Code 61

TWENTY-NINE

Wednesday, October 11, 2000

09:12

I was awakened by the phone. I glanced at the clock. 09:12. I groggily wondered why the wake-up call was solate. “Yeah.”

It was Hester. “You guys like to come over here for brunch?”

“Jesus, Hester. They didn't call, and the alarm didn't go off… ”

“I'm waking you up?”

I told her she was. She, as it turned out, had taken her morning five-mile run, cleaned up, and had been wondering what was taking us so long to call her.

“Brunch?” I asked.

“What about brunch?” came from Harry in the next bed.

“You guys gotta come over here to eat,” said Hester. “Really. You gotta see this.”

That sounded really good to me. “Give us twenty minutes,” I said. I showered first, while Harry contacted a Walworth County detective named Jim Hawkins, and told him that we were going to have a bite at the Geneva Inn. He said he'd try to meet us within an hour.

I drove, while Harry navigated. All the way through a spot called Linton, on a county road, and then north on Highway 120. The real estate got progressively more upscale as we went. We turned left into a kind of obscure drive, and into the parking lot of a very beautiful hotel. Hester, it appeared, had scored big.

My favorite DCI agent met us in the lobby. It was beautifully done in light wood, natural lighting, with uniformed help who exuded confidence and capability. We continued on into the split-level dining room that had huge windows on three sides, with a fantastic view of Lake Geneva.

We sat at a table with real linen. Heavy silver. Quiet atmosphere. Elegant. Refined. Nice.

“Sleep well?” I asked Hester. She looked absolutely refreshed.

“Wonderful room,” she said. “Wet bar, Jacuzzi, balcony overlooking the lake… ”

“We,” said Harry, “are in the Bates Motel.”

“Poor dears,” said Hester.

A pretty, perky, and efficient waitress, in her twenties, offered us the breakfast buffet. We partook, as Old Knockle would have said. I never wanted to leave.

Over a great cup of coffee, we gazed out the windows at the huge homes on the lakefront. I thought I could make out a sliver of a rounded dome in the far distance, across the lake and in thick trees. As the waitress asked us if we needed more coffee, I pointed to the dome. “Is that Yerkes Observatory, do you know?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Wow,” I said. “We gotta try to get there.”

“What's there?” asked Harry.

“Enormous telescope, the biggest refractor in the world,” I said. “I'd really like to see that.”

“They have tours,” said the waitress, smiling.

“Excellent.” I shifted my gaze to the left a bit. “And that big gray building over there? That wouldn't be the courthouse, would it?”

The waitress giggled. She gestured to the enormous, pinkish gray building. “That one?”

“Yeah… ”

“That's the Hunley place,” she said.

It was a four-story building, although there didn't seem to be any windows on the fourth floor. It was absolutely huge. It made the Mansion in Nation County look like an outbuilding. Composed of a large central four-story block, with arched glass, flanked by two equally large sections with square windows, and flanked again by two wings with vast windows. I never would have thought it to be anything but a government office building or library.

“Whoa.” I was impressed. “That's not a public park, then?”

“No, that's the lawn. About three hundred yards of lakefront lawn. And it runs back to the highway at least that far. With a big stone wall, and a huge iron gate. You won't be able to miss it when you go by.”

“I'm impressed,” said Hester. “What does Mr. Hunley do, to be able to afford a four-story home like that?”

“It's Mrs. Bridgett Hunley,” said our waitress. “She's a widow. I don't think she does anything, really. My brother works for their landscaper. Full-time job, mowing that lawn and taking care of the grounds. All summer and into the fall. I'm not kidding. Every day but Sunday. Eight hours a day. Three of them working.”

As she left our table, we exchanged glances. “Holy shit,” said Harry, in as close to a sotto voce as he was capable of assuming, “maintenance on that sucker must cost close to a hundred thousand a year.”

“God bless waitresses,” said Hester. “Carl, why don't you leave a nice tip?”

About halfway through the second coffee, a thin, balding man dressed in slacks and a sweater came toward our table. Harry stood, and greeted him. “Guys,” he said, “this is Jimmy Hawkins, the best detective in this end of the state.” He introduced us.

After the waitress brought Hawkins a cup of coffee, Harry gave him the ten-cent brief, including both murders, some details, the window peeking incident, and the disappearance of Alicia.

Hawkins listened very intently. “Glad those aren't my cases,” he said, when Harry had ffnished. “I just wish they weren't connected to my town. So, what can I do for you?”

“We need a little background,” said Hester.

“On Jessica Hunley, for instance,” I said.

Hawkins told us a lot. Jessica was something of a ffxture in the community, and a welcome one. She did lots of charity work, arts oriented, and spent a lot of time working on community projects that furthered music and dance. She was well known, and highly regarded. There was nothing, as far as he knew, that had ever indicated she might have any criminal involvement of any sort.

“Besides,” he said, “her Aunt Bridgett Hunley would have a fit if she thought Jessica was into anything that might damage the family reputation.”

Bridgett Hunley was a “mega-millionaire,” according to Hawkins. He looked very serious, and said, “I mean 'mega,' too. Really one of the wealthiest women going.”

