Swan Dive - Jeremiah Healy (13 page)

Kelley stayed standing, ready to brawl. Sheilah
crumpled into a chair. "Roy’s dead. What can you possibly want
with me now?"

I sat too, in order to appear less confrontational.
"Ms. Kelley, I know you’ve been through a lot, and I haven’t
made it any easier so far. But somebody mugged me, then used my gun
in the killings, and I intend to find out who."

"I don’t know anything about that."

"Maybe if——"

"Sheilah said she don’t know anything. My
daughter says that, it’s true."

"Maybe your daughter’s a little scared."

Sheilah tensed, then tried to feign with a head
shake. "I don’t have anything to be scared of."

"The room looks ransacked. Were you here when
they did it?"

"She already told you, she don’t know
anything. Why don’t you just—"

"Dad, please." Sheilah raked her hair with
her fingers. "Look, Mr .... "

“
Cuddy, John Cuddy."

"Mr. Cuddy, Roy was into some bad stuff, with
very bad people out of Boston."

"Sheil, for chrissake, you don’t have to be—"

"Dad, stop! Please?"

Kelley glowered, folding his arms across his chest.
"Like I was saying, Roy was in with people. But I wasn’t. I
never had any part of it, and I sure don’t want to be part of it
now."

"Like it or not, Ms. Kelley, you are part of it.
Or at least they think you are. Did they get what they came for?"

"How the hell would she know that?"

"Dad!" She turned back to me. "Mr.
Cuddy, I don’t know. I got here a few hours ago, and it was all
torn apart. I ran out right away and called my dad from a pay phone.
He drove down, and we came back in. I tried to pull things together
again, so she . . . Roy’s wife wouldn’t think I’ve been trying
to get away with something."

"She’d better not, or I’ll—"

"Anyway, I can’t see that anything’s gone
except the videotape things."

—
I looked around the room. The television and VCRs
were still where I’d remembered seeing them. "You mean from
the bedroom?"

"No, no. Not the playback stuff. The camera Roy
had. He was . . . crazy for the stuff. Camera case, tripod. All
that’s gone."

It didn’t add up. A burglar should have taken all
the portable, fenceable equipment. Even conceding a more particular
searcher, why take the camera? Kelley rocked a little, heel to toe.
"Those all your questions?"

"No. Ms. Kelley, when was the last time you saw
Roy?"

"She already told all this to the cops."

"I last, Jesus, I last saw him Sunday night,
when I got home from work. We . . . went to s1eep."

"You didn’t see him yesterday morning?"

"No, I was still asleep. He was gone by the time
I woke up."

"What else did you do yesterday?"

"It was my day off, you know? I got up, drove
some errands and so on. I went—"

"Lookit, she had dinner with me last night at
home. In Tullbury, awright? She wasn’t anywhere near that hotel.
She didn’t have anything to do with it."

"Mr. Kelley, the cops said they called your
daughter at this house."

"I was just in the door here when they called.
Then I drove back to my dad’s house."

"Why didn’t you stay here?"

"I . . ." She stopped, resignedly reaching
a decision. "All right, I was scared, okay? I knew the kind of
people Roy was in with could have killed him, and I was scared they’d
be around to see me."

"Did you know where Roy was going last night?"
Kelley uncrossed his arms. "The hell kind of question is that to
ask?"

"Mr. Kelley, she was going to have dinner with
you. That suggests that your daughter knew that Roy wasn’t going to
be here for dinner. That suggests—"

"If you’re saying my daughter knew that bum
was hanging around with a hooker, I’ll bust your face like—"

"Dad!" The tears started to flow; she wiped
her forearm across her face just once, violently, then turned to me.
"Roy was a bastard. He two-timed his wife with me, and me with
her . . . the prostitute. He didn’t deserve all the things he had,
but I loved him, mister, I loved him and I’m miserable he’s
gone."

"Honey, how—"

"Dad, shut up!"

"Sheilah, in front of—"

"Just please shut up!"

Kelley’s face fell. He looked at me. "She’s
upset. She don’t know what she’s sayin’."

"Ms. Kelley?"

I could have poured a beer in the time it took her to
say, "Yes?"

"The Boston police tell me Roy’s connection is
a pretty rough character. I think it’d be a good idea for you to
stay out of sight for a while. Especially if they didn’t find what
they were looking for here."

"She’s gonna stay with me. Back home in
Tullbury. I was in the department twenny-seven years. Leo Kelley,
Engine Company Number One. I got friends all over town. They can’t
touch her there."

Sheilah Kelley chewed on her lip. She didn’t look
too sure.
 

TWELVE
-♦-

I detoured back to Peabody and found Hanna’s street
after only one wrong turn. The lights were on in her apartment as I
walked up the path.

She pulled back the door, surprised to see me. "John
Cuddy. You are all right?"

"Yes."

"The police, they said you were . . . hit?"

"Mugged. But I’m all right. Can I come in?"

"Oh, sure, sure." Hanna turned away.
"Vickie is taking the nap now."

Since I couldn’t see Hanna’s face, I just said,
"I’ll be quiet."

I followed her into the living room and sat down
across from her.

"The new kitten you got for Vickie, it is doing
so much good."

"I’m glad. Hanna, the police have questioned
you?"

"About the . . . Roy and the woman?"

"Yes."

"They come here this morning. They want to know
about me."

"Where you were?"

"Yes. I was here with Vickie all the night."

"The police seem to accept that?"

