The Edge

Chapter 61

Harper and Fuss passed him going the other way in their patrol car.

The cruiser whipped around, the roof lights cranked on, and the siren ruptured an otherwise quiet day in Putnam, Maine.

An exasperated Devine slammed a fist against the dashboard and barked, “I don’t have time for this shit!”

He steered the truck over to the shoulder, cut the engine, and waited for them to pull in behind. He didn’t get out. Devine decided to let them come to him.

And they did.

“Step out of the truck, Devine,” said Harper, his hand once more on the head of his baton.

Devine poked his head outside the truck window. “Are you arresting me... again? What was wrong with the first time?”

“Out, now!”

Devine climbed out just as it began to rain.

“Come back to the cruiser and get in,” ordered Harper. “Before we all catch pneumonia.”

Devine sat in the back seat, with Harper next to him. Fuss leaned over the front seat to face them.

“What’s up?” Devine asked.

“What’s up is why do you think it’s your job to go around riling people up?”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.”

“Then let me give you an example. You basically accused Françoise Guillaume of dereliction of duty if not outright conspiracy.”

“I never said that and—”

“And I heard that Alex Silkwell nearly killed herself because you were throwing around wild accusations about her sister and the attack on Alex all those years ago.”

“Who the hell told you about—”

Harper continued to talk right over him. “And you’ve pretty much convinced Mildred that Earl Palmer was murdered when there is no evidence, nada, of that being the case.”

Devine flicked his phone screen and tapped an icon. Then he held up the phone. On it was the picture he’d taken of the noose. “Eight coils plus a round turn and two half hitches.”

“What?”

“The noose. Eight coils. And then it was secured to the rafter with a round turn and two half hitches. It’s typically used to secure a rope to a stationary object.”

“So? Earl was a lobsterman. He probably knew every damn knot there was.”

“I took Alex to Bertie’s studio. She remembered everything that was in it while she worked there with Bertie, which was mere days before she was killed. The only thing she saw there that she had never seen before was a pulley bolted into another rafter directly above where Earl was hanging from. It had been painted black to match the color of the wood so as to blend in. I didn’t even remember seeing it. And then there’s an iron bolt set into the wall over the workbench. Under the iron bolt was a fiber, looked to be a rope fiber.”

“What are you saying, Devine?” demanded Fuss.

“I’m saying someone strung Earl up using that pulley.”

“Who the hell would have done that?” barked Harper.

“Whoever got Earl to lie about finding Jenny’s body. That made him a loose end.”

“Oh, okay, here we go again with your bullshit theory,” said an exasperated Harper.

“Even if you think a crippled Earl could climb up on that chair, set the noose, and then kick the chair away, how did he do the eight coils on the noose and the round turn and two half hitches?”

“He was a lobsterman. He’s been tying knots since he came out of the womb,” barked Harper.

“Not lately he hasn’t. Have you seen the size of his fingers? How bent and stiff they are? They’re full of arthritis. When I was walking with him he could barely hold on to the head of his cane. And he can’t even look down, which you’re going to have to do to make these knots.” He pointed at the picture of the complicated knots. “It requires dexterity he no longer had. And why hang himself in the first place? He had a shotgun. Why not just pull the trigger on that, which he could have done even with those fingers? Why go to all that trouble? I’ll tell you why. Faking a death by suicide using a shotgun is a whole lot more difficult than doing it by hanging. You’ve got possible forensic trace in the former that you really don’t have in the latter.”

Fuss eyed her boss nervously. “Maybe worth checking out, Chief.”

Devine added, “And the knot used to secure the noose?”

“What about it?” demanded a still irate Harper.

“It was chosen for a reason, because the first part of the knot, the round turn, would keep the load in place until the two half hitches could be secured.”

“You mean if the killer used the pulley he’d have to secure Earl up there somehow until he finished off the knot?” said Fuss.

“Yes. He obviously couldn’t leave it strung through the pulley, otherwise we’d know it was probably murder. If Earl had used the pulley to kill himself there would have been no need to secure the noose to the rafters. The pulley and bolt would have worked just fine. In fact, if they had just used the pulley and left Earl hanging from it I wouldn’t have been nearly as suspicious. But they overthought it.” He paused. “I actually picture two people. One on a ladder next to Earl, whose head is in the noose after being hoisted there using the pulley, and his feet on the chair. The end of the rope is secured to the bolt. Then the second person cuts the rope but holds on to the end with all his weight, while the first man holds on to Earl, who would have gone slack with the rope cut. The two killers then work together to wrap the rope around the rafter and manage to complete the round turn. I’m not saying it would be easy, but it is doable. And if they strung him up with one rope, put another noose around his neck, and then cut away the first rope, the subterfuge would have been discovered during the autopsy, with the misaligned ligature markings and such. They must have known that, which means they might have some specialized knowledge in forensics. Then they can complete the two half hitches and let go of Earl completely, kick out the chair, and the man goes swinging.”

“You’re overlooking one obvious problem,” said Harper. “How did they get Earl there in the first place? No signs of forced entry. No defensive wounds. No signs of a struggle. Earl might have been crippled, like you said, but he was still a big man. He wouldn’t have gone quietly into the night.”

“He would if he’d been drugged.”

“Françoise found nothing like that,” said Harper dismissively.

“She didn’t check for any of that,” retorted Devine. “She ruled it a suicide by hanging.”

Harper started to say something and then stopped. He eyed Fuss, who was looking concerned, very concerned. He glanced back at Devine. “How do you know so much about knot tying?”

“The Rangers train in high altitudes because we have missions in those types of environments. We climb and rappel and do all sorts of things that require intimate familiarity with ropes and knots, belays, climbing stop descenders, carabiners, and the like.”

Harper sighed. “Okay, let’s get over to the funeral home and we’ll have Françoise run those tests. Okay?”

“Thank you, Chief,” said Devine quite sincerely.

“But if it’s all negative, will you stop with all this murder talk?”

“Yes. You have my word.”

“Okay, we’ll leave your truck here. You can ride with us.”

At the funeral home, they found Fred Bing and asked where his sister was.

“She’s just finishing something up. Should be done in a few minutes. I’ll let her know you’re here.”

“Thanks,” said Harper.

Five minutes later Guillaume appeared. She was wearing a full leather apron and was taking off a pair of sturdy gloves.

“What’s up, Chief?” she said after giving Devine a glare.

“I want you to run some tests on Earl’s remains.”

“Tests? On Earl?” she said, looking stunned.

“Yeah, blood and tox. We want to check to see if he was maybe drugged or something. Devine has a theory.” He added, “Probably won’t amount to much.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t run those tests,” she said quickly.

Devine stepped forward. “If you won’t, we’ll find someone else who will.”

“You don’t understand, no one can run those tests now,” she persisted.

“Why the hell not?” demanded a confused Fuss.

“Because Earl’s remains have been cremated. I just finished doing it.”