Jessica lived with her Aunt Bridgett. We sort of knew that already. “I understand she might have taken ill recently,” I said.

“I hadn't heard that, but I'll check,” he said. “She's always struck me as being healthy as a horse.”

“And that,” I said, indicating the four-story building across the lake, “is her house?”

“Yeah, it is. Good size, isn't it? There are about a hundred places with about that much property, or more, around here,” said Hawkins. “But that's the biggest house. Well, the biggest stone house, I should say. Lots of the upper crust from Chicago, years ago, discovered Lake Geneva. People like Wrigley, and Marshall Field, and people like that. Large money. They built summer homes here.”

“That's not a summer home?”

“Not today. But it was in the twenties.” He sipped his coffee. “Today, I think Bridgett and Jessica own four or five places, in fact. But this is the main place.”

“How did they make their money, do you know?” asked Hester.

“Meat packing and railroads, I think. And one of their ancestors married into lumber, as well.” He held his cup up in a “toast” gesture. “Here's to diversification.”

“It's going to be a little intimidating just going to the door for an interview,” I said.

“You can probably find Jessica at her studio during the day,” he said. “That's right at the end of the lake, here, in Lake Geneva. Got a map?”

I was disappointed, I have to admit. I'd had hopes of getting inside the estate.

Hawkins smiled. “Unless you'd care to wait until this evening.” My disappointment must have showed.

“No, that's okay. Some things are just best left to the imagination.” But I felt pretty certain that the residents of the Mansion in Nation County had been guests at the Hunley estate, at the invitation of Jessica. No wonder they were impressed. Just being ushered in there must have been an event.

Hawkins led us to Jessica's dance studio, on Geneva Street, just about downtown Lake Geneva. We all parked, and got out, except for Hawkins. He stayed in his car, with the engine running. He pointed to a door between two stores. “The dark red one, there. The studio is upstairs. Only thing up there.”

“Thanks.”

“You want company? If you do, I could make the time.”

I shook my head. “No, that's okay. We can piss her off all by ourselves.”

“Well, feel free to keep in touch. You need anything, just let me know.”

We squared ourselves, and walked across the street to the dark red door.

“You all set?” I asked.

“You bet,” said Harry. “You two take the lead, and let me just listen in for a bit, okay?”

“Fine with me,” said Hester.

“Well, then… ” I said.

There was a small, brass plaque on the door that said, “Hunley Studios.” The buildings looked pretty old, and I was expecting kind of a dingy, narrow stair in a dingy, narrow staircase. Hardly.

The blond wooden stairs were nearly brand new, nicely varnished, and the pale yellow stairwell was both wider and more brightly painted than I'd expected. The stairs didn't even creak. The stairwell was lined with dance posters, most of them featuring either Jessica Hunley or “The Hunley Dance Repertoire Company.” At the top, we found a large, oak framed, glazed door, again with the sign “Hunley Studios.” As we entered, I noted the time at 11:39.

The music was loud, but pleasant. I recognized it instantly, a thing by Ahmed Jamal and his group, called “Poinciana.” We were in a small waiting room, for want of another word, with three new wooden chairs, and a bulletin board. On it, there were several notes, and a “rehearsal schedule” that indicated today, October 11, was for “rep rehearsal, J amp; T, 9-5.” I pointed it out to Hester.

“They rehearse for eight hours?”

“Sure,” she said. “Repertory. That's a series of their performance dances, you repeat those all the time so they stay fresh in your head.”

One more reason to be glad Hester was along.

The divider between the waiting room and the studio was only waist-high, and the door was on a swinging hinge. On the other side, I could see a nice hardwood floor, flanked on the right by a line of floor to ceiling windows, and on the left by a long mirror. No bar in front, unlike in the movies I'd seen, which were as close as I'd ever been to a rehearsal. At the far end was a set of lockers, and a table with a large boom box.

There were two dancers working on the floor, in black tights, leg warmers, and sweatshirts. Their feet were bare. They were both facing away from us, but the one with the iridescent hair could only be Tatiana. I guessed the other to be Jessica, and when they both turned in unison, I saw I was right.

I don't know what they thought when they saw us standing there, but they never missed a beat. Now that they were facing us, I could hear Jessica counting cadence, sort of.

“Down and up and down and up,” she said, as they went down on the floor, rose, went down and rose again. Very gracefully, with flowing movements. “And turn two three, ten two three, and point and twist and point, and turn… ” and with that, they had their backs to us again.

I turned to Hester. “Wow.” Not only graceful, it looked a lot like hard work. Not the way they did it, but the way I knew I'd have to do it. Hester just smiled, and watched them as they moved away from us.

Harry nudged me in the ribs. “You get to investigate them? I wanna work in Iowa.”

The music stopped, and so did the dancers. They sort of stood, talking for a second, and then Tatiana walked over to the boom box, and opened a tape case. Jessica came over to us.

“My two favorite officers,” she said. “And are you an officer, too?” she asked Harry, with a pleasant voice.

“Detective Harry Ullman,” he said. “I'm a Wisconsin deputy sheriff.”

