Molly brought Lutz into Jesse’s office. He looks tired, Jesse thought.
“Thanks for coming in,” Jesse said.
Lutz nodded and sat down. Molly left.
“I’m not going to fuck around with this,” Jesse said. “I think you’re in a mess.”
Lutz had no reaction.
“Here’s what we know. We know you were a cop. We know you once busted Weeks for public indecency, and went on to become his bodyguard. We know you were once married to Lorraine Pilarcik, now known as Lorrie Weeks. We know you and she got a Vegas quickie divorce eleven days before she married Weeks. We know you seemed to have weathered this domestic upheaval and continued in Weeks’s employ. We know you were just with her in New York, and continue to have a relationship with her, which gives the appearance, at least, of intimacy.”
Lutz didn’t speak. He sat straight in the chair. His arms crossed. His face blank.
“We know that Carey Longley was pregnant with Weeks’s baby. We know that Weeks, prior to his death, had filed for divorce from Lorrie, which would have meant that all he owned would go to Carey and the unborn child, once the divorce happened.”
Lutz didn’t move. He looked at Jesse with the dead-eyed cop stare that Jesse himself had mastered so long ago. It was like they issued it with the badge. Even Molly could do it if required.
“We know you were a cop, so we assume you know how to shoot. We assume you had some knowledge of the degree to which storing a cadaver in a refrigerator would muck up the medical examiner’s conclusions. We know you’re a big, strong guy and could, if you had to, drag a dead body around and string it up on a tree in the park. And, as a former cop, you might have a better idea than some why doing so would confuse the murder investigation.”
Jesse picked up his coffee cup, saw that it was empty, and stood to pour some more.
“You want coffee?” Jesse said to Lutz.
Lutz shook his head. Jesse put sugar in his coffee and some condensed milk and stirred it and brought it back to his desk.
“Care to discuss any of these issues?” Jesse said.
Lutz shook his head.
“Care to discuss the relationship with Lorrie Pilarcik?”
Lutz shook his head. Jesse shrugged. He took a tape recorder from his desk drawer, put it on his desk, and punched play. It was the tape Suit had made of the interview with Lorrie in New York.
“And Lutz didn’t mind?” Jesse’s voice.
“Well, I suppose, of course, he must have minded.” Lorrie’s voice.
“And do you think he minded when you married Weeks?”
“You recognize the voices,” Jesse said.
Lutz made no answer.
“Well, I guess.” Lorrie’s voice. “I suppose so.”
“But he stayed on as Weeks’s bodyguard.”
“Yes.”
Lutz was perfectly still as he listened.
“Do you think he might have minded enough to kill Weeks and hang him in a public park?” Jesse’s voice.
“Oh my God... of course Conrad had some violence in him. A policeman. A bodyguard. He carried a gun... It could have been Conrad.”
Jesse let the tape roll to the end, and stopped it and hit rewind. Lutz was impassive.
“She seems to think you murdered Weeks and his girlfriend.”
Lutz didn’t move.
“She was nice about it. She hesitated and lowered her eyes and licked her lower lip a lot, you know how she does, with the tip of her tongue. But very demurely and sweetly, pal, she fingered you for the murders.”
Lutz moved slightly. Jesse couldn’t tell if he was nodding his head or faintly rocking his whole upper body.
“Want to hear the tape again?” Jesse said.
Lutz shook his head. Jesse took a couple of eight-by-ten blowups of Hendricks and Lorrie that Suit had taken. He pushed them toward Lutz.
“You know the afternoons you spent with Lorrie recently in New York? She spent the nights with Alan Hendricks.”
Lutz made no move toward the photographs, but Jesse knew Lutz could see them from where he sat. He stared blankly toward them. Then without a preamble he stood and turned and walked out of Jesse’s office, and kept going.