doing the same thing. Though we did notice two of his boys were a little banged up.” He cast a conspicuous glance at my hands. I held them up.
“Must have gotten into it with each other,” he said.
“No honor among meatballs.”
He settled his chair back down and propped his elbows on his desk, the smoke from his cigarette hanging about his face like a veil in the still air of the office.
“Burton Lewis thinks a lot of you, too. Otherwise you’d have a much bigger problem around here,” he said, matter of factly.
“I don’t expect you to believe me, Ross, but I got next to no interest in doing your job. What I’d really rather be doing right now is working on my addition instead of sitting here with you, no offense. I just think you oughta take a look at that forensics report and see if there’s anything other than the material of the shirt mixed into that hole. Any other kind of fibers.”
Ross’s face stopped its endless wiggling as it momentarily formed into a scowl.
“If somebody gave that up to you I’ll have his behind,” he said.
“Same stuff was stuck to his other clothing. And in his hair. Unless the hospital got to him before you could brush it out. Is that it?”
“One other place, Sherlock.”
“The abrasion on his right hand along the knuckles.”
He extracted another cigarette from the soft pack and lit it with the one he was already smoking. He offered me one and I took it.
“Joe’s not doing too good with this thing,” said Ross.
“I know.”
“No you don’t. The Hamptons aren’t exactly Fort Apache, but every cop everywhere knows there’s an everyday potential of getting hurt. You’re not the same after it actually happens.”
“Intimations of mortality.”
“Nobody told me anything,” I said. “Especially Sullivan. It was just a guess.”
“Sullivan doesn’t know anything. Because I haven’t told him anything.”
“He’ll be okay. Just give him time.”
“I know he will. It’s you I’m not so sure about.”
“Come on, Ross. I’m on your side.”
“I’m not talking about me. Whoever took out Jonathan Eldridge knew what they were doing. Quite a coincidence that Joe Sullivan gets found in your front yard stuck like a pig about the time we opened the case to the whole squad. Which was about the time I find out from some lawyer over in Riverhead that you’re pestering Eldridge’s widow. If you think I don’t know what you two were up to, you’re not the brain Sullivan says you are. If Sullivan was onto something, so were you.”
Throughout the conversation Ross maintained the usual unmodulated tone in his voice that always seemed out of synch with his twitchy body. Flat, but friendly. Unthreatening. Analytical. Make a fine addition to my new engineering staff. Ross, Charles, Scott and Edgar.
“What do you want to know?” I asked him.
“Who killed Jonathan Eldridge,” he said without hesitation.
“I don’t know.”
“But you have theories.”
“Not really. I wish I had,” I said, with all the earnest conviction I felt.
“I thought you liked Fleming.”
“I do. My favorite, but far from a slam dunk.”
“Eldridge and Sullivan are connected.”
“Maybe.”
“Christ.”
“Parallel unrelated component failure we used to call it. What looks like cause and effect is just dumb coincidence.”
“Why not Fleming?”
“Can’t see what’s in it for him. Sure, Eldridge screwed up on his investments, but why the big bang? Seems like a statement, but what’re you saying? Pick better stocks? And to whom, your other financial consultants? You think Merrill Lynch management has a memo out to all their brokers, please be advised in handling Ivor Fleming’s account to show a positive return or take the train home.”
“His sheet has about a half-dozen suspected homicides. Not like he’s not up to it. And the State people sure seem interested. We can hardly find a place to park near his house in Sagaponack for all the plain-wrapper Fords.”
“Rackets. The bombing investigation gave them something to go on. New, or supplemental, who knows, but that’s their game.”
“You know this.”
“I do, but I can’t tell you how. I’d be giving somebody up. But it’s good information.”
“I could make you.”
“I know, but you’ll wish you hadn’t. Not because of me, because of the source. Talk to Burton. He can probably plug you in.”
It was impossible to read Ross Semple. But I thought as we talked through everything I knew, or wanted to share, including my chat with Ronny that he was feeling a little better about me. I wanted him to. Not only to get out from under his suspicious gaze, but to honor Sullivan and Burton’s faith in me. To not let them down, even in the abstract.
When we were finished he walked me out to the reception area. Janet Orlovsky was still on duty. I noticed she was wearing her service revolver. Thought she ought to arm herself with me in the building. She buzzed me back out and Ross followed me into the parking lot.
“I hope you don’t come down on Sullivan for anything that’s been going on,” I said. “Not that I’m saying he’s done anything he shouldn’t.”
“He’s done all kinds of things he shouldn’t. But I’m okay. Just keep talking to me, or I won’t be.”
“Okay.”
He followed me all the way to the Grand Prix and opened the door for me. Eddie jumped out so he could take a piss on the post that held up a sign that said “Visitors Only. Southampton Town Police.” I thought of a way to divert Ross’s attention.
“Those fibers you found on Sullivan,” I said. “I got a guess.”
Before I had a chance to say it he told me what it was.
“Burlap. Heavy weave. The kind the potato farmers have been using out here for years.”
“I thought you were concerned about the DA,” I said.
“Not when it’s just you and me out here in the parking lot where nobody can hear us talk. Anyway, you guessed it already.”
“What does that tell you?” I asked him.
“Somebody made the mistake of putting a burlap bag over Sullivan’s head.”
“Caught him sleeping in my lawn chair.”
“Yeah. That’s the point. Your chair. They thought he was you. Sullivan must’ve put up a hell of a fight.”
“Probably didn’t even mean to stab him. Or clobber him on the head. The situation just got away from them. When they realized they had the wrong guy, they just left him there. Might’ve thought he was already dead or would be soon enough.”
“Like I said, him I’m not so concerned about.”
As I drove out of the parking lot I looked in my rearview mirror. He was still standing there, as if waiting to be sure I was completely gone. He was watching me steadily as he rummaged around his shirt pocket for cigarettes. Nicotine addict and inscrutable fidget that he was, sent down from the Planet Zircon to serve and