“What brings you all to Lake Geneva?” She stood in a completely relaxed pose, and I noted that her breathing was entirely normal. If I'd been moving the way she had, I'd still have been breathing hard.

“Business, I'm afraid,” I said. In the background, Tatiana closed the boom box, and started walking over toward us.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” said Jessica. “Should we hold up our hands?”

“Only if you do it to the music,” I said.

“Actually,” said Hester, “we need to talk to both of you for a short while.”

Tatiana had joined us by then, and I stuck out my hand. “Hello, again.”

We shook hands, and she said, “Taking a break?”

“Working,” said Hester.

Jessica looked at her watch. “Unfortunately, we are, too. We have a lot to do today,” she said. “But we'll be taking a break to eat in about half an hour.”

“Fine,” said Hester. “We'll wait.”

With that, both Jessica and Tatiana turned, and walked all the way to the end of the floor, and turned on the boom box. I recognized “Body Language” by Queen.

“Great music,” I said to Hester.

“They've got a half hour to think,” she said. “Get ready to work.”

I watched the two dancers as they faced in opposite directions, and did precisely the same moves as they maneuvered apart. Hands and feet in slightly different positions, due mainly to the difference in their heights, they clapped in perfect unison, as they moved to the music.

“I could watch this for hours,” I said.

“Me, too,” said Harry. “Hours and hours.”

“That's good,” said Hester. “You'll probably have to.”

“Hey,” I said. “My pleasure.”

“You know, Houseman,” she said, deadpan, “it's probably a good thing you're over the hill. Otherwise, you could be influenced by this.”

“My age is my consolation.” I leaned up against the wall, rapt.

“Again,” said Jessica. Tatiana walked quickly over to the boom box, and started the music again.

Exactly the same moves, repeated flawlessly. Well, that's the way it looked to me, anyway. Jessica had Tatiana stop the music.

“How about like this, starting with the first 'sexy body,' and then two, three… ” intoned Jessica, and shifted from side to side, with her hands on her hips.

They did that four or five times, with Jessica counting it. Satisfied, they started the music up again.

My favorite part was where they were back to back, then moved about thirty feet apart, but in the same plane. They moved sideways across the floor, coming together again, and snapping their fingers to the music. When they were directly opposite each other, they each put their arms at shoulder height, and clapped each other's hands while they were back to back. Precisely in time to the music, and at the precise instant when the musicians clapped. I was astonished. I couldn't do that even if I were facing my partner, and never if it involved moving my feet at the same time.

Hester apparently noticed my fascination. “It's in the counting, Houseman.”

“Bullshit,” I whispered. “It's supernatural.”

“I can't help thinking,” said Harry, “that they… Oh, never mind.”

“You two aren't thinking about the case,” said Hester.

They went through “Body Language” five times. Then Jessica got out a mat, and signaled to us. “We just have to rehearse this one bit, then we'll eat.” “Fine, go ahead,” said Hester. With the music off, Jessica clapped her hands in time, and Tatiana spun, and went over onto the mat, slapping her cheek into the plastic surface, with her weight on her raised right arm and her left wrist, which was under her hip. At the same time, her left leg went straight up, foot pointed directly at the ceiling, and her right leg came up with her right foot on her left knee, forming a tripod. Damndest thing. She froze in that position for a full five seconds, then collapsed with a heartfelt complaint.

“Oh, man!”

“Again,” said Jessica.

Tatiana stood, and as Jessica clapped time, spun into the floor, assuming the same position and holding it for five seconds.

Relaxing again, she said, “Aw, boy, that hurts.”

“Now the other side,” said Jessica.

“Aw, geeze,” said Tatiana, but with complete good nature. You could tell she would do almost anything to excel, and to please Jessica. “You know that isn't my best side.”

As Jessica clapped, Tatiana reversed, and did it going the other way. Perfectly, as far as I could tell.

“Ow,” said Tatiana.

Once more, and then both of them walked over to us.

I was thinking lunch. Like, in food. Instead, Jessica motioned us through the divider, and to the three chairs. As we three cops sat, she and Tatiana just sort of flowed into a sitting position on the floor, near a black gym bag. Jessica opened a door under the counter, and removed two bottles of water, some crackers, a small brick of white cheese, and some grapes.

“Would you care for some?”

“No, thanks,” said Hester. “We just had brunch.”

“Oh?” asked Jessica, handing Tatiana a water bottle. “Where?”

“The Geneva Inn,” said Hester.

“Oh, very nice,” said Jessica. “That's where you're staying?”

“I am,” said Hester sweetly. She gave them the name of our motel. “Do you know the place? These two are staying there.”

“Wow,” said Tatiana. “Who'd you piss off?”

“It's a long story,” I said. “But it's worth it, just being here. I don't think I've heard Jamal playing 'Poinciana' in fifteen years.”

“I'm impressed,” said Jessica, in a warm tone. “So, what can we do for you?”

“Well,” said Hester, “we have a few questions. Some things have come to light, and we need to see what you can tell us about them. Clarification, really.”

“Do I need my attorney?” asked Jessica.

“You're not a suspect,” I said.

