The Accused and the Damned: Book Three, the Eddie McCloskey Series (The Unearthed 3) (16 page)

Billy shrugged. “Jeez, I don’t know. Maybe he figured he could hide better on foot, you know?”

“But he was running down the middle of the street.”

He could tell Billy had heard him but the young cop pretended not to. “Maybe he figured  we’d find his car too easily. The manufacturer might have installed a locator on his truck for all we know.”

Very, very thin, but Ross decided not to rip Billy’s hypothesis to shreds. He didn’t want to come off as hostile or for Billy to grow suspicious.

Ross said, “It’s been bothering me. I didn’t ask him why he ran when I had him in the room. Didn’t even think to do it. Maybe I’m getting old.”

“Or maybe you want the defense to make their own case.”

Ross smiled but didn’t like the words coming out of Billy’s mouth. He was beginning to sound more and more like his father.

Ross decided to press a little more. “And he was running down the middle of the street. Weird.”

Billy took a long time to nod.

“I checked the log today.” Ross sighed like he was bothered by all this. “He didn’t have his car keys on him when we arrested him.”

Billy was quick to answer. “Of course he wouldn’t. He wasn’t thinking straight and decided to run instead of drive.”

“Or …” Ross looked away and let the words die.

Billy had grown anxious. “Or what?”

Ross was silent for seconds, then faced Billy again. “Forget it. When I was your age, I didn’t worry about a damned thing. Now I worry about everything. Thanks for your time, kid.”

“No problem.”

Ross drove away but had to pull over a few minutes up the road into a gas station. One thought kept popping into his head.

Anson Ketcher had wanted to get out of that house so much, he hadn’t even stopped to get his keys.

There was a plausible reason why he’d do just that. The man had just killed his wife, wasn’t thinking clearly, and had run.

But after the crime, Anson hadn’t been acting crazy. Ross recalled with utter clarity the calm, credulous way Anson had answered his questions several hours after Alice’s death, with no backtracking or qualifications. Later, the DA’s shrink had run a battery of tests and found him competent to stand trial, and Anson himself wasn’t trying to argue lack of competency or attempting to bail out with an insanity plea.

If Ross ignored everything else—the logic of the crime scene, the bad history between husband and wife, Anson’s violent past—and instead just focused on Anson, a man who fled his house in such a hurry that he hadn’t bothered to get his car keys and yet was somehow clinically sane ...

Then Anson could be made to look like a different man. Not one desperate to get away. But a man who looked desperate to get away
from his house
.

Thursday morning Ross didn’t stop at the station and instead drove out to see Beverly Magloin, real name Jessica Farnsworth, the psychic Eddie McCloskey had paid visit to. Her business was situated in an addition fronting a two-story home. The lobby was small but had new furniture. The Madam turned a tidy profit.

Ross badged the buxom intern. Her voice went up an octave as she futtered with the phone and intercom to get a hold of the Madam. Ross assured her this was just a routine inquiry, nothing to worry about. Finally another door opened and Ms. Magloin was there.

Ross had expected some old bat, hair dyed an unnatural color, who spoke with a raspy smoker’s voice and a contrived eastern European accent. But instead he found a woman shy of forty who dressed professionally and had the body of an aerobics instructor.

“Would you like to speak in my office?” she asked.

“Sure.”

Her office, where she told fortunes and preyed on suckers, wasn’t what he expected either. She sat at a round table and crossed her legs at the knees under her modest dress. No crystal balls or anything like that. The faint smell of incense in the air.

Ross remained standing. “What did you and Eddie McCloskey discuss?”

The Madam didn’t put up a fight. She described their conversation in detail.

“I’d like to see your books. Want to know how many times Mrs. Ketcher came to see you.”

“Of course. I’ll have Stacy pull that information for you.”

“Thanks.” Ross started to leave but followed the old habit of stopping and thinking of one more question. “Anybody else associated with this little drama come to see you? Mr. Ketcher, perhaps?”

“Not Mr. Ketcher.”

There was a tiny inflection in her voice when she spoke, belying a subtext. All Ross had to do was cock an eyebrow.

Ms. Magloin gritted her teeth. “I don’t mind sharing information about Alice. She’s dead and has no right to privacy anymore. But her husband is very much alive.”

Ross smiled. “I can get the information one way or another, Ms. Magloin. The law doesn’t recognize a psychic-client privilege.”

“I know it doesn’t but if I tell you I hurt my business.”

Ross just waited. The woman had no leverage.

“Giles Tyson.”

Ross took his notepad back out. “When?”

“Four or five weeks ago.”

