son of the fallen soldier.”
“But”-I hesitated, uncertain of the answer-“then he moved away?”
“To Allen Park. His mother was a night janitor at Superior Motors. But Whistler had to help support her. By the way, this is all publicly available information. I’m surprised you don’t know it. Are you surprised you don’t know it, Mr. Carpenter?”
Surprised wasn’t the word. “I don’t need to know the entire history of my colleagues.”
“I see,” Breck said. “It’s funny. My contacts at the law firm called him Luke Chiseler. He knows more about any of this than anybody-or almost anybody. And he put a price on it.”
“What are you talking about?” I said.
“Mr. Whistler called it a book deal.”
“And?”
The shift room door opened again. Catledge stepped in.
“And… if you want to hear more, you should be at my arraignment tomorrow. It should be interesting. I dearly hope the entire town shows up.”
“Why Tex? What’s he have to do with this?”
“What better way to punish this town?” Breck said, then briefly lowered his eyes. “I am sorry about his injury. That was not intended.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I said.
“In case I don’t get a fair trial.”
“Why? You think you’re going to follow in your grandfather’s footsteps?”
“Time’s up,” Catledge said.
Breck rose. “Ask Father Reilly.”
TWENTY-FOUR
I didn’t want to believe Breck.
Whistler didn’t answer when I called him from my truck. I left a message, trying to sound nonchalant, hoping he was with Tawny Jane.
He was not.
Tawny Jane was finishing a stand-up in front of the sheriff’s department when I rolled up. Other reporters milled around in the shadows outside the vestibule, deciding where to go for beers after calling in their stories. Dingus was gone. D’Alessio, who apparently had been released, stood off to one side, waiting for someone to interview him.
I didn’t see Whistler or his Toronado. He had said he would be going to the cop shop, and I couldn’t imagine he’d miss a briefing on this story. But maybe he’d thought I would babysit that. Maybe he was already at the Pilot, posting something online.
The wind kept blowing Tawny Jane’s hair across her face, and she kept pulling it away with the hand that wasn’t holding the microphone. I eased my window down to hear.
“… will be arraigned tomorrow morning, a major turn of events in the spicy drama here in Starvation Lake, a quaint little town, which has seen its share of drama in the past. Channel Eight will be broadcasting live tomorrow from the Pine County Courthouse as Wylie Ezra Breck is arraigned before Judge Horace Gallagher…”
Not Wylie, I thought. And quaint? Not for a long time.
I threw my truck into park and got out and walked over to Tawny Jane. She gave me a look that said she wasn’t interested and turned to her cameraman, Butch. “Good enough?” she said. “We can smooth it out back at the station.”
“Yup,” Butch said. “Couple of shots, your hair makes you look like Cousin Itt.”
“Big news, eh, T.J.?” I said.
She tossed her hair back and pulled on a white wool hat. “A little late, aren’t you?”
“Whistler was here, wasn’t he?”
She pulled on mittens that matched her hat. “You’ll have to watch me at eleven.”
“Whistler was not here?”
“I didn’t see him.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know why he didn’t show?”
“I don’t know a thing about that man.”
She climbed into the van and it spun away in a whirl of snow.
The streetlights on Main glimmered through the frosted kitchen window in Darlene’s second-floor apartment. We sat at her table with cups of tea. She had undone the top two buttons on her brown-and-mustard deputy’s shirt and shaken the hatband imprint out of her hair.
I didn’t wait for her to ask; she deserved to know. I told her everything Breck had told me, told her about the lockbox, my trip to Detroit, my meeting with Father Reilly, about Nilus’s womanizing and my theory about the map and Mom’s two best friends. Darlene listened without interrupting. If anything surprised her, I couldn’t tell. Maybe she was so weary of the drama swirling around her mother’s death that she could not register surprise anymore.
I reached across the table to take her hand. She let me.
“We haven’t even made funeral arrangements yet,” she said.
“Mom told me she was going to do it, then she said you were doing it.”
Darlene shook her head. “She’s mistaken.”
No, I thought, Mom wasn’t mistaken. “I can go with you tomorrow, after the arraignment.”
“The arraignment,” she said. There was scorn in her voice.
“What?” I said. She was staring at our entwined hands. “You don’t really think Breck was there that night, do you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” she said. “I’ve never seen Dingus like this. You’re right. He’s off his rocker. Hauling in all those people. Even arresting D’Alessio. Come on.”
“He’s feeling the pressure. Do you have any hard evidence at all on Breck?”
“Just because we’re here now doesn’t mean I’m obliged to be unprofessional.”
“I-”
“This is my mother.”
She was fighting not to cry again.
“I understand. I can’t believe you’re still on the case. You’re-”
“Don’t. Don’t say a word about courage or any of that bullshit. I’m just doing what I do, just like Sunday night with Mrs. Morcone and that damn raccoon.”
“It’s all right, Darlene.”
“No, it’s not, goddammit.” She pulled her hand away. “Look-this is off off off the record. We have, essentially, nothing. No fingerprints. No witnesses. Nothing. Dingus is praying the DNA guys find something. We just keep filling up the jail with people who didn’t do it.”
“But you’re going into court tomorrow.”
“He couldn’t let D’Alessio get away with rallying the people like that.”
“Judge Gallagher’s going to bite Dingus’s head off.”
“Well. We can certainly connect Breck to Nilus and make a case that he had motive to be in the house looking for something.”
“Like a map. Or part of one.”
“How would he know it’s there?”
“No idea, unless…” I thought of the woman who had approached Soupy’s mother. “I don’t know.”
“And why would my mother just blurt out ‘Nilus’?”
“They were talking about it that morning,” I said. “At least I think they were. I asked and they changed the subject.”
“Do you think they suspected this burglar wasn’t taking anything because he hadn’t found what he was