“Why don't you just tell me what you want to know, and I'll decide whether or not I need an attorney with me,” said Jessica.

Reasonable. Not quite the way I'd hoped, but it was a good chance to get her mind moving in a direction we wanted.

“Fair,” I said. “And Tatiana? What about you?”

I really think she was both surprised and flattered that I'd asked.

“I'll just listen, if this is for both of us.”

“Good,” said Hester. “I think it might be.”

Jessica reached into the gym bag and pulled out a Swiss Army knife, which she opened and used to slice the cheese for both of them. “Go ahead,” she said.

I leaned back in my chair, and pushed my legs out in front of me, trying to look relaxed. I pulled a little notepad from my pocket. They're really handy. You can pretend to be writing, to buy yourself some time. I also put on my reading glasses. They're handy tools, since they can emphasize questions, when you look over the top of the frames at your witness. “Well, to begin with, we know that it was Dan Peale upstairs, who ran on us.”

“Ah.” That was all Jessica said.

“And, we know he killed Edie.”

“For certain?” asked Jessica. Very calm.

“It looks like it. The evidence is compelling.” I wanted to draw her out on that point.

“Mind if I ask what kind of evidence?”

“Nope. Mostly testimonial, supported by some physical evidence, and some observations.”

“Really? Whose?”

“Whose observations?” I love a good game.

“No. Testimony, if I can ask.”

“Toby's.”

First point to me, as her eyes widened. “Really? Where would he hear that?”

“He didn't,” I said. “He was there when Dan killed her.”

Tatiana reacted that time, while Jessica just stared at me.

I shrugged. “I was surprised, too, to tell the truth.”

“When did he tell you that?”

“When we arrested him,” I said.

It got pretty quiet for a few seconds.

“I'm just not sure what to tell you at this point,” I said. “Let me explain the sequence of events, here.”

I started off with the pursuit of Peale the night Borman was attacked, and while Jessica and company were still at the Mansion. As I talked, she interrupted once, to tell me that their muscles would be getting stiff, and did I mind if they sort of stretched them while I talked. No, as a matter of fact, I didn't. I think that was a mistake, though.

When I interview somebody, I watch for cues they send my way, to tell if they're being truthful, or are becoming nervous, or seem to be inventing things. Gamblers call them “tells,” and that's a fine term for it. I listen to their voice. I watch their eyes. And I check the body language. If I'm really attentive, I can tell a lot about an answer regardless of the verbal content. But when Jessica, and then Tatiana a few minutes later, started to stretch and contort, the normal tells were taken right out of the picture. When they'd hold an awkward position, for instance, they would send spurious signals. Sometimes, when they'd answer, I couldn't see their eyes. Their exertions would strain and contort their voices, just a little, and made it very hard to judge expression. I was stuck with relying solely on content.

When I got to the part where Toby had stuck a stake in Edie's chest, though, both dancers seemed shaken.

“That's horrible,” said Jessica.

“It's sick,” said Tatiana, “is what it is.”

I continued, and when I got to the part about Toby telling us about his holding Edie, despite knowing Dan was killing her, Tatiana stopped her stretching, and just stared at us with a horrified expression.

“But, it was likely that it was an accident, wasn't it?” asked Jessica.

“No. Not at all.” I leafed through my notepad, pretending to search for what I was about to say. I was not going to give them Huck's name under any circumstance. “Dan Peale wanted to experience death,” I said, and then tried to make it appear as if I was reading from my notes, “ah, here we go, 'secondhand.' ” I looked back at Jessica. “To do that, it looks like he not only had to bleed Edie to death, he had to make her fully aware she was going to die.”

“Oh,” said Jessica, “No. I simply don't believe that. Not for a minute.”

I did note that Tatiana was silent.

Hester came in from her position of observer for the first time. “All the physical evidence, and all the testimonial evidence, are in complete agreement with that fact,” she said. “Trust me.”

“I believe you think you're right,” said Jessica. “I know you're being honest with me. But if you're relying on the testimony of that Toby, after he mutilated Edie's body… ”

“Oh, no. No, we're not,” I said.

“What?”

“Hell, Toby didn't decide to go after the body with a stake,” I said. I had her.

“But you just told us… ”

I was paying special attention to Tatiana, who was absolutely hanging on our every word. I spoke slowly, for best effect. “Dan told Toby to do it.”

“Impossible!” Jessica was quite convincing at that point. It was the strongest vibe I got from her during the interview.

“Not in the age of cell phones,” said Hester, with a smile.

We let that sink in for a minute.

“Can I have a turn?” asked Harry.

I know Harry Ullman pretty well, and I trust him implicitly. If he wanted in at this precise point, I knew it was a good idea.

“Sure, Harry,” I said.

“When was the last time this Dan went mountain climbing?” he asked. “I mean, the last time you have knowledge of.”

Jessica looked startled. Too bad, because it gave Tatiana a slender opening.

“Last August, wasn't it?” she asked Jessica.

I could see Jessica's mind racing. She didn't know why Harry had asked, and the sudden change of direction had thrown her off.

