Nantucket Five-Spot (7 page)

“Some of them are so big they can't even get in to the harbor. It's a whole little subculture. I eavesdrop on them at fund raisers. All they talk about is their stuff. ‘My yacht has a bigger sky bar than yours' ‘But mine carries two helicopters.' They can't understand why the old money Nantucketers won't talk to them. One of them actually said to me after some old Yacht Club Yankee walked off in the middle of a sentence, ‘Why did he do that?' I answered, ‘because you're greedy and boring.'”

“What did he say?”

“'Don't expect any donations to the Police Benevolent Association this year.' As he stamped off I said, ‘Petty and vindictive, too.' I actually got yelled at by one of our selectmen for that one.”

“You always had a knack for public relations.”

“So did anything ever happen between you and Jack?”

She sipped her wine. “He did ask me out finally. In violation of all his own policies about co-workers seeing each other socially. I took the occasion to tell him I was getting married.”

I set my drink down and double-checked her left hand. “You're not married now.”

“It was a mistake.”

“Let me guess. He wanted you to quit and be a stay-at-home mom.”

“Something like that. I was supposed to dust the town house and change diapers while he went off to teach.”

“A teacher with a town house. He must have had family money. I'm sure they thought you were a gold digger.”

“Ugh. I'd rather be broke. Which I was anyway. I had to sign a seventeen page pre-nup. When we got divorced I even had to give back the presents he bought me. Including the BWM 330ci coupe I got for my thirty-second birthday.”

“Sorry about that.”

“Don't be. It was an automatic.”

“Yeah—who wants a sports coupe without a stick shift?”

“He didn't know much about cars.”

“He didn't know much about you. That's my reading.”

She drained her wine. “Let's order.”

I had swordfish. Franny chose lobster. She worked the meat out of the claws expertly, bit down and sucked it out of the legs while I told her about my own divorce, which had been unusually temperate. Miranda got custody of the kids and the house had been in her family since the 1940s. I liked my little apartment, I loved my time with the kids, but I relished my time alone.

“You walk into the empty house, and the TV is off and no music is playing and there's no mess and the place is—I don't know…it's like—resonant with silence. Like the walls have finally stopped vibrating. You ease yourself into it like a hot bath. And by the end of the night you miss them again.”

She put her fork down, wiped her mouth with a napkin. “But doesn't it bother you that the State of Massachusetts automatically gives custody to the mother?”

“It did at first. Then Haden Krakauer set me straight. He said, ‘Don't kid yourself, Chief. When was the last time you made a Halloween costume?' No, really—he's right. Sometimes I'm picking up a pizza on a night when I barely got home in time to feed them, and I think ‘At least they'll get a decent meal from Miranda tomorrow. There'll be a vegetable.' It's a huge relief.”

Franny took a sip of wine and set the glass aside. “You're a good dad,” she said. “I must be getting older, because I find that incredibly attractive.”

“Good,” I said. I stood up, with the backs of my knees pressed against my chair and leaned across the table to kiss her.

And at that moment, the bomb went off.

Chapter Six

Circumstantial Evidence

Haden Krakauer was standing at the edge of wharf, looking into the black water when we sprinted up to him. Barnaby Toll lingered a few feet away. Two uniforms, Bruce Hussey and Dave Praeger, were stringing crime scene tape and three cruisers were pulled up to the terminal building, red and blue lights flashing. A crowd had started to gather. We pushed through them and ducked under the yellow tape.

“Are you all right?” I asked.

“Still half deaf,” Haden shouted. “But otherwise okay, I guess. Jesus, Chief. Look at this place.” The corner section of the pier tilted down toward the water and a raw crack cut through the asphalt toward us. One of the big bulkhead dolphin-shaped supports canted to the left.

“I picked up an officer-down call from Barney and on the way over dispatch caught another one from the Steamship Authority office.”

Barnaby was edging toward us. I gestured him over with tipped head and a hand curl. “What happened?”

“It—I was…someone jumped me, sir. I was on patrol. It was quiet—between boats. I had gone down to Jim's to get a cup of coffee. I was only gone for five minutes. Everything seemed okay when I got back. Next thing I know, someone's got me in a headlock, the coffee spills all over me. I let him take me down—playing possum in case I could do something later, get the drop on the guy. He went around the corner of the building—that was when I called it in. Then, I don't know—someone inside must have heard something, because this guy from the office came running out. He didn't stand a chance though. I called an ambulance. Then Lieutenant Krakauer showed up.”

The ambulance was approaching through the Steamship parking lot. I glanced at Haden and he walked off to meet it.

“So you didn't actually see anything,” Franny said.

“No.”

“Or do anything? You never got up?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“A scuffle. But then it was over and I didn't want to, you know…complicate things. I thought it was better to just stay put.”

“Smart move.”

“Nothing like that ever happened to me before,” Barnaby said.

She stroked his arm, calming him down as she might gentle a horse.

