Medieval Murders (17 page)

39

Pascoe was able to unwind from her encounter with Oscar Miller on the long ride to Branch County. Once there one of the deputies guided her through security to the jail’s interior. She waited for Merchant inside the interview room, a small, windowless cubicle with an oak table and four gray steel chairs. Feeling claustrophobic, Pascoe moved out to the hall while Merchant was brought from a holding cell. She caught a glimpse of him as he was being led down the hall. When he was seated across from her—Ney on her right, and a deputy leaning against the wall next to the door—she was able to observe him more closely.

Although she knew Merchant to be in his twenties, as he sat across from her, he looked much older. He had a four or five day beard, and his long, ragged, unwashed hair hung almost to his shoulders. He was unkempt, grimy, and he stank of tobacco, booze, and filth. He sagged in the chair, his head down, mouth open.

Ney, looking toward the microphone on the side of the table near the wall, stated the time and date, identified the people in the room and asked Merchant to state his full name. Without looking up, Merchant mumbled his name.

Ney pointed to the microphone. “Microphone is over here, Arlin. You gotta speak in a clear voice or the recording sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo.”

Merchant lifted his head and gave Ney a hostile sneer. “Arlin Lee Merchant.”

As he spoke, Pascoe could see Merchant was missing several teeth. The rest were mottled with large areas of decay.

Ney asked, “Arlin, when you were taken into custody, were you read your rights?”

“Ya.”

“Before this interview, were you given the right to be represented by counsel?”

“Ain’t got nothing to hide. Don’t need no fucking lawyer.”

“Arlin, according to the people over at the county garage, you haven’t been in since last Tuesday. Where have you been?

“Don’t know.”

“What do you mean, don’t know?”

“Can’t remember much bout the last few days.”

“Well,” said Ney, finding humor in Merchant’s response, “tell us what you can remember.”

“Sunday,” he paused, “maybe it was Monday, Kenny comes over. Kenny’s got more than a thousand bucks. He shows me the money and says we should celebrate.”

“Where in the world did Kenny Nelson ever come up with a thousand dollars?” Ney asked.

“He got it from his brother, Donny, the lawyer.”

“Donny gave him a thousand dollars?”

“No, it’s from a law suit. Kenny fell and busted his two front teeth outside the Farwell Tap couple a years ago. Donny sued them for Kenny. Got the settlement check from an insurance company on Monday. Donny took half and gave Kenny a thousand. He’s holding on to the rest of the money for Kenny.”

“So what did you and Kenny do?”

“Kenny wanted to go on a road trip. We went and got five, six cases of beer and a case of Jim Beam. Kenny said something about going to Tucson to see Doug. Sounded good to me, ain’t never been to Tucson. Went back to Kenny’s, and that’s as far as we got till we ran out of beer, maybe Friday or Saturday. Kenny went and got some more.”

Ney looked over at Pascoe, turning the questioning over to her. “Did you go anywhere after you got to Kenny’s?” she asked.

“Not till last night. Kenny wanted me to help him take the empties back.”

“Were you in University Center this week?” asked Pascoe.

“Where?”

“University Center.”

“No, ma’am.”

“Is there anyone who can verify your story?”

“Kenny.”

“Is there anyone besides Kenny?”

“No, ma’am.”

Pascoe opened a folder and placed a copy of a letter on the table in front of Merchant. “Did you write this letter?”

Merchant leaned forward, extended a grimy finger and pulled the sheet closer to him. He peered at the page for a long moment and said, without looking up, “Yeah, I wrote it. Ain’t no law bout writing letters.”

Before Pascoe could ask her next question, Ney said, “This isn’t the kind of thing you send to a lady.” In a scolding tone he added, “You know better than that, Arlin. Think you would a gotten paroled if the board knew what kind of letters you sent?”

“Let me ask you this question again,” said Pascoe. “Were you in University Center this week?”

“No.”

“Mr. Merchant, have you been in University Center since you’ve been released from prison?”

“No, ma’am. I think I was only there once. That was a long time ago.”

“What was your intent when you,” she stopped mid-sentence and rephrased her question. “Why did you write this letter?”

“I was mad.”

She softened her tone. “What were you mad about?”