“Possibly,” she said. It was the only answer under the circumstances. She was fast. She was also cool. She looked directly at Harry. “Why do you ask?”

“Just a second,” he said. “I have another question first. Would that be okay, and then you can see where I'm goin' with this?” He grinned apologetically. When Harry gets humble, I know he's on to something. “I can't think of any other way to say it.”

“All right.”

“Do either of you know of a gal named Alicia? Works on the gaming boat at Freiberg?”

Jessica and Tatiana exchanged glances. Tatiana shrugged. “No,” said Jessica. She sounded believable on that point.

“Well, this Dan dude knew her, and he went and did his mountain climbing thing with the ropes and stuff behind her second-floor apartment. Asked her to let him in, I'm told. She told him no.”

“That's bizarre,” said Jessica.

“It gets worse,” said Harry. “This Alicia had a boyfriend named Randy Baumhagen. Ever hear of him?” Both dancers shook their heads.

“Well, Randy Baumhagen got invited in by Alicia, where Dan didn't,” said Harry, “and it looks like that pissed Dan off. Dan snuck up behind him one night, and whacked him in the head with a blunt instrument.” He watched the disbelief on both women's faces. “No shit, ladies, that's what he did. Know what else he did that night?”

He got two blank looks.

“He used some pliers on Randy Baumhagen, after he was dead. He tore a hole in his neck. Sort of a signature, we think.”

“That's absurd,” said Jessica. “It's absolutely… ”

Harry used an old ploy. He looked at Hester. “You agree with me?” he asked.

“Yes I do,” she said.

“You, Carl?” he asked.

“You bet. All the evidence leads there.”

With that, Harry had established that three of the five people in the room were in agreement. It's surprising how well that can work.

“Why are you telling us this?” Jessica looked at each of us in turn.

“Because,” I said, “we think you can tell us where Dan Peale is.”

It got very quiet in that room. Neither Hester, nor Harry nor I were about to say anything at that point. We wanted Jessica to come across with some information herself, and we wanted to see what it was going to be.

“If you can't find him”-and she looked quizzically at us-“then what makes you think I can tell you?”

“To begin with, our information indicates,” I said, “that you know more about him than anybody connected with the Mansion. We've been told about your, uh, relationship with Dan Peale.”

“Long-term relationship,” said Hester. “You know we were on the third floor. Believe me, we didn't miss a thing.”

Jessica said, “All right.” Just like that. Tatiana let her cheeks puff out, and let out a long breath. She'd apparently been holding it in.

Jessica took a quick drink from her water bottle. “He and I have been lovers for years. I admit it freely, although not publicly. You do understand? He's involved in another relationship, and I would not want to embarrass him.”

“Sure.” I tried to sound encouraging.

“You must know he's into a bit of blood tasting. Not often, but we both consider it to be an intimacy enhancing act. I would like to keep that private. Many people don't understand that sort of thing.” With that, she graced us with a smile. “Especially my Aunt Bridgett.” She shrugged. “But all that aside, I have only contacted him at his office. I presume he is not there?”

“You presume right,” I said. Office?

“That doesn't surprise me,” she said.

“Why not?” asked Hester.

“Well, the night he escaped,” she said. “You knew who he was as soon as the shots were ffred. We could hear your officers calling him by name, on the loudspeakers.”

You know when, in cartoons, the little lightbulb comes on over the character's head? Epiphany city.

“They did his name over the PA systems in the cars, now that you mention it,” I said. “I heard it myself. We were calling him by name, all right. But at that time, we were spelling it P-E-E-L. Not P-E-A-L-E. We had no idea who he was, then, or where he lived.”

“Oh?”

“That's right,” said Hester. “But if he could hear, then he must have thought we had him dead to rights, and that he couldn't go home.”

“Certainly,” said Jessica. “How very silly of you.”

Shit, in a word. We'd prevented his running to the only place we were going to know where to look. His home. Silly wasn't the word for it.

“So,” said Hester, “you don't know where he is?”

“No,” said Jessica.

I got mixed signals on that one. Her head was turned more to Hester, so I didn't get a good look at her eyes. Her body was kind of levered up on one hip, and she had her hand on her ankle, pulling toward the center of her back, stretching her quad muscles. No signals or tells from the body language, that was for certain. But her voice was just a tiny bit too high. Strain from lying, or from stretching? I thought from lying.

Tatiana was just sitting with her legs straight out in front of her, pulling a perfect “L.” I looked at her squarely.

“What about you?”

“Me?” She sounded a bit surprised.

“Yes. Do you know where he is?”

“No. Why would I?” She answered as she bent forward, pressing her rib cage to the tops of her thighs. She stretched and extended her neck, so that we didn't break eye contact. A difficult read. But the nonchalant “question with a question” told me that she, too, was lying to me. It also told me she wasn't as adept at lying as Jessica. She was the weak link, all right.

I smiled at her. Flies and honey. “Now, I suppose a really good cop would say something like”-and I lowered my voice-“I dunno, 'Why would you?' Right?”

“Maybe,” she said, with a hint of a smile.

“Well, speaking as one of the cops who unintentionally misled our suspect into eluding us, I think I better ask something else instead.”