“What did he want?”

“He wanted a reading. He wanted to help the Ketchers. He wanted to know if Alice had figured out who the spirit was because if he knew, he could help them better.”

“What did you do?”

“I gave him a reading, told him I couldn’t share information about Alice.”

Ross chuckled. “And what did you see in Mr. Tyson’s future?”

“Increased notoriety. That man is going to be known again, nationally I think. I can tell that without even using the Eye.”

Twenty minutes later Ross was back in his car. He called Spencer and told him what he’d found out. It was potentially exculpatory evidence and Green was going to use it, so the DA needed to know.

Spencer said, “How’d you know McCloskey went to this charlatan?”

“Charlatan. Nice word, Spencer. Good police work is how I know that. Towson didn’t plan to share that with you but I figured you’d better know.”

Spencer was silent for a moment. Ross could hear the wheels turning.

The DA said, “I’ll keep it between us for now but it’ll come out at trial that we knew. No way to keep it from the chief then.”

“If I worried about the chief I wouldn’t have the stomach to be a detective.”             

* * * *

The next afternoon, Eddie and Green went back to the police station. This time they were greeted by a desk sergeant named Grimm. The man had grey hair but a young face and mischievous eyes. He let them in without a fuss and led them to Anson’s cell.

Anson Ketcher didn’t look well. He hadn’t shaved since Eddie had arrived so now he had a week’s worth of stubble. He’d finished two books of sudoko and was grateful when Green produced another.

“Thanks, Denard. What’s going on, guys?”

Green smiled. “Eddie has some questions for you, Anson. It’s very important you answer truthfully.”

Anson looked offended. “Of course.”

Eddie and Green sat on some folding chairs outside the cell while Anson remained standing, his forearms sticking through the bars of the cell.

Eddie said, “Your wife went to a psychic. Did you know that?”

“Wh-what are you talking about?”

“Answer the question.”

“No, I didn’t know that.”

Eddie tilted his head to the side. “You sure about that?”

Anson started to protest but just as quickly gave it up. “Listen … I knew about it.”

Green groaned. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Anson balled a fist. “I thought she was cheating on me. She kept going out, you know, for long stretches. And we weren’t talking. So I asked a friend to tail her.”

“Who?”

Anson didn’t answer.

Eddie shook his head. “Don’t tell me it was Giles.”

Anson nodded.

Green’s eyes were going to pop out of his skull.

Anson said, “I didn’t want people knowing I was keeping tabs on her. That wouldn’t look good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Green said.

“Alice didn’t tell me and the soothsayer was over an hour away, which meant she didn’t want anybody to know. When I thought about it, I didn’t want anybody to know. I figured a jury up here—especially if it’s anybody from our church—would think less of us if they knew that.”

“Well everybody is going to know,” Eddie said. “So you better get used to it.”

“Shit. Shit.”

“You never confronted her about the psychic?” Eddie asked.

“No. Not once. I asked her where she went a few times, but she just said the gym.”

“So you didn’t know that she was trying to channel the spirit, or clear the house, or anything like that?”

“We weren’t talking, man. The more time passed, the less we saw of each other. Both of us just made up reasons not to be in the house when the other was around.”

“So you thought what when you saw her pass out?” Green asked.

“That she fainted, or …”

“Or?”

“That she got possessed, like. I don’t know.”

“Did you tell your pastor about it?”

Anson nodded.

“And what did he say?” Eddie asked.

“That possession was unlikely, man. He said it was probably a medical condition, sin-something. Sin …”

“Syncope,” Eddie said.

“That’s it.”

“Why didn’t you tell us she’d talked to an attorney about a divorce?”

“I wasn’t sure she did. I thought it was just threats.”

Green sighed. “Believe it.”

“Hell.” Anson hung his head. “Man, that’s a kick in the balls. After all we went through, she was going to …”

Anson got choked up. Eddie looked away, embarrassed. Green kept his eyes on his client.

They gave Anson a moment. Then Green leaned forward. “Explain it to me again. How she died.”

Anson pushed away from the bars and laid down on his cot, one knee angled up and his eyes on the ceiling.

“The ghost started with me but turned on Alice in the family room. She was still out of it from her spell but started to come to. She seemed like she had something to tell me, but as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, it went after her. I tried to help her, but I couldn’t do anything. She couldn’t speak, and I realized it was crushing her windpipe. She was dragged into the studio and I grabbed her leg, hoping to break the thing’s hold on her. She was screaming my name, trying to tell me something. Something hit my head and I lost consciousness. When I came to I saw Alice in there with her neck …”

“And the ghost didn’t come after you then?” Eddie asked.