“When I was in her class, she was real nice to me. After I got out of her class, I wrote her a couple of letters, and she wrote back. I wrote her a couple more times, but she didn’t write back. Then Zeigler tells me I ain’t to write her any more. I don’t, don’t till I get out. Then I wrote her this because I was pissed. Thought it would scare her a bit.”

Pascoe continued in the same tone, “What were you angry about?”

Merchant didn’t answer immediately; he continued to look down. He lifted his head slightly and looked at Pascoe. “She was just like all the rest. They come and teach their class and treat you real nice, like you’re a real person and all that. But it’s all fake, a bunch of bull. You’re dirt. You know it, and they know it.”

Pascoe looked over at Ney. “I don’t have anything else.”

“Okay, Bob,” said Ney. The deputy escorted Merchant out.

“What now?” she asked.

“He’s almost sober. We’ll feed him some coffee and peanut butter sandwiches and give him a ride home. He’s his parole officer’s problem now.”

“Any chance I could talk to Merchant’s alibi, Kenny Nelson?

“I could probably arrange that, but he’ll insist on having his brother in the room. He’s the sleaziest lawyer in the county. I’ll make some phone calls. I’ll be back in a few.”

Pascoe was keying her notes into her laptop when Ney returned.

“Well, it’s not going to happen today. Donny is taking a deposition this afternoon and is unavailable, but I’m sure we can get Donny to cooperate.”

“Why are you so sure? You said he was a real sleaze.”

“We found something else in the car, a bag of grass, less than an ounce. I’m sure Donny will be real helpful if I suggest we might be able to work something out.”

“You didn’t find a rifle in Kenny’s car by any chance?”

Ney looked amused, “Now Miss Pascoe, if we’d found a gun, I would have told you right off.”

“Any chance of searching Kenny’s house? I’m just trying to explore all possibilities.”

“Getting a search warrant would be a lot of trouble. We kinda do things informal here when we can. I’m sure I can have Donny go with me and look around his brother’s house. He’ll be real helpful. He won’t want his brother involved in a felony.”

As Pascoe drove back to University Center, she remembered Elkins’s counsel to put herself in the other person’s world. She thought about Merchant’s world. It happened all the time, inmates falling in love with women who work in prison programs. On the inside they’re separated by guards, bars, and walls. On the outside they’re separated by social class and education. Pascoe understood his rage.

40

Pascoe arrived in the late afternoon carrying a large brown paper bag. Ray could smell the curry as soon as he opened the door for her.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“You said you couldn’t have coffee or wine, but you didn’t say anything about spices. And I know how much you love Indian. And after a couple of days of hospital food, this is the least I can do for a friend.”

“How about Merchant?”

“We’ll talk about him over dessert. I don’t want the food to get cold.”

With Ray’s help, Charlene got the table set and the food into serving containers. After they started eating, he said, “I’ve been held almost incommunicado for days. What’s happened?

“Just the usual fun-filled fall weekend on campus. Some members of the hockey team duked it out with some lacrosse players over at the Candlelight Inn on Saturday night. It was a major brawl.”

“What was that all about?” asked Ray.

“According to the best information I have, a member of the women’s tennis team.” Charlene laughed, “In your absence, I had calls from the chancellor’s office, the A.D., and the hockey and lacrosse coaches.”

“How about the women’s tennis coach?” asked Ray.

“It appears that the tennis player left with a basketball player just as the fists began to fly.”

“What’s the outcome?”

“No one is interested in pressing charges and the owner of the Candlelight says there were no damages.”

“Anything else?”

“No, thankfully. An unusually quiet weekend.”

As they were clearing away the dishes, Elkins said, “Now can I ask about Merchant?”

“I am amazed, Ray. I didn’t know that you could stay off task for this long. Bravo! Now here’s the story. At the time they were picked up, both Merchant and the guy he was with, a fellow by the name of Kenny Nelson, had astronomical blood alcohols. Merchant said they had been drinking for six days, and by the length of his beard and his odor....”

“Bet you had to interview him in a little room with no ventilation?”

“You got it. Anyway, his story is that his friend, Kenny, got a grand from a damage suit, and the two of them dedicated themselves to drinking up the money. They were arrested when they came out for more beer.”

“Any support for his alibi?”

“His friend, an equally disreputable person, seems to be the only one who can substantiate his story.”

“So he has no alibi?”