“Good idea,” she said, straightening back up into a seated position.

“So,” I said, “who would you ask if you had to find out where he was?”

It worked. Her eyes shifted to Jessica for an instant, and then back to me. I don't think she was aware she'd done it, even after it had happened. Jessica was looking directly at me, and I was pretty certain she hadn't noticed it, either.

“I can't think of anyone.”

“Okay.” I made a totally bogus check mark on my little notepad.

Jessica made a large point of pulling a watch out of the bag, and checking the time. “We really have to be getting back to work,” she said. “I can't think of anything I know about this that I haven't told you.”

“One more question,” said Hester. “Why does Dan Peale pretend to be from London?”

Jessica handled that one on the fly. “It's an affectation. A charming one. We just play that he is.”

“Ah. But it's made clear that it's an affectation, then?”

“Yes, of course.”

“But there are a lot of people at the Mansion convinced he's from England,” persisted Hester.

“And,” said Jessica, “if they choose to believe it… What's the harm? Some people are more naive than others.” She replaced some of their luncheon items in the cupboard under the counter.

“I'm just making sure in my own mind,” said Hester, “that it isn't a case of the two of you acting together to conceal his real identity.”

Again, Jessica seemed to be unconcerned. “Well, of course we are. I certainly wouldn't want one of them trying to contact him.”

She was really good.

She straightened up. “All this is being treated with the strictest confidence, isn't it?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Won't tell a soul who doesn't need to know,” said Harry.

“I thought as much,” she replied. “But I'm sure you understand that this little ruse we played to avoid, oh, complications, was just that and nothing more. That's all.”

“Sure,” I said. Right. I was thinking how tough this woman would be in front of a jury. I thought I'd give her something to think about. “Before we go, could you tell us how to get to the historical society building?”

“Yes.” She told us.

“Thanks,” I said. Being so damned self-possessed, she hadn't asked. Because of that, I had to tell her why we were looking for it. “I understand they have blueprints of the old Givens place, from way back. We'd just like to see 'em.” That certainly took the bite out of it.

“They're fascinating,” she said. “I hope you enjoy them.”

“And we'll be needing to see you once more,” said Hester. “This evening?”

“For?”

“I really hate being melodramatic,” said Hester, “but I can't tell you that until then.”

Hester had salvaged my objective.

“Perhaps after supper?” Jessica shrugged. “We have some guests coming late this afternoon. I'd rather not disturb them. It will be brief?”

“I hope so. Where can we call you?”

Jessica gave Hester the number of Bridgett Hunley's private line. “After seven,” she said. “I'll answer.”

After we got back downstairs, and out onto the sidewalk, I nudged Hester. “Why the hell did you have to tell her this evening?”

“I don't know.” She quickened her pace. “But I'm not going to let the woman off the hook that easy. She's lying, and we all know it. She knows where that SOB is, Houseman, and she's gonna tell me if I have to strangle her.”

“Attagirl,” said Harry.

“That'd be a sight,” I said. “But I think we might have a good lever in her Aunt Bridgett. It strikes me that Jessica would do just about anything to keep this sort of involvement from her.”

We still had a card up our sleeves. We hadn't mentioned anything about vampires.

We walked to the historical society building, and I noted us in at 12:39. In five minutes, we were looking at the blueprint and history of the Mansion.

In 1903, a vertical shaft had been completed between the silica mine and the top of the hill where the Givens Mansion was located. He owned that mine, and much to my surprise, the tunnel system in 1900 already extended more than a mile and a half along the Mississippi. All they apparently had to do was drop the shaft through about thirty feet of limestone before they got to the silica sand. Piece of cake. We were looking at both plan and elevation diagrams, and it appeared that shaft was vertical, with a simple elevator box, and the machinery at the bottom.

According to the illustration, the previous tramcar and track that had run down the hill, and that Old Knockle had described to me, had been abandoned. The shaft replaced it. Complete with a small building that looked suspiciously like a shed, which was labeled “upper terminus” on the blueprint. The “lower terminus” was in the mine itself.

The “upper terminus” was precisely located on the blueprint. It was 112 feet south southeast of the rear door of the Mansion. In the drawing, it was a simple shed kind of structure, with a steeply angled, one-sided roof.

“I'll be damned,” I said. “The upper portion has to be one of the old foundations, right there with the ones that the German Kommune group built before the Civil War.”

“That would be those,” said Hester, pointing to a series of dotted lines arranged in rectangles that salted the area.

“Yeah. Right about in this area here,” I said, pointing with my pen to an area northeast of the Mansion, “is about where we found Toby that night.”

“If that shaft's still functional… ”

“Yeah. That's where Peale went after he got past Borman. Damn.” I indicated where Toby had been found. “When Sally and I were headed over here, looking for Toby, something ran past us. Coming from the direction of the 'upper terminus,' back toward the house from us. I'll bet it was Toby that ran by us. I'll bet it was.”

“Why?” “Beats me, but I bet that little shit was over by the elevator shaft, or goin' in that direction.”

I looked at the plans on the table. “I wonder how much farther the mine got, before they closed it down. I know it was still functional in the sixties.”