“It's okay, Barney. Is that what everyone calls you? Barney?” He nodded. “Just think, now. Did you notice anything? Was he wearing cologne? Did he have bad breath? Like—garlic? Or…he had you in a headlock. You must have seen his arms. Were they hairy? Any scars? Any tattoos?”

Krakauer was back. I took a few steps with him.

“Find out where the Steamship guy fell. Get some pictures. I have a camera in the car. I want to take a good look at this later. So will Tornovitch.”

“Okay.”

Haden trotted off for the camera. One of the EMTs approached me, a tall kid with thinning hair and big hands. “Anything we need to know before we load the guy up, Chief?”

I walked him around the corner of the building to where Dave Macy knelt, taking care of the Steamship clerk. His name was Howie Patterson. He looked small and crumpled on the curb. Macy had tucked his uniform jacket under Patterson's head. He was just waking up. He tried to sit and then lowered himself back to the pavement with a groan. The EMT kneeled beside him. “Mr. Patterson?”

“Hey, John Macy. How are you? How's your mom?”

“She's doing much better, Mr. Patterson. But let's take a look at you. Any nausea? Dizziness?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Headache?”

Patterson laughed. It turned into a groan. “Good guess.”

The other EMT pulled a gurney out of the ambulance. Over his protests, they got Patterson on, slid him inside, and closed the doors. We followed them around the building. Haden took some more shots.

“Meet you at the hospital,” I said to the EMT.

Macy nodded and they took off. The boxy red truck rolled away silently, red and blue flashers blinking. The lights were ostentatious but secretive, like a whispered conversation in a crowded room.

We walked back to where Barnaby was standing with Franny. “What was it, Barney? What did you see?”

“I told the lady—agent Tate.” She nodded, encouraging him to continue. “He was wearing a watch. The guy who grabbed me. I mean—a fancy watch. It was silver or platinum, it looked heavy. Roman numerals on the dial and some other fancy stuff.”

“Did you notice the brand?”

“Sorry. It wasn't no Timex, though. I can tell you that much.”

I patted his shoulder. “That's great, Barney. That could be a big help. Go on home and get some sleep. I'll see you in the morning.”

“Thanks, Chief.”

We watched the boy walk away. The slouch was gone. A little encouragement worked wonders.

Franny and I drove over to the hospital with Haden, along the edge of the dark harbor. There were lights from some of the boats, and across the inlet, the length of the White Elephant hotel was lit up, reflecting in the black water. It looked like a giant cruise ship, garish and out of scale. Haden was sucking on another Halls cough drop.

“Tell me about the bomb,” I said.

“Military grade C-4, Chief. Tucked away by the north side of the building, right against the foundation. They didn‘t even bother to hide it. Thing would have taken out the office and the furnace. I saw the red light blinking. That's an embedded timer. There was no way to reach it and it could have gone off at any time. Like holding a live grenade with the pin pulled.”

“You couldn't cut the wires?”

Haden smiled. “Like in the movies? No, Chief. Sorry about that. No wires. I had to get rid of it somehow, so I threw it into the water.”

I glanced at Franny. She nodded. “Quick thinking.”

We turned away from the harbor, up Washington Street and onto Union. We hooked a right on York Street and passed my house, heading for the hospital.

“I guess it's time to arrest Billy Delavane, Chief,” Haden said finally.

I glanced across at him. “Why now?”

He stared out the window. He exhaled a long stream of breath into the cool night air and sagged against the seat back.

“Haden?”

“Fuck.”

“Tell me.”

The five corners intersection was deserted. We cruised up toward the windmill and turned left, down the hill to the hospital parking lot entrance. The ambulance was parked by the emergency room doors. I pulled up next to it and turned off the engine. The night dispatcher was talking about a loud beach party in Dionis, near 40th Pole. I killed the radio.

Franny leaned forward from the back seat, her chin on the seatback between us.

Haden took a breath, let it out as a sigh. “That's a Patek Philippe watch Barnaby was talking about back there. I have one just like it. Somebody stole it from my apartment two weeks ago. I filed a report. They took my DVD player and a brand new Lexmark printer, some other stuff. The watch was the bad part. It was the most valuable thing I owned. Including my car, which I finally paid off last Christmas.”

“Seriously?”

“It was worth almost twenty grand.”

“Was it insured?”

“That's not the point.”

“You're losing me. Are you saying the burglar planted the bomb? Because that makes no sense. He would have fenced it the next day, and besides, the profile—”

“That's not what I'm saying, Chief. That watch was a gift. From a woman. A long time ago.”

“You never told me about this.”

“Damn right I didn't. I wouldn't be telling you now, but—”

“But what?”

I twisted around in the seat. The steering wheel pushed against my ribs. Haden was still looking out the widow. Franny gave me a warning look—let him talk. I swallowed my next question. We sat in silence. A car drove by leaving a pulsing wake of rock baselines. Two nurses came off duty and started around the building to the dormitory.

“She gave one just like it to someone else,” Haden said, then. “This other guy, he wears his. All the time. Surfing, ripping cedar trim, even in bed. Some girl told me that, never mind who. Point is, I don't think he's taken the thing off once since the first George Bush was president.”

