at Greenleaf’s and slipping down to the lab for all kinds of other little meetings.”
Frank was speechless.
“No one thinks it’s romantic,” Reed said, “but maybe that’s just because no one other than Vince can think of the Wheeze in the nude.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“No, I’m on the outs with her. Since you’re her golden boy of the moment, why don’t you see what you can learn from her?”
Frank sighed. “Okay, but it will have to wait. Gotta go, Reed. If you have trouble getting through to me, it’s this house of Haycroft’s. I’m looking at the roof and I’d swear he’s done something to try to make it tough for infrared. Who knows what it will do to phone signals?”
The SWAT team leader approached him. “The bomb squad tells me we’re clear up in the attic — but they got an iffy sort of alert from the dogs — mild reaction from one of them around this one area near the workbench. They think material may have been stored up here at some time — probably the stuff he used to make the devices for your car. They want you to test the top of that table for residue.”
“Okay, I’ll make sure it comes with us when we leave.”
“You want to come up the ladder and take a look at the rest of what’s up there?”
“Sure.”
The phone rang again before he reached the ladder.
“Frank! It’s Blake Halloran. I think we have your fire starter on videotape. From a gas station not far from the police department. Not a very good image — but it’s something. A gardener in a white van filling a can with gasoline — only he handles everything the way you do when you don’t want to leave prints.”
“Great,” Frank said. “I think we’ve identified the arsonist.” He told him about Haycroft and made arrangements to have someone pick up a copy of the tape. “Do me a favor and ask your other arson investigators if any of them have ever worked with him, okay?”
The evidence against Haycroft was falling into place. He felt certain they were going to be able to nail him. He started up the ladder.
46
Friday, July 14, 10:35 A.M.
Courthouse Plaza
Paul Haycroft placed a white kitchen garbage bag on the bench before he sat on it. He intensely disliked sitting on such benches, but this one was across from the county courthouse. There were big doings at the courthouse today. The temporary stage was in place, and chairs were already in rows across the plaza. This wasn’t a gathering that would draw much of a crowd from the general public, but there would be plenty of politicians, lawyers, judges, and law enforcement types. A few civic groups, of course. A local high school marching band. Lots of press. The courthouse was not far from the water, but even so, under the July sun, the spectators would be miserable on their plastic folding chairs.
Not so the dignitaries on the stage. He watched as workers raised a white canvas cover over the stage itself. Those on the stage would enjoy its shade. They could drone on and on while their audience broiled.
The sound system, bunting, a podium — gradually, the plaza was being converted into a theater. The audience would enter expecting a dull play. Haycroft smiled. He would prevent everyone from being bored.
He studied the new wing from this safe distance. This was not the first day anyone would enter the building, after all. He had been there on a number of occasions, sometimes openly. He knew that Kerr had been inside the building almost every day for the past few weeks, making sure all would be in order for this day. Desks and bookcases had been moved in, phones were installed, lights were working, security systems were at the ready. So much could be done, though, before security systems were truly at the ready.
Today the building would be officially dedicated, and tomorrow — according to the county’s plans — Judge Lewis Kerr would preside over the first case to be heard there.
At this moment, Kerr would be in his new office on the seventh floor. Haycroft focused his attention on the window of that office and pictured Kerr as clearly as if he had telescopic vision. Kerr on the phone, Kerr rehearsing his speech, Kerr using the final hours of his life to deal with trivialities. His staff busy with last-minute details before the event. He had studied Kerr’s behavior over the years and knew that Kerr would be one of the last people out of the building before the ceremonies.
Kerr, he thought with a smirk, was a theatrical man. He belonged in costume, not judge’s robes. He loved nothing so much as an entrance. Every time Haycroft had observed him in public — at every political dinner, every civic function — Kerr had swept in as the last of the polite arrivals — never precisely late, never taking too much advantage of his host’s or hostess’s tolerance, but always looked for, always anticipated.
Haycroft knew Kerr’s habits and timing as well as if they were doing a trapeze act together. Thirty minutes or so before the beginning of the event, when the organizers would have been gratified and relieved to see the judge, Kerr would send his minions ahead to assure everyone that His Honor was on his way. Kerr would next send Maggie, his clerk, last of all. And with less than five minutes to spare, when the audience was already accustomed to the presence of all the other dignitaries, Kerr would come shining into their midst. He would allow enough time to be shown to his place on the dais and little more. Just in time to cause a little stir.
Yes, Kerr would stay in his office, far above it all, judging nothing so well as his moment.
Haycroft knew exactly where Kerr’s desk was positioned. Perhaps even now Kerr was looking down on the plaza from behind his mirrored window. Or slightly beyond the plaza, to a man sitting on a bench, looking up at him.
Sadly, at this distance Haycroft could not see the reflection of his own face in Kerr’s window. Although he had no difficulty imagining Kerr and his office, he could never imagine his own likeness. That had to be seen for itself.
“Dr. Haycroft?”
He gave a small start and turned to see one of the guards from the old courthouse.
“Hello, Denise,” he said, smiling. He didn’t bother correcting the “doctor.” He had a master’s degree and much more experience than Dr. Larson. If this kind woman wanted to confer a doctorate on him, so be it. She had seen him many times in the older court building. He always made a point of getting to know such persons in any setting. After all, a janitor usually had more keys to city hall than the mayor.