“Regardless,” said Hester, “Peale could easily have made it to that elevator, if he knew where it was. Right down to the highway, a good half hour before he could have made it any other way. Hitchhiked, or the train tracks, or the landing about what, a half mile south?” She pushed her chair back. “Everything but an airport.”

“Or the mine,” said Harry. “You don't suppose he could still be in the mine, do you?”

We exchanged glances.

“I think our budget can stand a photocopy of this plan,” I said. “Let me get one from the lady over there… ”

“I'd better,” she said. “You'll have to stand the initial cost. My department pays me back faster than yours.”

“Well, okay. Twist my arm. While you do that, though, let me use your cell phone,” I said. “I want to call the office and see if we can get somebody up to the Mansion and check on things. And then get hold of somebody who can get us into the mine.”

“I gotta make a call, too,” said Harry.

The first part was a snap, as Borman was to be sent up right away, to check the status of the Mansion's residents. The second part was a bit more complicated. The mine was officially closed, as I was already aware, and ownership was with a corporation in New Mexico. That I hadn't known. We knew who the Nation County man was who oversaw the place, but he wouldn't give permission for us to enter the mine on his own. It was going to take a call from our county attorney to their corporate headquarters to obtain permission. I told Dispatch to get Lamar to arrange that.

When I was finished with my call, Harry said he had some information for us as well.

“You know that hot-lookin' Tatiana Ostransky gal? Jessica Hunley's dance partner?”

“No,” I said, “I hadn't noticed.”

“Uh huh. Anyhow, I just checked with Hawkins about her. Turns out that her real name is Hutha Mann, she's from Milwaukee, and that she was in this area in 1993.” He looked at us expectantly.

“And?” I asked.

“Peale was busted here back in ninety-three,” he said. “Didn't you get our fuckin' reply to your inquiry?”

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, okay. Consensual blood ingestion, wasn't that it? And some involvement with a juvie, too.”

“You got it. Want to guess who the fuckin' juvie was?”

“Hutha Mann,” said Hester. “Hutha Mann, a/k/a Tatiana Ostransky, right?”

“You got it.” He laughed.

“The plot thickens,” I said. “So, what did he do to her?”

“Probably a statutory sex thing, I bet. The reporting officer says that she was not a complainant in the matter. She was seventeen at the time, so she could have legally consented, but this Peale dude provided her with booze, and since she was not able to consent to drinking, and she was intoxicated at the time she was discovered, he was in problems.”

“Ouch.” I grinned. “Bad choices, there.”

“Yeah. He didn't get shit out of it, with the plea bargain and everything.” Harry shrugged. “She had a fresh cut on her lip, but she claimed that was an accident.”

“I'll just bet she did,” said Hester.

“Now, here's the good part,” said Harry. “The guy who was in charge of that bust retires next week, but he was in, and he said that Jessica Hunley was involved in the edges of the case. She wasn't at the cabin at the time they made the arrests, but the Hunleys' attorney came to the cop shop and made everybody's bail. And this Hutha Mann, a/k/a Tatiana, gave her address as a place that turned out to be Jessica Hunley's fuckin' dance studio.”

“No shit?” I said. “So they go way back as a group, then.” “Apparently so,” he said, looking very satisfied with himself.

We walked over for lunch at a great place called Popeyes. Multiple levels, it had a maritime decor and a great menu. Well, a cop would think so.

“It must be great,” I said, “to work in a town that has restaurants like this.” There was a faint, multi-tone sound, and Hester pulled her cell phone from her pocket. She answered it, and then held it out to me. “For you. Your office.”

I took the phone. “Yeah?”

“Carl, Lamar. Nothin' major, but the attorney we got to talk to to get in the old mine won't be in until tomorrow sometime. Is this a problem?”

“No, I don't think so.” I didn't think we'd be back there until then, anyway. “I'd appreciate it if you'd look for some sign, down at the highway level, where somebody might have gone over the fence, or something. Stack of crates? Rocks? We think there's a really good chance our buddy might have made it down there pretty fast that night.”

“Borman and Knockle are already up there, and everything is okay, as far as they can tell. Most of the kids up there are at work, I guess.” He paused. “I'll have 'em check the mine area. Do you want 'em wandering around up on the hill, looking for an entrance?”

I did not. No point giving the game away before we were ready.

“You do know that it runs for about three miles or better?” asked Lamar. “Inside the hill, mostly north and south, but it does go back in under the bluffs for a good five hundred feet, too?”

“Okay… ”

“I just asked because, if you want to do a search or something, it could take a real long time. The chambers are big enough to be easy to search, you know, but they cover a lot of territory.”

“I sure hope not,” I said. “I hate caves.”

He chuckled. “The troops been getting really curious why I'm telling 'em to do all this stuff. I ain't told where you are, and they're thinkin' that I'm on the case.”

“Hey, we brought in the best.”

“Uh, Carl, while I got you on the phone… did you have some sort of confrontation with Borman about that warning shot business?”

“Not really,” I said. “Why?”

