Snowjob (19 page)

“Right. But the other thing was deeper than that.”

“What was it?”

He looked at me, then bent to load more lasagna on the plate as he talked. “I was wondering, with a lawyer’s perverse mind, just why Officer Ford kept his suspicions to himself, even to the extent of going to jail for a murder he obviously didn’t commit.”

“He was afraid for his family’s safety. For himself, he wouldn’t have cared about them—but when you have a wife and kids, it’s different.” I said. “Are you saying you suspect him of the killing?” Sam was butting his head against my knee, gaining contact after twenty-four hours of confusion about what was going on. I stroked his head absently and waited for Maloney to continue.

“No. He’s innocent of the killing, I believe, and the money business doesn’t seem to involve him in any way. I just asked myself what he was trying to do and why he was trying to do it.”

He looked at me and I checked his face to see if it had the smugness that many lawyers show when they bring out a damaging idea. But it didn’t. He looked genuinely concerned that I was certain that he was still rooting for Doug.

“I’ve had the same thoughts, I guess. I plan to talk to him about it,” I said.

Maloney turned away to wipe his hands on a tea towel that was hanging on the handle of the stove. “Good. I wish you luck, Reid. I think your friend is innocent but the prosecution is going to ask the same question I just did. We need to know in plenty of time just what his motives were.”

“I’ll tell him that. And thanks for all you’ve done for me,” I said and we shook hands and I collected my bag and left with Sam trotting gratefully at my heel.

I got to Doug’s house and knocked. He came to the door, looking angry. He didn’t speak to me and I asked, “Thought you’d lite some company. Can I come in?”

He still didn’t speak but stood back and held the door open. Sam was at my heel and I made the second request. “Okay if Sam comes in? He’s family. And Melody didn’t mind.”

“Sure,” he said and we went in and he shut the door.

I hadn’t brought my bag with me. That would come later, if the atmosphere warmed up at all.

As I was slipping my boots off Doug asked angrily, “Where’s my gun?”

“Melody gave it to me the night Angie was kidnapped.”

“I asked where is it, now?” he said.

“It’s in my car. I’ll give it to you.”

That seemed to appease him. He didn’t say anything but turned away into the kitchen. “Sit down,” he said over his shoulder. “Want some coffee?”

“Be good, thank you,” I said carefully. This wasn’t the man I knew, the guy who had humped through the boonies with me, taking risks without a second thought, a man I had counted on as I would have on my own brother if I’d ever had one.

He brought two cups, black, and I thanked him and we sat looking at one another.

He didn’t speak and I could see no way into the conversation that wouldn’t spark his anger so I drank coffee and waited for him to make the going. At last he said, “What did she say? Wendy Tate?”

“She was dead. In the garage; looked like she’d been shot but she could have been knifed like Grant was.”

Now his police professionalism took him out of himself. “Go on.”

I told him about the blood and the way Schmidt had touched the stain.

Doug hissed with contempt. “Goddamn Boy Scout. What’s that going to prove?” He was still consumed with anger, but now it had a focus. That made it easier to deal with.

“He gave the chief the evil eye and the chief’s asked me to step out of the investigation. He’s given me permission to go over the Cindy Laver case, but he doesn’t want me underfoot while his guys are trying to sort out what’s happening with Grant and this woman.”

“They haven’t had a homicide here since Pluto was a pup,” Doug said. “None of the guys has any idea what to do, outside of courses they’ve taken. They could use a pro.”

“Pat Hinton seems capable.”

“Pat’s fine, but he hasn’t covered any homicides. None of them have.”

He was simmering down now. We were a couple of Marines again, cursing an incompetent officer. I milked it. “Reminds me of that Lieutenant Harris. Remember that sonofabitch?”

Now Doug looked at me with more warmth. He took another sip of his coffee and set the cup aside. “Okay, Reid. Like, I’m sorry, man. You left your family behind to come down here and save my sorry ass an’ all I can do is give you shit. I’m sorry, buddy.”

