“Okay,” I said, slowly. I pretended to write some notes, then looked up. “Okay, so, then, if he is, why stick around?”
I half expected Toby to be the first to speak up, but it turned out to be Melissa.
“We aren't afraid of him,” she said. “We learn from him. You have to try to imagine the knowledge of a man who has been here so long.” As she spoke, she became flushed. “The strength. The power. The confidence.”
“And the wealth,” added Toby again. “Do you have any idea what compounded interest can amount to in three hundred years? But, like Melissa says, it's the power. Nobody fucks with him, believe me.”
“But he possibly killed Edie,” I said. “Remember that.”
“There's a downside to everything,” said Kevin, cynically. “Of course we don't agree with you, but if you say he killed her, then we have no choice but to believe you.”
“Mind sharing how you think she died?” I asked.
“I have no opinion.”
“Do any of you happen to know one”-I pronounced it slowly, as though this might be the first time I'd heard the name-“Alicia Meyer?”
“I do,” said Huck. “She works on the boat.”
“Yeah, so do I,” said Melissa.
“And, how long has this Peel been interested in her?” I was out on a limb, but it was just a short one.
“What?” I'd evidently caught at least Melissa by surprise.
“You know,” I said conversationally, “interested enough to show up outside her second-floor window, all duded up with the teeth and all, and asking if he could come in?”
“I have no idea,” said Melissa, making a damned fine recovery. “That's his business. Like they say, 'All I know is what I read in the papers.' So, you want to hang that Peeping Tom incident on Dan, too?”
“I believe it was him that night, behind her apartment. But, if you know how serious he is about her, I'd really like to know.”
“Why?” asked Huck. Perfect.
“Because Alicia's boyfriend is dead,” I said. “One Randy Baumhagen. I assume you read about him in the papers, too.”
“That was in Wisconsin, wasn't it?” asked Melissa.
“But, yes. In the Conception County Sentinel, in fact. Why does that have anything to do with us? He just drowned.”
“Well, let's say that's up for grabs. Did any of you know him?”
“I did,” said Huck. “I talked to him in a bar once or twice.”
“Was he with Alicia when you talked to him?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And did Peel ever meet Alicia or Randy?”
“I asked her up here last month. He met her then,” she said.
“Why,” asked Hester, “did you bring her up here?”
“To see the place,” said Huck. There was something about her voice. Confusion?
“Not specifically to meet him, then?”
“Not specifically to meet anybody. To see the house.”
“But you knew he was here at the time?” Hester didn't sound at all like she was pressing Huck, but she was. By now she'd elicited the fact that Peel had been here “last month,” and at the same time as Alicia.
“Oh, well… sure. I guess.”
Hester has a sense of just where to find the jugular, so to speak. “Now, be kind of careful, here,” she said, “because you aren't the only person we've talked with.” She let that sink in for about a beat. “Now, are you sure you didn't bring her here because of him? Maybe even because he”-and she paused, again-“requested it?”
Huck shot a glance at Melissa. It was quite a tell, for a professional dealer.
The honor of capping the screwup belonged to Melissa. “I never said anything,” she said, her voice up about an octave. “Not even before you came home. Just ask Toby!”
Good old Toby, the only one who had been in a real position to spill his guts, let her dangle. “Hey, I wasn't with you and Deputy Houseman when you two were out in the yard. Who knows what you told him then?” He was a little smarter than I'd given him credit for.
“Well, you little prick,” said Melissa, with commendable accuracy.
“I really hate to change the subject,” said Huck, “but we all do have to be at Edie's wake, and if we don't get going now… ”
We'd gotten our wedge driven into the group. Not exactly where, nor in the manner, we'd expected, but it was in place. Good enough for government work, as they say. Hester and I excused ourselves after making an appointment to talk with Huck after the wake. We weren't really expecting to get much from her, but we wanted to deprive the group of who we considered its strength right after the wake. Emotions would be high, and without the moderating efforts of Huck, the cracks could become much wider. We had high hopes, even though they would have a chance to regroup on the way to the wake. I thought they were rattled enough to stay that way.
TWENTY
Monday, October 9, 2000
16:45
When we got to the funeral home, there wasn't much of a crowd, except for five or six media folks hanging about outside. They at least had enough good sense not to go in. I brushed the spatters of mud off my pants as best I could, and made sure I'd scraped all the leaf particles from my shoes. I did notice that Hester didn't seem to have suffered any negative effects on her clothes from the climb up the ravine. I was, as usual, amazed by that. Inside we found Lamar and his wife, along with Edie's mother and a couple of Lamar's relatives I'd never met before. Embarrassingly, I couldn't remember Edie's mother's name. I had just about decided on directly asking her, no matter how stupid it might make me sound, when Lamar came over. He thanked us for coming, and led us immediately over to his sister.
“June, this is Carl Houseman, I think you know him? And Agent Hester Gorse, of the DCI.”
“Hello, June,” I said.
“Hello,” said June.
I recognized her, but barely. She seemed to have aged a lot more than I would have anticipated in the five or six years since I'd met her the first time.
“I'm sorry about Edie,” I said.
“Don't feel sorry for her,” she said. “Feel sorry for Shanna, her kid she left in the lurch. But thanks for comin'.” She gestured to a small table with a lace cloth, where somebody had placed four photos of Edie. One was a framed graduation picture, color, taken with her in a maroon cap and gown. The other three were taped to a piece of black construction paper. One of Edie with her mother in a swing when she was about six, I'd guess. Another one of Edie in her graduation robes, and one with Edie and her daughter, Shanna. Cute little kid. It was kind of a pathetic photo memorial, though.
While Hester said the obligatory things, Lamar and I approached the coffin, hardly making any sound at all on the soft carpet. Edie's body looked just like what it was, a dead woman in her mid-twenties. She was clad in a nice knit beige dress, with a white scarf concealing the wound in her neck. Her hair was a lot lighter than it had seemed when she was in the tub, and for a second I thought she might have a wig. Nope. Washed, dried, and nicely combed. Too young to be there, I thought. I took a breath and spoke to Lamar.
“They did a nice job,” I said softly. Having been at her autopsy, I could hardly believe they'd managed to put her back together as well as they had.
“Yep.”
Cops tend to be connoisseurs of that sort of thing. Especially when we've viewed the deceased at a crime scene, and know what the mortician has accomplished. Lamar knew; he'd been there often enough.
When I turned around, I saw several more people had entered the main room. Three young women, well