“Well, he says you jumped in his shit in front of witnesses. Embarrassed him, or something. Gave him a lecture, I believe he said. Here in the office. You know anything about that?”

“Sure. He flagged me down on my way through Dispatch, and wanted to know why I told on him. Just like a little kid.”

“Yeah. Well, Carl, he's filed a grievance with the union. Alleges harassment on your part. Wants you disciplined.”

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah, but that's what he says.”

“Ask Sally,” I said. “She was there. She was there for the whole thing.”

“Okay,” said Lamar. “But don't you talk with her about this. She's a witness, let the process take its course.”

“I want that little moron off this case,” I said. “Can't do that, Carl. You know the rules, here. Just watch your step.” “Watch my step, hell,” I said. “I'm gonna strangle the little shit.”

“Right. Oh, before I forget, that Huck girl called for you guys a few minutes ago. Dispatch didn't tell me 'cause it went in your 'to do' box, but I was readin' the log.”

Quite a gear change, as Lamar intended. “When did she call?”

“About an hour ago. No message, just said she needed to talk to you before you came back.” He stopped, surprised. “Let me check that note… ”

“Back? How did she know we were gone?”

“Okay, Jesus, I didn't think. Yep, here it is. The note says '… before they come back… ' You didn't tell her you were leavin'?”

“No. I didn't… just a sec.” I covered the phone. “Hey, did you tell Huck we were leaving the area?”

“No,” said Hester. “No, I didn't.”

“Me, neither,” said Harry, just to make me happy.

“She called for us, and left a message saying that she'd talk to us before we got back.” I was getting concerned.

“Hey, Lamar? No, Hester didn't say anything, either.” I pulled a pen from my pocket. “Give me the call-back number on the note, will you?”

He did. I knew it wasn't the Mansion, but it sounded familiar.

“You know what number that is?” If it was familiar to me, it would probably be familiar to Lamar, as well.

“Yeah, it's the main administrative number for the casino boat.”

“I'll give her a call,” I said.

I handed the phone back to Hester. “Gotta get one of those.”

“The whole state would appreciate it,” she said.

“Huck had to talk to either Jessica or Tatiana right after we left the dance studio,” I said. “She called our office a few minutes ago. I think she's on the 06:00 to

14:00 shift, which means that she was at work when shecalled our office, and would have been when we left the studio, too.”

“So they called her at work, then?” Hester and I were both figuring that a long-distance call from work was something Huck probably wouldn't be doing.

“Probably. I better call her.”

Hester just handed me her phone.

The gaming boat hated to interrupt dealers, understandably, and told me to call back in fifteen minutes. That gave me time to gripe to Hester and Harry about Borman and his grievance.

Hester just shook her head. Harry related a similar incident between him and a rookie that ended with the rookie working in a discount store. “They just seem to hate constructive fuckin' criticism, these days, you know?”

“Yeah,” I said, ruefully. “What my boy doesn't know is how restrained I was.”

Our food arrived just as Hester's phone rang again. She answered, grinned, and handed it to me. “Lamar,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Your friend Huck just called back,” said Lamar. “She gave this number, and said you're to call it right away.”

I got my pen back out, and wrote it down. “Thanks.”

“You bet. Let me know what's going on… ”

“Okay.”

I broke the connection, and dialed the number he'd given me. Of course, since he hadn't had to use the area code, I hadn't copied it down. Being in a hurry, when I dialed, I left it out. There was the familiar oscillating tone.

“Area code,” said Hester, her spoon between the soup bowl and her mouth. I noticed the spoon didn't even slow.

“Right.” I redialed.

“Hello,” said a muted voice. It was Huck, and she was half whispering. “Houseman. You wanted me to call?” “Yeah. That was fast. So, how you like Lake Geneva?” Still whispered.

“Great, so far.”

“You get around. Look, Tat called, she had some stuff to tell me, and I told her she could trust you. She can, can't she?” “Sure.” Tat? It sounded like she knew Tatiana better than I had thought.

“Okay, look, she wants to meet you in about a half hour. Jessica's got stuff to do, and Tat wants to talk with somebody. She's getting scared,” said Huck.

Well. “Okay, fine. Where at?”

There was a pause. “Before I tell you, you gotta know that Tat's in love with Jessica, all right? I mean, really in love with her.”

I wasn't exactly thunderstruck, but I was surprised. “Oh?”

She sighed. “You gotta know that so what she says makes sense.”

“Okay.”

“She wants to meet you at the observatory. You know where that is?”

“Yep. If you mean the big one? The Yerkes Observatory.” Oh, yeah.

“Yes. She'll be at the rear steps, I'll call her right now, gotta go, thanks, be good to her.” Dial tone.

“So?” asked Hester.

“Jessica and Tatiana did call her,” I said. “She wanted to make sure they were telling her the truth, for one thing.”

“She wonders about that, too?” asked Harry.

“Huck says that Ostransky, Tatiana, wants to meet us at Yerkes Observatory.”

Hester put down her soupspoon, got a map out of her purse, and said, “Looks like we take fifty west to sixty-seven, then sixty-seven south into Williams Bay. Follow it on West Geneva Street. Piece of cake.”