A Welcome Grave

31

By the time Targent arrived there were a half-dozen uniformed cops combing the breakwater and surrounding woods. I knew they wouldn’t find Doran, but I’d made the call anyhow—after placing one to Joe. He’d beaten the police to the park and stood with me in the rain while I’d recounted my story to a sergeant who looked skeptical at best and seemed relieved to hear Targent was on his way, somebody to receive the baton.

I gave it all to Targent as he stood with his hands in his pockets, rain shedding off the baseball cap he wore.

“Six hours ago you wanted me to believe Doran killed Alex Jefferson,” Targent said, watching the flashlight beams play across the wet grass around us, searchers looking for Doran. “Now you’re telling me you were wrong. That he thoughtfully grabbed you and drove you down here to explain this?”

“It’s one of the things he said.”

“So who did kill Jefferson?”

“I don’t know.”

“He failed to mention that one? Too bad. But you say he did admit to being involved in this extortion attempt. Took the credit.”

“Yes.”

“While you were down here, he didn’t happen to make a phone call?”

I wiped rain out of my eyes and shook my head, spraying water like a dog. “No. Why?”

Targent just nodded. “You want to get in my car for a second? Both of you? Get out of this rain.”

We sat in his car, Joe in the back, Targent and I in the front. He turned the dome light on, then held up a small tape recorder.

“You say Doran was with you at 7:00 P.M.?”

“Yes.”

“And he did not make a phone call.”

“No.”

“Karen Jefferson received a phone call tonight. We’ve got a trap on her line.” He rolled the volume switch up with his thumb. “I want you to listen.”

He pressed play. There was a momentary hiss of static, and then the first voice came on.

“Hello?” Karen.

“How’s my money looking? Ready to move, or have you been too busy with the police?”

This voice meant nothing to me. It was deep and distorted, probably altered with some electronic device.

“I haven’t been busy with the police.”

“That’s not true. You’ve spent a lot of time with them, despite clear instructions that you should not.”

“They’re investigating my husband’s murder. They’re going to be here. I can’t stop that. I can’t stop that.” Karen’s voice rising with frustration and fear.

“You’re under a lot of pressure. That’s too bad. But it’s not my fault. I was promised my money. If you’re upset about that, you should talk to Lincoln Perry. You’ve spent a lot of time with him, too.”

“What about Lincoln?”

“Like I said, I was promised my money.”

“By who? What’s that have to do with Lincoln? Who promised you any money?” Karen’s voice was balanced on a sharp edge, a scream on one side, tears on the other.

“Lincoln.”

“What?”

“Lincoln promised me my money. I don’t know what he’s convinced you of, but he convinced me that I was going to be paid. I intend to see that happen. He won’t stop it, and neither will you.”

“Lincoln didn’t promise you any money! Who are you? Why are you—”

The line had already gone dead. She stopped shouting only when the dial tone began to hum. The static hiss returned, and Targent shut off the tape, his eyes locked on my face.

“Comments?”

I didn’t say anything. I stared at the tape recorder in his hand as if it were alive, a person who had done me harm.

“That’s cute,” Joe said, “but it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense. If you think Lincoln made that call, why would he possibly implicate himself? If you think he’s been working with someone to get that money, why would he be implicated now? It’s clearly a weak attempt to set him up.”

“It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense? Fair enough, Pritchard, but I could repeat the phrase back to you for everything your partner has told me since this got started. You know why? Because when you stack lies on top of lies, none of it makes any sense.”

“Can’t you see that I’m being set up?” I said. “First the fingerprints, now this call, it’s just a—”

“Speaking of fingerprints, you say he was in your truck?”

“Yes.”

“So he should have left some of his own.”

“He wore gloves.”

“Of course he did. Maybe there’s some other evidence. Fibers, a boot print, something.”

“Maybe.”

“Glad you’re in agreement. For that reason, I’m going to impound the vehicle.”

“Go for it.”

“While I’m at it, maybe take a good look at those tires. See if they match with the plaster casts we made in that field where Alex Jefferson was found.”

“They’re not going to fit,” I said, but by now I wasn’t even sure of that. I was still hearing the voice on that tape using my name again and again, Karen’s voice on the edge of hysteria.

“Maybe not,” Targent said, “but I’ve stopped trusting your assurances.”

“I’m going to see Karen. I know she can’t believe any of this, but I need to see her.”

Targent shook his head. “That’s not happening.”

“You can’t stop it, Detective.”

“My partner is still with Mrs. Jefferson. She is quite distraught. She has agreed, with our admitted encouragement, to request a formal protective order banning you from any further contact until this thing’s settled. Until the court paperwork is done, that protective order will be enforced by police. You so much as call her, and I’ll have your ass in jail within an hour.”

“You can’t do that, Targent. That’s your idea, not hers. This son of a bitch calls and now you’re trying to cut me off from her? Not happening. I’m going over there.”

“Then you’re going to jail. One phone call, and you’re going to jail.”

I looked at Joe and saw nothing but helplessness in his eyes. What was Karen doing right now? Listening to Daly nurture the ideas Targent had planted?

“We can make this go easier,” Targent said, leaning toward me, half of his face lit by the dome light, his elbow propped against the steering wheel. “If you didn’t kill the guy, now’s the time to talk. Tell us who did. Tell us what you know. Do that, and things can be a lot less painful.”

“I gave you every damn detail. Doran’s the guy, and his partner was hired by Jefferson.”

“I’m done listening to that shit, Perry. I’ve busted open some of your lies already, and I’ll keep right on doing it, and the longer you sit there with your mouth shut, the more certain I am that you ran the whole show. That you killed Jefferson.”

I didn’t answer.

“Dwell on that,” he said. “And get out of my car.”