“No. I checked Alice’s pulse just to make sure then got the hell out of there. I was in survival mode, wasn’t really thinking.”

Eddie frowned. If the spirit was evil, why had it only killed one person and not the other? And why had it attacked Anson first, who was clearly less of a threat to it than Alice?

“Did you ever try to get rid of it?” Eddie asked.

Anson sat up on the cot. “I told you, man. No.”

“But it was driving you and your wife apart.”

“I always thought it would go away eventually. And I thought if me and Alice got through it together, we’d be stronger.”

“You never asked it to leave?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, man.”

“Never spoke bad of it, never called it names, never provoked it in any way?”

“Never.”

“And that night was the first night it ever touched you?”

“Yeah.”

“You drank that night for the first time in awhile,” Eddie said.

“So what?”

“Were you nasty to Alice?”

“No … we had a disagreement but it was nothing serious.”

“Did you threaten Alice in any way?”

“No, man.” Anson looked through the bars at Eddie. “I fucking didn’t.”

“Then why the fuck did this ghost start pushing you around?” Eddie stood and paced. “There has to be some reason.”

“You’re the fucking expert.”

“Okay, okay.” Green grabbed Eddie’s arm. “Take it easy.”

Eddie ignored Green. “He’s not leveling with us. According to him, Alice was the one trying to get the spirit to leave. So why the hell would it become violent toward him?”

“Maybe as a way to get Alice to stop,” Anson said. “It went easy on me just to get her attention, then turned on her when she tried to interfere.”

Eddie shook his head. “There was nothing preventing it from going after Alice in the first place. We know because it did later. This makes as much sense as trying to nail jello to a tree.”

“It went down like I told you, man.”

“I’m ready to walk.” Eddie looked at the lawyer. “This guy isn’t on the level.”

Anson reached through the bar. “Eddie, please. It’s the truth. I didn’t kill Alice. I loved that woman. I’m a no-good son of a bitch and maybe I don’t even deserve your help for all the shit I’ve done but I’m not a murderer. I couldn’t kill the one thing I loved in this world.”

Eddie stopped pacing. He was thinking about how years ago he’d ruined his relationship with Moira, the one woman he’d loved more than anything. “Like the fella once said, every man kills the thing he loves. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Please, Eddie.” Anson was in tears. “I didn’t kill Alice. If I could trade my life for hers, I would. She was good, she was decent. If either of us deserved to die that night it was me.”

Green waddled over. “Why don’t you take the weekend, Eddie? You don’t have to make a decision right now. Think about it for a day or two.”

Eddie looked from Green to Anson. “If Gracie Barbitok weren’t looking to burn your ass, I’d be long gone, buddy.”

* * * *

Eddie took Green’s call from his car fifteen minutes later. “Anson didn’t crack, even when we caught him in a few lies.”

Green sighed. “I told you. The man is innocent, Eddie. I really believe that.”

“Listen, Green. I was only part-acting in there. I’m still not convinced. Something else is going on, I just don’t know what. And I don’t feel great about taking that stand next week not knowing for sure.”

“You said it yourself, Edward. We’ll probably never know what happened. But listen, I wanted to thank you for a job well done so far. You’ve given Anson a fighting chance.”

Eddie was shocked. He didn’t know lawyers were capable of gratitude. “We’ve still got Mount-fucking-Everest to climb, Green.”

“Yeah, but not till Monday.”

“Tomorrow morning we’ll start again, right?”

“You bet. Take it easy tonight, kid.”

Eddie drove around. He didn’t feel like seeing Giles and he didn’t feel like going back to his cheap motel. He motored through town, past the tiny shops and old buildings and could feel the history of the place. First, settlers. Then, colonists. Then, the town had greatly expanded a hundred years ago, like a miniature Pre-Cambian explosion. There was work to be had. Then, the population leveled off and began shrinking and now it had found homeostasis as a quiet place where neighbors were good to each other and doors weren’t always locked.

Looking down one street, he spotted a hole-in-the-wall restaurant, doubled-back, and parked. The exterior looked ready to crumble, the place smelled greasy, and it was loud.

Inside, Eddie seated himself in the corner so he had a view of the muted TV. The Phillies were playing the Mets. Eddie still didn’t know how anybody could root for the Mets, even if they were from New York.

The waitress came over. She was pushing forty but brave enough to flaunt a belly ring. He ordered a water and a took a chance on a cheese steak. The likelihood of getting a decent cheese steak went down every mile farther away from Philly you were.