Hangman (27 page)

“What about living with your aunt?”

“I love Melissa, but she doesn’t have the same standards of cleanliness that I do. I have a real hard time living in messy surroundings.”

“Another compulsive.” Jake high-fived Gabe. “Maybe you can help out our sister? I can’t go into her room.”

“Neither can I,” Gabe said. “It makes me anxious.”

Sammy said, “We’re going out to get a pizza. You want to come?”

Gabe was hungry, but he declined. “I’m okay. I’ll unpack your bags, if you want.”

“No one touches my things,” Jake said.

“Sorry,” Gabe said. “I won’t play your guitar anymore.”

“I’m ribbing you.” Jake jumped up from the bed. “You can have the guitar. I mean that. I never play it anymore. Never really played it much to begin with. Come with us, kid.” He gently whacked Gabe in his hollow stomach. “You look like you can use a couple of extra calories.”

Gabe felt his skin grow warm. “Thanks. Can I ask why you’re here?”

“Other than the fact that I live here?”

Sammy said, “We came in to surprise our dad.”

“Technically, he’s our stepdad. But after enduring all of the grief I gave him, he has earned the title of Dad.”

“The Loo is turning sixty on Sunday,” Sammy said. “We’re surprising him and our mother and sister. We’ve got a massive dinner planned at the station house today at seven. The only one who knows about it is our stepsister and her husband.”

“That’s Cindy and Koby, right?”

“You sure made yourself at home in a short time,” Jake said. “As long as you’re here, you can help us pick up the food.”

Sam said, “We ordered enough to feed the entire station house. We’re picking it up at five. What time is it?”

Gabe checked his watch. “Two-thirty.”

“Any idea where our mother is?” Jake asked.

“I think she’s at school. She said she’ll be home around four.”

“Perfecto,” Jake said. “We should be home just in time. Are you coming with us for pizza or not?”

“Sure. Thanks.” Gabe got his wallet and stuffed it into his pants. “That’s cool. I didn’t know that the Loo was that close to sixty.”

Then again, why on earth should he know?

He kept forgetting that he was a stranger.

O
VER THE MONITOR,
the detectives saw Chuck Tinsley fidget and twitch, his meaty right leg bouncing up and down. He was also muttering, his thin lips making sounds that didn’t quite articulate into words. Although he had come in willingly—the cops had used the ruse that they needed his help—his facial expression said:
Lemme outta here
. Dark eyes set into a seamed face swept the room, failing to focus for more than a second or two. His muscular arms and chest were covered in a gray T-shirt. Faded jeans and athletic shoes completed the outfit. A lightweight black nylon jacket rested on his lap.

“He’s nervous,” Decker said to Oliver and Marge. “Like he’s guilty of something. Hang tight in case I need reinforcements.”

“We’re not going anywhere.”

As soon as Decker left, Oliver said, “When is the food for his party coming?”

“Around six-thirty. We were supposed to get him out of the station house by six.”

“It’s four now. You think he’ll be able to wrap this up in a couple of hours?”

“Don’t know how hard he’ll be to crack. Let’s hope that the Loo is at the top of his game.”

TINSLEY’S COMPLEXION WAS
almost as green as the first time Decker had seen him. Maybe he should have brought in a barf bag. “Thanks for coming in.” He placed a cup of coffee in front of the foreman, along with some whitening powder and a couple of sugars. “Thought you could use something to do with your hands.”

Tinsley picked up the coffee. “I look that nervous?”

“More like you have better things to do with your time.”

“That’s true.” Tinsley took a sip of coffee, made a face, and then added the whitener and the sugar. “I don’t know what I could tell you now that I didn’t tell you the first time. Tell you the truth, I don’t wanna remember.” He lowered his head. “It was horrible. How do you do that, day in and day out?”

“I like getting bad guys off the streets.” Decker took the chair next to him. “You’re a little calmer than the first time we met. Maybe some details might come back.”

“What kind of details?”

“I don’t know.” The Loo took out his notebook. “Why don’t you start at the beginning?”

“Like when I got to work or when I first saw her?”

Tinsley had given Decker an opening. “Well, let’s start with when you first saw her.” A noncommittal smile. “When was the first time you saw Adrianna Blanc?”

Tinsley cleared his throat. “I came to the site around one forty-five. I noticed the body around five minutes later.”

“Tell me exactly what happened?”

The recitation came by rote. He got to the Grossman project around one forty-five. He wanted to clean up before the inspector came later in the afternoon. He started picking up trash, noticed a spot with a lot of flies, saw the body, dropped the garbage bag, and heaved. Lastly, he called 911. His story—from start to finish—lasted five minutes.

Good and fine except Yvette Jackson had ID’d Tinsley from a six-pack as the man Adrianna was talking to at Garage. It was now almost four o’clock. Decker didn’t know how long they would dance around the truth, but he knew that Tinsley would crash sooner than later. The Loo stared at his prey for a few seconds, trying to unnerve him.

