Razzamatazz (A Crime Novel) (7 page)

"Fuck. I don't know."

"Well, what did you think I'd tell you to do?"

"I don't know. I guess I thought you'd say I had nothing to worry about. I don't know." He took off his glasses, wiped them with the bottom of his shirt.

"Hallock might give you a hard time for awhile, until he's sure you didn't do it, but he's not going to book you. On the other hand, if you don't go to him on your own, if you wait until he has to pick you up, then he's going to make you wish you'd been in that pool instead of Gloria. Me, too."

"What's that mean?"

"It means if he arrests you on his own, then you're fair game."

"Shit."

"Up to your neck."

Nagle put back his glasses. "Okay. I'll do it."

"Good."

"See you," he said and started to leave.

"Hey, Nagle?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you feel about Gloria Danowski being murdered?"

"Feel?"

"Right, feel."

"I don't know. I feel bad, I guess. She was a good lay."

Colin was glad Nagle left quickly; he wanted to clobber him.

He had always hated fighting, even though he was pretty good at it. The first real fistfight he'd had was in grade school when the public school kids picked on the Catholics. He'd knocked Freddy Martin's two front teeth out, and Colin's father had had to pay for Freddy's bridge. In junior high he was always getting into fights, but in high school he managed to stay clear of them, using up his aggression on the football field. In college he never fought anyone. He talked his way out of things because he just didn't have the heart for fighting. By then he knew it was pointless. After college it never came up—except that once—but he couldn't remember it and didn't even know if he'd won or not.

Still, guys like Nagle made him remember and understand the pleasure of smashing a fist into a face, feeling knuckles against teeth, splitting lips open. He hoped Hallock gave Nagle a bad time, hoped he scared the shit out of him.

Colin smiled thinking about Nagle: knees knocking together, hands too shaky to hold a butt. He deserved anything he got. But he believed Nagle was innocent. So, who did it then? The husband could've found out about his wife's affair and killed her, but it wasn't likely. With that kind of murder, he would've broken down by now if he'd done it. Nobody knew that better than Colin did. Jesus. Everything always came back to that. He turned to his typewriter, stared at the piece of paper still there from the night before.

BODY FOUND IN MAYOR'S POOL

It hadn't changed, hadn't written itself. And it wasn't going to get written now, either. He reached for the bound volume of the Gazette seventy-five years before for the week of May 26th. One of his duties was to do the "Looking Back" column. At first when Mark gave him the job, he was insulted, feeling this was some rinky-dink thing one of the others could do, not the managing editor, for Christ's sake. But that was the way it was on a small weekly: You did all kinds of stuff no matter what your title was. Anyway, he'd come to like it, found it fun going through the old issues, pulling things from seventy-five, fifty, and twenty-five years before. Sometimes he lost himself in the papers, hours passing before he'd pull just the right excerpts. Colin knew it was something you could do in half an hour, but he liked reading all the ads, the sports and the real estate section. It knocked him out seeing things like:

FOR SALE
:

WATERVIEW-10 RMS, FIREPLACE,ICEBOX,

PORCH, 1 ACRE, PRIVATE BEACH $3000

Today that same property would be worth about half a million.

So he got lost in the past, and when the phone rang and he glanced at his watch he was stunned to see it was almost three. Mark said, "We have another one, pal."

"Another what?"

"Murder."

"Where?"

"Bay View. Cooper's Linen Shop. Ruth Cooper."

"Christ."

"Get over there."

"Right."

Getting into his car, Colin wondered what he'd do if any murders happened past Riverhead. He wasn't sure he'd be able to go. The truth was even Riverhead was alien to him. Since he'd been on the North Fork he hadn't gone past Mattituck. That was twenty miles from Seaville. Riverhead was twenty-five, and his panic attacks weren't getting any better. But it was useless to worry about that now. Now there was another murder.

Starting the car, he wondered if a B was carved into Ruth Cooper's chest.

LOOKING BACK
—75 YEARS AGO

Some miserable wretch, without a grain of self-respect or an atom of conscience, stole the hospital collection box in the post office some days ago. If the guilty person has really enjoyed the loose change which had been deposited therein for the purpose of charity, he has sold every speck of honor he ever had, if he ever had any. The box was torn from the writing desk in the office, to which it had been attached.

