The Chilling Spree (21 page)

Aidan was very proficient at staring without
seeming rude.  What had Johnny said about those bred for the
trenches and those who could afford to hire the diggers? 
Crevan’s father was certainly part of the latter.  I marveled
at how his son was such an honest, approachable man with all the
integrity Aidan thought he possessed by birthright.

“Johnny!” he pumped a hand with warmth I
couldn’t imagine.  Maybe the senior Conall looked at Johnny as
the man he wished Crevan had become.  “Kathleen’s not home
right now, but I promise, she’ll be devastated that she missed
you.  How have you been?”

“Fine, thank you, Aidan.  I don’t
believe you’ve met –”

“Dr. Helen Eriksson,” he interrupted and
stopped hiding his frank appraisal and extended his hand to me.

Limp. Clammy.  His clasp made me
shudder internally. Every ounce of will power kept it from rippling
over my skin. Oh, that air of superficial propriety was maintained
– by Conall at least, yet I felt the coldness in his eyes,
something so dark, almost hateful, that it defied reason. This man
didn’t know me. He’d never met me before. Still, I had the distinct
impression that he’d rather nosh on a pile of steaming shit than
shake my hand or acknowledge my existence.

What can I say? With that kind of first
impression, or gut instinct, I couldn’t help but return the
sentiment, even though it made absolutely no sense.

“I have read a great deal about you, young
lady.  Darkwater Bay owes a debt of gratitude to you that I
fear can never be repaid.”

Now how in the hell was I supposed to
respond to that without sounding immodest or insincere?  Fling
him over my shoulder? Call him the liar I intuitively knew he
was?

Johnny would kill me. I clamped the urge in
a vice of self control.

“It took a lot of people to make the
progress we’ve seen, sir, including your son.”

Call me crazy, but I think most parents –
normal ones anyway – would respond favorably to that kind of
compliment about their only child.  Instead, Aidan Conall
dropped my hand like he’d suddenly looked down to find he was
holding a rotting fish.

“Yes, well, we had high hopes for Crevan,
but he’s getting a bit long in the tooth for me to believe he’ll
wear the mantle of his forefathers.” 

Back to Johnny as if I didn’t actually
exist.  “So what brings you here, young man?  Don’t tell
me that Governor Collangelo has you out stumping for his campaign
already.”

“No sir, I’m afraid we’re here on official
business.”

“Goodness!  What could that possibly
have to do with me?”

I quelled the impulse to shove Johnny behind
me and take over the interview.  Instead, I let the words
commit the act for me.  “Sir,” I began, “I understand that
you’re one of the members of the city’s fine art’s council.”

“I am the president in fact,” he said. 
Fine lines fanned the edges of his eyes.  “Is this about that
unfortunate business at the amphitheater on New Year’s Eve?  I
must say, my good sense was vetoed when we allowed those hooligans
to use our amphitheater for that so-called concert.  Our
endowment is to
fine
arts, Detective Eriksson.  Popular
music barely meets that criteria.”

“How did –?”

Johnny cut me off.  “Still, Aidan,
Scott Madden is one of our own.  You could hardly say no, not
to mention the amount of revenue those shows generated in service
charges alone, it must’ve funded at least a dozen worthwhile
programs.”

“Yes, that was the same argument my fellow
board members made, yet here we are with a poor young woman dead,
her life tragically cut short.”

“What I’m about to tell you is in the
strictest confidence, Aidan,” Johnny said.

I felt my hackles rise.  How could he
possibly trust this buffoon to keep sensitive information about our
ongoing investigation quiet?  I bit the inside of my cheek and
forced deference to his knowledge of the dynamic between Crevan and
his father – and the rest of Darkwater Bay.

“Of course, Johnny.  Nothing you say
goes any further.”

“The victim found the other night was not a
young lady.  In fact, it was one of the female impersonators
that confronted protesters during the violent altercation during
Pride Week last October.”

His face morphed from faux pleasantry into
something ugly.  “I see.”

“Do you?”

“How dare you step foot into my home and
insinuate that any of the law abiding citizens who merely exercised
their right to free speech and
peaceful
assembly could have
anything to do with the death of one of those freaks?  They’re
not even human!  Abominations, every last one of them!”

