“What is it, Johnny? You know I don’t want to be disturbed when I’m with-”
Johnny had just come on duty. Still buttoning his white tunic, he crossed the room to whisper into Apgard’s ear. Apgard whispered a reply behind his hand, then turned back to the psychiatrist, who was already glancing at his watch. “I’m sorry, Dr. Vogler, a situation seems to have developed.”
“No problem. I’ll have to charge you for the full hour, though.”
“I’m sure you will,” said Lewis.
The white-jacketed butler-houseman was the St. Luke title-showed Coffee and Pender into the drawing room, which was decorated in gilt and green, with ancestral portraits hung on the wall above the enormous fireplace. Pender stopped at the edge of the handsome carpet and toed off his muddy Hush Puppies. He and Julian had been caught in the same storm that had driven Apgard and Vogel inside. Within five minutes, as they struggled to help Layla set up a crime scene tent over the body, it had turned the dry earth around the mill tower to mud-so much for tire track imprints-and five minutes later it was gone, leaving the sky a clear, innocent,
Pender settled himself onto an uncomfortable antique chair with bentwood arms, bowed legs, and a dark green, pancake-thin cushion. “Nice joint.”
“Not going to be much consolation to Lewis when he finds out his wife has been murdered,” said Coffee, whose shoes had somehow remained immaculate.
“You seem pretty sure he’s innocent. He
“You’d have to know the guy,” Coffee replied. “Lewis Apgard’s no Machete Man. The only way he could kill somebody would be to charm them to death.”
Superficial charm, thought Pender-a characteristic shared by many psychopaths. “Do me a favor anyway-grill him about his whereabouts before you break the news.”
“I’ll let you do it,” said Julian. “Lewis Apgard is a very influential man on this island-I’d like to keep my job a bit longer, if that’s all right with you.”
The drawing room doors opened. Apgard strode into the room wearing shorts and a blue-and-yellow-striped rugby shirt with the collar turned up in back. He was unshaven, his dark blond hair sticking out from under his aquamarine baseball cap, and when he saw that Pender had taken off his shoes, he grinned-charmingly.
“What ya tryin’ ta do, mon,” he said in dialect, after he and Coffee had exchanged good mornings, and Coffee had introduced Pender. “Put the maid out of work?”
“My momma raised me not to track mud on carpets that cost more than I earn,” replied Pender.
“Johnny, would you run those down to the kitchen, see if you can get the mud off them?” Apgard instructed the butler.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Pender.
“No trouble,” said Apgard. “And can I offer either of you gentlemen a drink?”
“Little early in the day for me.”
“Tea or coffee, then. Johnny, would you ask Sally-”
“No, thank you,” said Julian. “Sit down, would you, Lewis?”
“Sure. That’ll be all, Johnny.”
Apgard sat in a bentwood chair across from the two cops. Julian nodded to Pender.
“Mr. Apgard, can you account for your whereabouts since last night,” Pender began.
“What’s this all-”
Pender cut him off. “Mr. Apgard, I don’t mean to be rude, but we need to do this my way. Can you account for your whereabouts since last night?”
“Yes,” said Apgard, tight-lipped now-apparently he didn’t like being interrupted.
“Please do.”
“Starting when?”
“Say, supper.”
“I didn’t eat supper.”
“What about your wife?”
“What does Hokey have to-”
“My way, Mr. Apgard.”
“It was cook’s day off. I brought a supper tray up to the bedroom for Hokey.”
“Wasn’t she feeling well?”
“Why don’t you ask-”
“Mr. Apgard.”
“She’s…we’re trying to conceive. We made love-she stayed in bed. On her back. Now do you understand? Cheese-an’-bread, mon, will ya please fuckin’ tell me what’s going on?”
Pender ignored the outburst. “You brought your wife supper in bed. Did you stay with her while she ate it?”
“No, I went downstairs, read the paper, had a few drinks. Probably a few too many-I fell asleep. When I woke up, I went out back to clear my mind, missed the last step, fell backward, hit my head.” Apgard raised his turquoise cap to show them the rectangular bandage, stained brown in the middle, either from blood or Betadine. “Bled like a stuck pig.”
“Go on,” said Pender.
Apgard replaced the cap. “I might have lost consciousness for a second or two. When I came to, like I say, I was bleeding pretty bad. I took off my jacket, used it to stanch the blood, went inside, called upstairs to Hokey. She came down, drove me to the hospital. The resident stitched me up and insisted on keeping me overnight for observation.
“This morning I felt fine-little sore in the coconut, that’s all. I called Hokey to come pick me up, but there was no answer. I figured she was probably out at Blue Valley practicing for the tournament, so I took a cab. Got home around an hour and a half ago, had a session with Dr. Vogler, and next thing I know, Johnny tells me the police are at the door. Now what the fuck is going on?”
“Almost there,” said Pender soothingly. “Let me get this all straight first. You fell down, hit your head. Your wife drove you to the hospital. Did anyone see her with you?”
“Everybody. She stayed at my side through the stitches and everything. I practically fainted-she was a rock. She left around, I don’t know, midnight? She’d have stayed with me, but there were no private beds left.”
“Did you leave the hospital at any time during the night?”
“I didn’t even leave the bed-they made me piss in a pot.”
“And there was someone with you all night?”
“Three roommates, one of whom never slept a wink. And the nurses’ station is right outside the door. And now that I’m beginning to see the light, Agent Pender, whatever you’re trying to pin on me, if it happened last night, you talkin’ to the wrong buoy. So if you don’t mind…”
Pender glanced at Julian, gave him a back-to-the-drawing-board shrug. Alibis didn’t come much tighter than that.
Apgard looked from one man to the other. “Chief, I’m starting to get worried here. Would you please tell me what’s going on?”
“Lewis, I’m afraid I have some bad news for you. It’s about Hokey.”
“What happened? Has she been in an accident? Where is she? Is she all right?”
Julian told him his wife’s body had been found in the mill tower. Apgard buried his face in his hands and began to sob. Coffee crossed the room, stood behind Apgard’s chair, placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He remembered Lewis from the days when he was known as the Baby Guv. Lewis’s wet nurse, Queen Charlotte, had been a Coffee on her mother’s side-Julian had once lifted the two-year-old Baby Guv onto his shoulders so he could see the Three Kings Day parade pass by. That would have been January of ’71, the year before Julian joined the FBI.
It took Apgard a few minutes to get hold of himself again. When he did look up, his eyes were bloodshot and his voice hollow. “Chief?”
“Yes, Lewis?”
“Whoever’s responsible for this?”
“Yes?”