NINE

When Ruth Cooper did not come home for Sunday dinner, Russell Cooper, who had prepared roast pork, potatoes, asparagus au gratin, and a salad, became worried. He called the store, but there was no answer. So he turned off everything on the stove, sick that the dinner was going to be ruined, and got into his new silver Toyota Tercel and drove down to the shop. The door was locked. He knocked. There was no answer. Ruth's car was parked in front of the store, which alarmed Russ further, thinking she'd had a heart attack. He shouted Ruth's name, but nothing happened. Officer Dan Reeves of the Bay view police was driving by, saw Russ and came to his aid. Reeves gave the front door a flat-footed kick, and it broke open like a cracked egg.

One minute after they were in they found her—throat slit from ear to ear, blood everywhere. Her blouse had been torn open exposing her chest, which displayed long bloody slashes. It took Colin to tell them what it was.

"It's an A. Like the other one."

"What other one?" Bay View Chief of Police Ed Webb hadn't been informed by Chief Hallock of the details on Saturday's homicide.

Colin, fighting nausea and dizziness, explained.

Webb said to Officer Reeves, "See if you can get Chief Hallock here."

Although Bay View's police department was autonomous, technically they were under the authority of Seaville Township, and Colin could see that Webb was already thinking about dumping this mess into Hallock's lap.

"What do you think, Chief?" Colin asked.

"I dunno. Maybe a Ten-Three. She probably surprised him. The window in the back was open."

Colin knew it was no Ten-Three. "Don't you think the A on her chest means it was something other than a burglary?" he asked gently, not wanting to offend.

"All I got is you saying these cuts are an A. How the hell do I know what's what when I get no official word? A, he tells me." Webb walked away, watched the fingerprint men sprinkling powder on the window ledge.

"Hey, Chief," Reeves said, "I couldn't get Hallock, but they said he's on his way."

Webb snarled, "Chief Hallock."

"Yeah, Chief Hallock," he repeated, not understanding.

Colin walked into the other room, away from the body, to where a white-faced Russell Cooper was sitting. The man was in shock, Colin could tell—could remember. A good newspaperman would interview him; he would have before, but not now. He couldn't do it, intrude like that. Maybe he'd have to find some other work. Jesus, who thought there were going to be murders out here in the sticks? It was the whole point in coming, and now it was getting to be like some nightmare.

Hallock and Charlie Copin arrived looking serious. When they saw the A they would know they had a serial murderer on their hands. Colin followed them to the back, keeping far enough away so he didn't have to see her again, saying nothing, listening.

"Ed."

"Waldo."

"What've we got?"

"A Ten-Five."

"I know that. Lemme see." Hallock bent down, knees cracking. "Christ. Look at this, Charlie."

Copin leaned over. "Same fucking thing."

Webb asked, "What's that?"

"An A. See." Hallock traced the line of the A in the air, above Ruth Cooper's chest.

"Maybe," Ed said.

Hallock said, "It's no maybe, Ed. That's an A, all right." He turned to Colin. "What did Griffing say the A might be?"

"A for Adulteress."

"I dunno," Hallock said, standing up. "What do you think, Charlie?"

"Could mean anything, Chief. Well, one thing we know, he ain't gonna go through the alphabet." Charlie grinned.

"Swell. Just twenty-six A’s, huh?"

"I didn't think of that," Charlie admitted soberly.

"Where the hell's the M.E.?" Hallock asked.

Ed said, "We called him. Didn't you, Reeves?"

"Who, me?"

"Jesus fucking Christ! Get on that phone and call him now, you shit-for-brains moron!" Webb yelled.

Reeves said defensively, "I got the I.B. boys here."

"You want a medal?"

"No, I just... ah, shit."

Colin blinked as a flashbulb went off. He didn't know any of the men from the identification bureau and stayed out of their way. He wondered what more he could learn by hanging around, knew he didn't dare leave. But the smell of blood was getting to him. Making him think of Nancy. He wished he could recall the perfume she wore instead, but he never could. It was the smell of blood he would forever identify with her, not Je Reviens.

Casually, he sat on the top step of three that went down to the back room. His head was throbbing; his eyes ached. He wrote some details in his notebook.

