Hardcase

CHAPTER 39

The basement office was overflowing with police and paramedics. Half a dozen of the police were plainclothes detectives and one of them was a woman with auburn hair. She pulled Arlene aside as the others stood around Cutter's body and talked.

"Mrs. Demarco? I'm Officer O'Toole. I'm Joseph Kurtz's parole officer."

"I thought you were… homicide," said Arlene. She was still shaking, even though one of the paramedics had draped a thermal blanket over her after they had checked her out.

Peg O'Toole shook her head. "They just called me because someone knew I'm Mr. Kurtz's P.O. If he was involved with this in any way—"

"He wasn't," Arlene said quickly. "Joe wasn't here. He doesn't even know about this."

Officer O'Toole nodded. "Still, if he was involved, it would go better for him if you and he told us up front."

Arlene had to steady her hand to drink from the Styrofoam cup of water one of the homicide detectives had given her. "No," she said firmly. "Joe wasn't here. Joe had nothing to do with this. I looked on the monitor and saw this… this person… come in and stab Tommy. Then the man went for the two customers. Then he came down here."

"How did he know there was a basement, Mrs. Demarco?"

"How should I know?" Arlene said. She met the parole officer's gaze.

"Does the name James Walter Heron mean anything to you?"

Arlene shook her head. "Is that… his name?"

"Yes," said Officer O'Toole. "Although everyone in town knew him as 'Cutter. Does that ring a bell?"

Arlene shook her head again.

"And you've never seen him before?"

Arlene put the cup of water down. "I've told about six of the police officers that. I don't know the man. If I've seen him on the street or somewhere… well, I don't know him, but how could anyone recognize him with all those terrible burns?"

O'Toole folded her arms. "Do you have any idea where he received those burns?"

Arlene shook her head and looked away.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Demarco. You do understand that one of those tests the officers performed will tell us if you actually fired the gun."

Arlene looked at her hand and then at the parole officer. "Good," she said. "Then you'll know that Joe wasn't involved."

"Do you have any idea where we can find Mr. Kurtz?" said Officer O'Toole. "Since this is also his office, we'll have some questions for him."

"No. He said that he had a meeting this afternoon, but I don't know where or with whom."

"But you'll tell him to call us as soon as he checks in with you?"

Arlene nodded.

One of the plainclothes detectives walked over with the night-vision goggles in a plastic bag. "Mrs. Demarco? Could you answer another question, please?"

Arlene waited.

"You say that the assailant was wearing these when he came into the basement?"

"No." Arlene took a breath. "I didn't say that. I told the other officers that the… the man… took those out of his raincoat pocket and held them up to his eyes."

"Before or after he knocked the lightbulbs out with that umbrella?" asked the officer.

Arlene managed a smile. "There was no other light, Officer. I couldn't very well have seen him take those goggle things out of his pocket if he'd done so after he smashed the lights, could I?"

"No, I guess not," said the detective. "But if it was so pitch-dark, how is it that you could see the assailant to fire at him?"

"I couldn't see him," Arlene said truthfully. "But I could smell him and hear him… and feel him as he towered over me." She began shaking again, and Officer O'Toole touched her arm.

The homicide detective handed the night-vision goggles back to an assistant and stood there rubbing his chin.

"I'm sure he wasn't wearing them when I saw him upstairs on the security monitor," Arlene said.

"Yeah," said the male cop. "We've looked at the tape." He looked at Officer O'Toole. "It's part of the Dunkirk arsenal inventory. They just raided a place out by SUNY where Kibunte had a hundred other weapons stored. The Bloods were dipping into them in this war they're having with the white-supremacist assholes. If we hadn't been tipped about this warehouse before the Bloods got there in force, Buffalo would have looked like Beirut on a bad day."

O'Toole nodded, obviously ill at ease speaking in front of Arlene.

"Are you ready to go down to the station with us, Mrs. Demarco?" said the male cop.

Arlene bit her lip. "Am I under arrest?"

The male cop chuckled. "For stopping a piece of shit like this Cutter after he killed at least three people this afternoon? I'll be surprised if the mayor doesn't give you a medal—" He stopped when O'Toole caught his eye. "No, Mrs. Demarco," he said formally, "you're not under arrest at this time. There'll be an investigation, of course; and you'll have to answer a lot of questions tonight and make yourself available to the investigating officers in the coming days, but I'd bet you'd be home by" — he looked at his watch—"oh, eleven at the latest."

"Good," said Arlene. "I want to watch the local news. Maybe they'll explain what happened here."