A Tap on the Window

Sixty-three

“Phyllis must have moved him,” I said to Augie. “She had to know we were coming, so she got him out of here.”

“This is insane,” Augie said.

I shifted some boxes around. “I think this stuff was just moved in here. There’s no dust on the floor around the boxes. And — hang on. There’s half a sandwich down there, and the bread’s not moldy. Would you come eat a sandwich in this room if you didn’t have to?”

“I can barely breathe,” my brother-in-law said. “Wait a second.” He left the room.

“What?” I said.

“Marks on the floor,” he said. “Like something was wheeled through here. Went through some water on the floor, leaking out from under the washing machine...”

“A wheelchair,” I said.

“Maybe.”

“I’m not making this shit up,” I said.

“Let’s go back up,” he said. We rendezvoused in the kitchen. “Think Phyllis drives a Crown Vic. Tan-colored one. Looks sort of like a cop car without the bells and whistles.”

He got out his phone, told the Griffon police dispatcher to have everyone looking for Phyllis Pearce’s car. “Try Patchett’s first. If you see it, don’t do anything. Just let me know.”

He put the phone away and said, “We might as well head over there anyway.”

“I need to talk to you about this other thing.”

Augie pulled back a kitchen chair and plopped himself down. He gestured for me to do the same, and I did.

“Go ahead,” he said wearily.

“I think Ricky Haines killed Scott.”

I’d found, over the years, it was nearly impossible to shock Augustus Perry. Provoke, yes, but not shock. Even if you managed to say something that surprised him, he’d do his best to remain stone-faced.

He wasn’t able to hide his reaction this time.

“What?” he bellowed. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Haines was searching Claire Sanders out back of Patchett’s one night. Used it as an excuse to give her one hell of a patdown. Scott saw it happen, threatened to report Haines — maybe to you — for assault. Every time he saw Haines around town, he referred to him as a pervert. Haines had it in for him.”

“Come on,” Augie said. “Maybe Claire’s making it up.”

“Scott actually told us this story, although he never said which cop it was. Looks like Scott was a constant thorn in Haines’ side. One night, Haines had a chance to deal with it.”

Augie was slowly shaking his head. “I still don’t buy it.”

“You think it’s just a coincidence that the night Scott goes off the roof of Ravelson Furniture, it just happens to be Haines who finds him? Haines wasn’t answering a call. It wasn’t someone else who found Scott. Haines found him. And then came to our door with the news. Something else that’s bothered me. Haines must have known you were Scott’s uncle. You’d think, if you’ve just found the body of your own chief’s nephew, that you might put in a call to him. Maybe even bring him in to break the news to the family. But he didn’t want to bring you in. Probably too rattled to do that.”

“Jesus,” Augie said.

“I might not have believed it before,” I said, “but now I know what Ricky Haines is capable of. I think he murdered Hanna Rodomski. I know he murdered Dennis Mullavey, and tried to kill me and Claire. He planted tracking devices in my car so he could follow me to where Dennis and Claire had been hiding out. He wasn’t expecting me to get picked up for threatening the Tapscott kid. He even offered to call my lawyer for me. He needed me free, to lead him to Claire and Dennis.”

Augie winced. “It was Ricky who told me you were in custody. Just before I came and lied my ass off for you.”

“He and his mother have been keeping a prisoner in this house for seven years. You telling me someone capable of all that couldn’t have thrown my son off that roof?”

That left him with nothing to say. I watched his cheeks grow red. “The bastard,” he said finally. “Why the hell didn’t Claire Sanders come forward?”

“Seriously? With all the shit going down between you and her father? She figured she didn’t need any part of that. She said if she’d reported it, you’d just say her father put her up to it to make you look bad.”

He sighed. “Shit.” He pushed the chair back and stood. “We’ve got to get Haines and his mother, bring them both in, sort all of this out. Believe me, if that fucker killed Scott...” Augie made a fist at his side. “I loved him, too, you know. He’s my sister’s boy.”

“I know,” I said.

“We’ll get to the bottom of this. I swear to God.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “I intend to.”

“Let’s go find them,” he said, and started for the door.

My cell rang. I grabbed it from my jacket pocket, saw that it was home calling.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hi,” Donna said. Her voice was flat, lacking animation.

“What’s going on?”

“I need you to come home.”

“I’m kind of — I’m with Augie, and we’re right in the middle of something.”

“Still, I need you to come home,” she said. “I’ve got a visitor.”

“A visitor? Donna, just tell me what’s going on and—”

I heard the phone being jostled, then a different voice came on the line. “Mr. Weaver? Phyllis Pearce here. We have some things we need to discuss. You’re going to help me out, because if you don’t, it’s going to be your fault what happens to your wife.”