“He doesn’t have a strong alibi, but I just don’t think he’s our man.”

“Why’s that?”

“I believe his story. You should have seen him. He was barely functioning. And he’s a completely defeated human being. When he hadn’t been drinking for a week, he could probably write that letter, but I don’t think he would act on it.”

“Support?”

“He would need a way of getting here.”

“How about Kenny?”

“Kenny was drunk.”

“He could have taken Kenny’s car without Kenny even knowing it.”

“I don’t think it happened. He’d also need a rifle with a scope. There was no weapon.”

“Where did they look?”

“In the car. Ney is going to check Nelson’s house.”

“Lots of places you could lose a gun between here and Branch County—ditch, river.”

“It’s not Merchant, Elkins. He’s not the shooter. Merchant’s just a poor lost soul. Arden is probably the first person who ever treated him decently. She’s probably the only person who ever found anything worthwhile in him. Talk to Ney. Can you imagine growing up in a little town where everyone thinks you and your family are total losers. I’m sure that’s the way he’s always seen himself. While he’s in the penitentiary he takes a couple of courses from an attractive woman who says something positive about his work, and more importantly, suggests that he has value as a person. He’s the schoolboy who’s fallen for his teacher. Merchant reaches out to this woman in the only way he knows. Unfortunately, his approach is very inappropriate. When he’s rebuffed, he strikes out at her. But he only does it on paper.”

Elkins looked amused, “My memory is that when we first looked at Merchant’s letter, you said you liked to nail ‘bastards like that.’ Those were your words, or something to that effect. Now I hear this bleeding-heart,” he gestured toward her, “telling me that poor Arlin is the victim of his environment. I’m confused. Perhaps my brain is still rattled.”

“It’s all your fault. Remember your dictum about trying to understand the perpetrator? That’s all I was doing. And I think it really applies here.”

“If we don’t have a likely suspect, we have a real problem. And,” he paused for a moment, “if this shooting is connected with the other deaths, we’re dealing with someone who will try again to achieve his ends.”

“I’ve thought of that,” she responded.

“We need to continue to keep Arden out of circulation and see if we can move the investigation forward.”

“I’ll make sure that happens.”

“How about Jane Arden?”

“I looked at her pre-employment background check in her HR file. Nothing. And I ran her name through NCIC, nothing.

“Tomorrow morning let’s go back to the carillon. We’ve missed something. We need to start there.”

“I thought you were supposed to take it easy?”

“I will. I want to be there with you.”

Pascoe started to protest, but she was cut off by the arrival of Stephanie Chesterton and Jane Arden. They were standing on the back deck knocking on one of the double doors to the kitchen. Elkins, after greeting them, turned to Jane Arden and said, “We were just taking about you.” He went on to explain their continued concern for her security, allowing Pascoe to fill in the details.

“I will cooperate completely. I really appreciate what you are doing.”

“Now if we could just get the patient to cooperate,” said Pascoe, pointing at Ray as she gathered up her things.

“What time are you picking me up?” he asked as she was heading toward the front door.

“10:00 A.M., not a minute before,” she replied on her way out.

“I was going to ask you to dinner,” said Stephanie, “but it appears that your colleague has taken care of that.”

As Stephanie was talking, Ray was looking at Jane Arden. She was at ease, relaxed and smiling. He felt very attracted to her, and it unnerved him.

“Jane,” he said, “other than us, did you show or discuss the Merchant letter with anyone else?”

“Stephanie and Jim Zeigler, the fellow at the prison.”

“Anyone else?”

“No one.”

“How are you doing? How’s the hand?” he asked.

“The hand is healing. The stitches come out sometime next week. But the real question is how are you doing? I’m so sorry about what happened to you. You go above and beyond your job description, and your reward is to almost get killed.” She gave him a warm smile. “And now it’s your turn to answer.”

“I feel fine, I just miss my coffee. I’m suffering from caffeine withdrawal.”

“How about pain?” asked Stephanie, entering the conversation.

“A few aches and pains, nothing really,” said Ray.

“He needs a few weeks up in Michigan walking the beaches or kayaking. That would bring a rapid recovery,” Stephanie explained.“It would be a good time to be there,” agreed Ray. “The weather is still warm and most of the tourists are long gone. The beaches are empty, and you can find a table in your favorite restaurant.”