"Yes. They say, ‘Who can tell us this?' And I
say, ‘Nobody.' I did not see Nerida, and Vickie was asleep. But
there is nothing I can do about that."

"Hanna, I’ve been to Roy’s house."

"My house now."

"So Chris tells me. The nurse, the woman Roy was
seeing, she’s moving her things out."

Hanna sighed. "You know, I cannot blame her. Roy
was, I don’t know the English for it, but the women always like
him. For the wrong reason."

“
Some people are that way."

“
Tell me. Do the women like you for the right
reason?" She didn’t smile at me, keeping her expression even
and open, showing me assurance I don’t think she felt.

"There’s one in Boston who I hope does."

Hanna nodded, a little too vigorously. "That is
good. That is the right way."

"Hanna, the house, your house in Swampscott, was
searched by somebody."

"Burglars? I hear they watch the newspapers for
the dead, then . . ."

“
No. At least I don’t think so. I think it was
somebody looking for something."

"Money?"

I didn’t answer her. She looked down and twisted
her lingers. She said, "The drugs."

"Why didn’t you tell me?"

"I told Chris. He was my lawyer. He didn’t say
to tell you. I thought you knew from Chris. I’m sorry."

"That’s not the problem now. The problem now
is that if Roy’s playmates didn’t find what they were looking
for, they may think of other people to ask."

"I think I knew that something like this would
happen to him. He was such a little boy about life. He really thought
he could do anything and not be punished .... "

"The police think Roy had some drugs he was
supposed to distribute. If you have any idea where they are . . ."

She almost laughed. "With the insurance from
Roy, we have enough money now I don’t have to sell the drugs."

"Hanna, there is no insurance."

I wanted to say it that way, directly and suddenly,
to see her reaction. Her heart seemed to stop, but her eyes stayed
steady. She swallowed and said, "No insurance?"

I told her what Stansfield told me.

She hung her head. "Such a little boy. My God,
my God, I cannot pay to bury him."

I waited a moment, then said, "Hanna, I’m
sorry, but I really have to know about the drugs."

She looked up, very tired. "I don’t know to
help you."

"Any idea at all where they’d be?"

"The nurse maybe. She might know better than me.
When Roy and me were together, he used to carry them around in his
case."

"His briefcase?"

"No. Roy had a lot of
the . . . video things. He carried the drugs around in the case for
the camera to fit in."

* * *

As I drove back into Boston, I tried to draw a
profile of my mugger, at least by minimum physical requirements.
Hanna had the strength to send Roy through the window, and a
questionable alibi. Firefighters, even retired ones like Kelley, are
strong as bulls, but
Sheilah said her father
was with her for dinner.

Lawyer Paul had the muscle and sophistication, if not
the inclination, to stage it, but Chris covered him. Felicia Arnold
might have been able to force things with my gun, but Marsh would
have tried to rush her rather than take a chance with a twelve-story
drop. Maybe strength wasn’t a factor at all. Whoever rapped me left
me where I fell, and maybe Roy just tripped. So much for the process
of elimination.

I took the Central Artery, skirting downtown on the
harborside, and got off at South Station. I followed Summer Street
into L Street to Nancy Meagher’s address.

I rang her buzzer, the top one of the three-decker. I
heard her coming down the stairs. When she recognized me, she said
over her shoulder, "It’s all right, Drew." The door to
the second-floor apartment clicked shut.

“
Still have Drew Lynch as house security?"

"Yes. You could have called first."

“
I wanted you to be able to tell the cops I dropped
in without waming."

She turned and started climbing the stairs. Maybe I
should have said "without welcome" instead. I trailed
behind her into the kitchen.

Nancy said, "Drink?"

"Yes. This remind you of anything?"

"What?"

"You and me. The last time you thought I’d
done something wrong."

She paused with the glass she had taken down from the
cabinet over the sink. "The last time I thought you’d done
something wrong you’d killed a man."

"That was then. This time I was set up."

She pulled open the freezer door and plopped two ice
cubes into the glass. "Pity the police don’t agree with you."

"C’mon, Nancy—"

The glass crashed into the sink, shattering, as Nancy
wheeled around. "Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare try to
explain this away. We had a date, remember? You were coming by to
pick me up. Well, I waited, and no call from the guard downstairs. So
I tried your office. Nothing. Condo. Nothing. Then I waited some
more. John’s the kind who always shows, Nancy. The kind who always
comes through."

"Nancy—"

"Then I thought, my God, he’s had an accident.
I tried the hospitals, Boston City, Mass General, even Beth Israel
though it was the wrong direction. Then I got mad. Then I went home.
Then I don’t hear from you, I hear from a homicide cop—"

"They said not to call you."

"You were set up? I was set up, John! I was set
up to be some kind of alibi you decided to discard." She put her
hand to her mouth.

"Is that what you think?"

"That’s what the cops think."

"Not my question."

Nancy said, "What happened?"

"Can we go into the living room? I don’t need
the drink."

"I do."

She built two cocktails and we carried them to the
front of the apartment. She sat on the couch, legs and arms crossed.
I took a floor cushion.

“
No Renfield?"

"He’s downstairs. Mrs. Lynch has taken a
liking to him."

Nancy’s tone said no more pleasantries. I told her
everything I could think of about what had happened. Halfway through
she uncrossed her legs. Near the end, she dropped her arms, too.

"John, why would somebody go through all that
trouble to mark you as Marsh’s killer?"

"I don’t know. There are plenty of people who
have pretty direct motives for wanting him dead. I assume I was just
a convenient deflector for somebody."