It was a time to do some kidding. “Didn’t expect anything else. You always were a crabby bastard.”

He laughed then and we stood up and shook hands first, then impulsively hugged one another. We let go and I said, “Is it part of your bail that you can’t drink?”

He shook his head. “No, that wasn’t mentioned.”

“Good. I’ve got a bottle of Black Velvet in my bag.”

He clapped his hands together. “So go get it in, an’ bring your bag. You’re staying here, aren’t you?”

“I’d planned on it.” I went out and got my bag, dropping it at the base of the stairs and taking out the bottle I’d picked up at the duty-free store at the border. Doug got glasses and ice and built us a couple of drinks and we toasted one another. “Semper fi,” I said and he echoed it.

I don’t usually drink until closer to dinner, but it went down well and Doug relaxed. He asked me about Fred and the baby and we didn’t mention the case for the time it took to finish the drink. I offered another one but he shook his head. “Later maybe. Hey, did you eat yet?”

When I told him no he wait into the kitchen and made us a couple of sandwiches and we had them with a beer, slowly getting back to talking about the case. I told him about the beer cans and my suspicion that Huckmeyer had picked up his empty from Brewskis and planted it. “We could clear you right away if we got prints from the waitress and the bartender at Brewskis and checked them against the other prints on the can,” I suggested.

“Think those two’ll go for that?” he asked seriously. “They don’t have to give you diddly.”

“I get on well with the bartender and the waitress. I cooled Grant out one night when he groped the waitress.”

“Maybe they’d do it, then,” Doug said. “Hell, they wouldn’t do it for me. They didn’t care for me and Cindy looking like we were playing nice. Too white bread to let it show but they were worried about the purity of the goddamn race.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” I said. “But there’s also the fact that you happen to be married to the best-looking woman in town and everybody knows it.”

He looked almost sad then. “You think that’s it?”

“I’m sure of it. People don’t like to see marriages going down the tubes.”

Doug smiled slowly. “I guess that’s it, but I’ve got to tell you there were a lot of heads whipped around in a hurry when I came here. Seems like the brothers don’t ski. Foils here had never seen a black face except on TV. When I walk into the room everybody does a double take.”

“Trust me. They’re not racist. I’ll take a run out to Brewskis this evening and see when I can get prints off those two women. I doubt they’re working Sunday if they were there all week.”

“Good,” he said. He was quiet now, thoughtful. “It’s liable to clear me of the homicide but not of theft of that money.”

“George Horn, an Ojibway friend of mine, the son of my deputy, has a saying that applies here. He says, if you see fifty ducks take off and you fire at all of them you’ll miss. You have to shoot one duck at a time.”

“Makes sense,” Doug said. “Yeah. He’s right.”

I looked at him a long time before speaking. “Doug, I’ve got a question to ask. It’s liable to get you mad so I want you to know that any cop would ask the same question. Can I go ahead?”

“Shoot,” he said and took a big bite of his sandwich as if to gag himself and not have to answer.

“You didn’t tell the chief about your investigation. I’m not talking about when you were arrested, I mean before that. And yet now you’re ready to talk. People are going to want to know why. Can you tell me, as a friend?”

He chewed slowly and then spoke, very softly. “You’re wondering why I was keeping all this to myself, not telling even Melody.”

I nodded without speaking and he went on. “All right. I told you about my partner in Harlem. That was true. But there’s more than that.”

“I figured there had to be.”

“Yeah. Well. The thing is, I knew that guy, that Manatelli.” He fell silent for a while and I waited, seeing how easily I could snuff out the news he was going to give me. “Thing is, his son, kid called Gino, was in school with Melody.”

He fell silent again and this time I had to prod him. “And then what?” I asked gently.

“And she was the best-looking girl in school. Just like she’s the best-looking woman in town here. All the kids were after her. The brothers thought she should have gone out with them on account of being black. But she went out with Gino.”

