Bad Karma

with what you’ve given me. He’d laugh me off the force.”

“What do you think, Eric?” Shannon asked.

Wilson had been sitting quietly. He looked up at Shannon, his face a hard white. “I agree with Detective Chase. You’ve shown nothing to merit an investigation.”

“How about answering whether Linda was abused by her dad.”

“How the fuck would he know?” Chase demanded.

“He dated her in high school.”

Chase’s face turned redder as he stared open mouthed at Wilson. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, incredulous. “When the fuck were you going to say something about that?”

“Calm down,” Wilson told him. “I have no evidence of Mr. Gibson abusing Linda.”

“But you suspect it,” Shannon said.

“I never said anything to you about that.”

“No, you didn’t. But I told you, I’m good at reading people. And you had it written all over you in large print.”

“Damn it, Wilson,” Chase prodded. “Did Gibson abuse his daughter or not?”

“I don’t know.”

“But you suspected that he did,” Shannon said.

Wilson gave a slow and reluctant nod. “I don’t know if I suspected that exactly,” he said. “But I guess I knew something was wrong. Not that Linda ever talked to me about it. More by the way she acted around them, especially with Mr. Gibson. She’d get so quiet and withdrawn when she’d see him. With her mom, I remember times she’d fly off the handle over little things. Sometimes nothing at all. I guess there were other signals, but I was just too dense a kid to pick up on them. Maybe I never really wanted to admit it to myself that any of that happened. Listening to you and thinking back how Linda used to act, it makes sense.”

“Officer Wilson, you didn’t answer my earlier question,” Chase said, his tone completely business. “A simple yes or no. As someone who was intimately involved with the deceased, Linda Gibson, do you now suspect her of being the victim of sexual abuse by her father?”

Wilson gave a weak nod, said, “Yes.”

“Okay, then,” Chase said. “At least I can now consider going to the Cap about an investigation.” He leaned further back in his seat, his wide face looking a bit washed out. Eyeing Shannon’s pie, he asked if it was any good.

“Damn good pie,” Shannon said. “Almost worth a trip to Wichita for.”

Chase nodded grimly and waved the waitress over. “Hey, gorgeous,” he said to the sixtyish grandmotherly woman standing with pad and pen. “How about a piece of that apple pie? Make it big, something that will hold me to late ’cause I’ll be working ’til midnight now thanks to these two clowns. And hide a few scoops of ice cream on it, okay darling?”

Later, the waitress brought over what looked like half a pie with a pint of vanilla ice cream on top of it. Chase ate it quickly, barely coming up for air as he joylessly shoveled it into his mouth. When he was done, he nodded at Shannon and Wilson, and suggested that it would help if they all met with the Cap.

Shannon glanced at Wilson, who appeared deep in his own thoughts. “Eric and I have another matter to talk about,” he said. “How about we meet you at the station?”

Chase scowled suspiciously at both of them, but squeezed himself out of the booth and told them not to take too long. “Cap likes to take off early on Thursdays for Walleye fishing.” After he ambled out of the diner, Shannon asked Wilson if he still wanted to know more about the Winters cousins.

“At this point, I’m not sure what I want to know. I can’t believe I was in such denial about Linda and her parents all these years. Makes me wonder how I could be a police officer if I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face.”

“Sometimes you’re too close to a situation, that’s all. But your instincts were right. At a gut level you knew what was going on. Over time, you’ll learn to listen to your gut more.”

“I hope so. But I’m going to take your advice and think about how much more I want to know about Winters. I might still call you in a few days.”

“Anytime you want, although I hope you don’t-at least not about that.” Shannon paused, scratched the side of his jaw that wasn’t swollen. “I apologize if I dragged you into something you didn’t want to be a part of.”

“No need to apologize,” Wilson said, his eyes as hard as stone. “This needs to be investigated. You really think they could’ve killed Linda?”

“I don’t know. Let’s see where this leads. If they didn’t, but it still comes out that Gibson abused either of his daughters, at least that will be something. At least in some way justice will be served for them.”

Wilson nodded, got to his feet and headed towards the exit. Shannon covered the bill and followed him out the door.

Chapter 10

The sun had already set by the time Shannon made his way through Denver International Airport. When he called Susan from his car to apologize for missing their date to watch the sunset, he caught her in the middle of a session with a client. She just seemed relieved that he’d be back in Boulder that night; she also didn’t think she’d be done until ten. They arranged to meet at the hotel at that time so they could go out for a late dinner.

He was able to reach Eli at the Boulder Mind Body Center and they set up to meet a half hour earlier the next morning at their usual spot. Next, he checked his cell phone for messages and saw there were twelve of them. The first two were from Eunice Carver asking about People magazine. She got testier in her second message, demanding to know whether or not they wanted her story; that if they didn’t, she would sell it elsewhere. The next message was from Paul Devens. He thought Shannon would like to know that his tap dance routine had gone over brilliantly. In other words, Shannon could now access the condo while Carver’s family was still barred. According to Devens, his performance would’ve brought a tear to Fred Astaire’s eye. After Devens’ message there was one from Mark Daniels who sounded depressed as he congratulated Shannon on his lawyer’s victory in court and asked if Shannon could let him know when he was planning to search the apartment so he could be present. The rest of them were from Pauline Cousins, all scattered throughout the afternoon. She didn’t say much, only that she needed to talk to him.

Shannon tried calling her motel room but she didn’t pick up. He then reached Devens on his cell phone.

“How was Wichita?” Devens asked.

“Interesting. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

“I’ll be looking forward to it. Ah, you should’ve seen me today. I had them absolutely dazzled with my footwork,” Devens told him, sounding a little drunk.

“Yeah, I heard. Celebrating?”

“A bottle of champagne, my detective friend. This is a big deal for a lawyer like me who never goes to court except to pay off speeding tickets. Come by the office tomorrow morning after eight. You can fill me in about Wichita, and I’ll give you keys to the condo and the police padlock.”

Shannon told him he’d see him then. He next tried Mark Daniels’ cell phone and left a message that he was planning to look through the apartment in the morning, that if Daniels gave him a call back they could arrange when to meet. After that he put the Red Sox-Rockies game on his car radio, and by the time he arrived at his apartment building, the Sox were up four runs in the sixth inning thanks to two David Ortiz homeruns. He couldn’t help smiling thinking how Maguire at that very moment was somewhere giving Rockies’ fans a hard time.

Shannon knocked on Emily’s door, waited until she opened it a crack and told her he was stopping off at his apartment for a little while. He frowned as he looked past her. “Is that a frying pan you’re holding behind your back?”

“So what if it is?” she demanded, her chin stuck out slightly. “You told me my Louisville Slugger’s no good. Anyway, how’d you know?”

“I could see it in your hallway mirror. Try to relax, okay? Odds are no Russian thugs are going to be coming here.”