The King Of Lies

CHAPTER 17

Eventually, I got to my feet. I walked outside and found the wind; it gusted against my face as if to scrub it clean. Behind me, the courthouse rose up, pale against the monolithic sky. The light was silver and wan, a cold light, and people streamed past on the sidewalk below me. Normal people doing normal things, yet they seemed to bow beneath the pressure of the sky, leaning into the sidewalk as they forged uphill toward the restaurants and shops. None of them looked at the courthouse as they passed. They probably never gave it a thought, and in a way I hated them, but it was more like envy.

My eyes traveled up the street to the faded door of the local downtown bar. I needed lunch but wanted a drink. I wanted it so badly, I could actually taste it. Standing there, fantasizing about a cold beer, I realized just how much I’d been drinking the past few years. It didn’t bother me. It was the least of my problems, a small revelation among the ugly multitude. But I decided against it. Instead, I turned for the office, moving down the broad courthouse steps.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and turned toward lawyers’ row. I watched my feet, so it took several moments before I noticed the strange looks, but eventually I felt them. As I walked, people stopped and stared, people I knew: a couple of lawyers, a lady from the clerk’s office, two patrolmen walking to court for trial. They all stopped to watch me pass, and it felt unreal, like they were frozen in time. I saw every expression with great clarity: disbelief, curiosity, disgust. There were whispers, too, as lawyers I’d known for ten years refused to meet my eyes and spoke behind raised hands. My steps faltered and slowed as I moved through this strange scene, and for a moment I thought that I’d been mumbling to myself or that my fly was open. Yet as I turned the corner onto lawyers’ row, I saw the unbearable truth, and thus came to understand.

The police had come to my office, descended upon it. Patrol cars strobed at my front door. Unmarked vehicles leaned drunkenly, two wheels on the sidewalk, two on the street. Officers moved in and out of my office, carrying boxes. Bystanders stood in loose groups, and I recognized almost every one of them. They were the lawyers who worked all around me. Their secretaries. Their interns and paralegals. In one instance, a wife, her hand to her throat, as if I might steal her jewelry. I froze, yet somehow I clung to my dignity. Only one lawyer met my eyes, and it was as I’d imagined it would be. Douglas was distant, massive in a long gray coat that hung on him like a sack. He stood at the door and our eyes met in silent accord. Then he shook his head, and parted the crowd to walk toward me. It took an effort of will, but I moved forward to meet him on even terms.

He raised his hands, palms up, but I spoke first. People kept their distance and watched in silence.

“I assume you have a search warrant,” I demanded.

Douglas took in my appearance and I knew that he saw what he expected to see. Red-eyed, haunted. I looked guilty. When he spoke, there was no sadness in his eyes. “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Work, but you left me no choice.”

Police officers continued in and out of my office, and, looking over Douglas’s shoulder, I saw my secretary for the first time; she looked small and beaten.

“There’s always a choice,” I said.

“Not this time.”

“I’d like to see the warrant.”

“Of course.” Douglas produced the warrant and I looked at it without seeing it. Something was wrong with this picture and I needed time to figure out what it was. When it hit me, it hit me hard.

“Where’s Mills?” I looked around. Her car was nowhere to be seen.

Douglas hesitated, and in that hesitation I saw the truth of it.

“She’s at my house. Isn’t she? She’s searching my goddamn house!”

“Now, take it easy, Work. Just settle down. Let’s do this by the book. We both know how it works.”

I stepped closer, noticing for the first time that I was taller than Douglas. “Yeah. I know how it works. You get frustrated and I get screwed. Do you think people are going to forget this?” I gestured. “Look around. There’s no going back.”

Douglas was immovable and unmoved. He stared at my chin, so close that he could have stretched out his lips and kissed it. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be. Okay? None of us wants to be here.”

I couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “You’re forgetting about Mills.”

Douglas sighed, the first sign of emotion. “I told you not to piss her off. I warned you.” He hesitated, as if debating. “You shouldn’t have lied to her.”

“What lie?” I demanded, my voice rising higher than I’d planned. “Who says I lied?”

In shock, I saw his face shift. It seemed to soften. He took my arm and turned me away from the watching crowd. Together, we walked down the sidewalk until we were out of earshot. Seen from a distance, it would have looked like any normal day on lawyers’ row, two attorneys consulting over a case or sharing a tasteless joke. But this was no normal day.