He looked at me for a long time. “Now I ought to be glad about what happened because if it hadn’t she wouldn’t have married me.” He set down his plate. “Anyway, by the time she was in college, the only black kid in her class to make it, she and Gino were an item. He wanted to marry her.”

Most people have romances in their past. It would have been surprising if a woman as beautiful as Melody were an exception, I thought, but waited. Doug went on in the same low, passionate voice. “So young Gino, the goddamn hood in training, he goes to his old man and says he wants to marry her. And that lowlife hood scumbag tells him, and I’m quoting, ‘No son of mine is going to marry any goddamn nigger.’”

“He’s an ignorant prick,” I said.

“Yeah,” Doug said, in a low growl. “And I’m gonna teach him some manners. That’s why I was working on my own. I don’t care whether the case ever comes to court. I want the news to get back to the guy he’s working for. They won’t sue the bastard. They’ll settle him for keeps.”

ELEVEN

I didn’t answer right away. Doug was too full of anger to want anything but approval and I couldn’t give him that. Not that I care for organized criminals. The grief they cause outweighs the Catholic certainty my mother tried to drum into me that we ought to love our enemies. I don’t love mobsters but I believe in justice. Death is too severe a punishment for an insult, however hurtful.

Doug spoke first. “You think I’m wrong?”

It called for a careful answer. “Not exactly. I think you’re right, for the wrong reasons.”

“The reason don’t matter,” he said harshly. “Think about it, man. I get off the murder rap, maybe even the theft rap as well. But Manatelli isn’t going to go away. That’s why his guys picked up young Angie. The only way to get him off my back is to get his boss mad at him. That way the whole thing is cleared up and there’s no comebacks.”

“I know, that’s what makes you right. But setting out to get Manatelli iced, that’s nasty.”

“I don’t have any alternatives now. Too much is going down.” He set his empty plate aside. “That’s why I opened up to the chief this morning.” He snorted a little laugh. “I should’ve done it right off. Like I know this department. Subtle they ain’t. I figure if they start stomping around looking for evidence on the money-laundering they’ll set off alarm bells from here to Newark. Mucci’s gonna hear what Manatelli’s doing and take care of business back there.”

“You think Mucci will settle it and leave you alone?”

Doug shrugged. “Why not? He’ll just see cops finding out things about laundering money. If it’s his money I’ve got trouble. But I don’t think it’s his. The figures are too small. It’s Manatelli’s skimming. I think Mucci will see that and plug the leak in his money by canceling Manatelli’s check.”

“But hold on now.” I struck one finger in the air. “He won’t have to dig far to see you’re at the back of this. In fact they already know you are. That’s why they snatched Angie.”

“I figure that was Manatelli’s palace guard,” Doug said. “They work for Mucci but they take their orders from Manatelli.” He shrugged. “It was the same with us. All us grunts worked for the president of the U.S. of A. but we took orders from whatever shavetail they put in charge.”

It made sense and I nodded. “Okay then. So let’s think about this Grant killing. Why would they knife him and throw his body on the slopes of Cat’s Cradle?”

“Orders from Manatelli,” Doug said without hesitation. “I guess he figured Huckmeyer wasn’t fulfilling his commitment to keep the operation quiet. He wanted Huckmeyer to know he isn’t dealing with the Knights of Columbus.”

“But killing Grant is a bit heavy for that. Surely they’d have gone to Huckmeyer and stuck a gun in his ear just to remind him.”

Doug had the obvious answer. “Grant must have done something to make them think he was going to open up. They wanted him quiet. They did it their usual way. And leaned on Huckmeyer at the same time.”

“Okay. I can buy that. But I guess I should bring you up to speed on what’s been happening since I came to see you yesterday. Like for instance, Will Lord saw Grant talking to a guy who sounds to me like the one who snatched Angie. This was before Grant and his buddies came to Brewskis to jump me.”