“Mr. Tinsley, I didn’t ask you for the first time that you saw Adrianna’s corpse. I asked you when was the first time that you saw Adrianna Blanc.”

Again, Tinsley cleared his throat. “I don’t understand. I saw her hanging up there about five minutes after I came onto the property.”

“I’m not arguing with you. I’m sure you did see the body hanging from the rafters at about one-fifty in the afternoon. But that’s not what I’m asking. Listen carefully.” Decker leaned over. “When was the first time you saw Adrianna Blanc?”

“At around one-fifty that Monday afternoon.” Tinsley’s leg was going a mile a minute. “I don’t know what you’re getting at.”

“Why do you think I’m getting at something?”

“’Cause you keep repeating yourself.”

“That’s because you’re not answering my question. When was the first time you saw Adrianna Blanc?”

“I am answering your question. Around one-fifty in the afternoon.”

“And that’s your story?”

“Whaddaya mean that’s my story?” His hands were shaking. “That’s the truth. I thought you wanted my help.”

“I do want your help. That’s why I asked you to come in here.”

“So I came in. Now why are you giving me a hard time?”

“I don’t mean to give you a hard time, but we have a little problem.”

Tinsley looked stricken. “What kind of problem?”

“Let me start with another question. Where were you the previous evening?” Decker gave him the date to refresh his memory. “It was Sunday night. Do you remember where you were between seven and ten
P.M.
?”

Without hesitation, Tinsley said, “I wanna lawyer.”

“We can get you representation.” Decker stood up. “Or you can get your own. In the meantime, you’ll be booked and printed—”

“What do you mean booked and printed?”

“You can have your lawyer meet you here. The arraignment will probably be sometime tonight—”

“Arraignment for what?”

Tinsley bolted up. Decker was bigger than the foreman, but a physical confrontation was that last thing he wanted. “Could you please sit down, sir?”

The foreman looked around as if he hadn’t realized he was on his feet. “What the fuck is going on? What’re you charging me with?”

“I have a number of choices: obstruction of justice, lying to the police, maybe murder—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Tinsley shot back in his chair, a horrified look on his face. “Wait just a fucking minute! I didn’t murder anyone!”

“I’m not saying you did. You just asked what I was going to book you for—”

“You’re not going to frame me for this bullshit!” He was panting and sweating. “I didn’t have nothin’ to do with her death.”

“You can’t speak to me, Mr. Tinsley. You asked for your lawyer.”

“Just let me say something—”

“You asked for a lawyer,” Decker repeated.

“What if I say I don’t want a lawyer now? Can I ask for a lawyer later?”

Decker said, “Mr. Tinsley…” He sighed. “Chuck, can I call you Chuck?”

“Call me whatever the hell you want to call me. Just let me say something.”

“If you want to talk to me, you have to sign a waiver that you’ve been advised of your rights and you waive your right to an attorney.”

“But I can ask for one later.”

“You can ask, sure.”

“So where do I sign?”

“Let me advise you of your rights first.”

“I’m not signing anything until you tell me what you are charging me with.”

“Let’s start with obstruction of justice—”

“I didn’t obstruct anything!”

“Let me tell you your rights. Then you can decide what you want to do.”

“I didn’t
do
anything!”

“Just shut up and listen, okay?” Decker finally got the Miranda out. He asked Tinsley if he understood his rights.

“Do I look like a moron?”

“Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“So sign here.”

Tinsley inked the card. “Can I talk now?”

“Do you wish to waive your right to an attorney? Yes or no?”

“Yes.”

“Even though you asked for one before, now you don’t want an attorney?”

“I just want to talk to you for a few minutes. Then I’ll ask for my lawyer.”

Meaning he wanted to figure out how much the police know. Decker said, “Are you waiving your rights to an attorney even though you asked for one five minutes ago?”

“I already told you yes.”

“So sign the card right here. That says that you’re willing to talk to the police without an attorney present. And you know that anything you say can be used against you in a court of law.”

“Fine, fine.” He signed the card again. “Now can I say my piece?”

“Say anything you want, Mr. Tinsley. I’m all ears.”

“I didn’t murder anyone! That’s bullshit!” He sat back and folded his arms. “And that’s all I wanted to say.”

“Chuck…” Decker started out. “Did you really think that you could go to Garage and flirt with Adrianna for over an hour without someone recognizing you?”

“I didn’t kill her.”

“I didn’t say you did. All I said is, Do you really think you could flirt with Adrianna for over an hour without someone recognizing you?”

Tinsley didn’t answer.

“Chuck, you had buddies there. They called out your name. Chuck, over here, Charley, pick up a cold one for us. People recognized you, Chuck. You’re not a moron, but neither are cops. We’ve all been doing this for a very long time.”