“I’m telling you this because it’s on the affidavit supporting the warrant, and you’d have gotten around to it eventually. We couldn’t get the warrant without probable cause…”

“Don’t lecture me on the law of search and seizure, Douglas. Just get to the point.”

“It’s Alex Shiften, Work. She contradicts your alibi. You told Mills that on the night your mother died, you, Jean, and Ezra left the hospital and returned to Ezra’s house. You also told her that after you left Ezra’s house, you went straight home and were there all night with Barbara. Alex says that’s not true; she swears to it, in fact.”

“True or not, how the hell would Alex know that?”

Douglas sighed again, and I realized that this was the part that pained him. “Jean told her. Jean went to your house later that night. She wanted to talk to you, she says. She got there in time to see you leave. This would have been late, sometime after midnight. She watched you drive off and then she went home and told Alex. Alex told Mills, and here we are.” He paused and leaned in toward me. “You lied to us, Work. You left us no choice.”

I lowered my eyes and closed them. The events of that night were becoming clear to me. Jean followed Ezra to the mall and killed him. Then she went to my house in time to see me leave for Stolen Farm. She knew that I’d left. She’d told Alex as much. But they did not know where I’d gone or what I’d done. What I wondered was why. Why had Jean gone to my house? And did she still have Ezra’s gun when she got there?

When I looked up, I saw that Douglas had settled into a posture of patient complacency. I gave him a cold smile. “Your warrant’s grounded on hearsay, Douglas.”

“I don’t need a lecture, either, Work. Alex came forward first; then we talked to Jean. She was reluctant-you should know that-but she corroborated Ms. Shiften’s story.”

I felt ill all over again as cold sweat explored my neck and rolled down my spine. I saw Jean’s face, the wild abandon in her eyes as she’d sobbed. “Daddy’s dead… and done is done… Right, Alex?… That’s right, huh?” What crushed me, however, was the knowledge that she’d told the police about it. Douglas knew that; it was in his eyes.

I felt Douglas’s fingers around my arm. “You’re not going to tell me that Jean lied, now are you, Work? Jean wouldn’t lie. Not about something like that.”

I looked past Douglas, watching the crowd of people who had been colleagues at worst, friends at best. Who now were what? Lost to me. Gone, as if I were already in prison. The fear snake uncurled in my belly, but I ignored it as I answered the district attorney as best I could.

“I can’t imagine that she would make that up, Douglas. Not Jean.”

It was true. I had left in the middle of the night, and apparently Jean had seen me. But what did she believe? Had she convinced herself that I’d killed our father? Was she that far gone? Or was she setting me up? If death was sufficient punishment for the man who killed her mother, what was appropriate justice for me? I’d made Ezra’s truth my own. How badly did she hate me for that?

“Barbara supports my alibi, Douglas. I was with her all night and she’ll testify to that fact. Just ask her.”

“We have,” Douglas said.

“When?” I asked, stunned.

“This morning.”

Now I saw it. “Mills,” I said. “She spoke to Barbara this morning.” I pictured Mills at the restaurant. She’d known then that the warrants would be served. That’s why she’d wanted to know my schedule. “Are you taking me into custody?” I asked.

Douglas pursed his lips and looked away, as if the question embarrassed him. “That would be premature,” he finally said, which meant that he lacked sufficient evidence for an arrest. Then I understood. If Barbara had said anything different, Douglas would have served an arrest warrant, as well. That’s why they’d waited so late to talk to her. They’d known what she’d say, and an alibi might have prejudiced their application for a search warrant. A judge might have hesitated. So get the warrant first, they’d figured. And if Barbara had told them anything other than what she had, then Douglas and I would have been having a different conversation altogether.

I nodded, studying the street scene one last time, as if to memorize all the little things I’d always taken for granted. “Fine. Then I’ll get out of your way.” I started to turn, when Douglas spoke.

“If you want to make a statement, Work, now would be a good time.”

I turned back, leaned forward. “Fuck you, Douglas. There’s your statement.”

Douglas didn’t bat an eye. “You’re not helping yourself, Work.”

“Do you want that statement in writing?” I asked.

Douglas frowned and glanced back at my office. “Don’t talk to Jean about this,” he said. “She’s got enough on her plate without you adding to her troubles. I don’t want you confusing the issues for her. She’s given a sworn statement and that’s all that matters.”

“You don’t have that authority, Douglas. You can’t order me to stay away from my sister.”

“Then call it another warning. Interfere with any phase of this investigation and I’ll come down on you so hard, you won’t believe it.”

