”I got the information on your man,“ he said. No salutation, no golly, Spenser, it’s swell to hear your voice.
Sometimes I wasn’t sure how fond Quirk was of me.
”Okay,“ I said.
”He’s got a record. Wanted in Tacoma, Washington, for performing an illegal abortion. Got himself disbarred or delicensed or whatever the hell they do with doctors that screw up. That was about seven years ago. Now he could probably do it legal in half the country, but then it was still a big unh-unh.“
”And he’s still wanted?“
”Yeah, he skipped bail and disappeared. The AG’s office out there has an outstanding warrant on him, but it’s not international intrigue. I don’t think there are a lot of people working on it these days.“
”Anything else?“
”Nothing much. Seems the guy had a good practice before this happened. I met the homicide commander out there once, and I gave him a call. Says this Croft was well thought of. Probably did the abortion as a kindness, not for dough. Didn’t want to be quoted, but said he thought it was kind of a shafting. Girl’s old man made a goddamned crusade of it, you know?“
”Yeah.“
”One thing, though,“ Quirk said.
”What’s that?“
”Yours isn’t the first inquiry on him. Chief Trask of the Smithfield Police checked on him six years ago. There’s a Xerox copy of Trask’s request and a Xerox copy of the report the ID Bureau sent him.“
”Six years ago?“ I said. Something bad was nudging at me.
”Yeah, what’s going on out there? Nice to see you’re in close touch with the local law enforcement agencies.“ I said, ”Jesus Christ.“
Quirk said, ”What?“ I said, ”I’ll get back to you,“ and hung up.
Susan said, ”What’s the matter?“ I said, ”I’ll be back,“ and headed for my car. It was about five minutes from Susan’s house to the Smithfield jail.
”Trask,“ I said out loud, ”that sonova bitch.“ I slammed the car into the parking lot in front of the town hall and ran for the police station. Fire, police, and town hall were connected in a brick-faced white-spired town hall complex.
The police station was in the middle between the double-doored fire station and the church-fronted town hall. Like a breezeway, I thought as I went in.
Trask was at the desk. I didn’t like that. The chief shouldn’t do desk duty. He looked up as I came in. ”Well, Spenser,“ he said, ”solve everything?“ I said, ”Where’s Croft?“
Trask jerked his head toward a door behind the desk.
”Down there in a cell, safe and sound.“
”I want to see him.“
Trask was friendly, positively jolly. My stomach felt tight. I didn’t want to go down and see Croft. ”Sure,“ Trask said. He swiveled his chair around and snapped the bolt back on the door. ”Third cell,“ he said. And opened the door.
There was a short corridor with three barred cells along the left side and a blank cinder block wall along the right.
The first two cells were empty. In the third one Dr. Croft was hanging from the highest bar with his swollen tongue sticking out and his blank eyes popped way out. He was dead. I felt the nausea start up my throat, and it took me about thirty seconds to swallow it back. His red and silver red striped necktie was knotted around his neck and around the top cross member in the barred door. I knew he was dead even before I reached my hand through to feel his pulse. I also knew I had something to do with it. I went back down the corridor and closed the door behind me. Trask had his feet up on an open desk drawer and was reading a mimeographed sheet of paper. He was wearing glasses. His thick red neck was smoothly shaved where his crew cut ended. He looked up as I closed the door.
”Everything okay down there?“ he said. The glasses distorted his small pale eyes when he looked at me.
I said, ”How come you’re doing desk duty, Chief?“
”Aw, hell, you know how a small department is. I mean, we only got twelve men. I like to give some of the kids a break. You know. I mean it aren’t like I’m commissioner in Boston or something.“ He smiled at me, a big friendly hick smile. He’d never liked me this well before.
There was a table along the wall to the left of the cell block door. It had chrome legs and a maple-colored Formica top. There was a coffee percolator plugged in on it and a half-empty box of paper cups. I took one and poured myself some coffee. Then I sat on the table facing Trask. The silent partner.
”Trask,“ I said, ”I know you murdered Croft.“
He never blinked. ”What the hell are you talking about?“ he said.
”No crap now, there’s just the two of us here. You went down that corridor and tied that tie around his neck and hoisted him up there and let him strangle because he was the only link between you and Harroway and with him dead no one would have any way of finding out what you were into.“
Trask looked straight at me and said, ”What was I into?“
”You were into prostitution and narcotics and sex shows and probably can be arraigned for abusing a goat.“
