hitting on whether I was involved in the murder. At first, I thought that they were just using it as a scare tactic, but they kept on it for way too long. Matsuda didn’t even consider I might be working for someone else until late in the conversation. That indicates a mindset, and points to a potential hole in the case. It makes me think that they’re focused on whether or not Marie Brassart actually did the deed or hired someone to do it.”
“Sounds like a stretch.”
“Maybe. But it’s the first sign I’ve had so far that points towards the possibility that she isn’t guilty. Everything else I’ve learned points the
opposite direction.”
“Maybe that’s because she did do it.”
“Maybe. But I want to have a better feel for it before I give Harrity a recommendation. I owe him that.” I owed him a lot more than that, really. “Besides, maybe I’m crazy but now I’m not so sure she did it. It seemed straightforward at first, but there are some odd wrinkles to it that make me wonder.”
Clell thought about it for a long while. We sat in an easy silence while he did. Finally he shrugged. “You’re not crazy. But I don’t know if you can say any of the rest for sure.”
“You’re right. That’s why I have to go back up there.”
24
This time, I parked on the next street over. In this neighborhood, that meant I’d be walking, but it was worth it to avoid the police. I trudged through the wooded area, trying to be as quiet as possible. One of Brassart’s neighbors believed in high, strong fences, and I made sure to go around that property. All the while, I kept my ears pricked for killer dogs, cops, and grizzly bears while trying not to get lost as darkness began to fall.
I made a long loop through the woods that landed me on the far side of Marie Brassart’s home. Unless the cops had changed their surveillance vantage point, they were now on the opposite side of the house, looking at the front. I crouched down and leaned back against the rough bark of a tree, and watched the back.
There wasn’t much to see.
An hour passed. Lights came on in the house, and I saw the silhouette of Marie Brassart pass before several windows. At least, I assumed it was her. The angle of the lights, and the blinds made her shadow bulky and indistinct. I watched for the flicker of a television set but saw none. Whatever she did to pass the time, it wasn’t watching reality TV.
Another hour passed. My calves ached. I rose and walked a few yards away to urinate. That was the only thing good about the woods, as far as I could tell. It was one giant toilet.