“Is there anything else?” I asked.

“Yeah. There is. Hambly probated your father’s will today. Congratulations.”

I watched him walk away. To my office. To my life. Such as it was.

He disappeared inside, and the crowd milled around my office door. In that instant, I was too furious to be scared, disturbed only by the ease with which the security blanket of my life had been ripped to shreds. Again the eyes were upon me, but they were not curious ones. And that, most of all, angered me to the point of disgust. These were people I knew, people who knew me. Yet there it was, plain in every glance. I was more than a suspect. I stood condemned, alone in a hostile country. So I left. I walked around the block and returned to the parking lot in back of the building. I got in my truck and I drove away, destination unknown.

Eventually, I arrived at the park, my house before me like a stranger’s. It glowed in the eerie light, and loomed taller than normal against the gunmetal sky. The cops were there, too, at least a dozen of them; and my neighbors, like my colleagues, had gathered for the feast. Word would be all over town within the hour. In my head I saw the expressions of shocked disbelief, but the undercurrent of true emotion would be there as well, the dark thrill of another’s utter collapse. Tongues would wag, and Ezra would emerge as the martyred hero, the hardworking, brilliant attorney who’d dragged his family from poverty, only to face this final reward. I saw it now. I’d killed him for the money.

I pictured the police in my house. Specifically, I pictured Mills, pawing through my things, my drawers, my desk. Looking in my closet, under my bed, and in my attic. Nothing would be sacred. Mills would see to that. My life would be stripped bare, tagged and bagged. I knew these people, damn it! And they now knew things about me that were nobody’s business but my own. What I ate. What I drank. What kind of toothpaste I used. My wife’s underwear. Our preferred method of birth control. The whole thing pissed me off, so instead of leaving, I drove to the house. Barbara was there, pacing the driveway in panic and despair.

“Thank God,” she said. “Oh, thank God. I tried to call you. I tried…”

I put my arms around her out of long habit, feeling her bewilderment but nothing else. “I’m sorry. I’ve been in court. My cell phone was off.”

She began to sob, her voice muffled by my chest. “They’ve been here for hours, Work. They’re going through everything. And they’re taking things! But they won’t tell me what.” She pulled back, her eyes wild. “Do something! You’re a lawyer, for God’s sake. Do something!”

“Did they show you a warrant?” I asked.

“Yes. They showed me something or other. I think that’s what it was.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry. I hate this as much as you.” I tried to put my arms around her again, to offer what I could, but she pushed away, her hands hard on my chest.

“Goddamn it, Work! You are worthless! I swear to God. Ezra would never have let this happen. He’d have been so on top of this, the cops wouldn’t have dared to cross him!” She turned away, hugging herself.

“I’m not my father,” I said, meaning it in so many ways.

“You’re damn right about that!” Barbara spat out. Then she gestured at the gathering crowd. “They’re going to have a field day with this. That much I can tell you.”

“Screw them,” I said.

“No, screw you, Work. This is our life. My life. Do you have any idea what this means? Do you?”

“I think I know better than you what this means.” But she didn’t hear me. I tried again. “Listen, Barbara. They’re going to do this with or without us. There’s no reason to stay here. Let me take you somewhere. I’ll go inside and try to get some of your things. Okay? You don’t need to see this. Then we’ll go to a hotel.”

She was already shaking her head. “No. I’m going to Glena’s house.”

The momentary charity I’d felt toward my wife evaporated, leaving me chilled. “Glena’s house,” I said. “Of course.”

When she turned to me, her face was bleak. “Tomorrow, Work. Tomorrow we’ll talk, but right now I need to get away. I’m sorry.” She turned away. As if on cue, a horn sounded, and I saw Glena Werster’s black Mercedes at the curb below the house. When my wife turned back to me, I thought she’d changed her mind.

“You make this go away, Work.” There was winter in her voice. “You make this go away. I can’t take it.” She began to turn.

“Barbara…” I stepped toward her.

“I’ll find you tomorrow. Until then, please leave me alone.”

I watched her all the way down the driveway, until she climbed into the sleek sedan. She embraced Glena and then they were gone, around the corner, toward the country club and the fortress of Glena’s home. As I stared across the park, a horrible thought occurred to me. Barbara had never asked me if I’d done it. It’d never even come up.

Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me, and I knew it was Mills before I turned. She had on blue pants and a matching jacket; I didn’t see her pistol. Her face was calm, which surprised me. I expected antagonism. I expected triumph. I should have known better. Mills was a professional; she wouldn’t gloat until she had a conviction. After that, all bets were off. I’d probably get Christmas cards in prison.

“Where’s your car?” she asked.

“What?” Her question took me off guard.

“Your BMW? Where is it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t be an ass, Work. It’s included in the warrant. I want it.”

Of course she’d want the car. Who knew what a thorough forensic analysis might reveal? Ezra’s hair in the carpet. Bloodstains in the trunk. Even as I spoke, I realized how my words would sound.

“I sold it.”

She studied my face as if she could read something there.

“That’s convenient,” she said.

“Coincidence,” I told her.

“When did you sell it?”

“Yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” she repeated. “You’ve had that car for years. You sold it days after Ezra’s body was found, the day before I execute a search warrant, and you want me to believe that it’s coincidence?” I shrugged. “Why did you sell the car? For the record.” Her threat was more than implied.

I gave her a reckless smile. “Because someone told me to stop being a pussy.”

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Work. I’m warning you.”

“You’re in my house! You’re in my office! Warn me all you want. For the record, I sold the car because I felt like it, because it didn’t fit anymore; something you’d never understand. But if you want to waste your time, you can find it on that car lot west of town, the one on Highway One-fifty. Help yourself.”

She was pissed. With the car out of my control, its evidentiary value would plummet. I knew that it didn’t matter-the car had nothing to do with Ezra’s death-but she didn’t know that, and for an instant I enjoyed her loss of composure. As victories went, it was cheap, but I’d take it.

“I want the truck, too,” Mills said, gesturing at the old truck, which looked shrunken beneath the towering house. At the moment, it was all I had left.

“Is it in the warrant?”

Hesitation. “No,” she finally said.

I gave an ugly laugh. “Are you asking for my consent?”

Mills eyed me. “You’re burning up any goodwill that might be left. You know that.”

“Oh. We’ve crossed that bridge. You want my truck, you get another warrant.”

“I will.”

“Fine. Until then, no way.”

Our eyes locked, she swelled with bottled emotion, and I knew that this went way beyond professional. She hated me. She wanted me locked up, and I wondered if it was like this in every case. Or was there something about me or about this case? Something personal?

“Are you almost done in there?” I asked her, gesturing at the house.

She showed her teeth. They were small and white, except for one in the front, which was slightly yellow. “Not even close,” she said, and I realized that she was enjoying herself. “You’re welcome to come in and watch. It’s your right.”

My control slipped. “What is your problem with me, Detective Mills?”

“It’s nothing personal,” she said. “I’ve got a dead man, a missing gun, and a man with fifteen million reasons to lie to me about where he was the night in question. It’s enough for me and it was enough for the warrant. If I had more, I’d arrest you. That’s how sure I am. If that means I’ve got a problem with you, then yeah, I do. So come inside, stay out here, whatever. I’m just getting warmed up.” She turned away and just as quickly turned back, her finger up like an erection. “But know this. I’m getting that car. And if it turns out that you lied to me about its location, then I’m going to have another problem with you.”

I stepped closer, my voice rising to match hers. “Fine. Do your job. But I’ve made a career out of shredding search warrants. Not just how they’re drawn but how they’re executed. Be careful how you use it. Your case already has one big hole in it.”

I was referring to my presence at the crime scene, and I saw my comment hit the mark. I knew what she was thinking. Any physical evidence linking me to the crime scene could have been carried in the day they found the body, not the day Ezra was killed. Any defense attorney worth his law license could use that to hang a jury. Mills had reason to worry. We’d squared off in court many times, and she knew that I could work the angles. If she screwed up with this warrant, the judge could throw the case out before it got to trial. Hell, she might not even get an indictment. Watching her mouth work, I felt some small satisfaction. Yes, I had to protect Jean, but nothing said I had to make this easy for Mills, Douglas, or anybody else. It was a thin line.

“I’m going in back to get my dog,” I told her. “Unless you want to search him, too.” She said nothing, just tightened her jaw. “And when this is said and done, I’ll expect your apology.” It was a bluff-no way would this end well for me.

“We’ll see,” she said, then turned and stalked away.

“Lock up when you’re done,” I called after her, but it was an empty gesture. I’d landed a couple of punches, but she’d won the fight, and she knew it. At the door, she turned and looked back. She gave me the same cold yellow-toothed smile, and then she went inside.