“Now, Aidan, I need you to calm down. 
Nobody is insinuating that the fine folks from your congregation
had anything to do with the murder.”

No one but me.  I made a snap judgment
moments ago. Now, it was etched in stone.  Aidan Conall wasn’t
someone I would ever like or respect.  My empathy for Crevan
grew exponentially.  Unfortunately for all of us, I opened my
very tactless mouth.

“Yet at the same time, Mr. Conall, as the
president of the board of the fine art’s council, you have access
to the very venue where this poor
abomination
was
slaughtered, and I’m wondering if any of your fine upstanding
Christian pals might’ve seen fit to say… borrow a set of keys from
you.”

Sparks shot from Johnny’s eyes.

Conall’s reaction, speaking of exponential
growth, dwarfed Johnny’s.  His face mottled red, veins in the
neck bulged in proportion to his eyes and I could’ve sworn that the
word hissed from his lips was an epithet that wouldn’t have been
appropriate for his beloved church folk to hear.  Then again,
my experience with zealots has led me to conclude that their
hypocrisy knows no bounds.

A trembling finger pointed to the front
door.  “Get out of my home!  If you want to interrogate
me, you may contact my attorney!”

Johnny gritted his teeth with a vice grip to
match on my upper arm and steered me out of the house.  I
understood his anger and frustration, but couldn’t for the life of
me identify what prompted me to goad Aidan Conall into responding
in such a negative way.

“I sure as hell hope you know what you’re
doing, Doc, because we’re not going to make any progress with him
or any of his Christian soldiers now,” he growled.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t reassure him with
a grand plan behind my impromptu attack.  It made little sense
in light of the problems we faced with the case already.  All
I knew was there was simply something about Aidan Conall that I
absolutely loathed.

My woes over a big mouth that didn’t know
when to shut up were just beginning.  Think tip of the
iceberg.  By the time Johnny finished blistering my ears all
the way from Bay View back to Downey Division, word had spread like
wildfire, from Chief of Police Don Weber, to Lieutenant Shelly
Finkelstein, the mayor of Darkwater Bay, and yes, in a very
personal way to Crevan.

I held up one forestalling palm at his livid
expression when Johnny and I walked into the squad room.  “I
know.  Johnny already gave it to me in spades, Crevan. 
No need to go there.”

Only one person remained oddly supportive of
what I had done, though by now I’d had plenty of time for the
requisite replay in my brain.  Nothing I had said was actually
that offensive.  Then again, there are those bothersome
statistics on communication.  Only seven percent of any
message is the actual words one uses.  Everything else that
speaks for us is tone and body language.  Mine clearly
screamed contempt.

Briscoe had an
atta girl
smirk on his
face.  I didn’t have to ask why.  He thought Crevan’s dad
was a raving religious zealot, a lunatic of the first order, only
pardoned by society because all of his delusions fell into the
acceptable category of religious dogma.  Then again, Briscoe
wasn’t quite rational and objective about religion either. 
His flavor merely imbued magical powers to statues and beads.

“Helen –”

“Please, Crevan.  I know I screwed
up.”

“You have no idea how much.  He called
the mayor and Chief Weber for God’s sake.  Did we not tell you
that he had to be approached in a very subtle way?”

“Yes, I was warned, and I’m sorry.  I
have no idea what came over me.  Seriously.  He just…
pissed me off I guess.”

“He has that effect on people,” Crevan
muttered.  “But thanks a lot.  He’s now started ranting
at me about how I sicced you on him in retaliation for his bad
reaction to the news of my divorce.”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”  My eyes
rolled hard.  “Because he’s clearly our top priority right
now.”

“The way he’s telling the story, you made it
about him, about besmirching the holy name of the only righteous
church in Darkwater Bay.”

Briscoe snorted.  “‘Bout time somebody
knocked that smug so-and-so down a peg or two.  If he’s smart,
he won’t be so vocal about his opinion of other religions in the
city.  He’s in a vast minority as it is.”