“I didn’t kill her. I was sick to my stomach when I saw her hanging up there.”

“So how’d she get up there?”

“The fuck if I know! I didn’t put her there!” His eyes watered. “Someone’s trying to frame me. Honest to God, she left before I did…way before I did. Someone musta…” He clamped his lips shut. “I didn’t hurt her. I’ve never hurt a woman in my life!”

“So tell me how Adrianna wound up in your construction site?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you!” He wiped his forehead with the hem of his T-shirt. “I shoulda said something in the beginning, but I knew that you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Start from the beginning, Chuck. Tell me everything. It’ll feel good to get it off your chest.”

The man slunk down in the chair. “I never been to Garage before.”

“So what brought you down there?”

“A buddy of mine suggested it. I musta got there around seven-thirty. Adrianna was already there. I noticed her right away.”

“What was she doing?”

“Talking to one of the hostesses. I think her name was Emerald. She was cheap-looking—not Adrianna, the hostess. I got the feeling that I coulda taken her home that night, but she wasn’t my type. Now I wish to God that I did. She coulda been my alibi.”

Decker immediately thought of two reasons why that wouldn’t have worked: (1) Adrianna Blanc was murdered the next day, not on Sunday night, and (2) Crystal Larabee was dead. Tinsley didn’t know how lucky he was, not taking her home. “And this was around seven-thirty?”

“Yeah, around that.”

“Go on.”

“So I was drinking with my buddy Paul. Have you talked to Paul yet?”

“He’s next on my list,” Decker lied. “What’s Paul’s last name again?”

“Goldback.”

“Sorry to interrupt. Keep going.”

“So I was talking to Paul, but looking at Adrianna. And she was talking to the hostess but looking at me. You know that kind of thing. We both knew there was some kinda spark.”

“Okay.”

“So after I finish my beer, I go over to her. I offered to buy her whatever she was drinking.”

“What time was this?”

“Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes later.”

“So around ten to eight.”

“I guess.” Tinsley paused. “I thought she was a recovering alcoholic. She was drinking club soda. But then she told me that she had to go to work, so that’s why she wasn’t hitting anything heavy. She told me she was a nurse and worked with babies and that the one thing she promised was that she’d never drink right before she’d work. I thought that was really honorable, you know.”

Decker nodded. “I agree.”

“Then she said that she knew Emerald from high school, and if there was anything that I wanted, she could probably talk Emerald into giving it up for free.”

“I don’t know anyone working at Garage named Emerald, Chuck. Do you mean Crystal?”

“Yeah, Crystal. Adrianna was talking to me about Crystal and her work as a nurse and so on. I was talking about my work. We musta talked for over an hour. Crystal kept coming over, offering me free refills of my beer. Finally, she said she had to go to work. Adrianna did.”

“What time was that?”

“A little before ten. I asked her where she was working tonight
and she said St. Tim’s. I told her I was working at a site right near there. I asked for her phone number and suggested lunch or dinner.”

“What’d she say?”

“She asked me for my phone number instead. I didn’t think twice about that. Lotta women check out guys before they go out with them. So I gave her my business card. It had my cell number and my e-mail address. But I remember very clearly writing down the address of where I was working…to show her I really was working close to St. Tim’s and not giving her a line.”

“You wrote down the address of the Grossmans’ house?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“We found her purse, Chuck. We didn’t find any of your cards in it.”

Tinsley’s face turned white. Decker waited him out.

“My card was in her coat pocket when I found her. I took it out.”

Decker stared at him. “Do you still have the card?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“You think?”

“It’s in the nightstand of my bedroom. I’ll get it for you.” Tinsley spoke intensely. “Don’t you get it, Lieutenant? Someone found my card in her purse or pocket and hung her up on my construction site to frame me.”

No pun intended, Decker thought to himself. “That’s a possibility.”

“It’s what happened! Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to murder someone, then put her somewhere that was connected to me. I’d have to be a
moron
.”

The jails were filled with stupid criminals. Decker said, “You know that when you removed the card, you tampered with material evidence.”

“I knew that if the cops found it, it looked bad for me.”

“It does look bad for you right now, Chuck.”

“Look, I admitted to removing the card. Would I be stupid enough to leave a body where I was working? I’ll answer that. The answer is no. Someone left the card in her pocket to make me look bad.”

“Could be. Because right now, the focus is on you.”

“Lieutenant, I swear she left the bar alive and that was the last time I saw her until I found her body at the construction site.”

“Let’s backtrack a little bit. What did you do after Adrianna left?”

“I talked to Em…to Crystal for a little bit. Then I talked to some chick named Lucy. No chemistry there. I left Garage’s at about eleven, and went straight home. I don’t remember what I did. I usually go to bed between twelve and one.”