Perfect Grave

Chapter Thirty

J ason’s stomach churned with the sick feeling every reporter dreads.

He was missing the story.

They’d arrested somebody at Sister Anne’s funeral but he didn’t know who and he didn’t know why. Was it Cooper? Were they questioning him about the stranger he’d seen arguing with Sister Anne, the guy who stole the knife from the shelter?

Jason didn’t know.

No one would tell him anything and not knowing was killing him. He glanced at the clock in the Mirror ’s cafeteria, resisting the aroma of frying bacon, burgers, and fries. Grabbing only a coffee for his dinner, to go with a plate of adrenaline and fear, he apologized to the early night crews inching their trays toward the cash register.

He jumped the queue and left two crumpled bills without waiting for change.

He had no time.

He had to find out what happened at the funeral. He’d called every source he had, except Detective Grace Garner. He’d burned a bridge there. At this point, his best hope was his old man.

He took a hit of coffee and felt a pang of guilt.

His dad had enough crap on his mind. Having to carry a gun again had resurrected the pain of seeing his partner’s suicide. Blowing his brains out before his eyes. It explained all the turmoil in their lives and why his mother walked out on them all those years ago.

Man oh man.

Jason made a mental promise to talk about it all with his dad. But later, after he had his story under control. Until then, he needed his father to pump his old friends inside the Seattle PD for information.

Jason stepped aside, reached for his cell phone and made the call.

“Hey Dad. You get anything?”

“Not much, I’m afraid.”

“Damn.”

“You know that earlier they’d developed a list of ex-cons, parolees who are regulars at the shelter.”

“Yeah.”

“Creeps with violent pasts.”

“Yeah, yeah, like the usual suspects.”

“All of them have been eliminated, cleared.”

“So what happened at the funeral today?”

“I wish I knew. I asked about that.”

“Did you push hard?”

“I’ve got to be careful, Jay, I can’t risk my license.”

“I know. Sorry.”

“Of course I pushed, but none of my guys would breathe a word.”

“Which means that whatever happened is huge. I don’t like this.”

“I’ll do my best, son.”

“Dad, it’s fine, thanks. How’re you doing? With everything, I mean?”

“I’m doing the best I can. Look, I’d like to talk to you just as soon as you can manage it, son.”

“Absolutely. We’ll talk once I get a handle on this story. I’m really sorry, but I’ve got to go. Call me if you get something, okay, Dad?”

Jason headed for the stairs. They would get him to the newsroom faster. He still had some time. Glimpsing a copy of today’s front page with his exclusive story on Cooper, Jason thought that this was starting to be a replay of last night. Find a story. Pull it out of the fire. Eldon was pleased with his Cooper story, but it was dead news now.

What you got for tomorrow’s paper?

Concentrating on what he could try next, Jason made a beeline for his desk, hoping to avoid Eldon Reep. He failed. Reep was at Vic Beale’s desk, where they were huddled with Cassie Appleton, when he spotted Jason.

“Wade! Get over here!”

Cassie had her notebook open, flipping pages filled with her notes. Jason didn’t like the air here. Beale and Reep looked pissed off. His stomach tightened.

“Enlighten us,” Reep said. “What happened at the funeral today?”

“They arrested somebody.”

“Who?”

“I’m trying to confirm it.”

“Oh you’re trying to confirm it? Well, did you think about maybe getting your ass on the street? Maybe visiting your buddy Cooper, see if he’s home under I-5?”

“I’ve been doing a lot of things.”

“So has Cassie here. Inform our all-star here what you’ve learned.”

“After you left, I talked to people. Seems all the street people had a sudden memory loss. Nobody knew who was arrested, or saw much. It happened fast. I just got off the phone with Butch Ettersly. He’s a camera- man with WKKR. Turns out I know his sister from my hometown. Apparently it all went down right in front of Butch. He says KKR is the only news team to get it all.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason saw Beale reach for the remote for the TV near his desk.

“Here we go,” Beale said.

The sound carried a few ominous bass notes then the graphic: BREAKING NEWS WKKR EXCLUSIVE: ARREST IN NUN MURDER filled the screen, then shrank to be placed below the news anchor’s desk.

“I’m Carol Carter. We’re interrupting our programming to bring you this live report. Seattle Police have made an arrest in the murder of Sister Anne Braxton and our WKKR camera was there.”

Dramatic footage showed the lightning-fast arrest. Jason’s stomach knotted. He recognized the unidentified man as Cooper while it played in slo-mo. After a few seconds Carol Carter returned to say, “WKKR’s David Troy has the story. David, what do we know so far?” Carol Carter said to the white teeth and tanned, chiseled face of David Troy, WKKR’s veteran crime reporter, standing in front of the shelter.

“Carol, in a bizarre twist to this tragic case, police arrested the man during a moving funeral service for the murdered nun, whom the mayor called the Saint of Seattle.”

“Any details on the identity of the man arrested, or why?”

“Not much, but my sources indicate the man is John Randolph Cooper, a troubled war veteran who, after seeing action in Iraq, was a regular at the shelter and very close to Sister Anne-”

“Sounds like he’s reading your story, Wade,” Beale said.

“We should’ve got Cooper’s picture last night,” Reep said.

“He would have refused,” Jason said, “believe me.”

“We’ve got photo and the library trying to get unit albums and something from his military records,” Beale said.

“And his high school yearbook,” Cassie added.

Reep studied the WKKR’s report. “Is it Cooper there, Wade?”

Jason nodded.

“David,” Carol Carter asked, “have your sources told you if Cooper’s a suspect?”

“Not on the record. As you know, police are playing their cards close to their vest on this one. But I’ll speculate that he possesses information vital to the case, Carol.”

“Thank you, David,” Carol Carter said. “Just to recap, WKKR’s David Troy brought us the breaking news that police arrested a man during today’s funeral service for Sister Anne Braxton, whom the mayor called the Saint of Seattle. That man is believed to be John Randolph Cooper. We now return-”

Beale muted the TV.

“That just kills us,” Beale said.

“How could you let this happen, Wade?” Reep said.

“Excuse me?”

“You and Cassie break the story that the murder weapon is a knife from the shelter-”

“Cassie had nothing to do with that story.”

“Then you find this Cooper living in a hellhole under the Interstate, a troubled war vet who goes to the shelter and knew the nun.”

Jason nodded.

“And he tells you about some stranger he saw who argued with her and took the knife.”

“Right”

“And you just saw what happened?”

Beale shot Jason a glare. He couldn’t hold his tongue.

“TV just used your story to kick us between the legs and break things wide open, pal.”

Jason’s mouth went dry with the awful realization.

“That’s right, Wade,” Reep said. “Now the lights are coming on, now he gets it. Cooper was likely talking about himself. You were likely interviewing the nun’s murderer, Wade! We’ve got no pictures, no confirmation. We’ve got squat. You should have allowed Cassie to go with you to find Cooper.”

“I did. She backed off!”

“You refused to wait up for me. You left me behind.”

“Bull!”

“Wade,” Reep said, “you dropped the ball!”

Jason swallowed hard, ran his hand over his face, glanced at the time.

“Now listen to me, Wade!” Reep’s voice stopped conversations throughout the newsroom. “You get your ass to Homicide, because that’s likely who’s got him, and you get it confirmed that they believe he’s the killer, and you do it before deadline, or you don’t come back.”