“Let’s not turn this into some kind of
crusade between canons,” I said.  Yeah, me defending religious
freedom.  Somewhere in the universe, planets were
colliding.  “Johnny heard what I said, and I think we agreed
that he was already feeling defensive after Johnny explained why we
wanted to talk to him.”

“Well, to hear him tell it, you flat out
accused the church of homicide, hate crimes and targeting
homosexuals,” Shelly Finkelstein joined the conversation.  “I
surely hope Johnny did witness what you said, because he’s
demanding to anybody who will listen that you be fired.
 Immediately.”

“Christ,” Johnny hissed.  “She was a
tad on the sarcastic side, Shelly, but all she asked was whether or
not anyone might’ve borrowed his keys that would’ve allowed access
to the amphitheater.  Granted, I would’ve preferred a gentler
approach with him, but she basically cut through the crap and got
to the crux of our visit.”

“With no favorable answer given,” Shelly
scowled at me.

I felt the accolades from the honors
ceremony at the police holiday party a couple of weeks ago
disintegrate into ash.  “I apologize,” which sounded quite
insincere since it was huffed out of my throat with sarcasm that
dwarfed what the senior Conall received.

Johnny’s hand surreptitiously crept over and
gripped mine.  “It’s all right, Helen.  We’ll find
another approach with Aidan, maybe give him a few hours to cool
down.  I think as long as you’re not in his face again, we can
broach the subject and get the answers we need from him.”

“After you’ve crawled through broken glass
with a better apology than the one I just heard,” Shelly
said.  “And do we seriously believe that a Baptist from this
congregation really might’ve had something to do with the murder of
Kyle Goddard?”

Johnny frowned.  “Speaking of Goddard,
why aren’t you and Tony watching the marina like I asked?”

Shelly piped up.  “Because I overrode
that order and sent a couple of uniformed officers over there
instead.”

Tension bled out of Johnny, into me, all
around the squad room.  In fact, I felt the roof of the
building rise from the anger he projected.  He dropped my
hand.  “A word with you in private, Lieutenant
Finkelstein.”

“Shit,” Briscoe said.  “I wouldn’t
wanna be in Lou’s shoes right about now.  I told you we
should’ve just gone over there like he wanted, Crevan.”

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea to stick around
here.”

“I thought Johnny said he would clear the
surveillance with her.  What happened between that
conversation and when you were supposed to leave for the marina?” I
asked.

“She asked where you were headed,” Briscoe
shrugged.  “When we told her, she got all pissy and said she’d
send a squad car out to watch Goddard’s slip in the marina.  I
figured you’d probably have a better idea about why she’d challenge
Johnny for control of this case.”

“Me?  Why would I know what she’s
thinking?  I haven’t spoken to her since she called about
Devlin’s accident.”

“Ain’t that what you do?” Briscoe
grinned.  “You know everybody’s motives whether they say ‘em
out loud or not.”

I wished.  “I can’t imagine why all of
a sudden anybody would have a problem with OSI assuming
jurisdiction over this case.  It could be rightfully argued
that the state’s interest supersedes the city’s.”

“Weird,” Crevan’s eyes drifted to the closed
door, mostly because Johnny’s indistinct words could be heard, tone
loud, through the solid door.

My lips pinched together tightly.  In
light of what Chris and I discussed, I was pretty sure that even if
Finkelstein had a valid reason for fighting over jurisdictional
control, Johnny would see it as an indictment on his competence
since I caused his memory loss.  Why couldn’t anything ever be
simple?  Why had I gone and made everything a hundred times
more difficult by needling Aidan Conall?

That one really stumped me. 

“Helen?”

My focus jerked back to the detectives
staring at me.  Briscoe was laughing softly.

“Gotta keep an eye on this one when she gets
that spaced out look.  She probably just figured out
whodunit.”

“I haven’t got the first clue, Briscoe,”
less hostile, still a little vacant from the here and now. 
“I’m worried about Johnny.”

“‘Bout damn time.”

“I’ve always been worried about him,” my
patience wore thin.  “If you hadn’t been such a jackass after
he got hurt, you might’ve realized that I was reacting out of pain
and concern that my actions directly led to him being hurt by
someone
you
told me was already dead, Tony.”

“I thought you looked like you could’ve
honestly murdered the guy.”