Fifteen minutes later, Dr. Hubbard, the M.E., came in and went past Colin down to where the body was. Another fifteen minutes passed before he heard the ambulance pull up. When the men came in with the gurney, Colin got up from his spot on the steps, making room. It was awhile before they took her out, but when they did Russell Cooper spoke to Colin.

"Should I go with them? Is that what I'm supposed to do?"

Colin felt for him, put a hand on his arm. "No. They're taking her to the morgue. There'll be an autopsy."

"Autopsy?"

"Yeah." He knew that Cooper was wondering why. It was clear how she died. Colin remembered wondering that himself. "They have to. It's the law."

Hallock came over to them. Copin behind him, stood to the side, his notebook and pencil ready.

Hallock said, "I'd like to ask you a couple of questions, Russ."

"Okay."

"Have you or Ruth received any threatening letters or telephone calls in the last month or so?"

Cooper ran his tongue over his dry lips. "No. Nothing like that."

"Would any of the girls who worked for Ruth have anything against her? Maybe one of them wanted a raise, and Ruth wouldn't give it to her? Anything like that?"

"I don't think so. Ruth would've mentioned it if there'd been any trouble. Wait a minute. Sondra Segal wanted to take her vacation the same time Jane Williams wanted to take hers. Ruth had approved Jane's time way back, so Sondra lost out."

"Was she mad about that?"

"Who?"

Hallock turned to Copin. Copin consulted his notes. "Segal. Sondra Segal."

Russ answered, "More annoyed than mad, I think."

Hallock gave Copin a look as if to say, check her out anyway. "Anybody else besides those two work for your wife?"

"No. That's all."

"Okay. I understand Ruth always came to the store on Sundays, is that right?"

"Right after church."

"Who knew about that?"

"Just about everybody, I guess. It wasn't a secret or anything," Russ explained.

"You mean, everybody at your church knew?"

"I guess. Other people, too. Other friends."

"Could you make up a list of all the people who knew about Ruth coming to the store on Sundays, Russ?"

He nodded, shoulders drooping as if even the thought of the task was too much for him.

Copin asked, "You or your wife owe anybody money?"

"We never borrowed. Ruthie doesn't—didn't—believe in buying things you couldn't pay for." He coughed, and passed a hand over his face trying to disguise his watery eyes.

Hallock said, "Okay, that's all, thanks very much. Get that list to us soon as you can." He squeezed Cooper's shoulder. "Sorry about this, Russ."

Hallock and Copin walked away, leaving Colin alone with Cooper.

"What should I do now?" Russ asked Colin, tears springing to his eyes.

"Why don't you go home, Mr. Cooper. Or to a friend's. Is there somebody I can call for you?"

"I don't know." He rubbed his temples as if an answer would appear, like in a crystal ball. "Maybe Annie."

"Annie?"

"My minister. Yes, Annie. Could you call her?"

Colin hesitated for only a moment. "Do you know her number?"

After a few false starts, Cooper gave it to him. Colin told him to sit down, and went across the street to the public phone in the parking lot. It rang four times before she answered.

Colin identified himself, then said, "This isn't a social call."

"Okay," she said.

"You know Ruth and Russell Cooper?"

"Yes."

He didn't know how to tell her gently. "Ruth's been murdered. In her store. He's there now and asked me to call you. I..."

"I'll be right there." She hung up.

Colin slowly walked back across the street. A few people were standing around rubbernecking. He'd been so intent on making his call to Annie Winters he hadn't noticed them before.

A man stopped him. "What's going on, son?"

"I can't help you. Sorry," Colin responded.

Back inside, he went over to Cooper and told him Annie was on her way.

Cooper said, "Why would anyone want to kill Ruthie?"

Jesus, Colin wondered, did every survivor say the same thing about their murdered loved one? How many times had he heard it? He'd even said it himself. "I don't know, Mr. Cooper," he said, "The police will find out, though."

"Will they?"

"They'll try."

"Was it a burglary?"

"I don't know." Colin knew it wasn't. He tried desperately to think of something else to say to Cooper but couldn't. His mind was on Gloria Danowski and Ruth Cooper. What did they have in common? Gloria was thirty-one, Ruth must have been in her fifties. "How old was your wife?" he asked.