I sucked in a tight little breath. I remembered the nervous carpenter, obsessively checking his watch, the glint of sun on platinum.

“He was wearing it today,” I said. “I went by the jobsite at lunch.”

“That's what I'm saying. Jesus. Of all the goddamn people.”

I shook my head. “I don't buy it. Billy couldn't be that careless.”

“You prefer the mad bomber-burglar-dude theory?”

“I don't know. I just—”

“We're all creatures of habit, Hank,” Franny put in. “And what difference would it make—if the bomb was going to take them all out anyway?”

“That's cold.”

“It runs in the family,” Haden said to her. “Billy's brother, Ed? He's a stone psycho. Drug dealer, murderer. He killed someone out here last winter. Maybe you read about it. When they find a rich guy stabbed to death with a fistful of hundred dollar bills shoved down his throat, it usually makes the news.”

Franny nodded. “I heard.”

“Well, he almost killed the Chief, too. During the arrest. Funny thing is, the parents were good people. They were around when mine weren't, you know? I probably ate them out of house and home in those days. Anyway, I drove Ed home when he was drunk, talked him down from some fights, tried to get him into some rehab programs. We were in the service together. I helped get him transferred to my battalion, called in a few favors, got him a job doing vehicle repair—welding armor onto Bradleys, that kind of stuff. But he still fucked it up. Clocked an officer in the officers club where he wasn't supposed to be in the first place. Wound up in the stockade. Court-martial, dishonorable discharge, the works. That's when I gave up on the guy.”

“But Billy—”

“He was pretty wild himself, back in the day. Believe me. That guy could go off big time.”

We sat and let the history settle between us.

“Who was the woman?” Franny asked finally. “The one who gave you the watch.”

“Does it make any difference?”

“I don't know. It might. Come on. It has to be ancient history by now.”

“That's what I thought.” He turned to me. “You want to go inside, Chief?”

“Not until you tell us.”

“Jesus.”

Another ambulance pulled up to the big glass doors of the ER. Another accident, drunk drivers probably; maybe a Chicken Box brawl. Gurneys rattled and squeaked. They rolled inside and it was quiet again—just the faint sound of a jet, heading out over the Atlantic, bound for London or Paris. Haden was watching that pale line of exhaust, sharp against the stars in the moonlight.

“Every time I saw one of those contrails, my whole childhood, I wanted to be on the plane, getting out of here.”

“How about now?”

“I got out, Chief. And all I could think about all day every day was getting my sorry ass back here.”

The silence closed around us again. I felt like a cigarette, but I almost always felt like a cigarette and I hadn't smoked one in five years.

“So who was she?” Franny asked again.

Haden gave up—people usually did under the gentle relentless pressure of Franny's questioning.

“Joyce Garrison. Her name was Thayer then.”

I straightened up. “Debbie's mother?”

“That's the one.”

“They're back.”

Krakauer let out a long breath. “Yes they are. Can we go inside now?”

“You didn't say anything.”

“I never would have, either, Chief. I don't go for talk therapy.”

I knew we'd taken this as far as we could, at least for now. I thought back. The first time I saw him popping the cough drops to hide the whiff of vodka on his breath was a little less than a month ago. That would dovetail perfectly with Joyce Garrison's arrival. These thoughts flickered through my mind in the space of a second or two, then vanished, like rabbits darting into the rosa rugosa.

Haden opened the car door. “I'll check out the patient,” he said. “Be right back.”

I started to follow him, but Franny gestured me to stay put.

“You know what we have to do. What you have to do.”

“Franny—”

“If you don't arrest Billy Delavane, Jack will. Only he'll do it with SWAT teams and helicopters, and a planeload of State Police and somebody will get careless or trigger happy and Billy could get killed trying to escape because he didn't hold his hands high enough or he tripped on the porch stairs.”

“I don't know.”

“Yes you do, Hank. He's a solid suspect. We have the voice changing machine, found in a house where he had access, the proof that he bought it, the original phone call traced to his house. And now the watch.”

“But that's what I mean. It's like I was saying—why would he be wearing his watch at that moment?”

“Why would Son of Sam let himself get a parking ticket in front of the house where he killed someone?”

Her phone rang. It actually rang, like an old fashioned land-line. I wondered where she downloaded that one.

“Tate,” she said. “Yes. They—it was taken care of at the scene. All right. What time? I'll be there. No—the local police are going to handle it. I know. Yes, but—Jack, this is better. He'll come quietly and we can do it under the radar. Absolutely. Of course I do. Yes. Not yet but—all right. I'll handle it. Yeah. You have a good night too.”

She closed the phone.

“Let me guess,” I said. “Tornovitch.”

“The whole JTTF is flying in tomorrow. He wants Lonnie Fraker to do liaison work with the FBI and the Secret Service. Your primary job is going to be smoothing things over with the town, keeping everyone calm. And any errands that Jack needs taken care of.”