‘Those poor girls. Ogden took it real bad. But it was quite some time ago.’ She frowned. ‘Isn’t your organisation supposed to gloss over the failings of a dead cop?’ Victor frowned, then remembered his role.
‘I guess I was asking out of personal curiosity,’ he said. ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything we could do for you to commemorate your husband’s life?’
‘Let me tell you about Ogden Parnum,’ she said, suddenly. ‘I would see scratches on his back, tiny little scratches and little crescent moons from hungry nails. And on his face. I would catch glimpses of them, only glimpses, because I was never in a position to do otherwise. And look at me.’ Her hand traced the curves to her slender hips.
‘I am not a woman content to let herself go.’ She stopped. ‘And what I don’t understand is that there is nothing I would not have done for him, if you get my meaning. I’ve been around the block, Mr Finch. He wasn’t marrying a sweet and innocent young thing.’ She looked up. ‘What was wrong with me?’ she said, tears suddenly flowing from her eyes. ‘What was wrong with me?’
Marcus Canney bit and picked at his filthy nails.
‘This isn’t a rap on the knuckles in the District Court,’ said O’Connor, pointing at him. ‘You’ll be standing in your cheap little shiny suit with your hair all flat like your mammy does it, that thick look on your face…and it won’t matter a damn. Because it’ll be Delaney.’ He smiled. ‘The judge with the grudge. And you’ll be pissing in the wind.’
Canney twitched.
‘I’ll get no pleasure sending you down,’ said O’Connor. ‘But your suppliers…’
Silence.
‘Come on, Canney. You’re not playing Cowboys and Indians now. This is big time and you’ll go down for five to seven. You’re on your own then.’
Canney twitched.
‘And where will the big players be? Busy training in the new guy. They might do a better job this time, though. And after that, they’ll be wondering what’s the best way to get you off the scene. Will they take care of it inside or will they wait ’til you’re free and easy and thinking your whole life is ahead of you?’
Canney stared straight ahead.
‘Look,’ said O’Connor. ‘You can walk out of here and they’ll never have to know a thing. I can promise you that.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘You’re in it up to your neck, Canney. I don’t know what other way I can say it to you. But you have a way out. We’ll forget all about this. Off you go. No-one’s any the wiser. And we’re all happy.’
‘There’s no fucking way I’m going to fall for that.’
‘Why do you think I’m sitting here and not in an interview room with the tapes rolling?’
Canney stared past him, frowning. ‘Yeah, well…’
‘Well, what? Tell me. Who’s supplying you?’
‘Look, I’m saying nothing. Are you fucking stupid?’
‘Your call,’ said O’Connor, standing up. ‘I’ve done what I can. See you in the interview room.’ He walked towards the door. ‘Seven years, though. Even five. That’s the absolute minimum with this guy. I don’t think that’s registering,’ he said, tapping his forehead. He held the door handle longer than he needed to.
Canney finally spoke. ‘What if I knew something about that Mountcannon girl that was murdered?’
O’Connor spun around. Canney was smiling, nodding his head slowly.
‘You’re the lowest of the low, Canney…’
‘What if I’m serious?’
O’Connor turned back towards the door, shaking his head.
Canney shrugged. ‘What if I was one of the last people to see her alive?’
Old Nic went into the Stinger’s Creek diner and swapped twenty dollars for a handful of coins. He went outside to a payphone and dialled Joe’s number.
‘I can’t talk right now,’ said Joe quickly.
‘Yeah, but you can listen. And I mean it. I know you called off my trip, but here I am, North Central Texas. My bells told me to come. I spoke to the widow and let me tell you, Mrs Parnum is one foxy lady. But she’s a bitter one. Hated the husband, seems he was cheating on her, blah, blah—’
‘Did she say anything about why he killed himself? Or anything about the case?’
‘Just that he took it real bad. As to why her husband killed himself, she could care less, rattled off the standard reasons. Ice cold. But I think we have a very big reason why. You know who you might want to talk to? The last person who paid a visit to Ogden Parnum before he played Russian Roulette with a full chamber. Marcy Winbaum, the DA, used to work under Parnum, went back to college, yada yada, now she’s ordered the case reopened in the “someone has stepped forward with new information” kinda way. No-one has told Dorothy Parnum yet, because it seems her late husband is – or was – in very deep shit. Marcy Winbaum’s keeping her cards close to her chest, but rumour has it that’s because she’s about to throw down a killer hand.’
Anna had watched Duke Rawlins search the cottage and from a damp and filthy corner pull the sack that now covered her head. With every breath she took, the rank odour of wet cats and spoiled milk filled her nostrils. She had retched through the entire journey, curled helplessly on the cramped floor of the van. Now she was outside again, dimly aware of a freshness fighting through the stench.
‘OK, here,’ whispered Duke, jerking on her arm. Anna stopped. But she could hear the heaviest set of footsteps continue on ahead.
‘Sheba,’ hissed Duke. ‘Sheba, back here, you fat—’
Siobhan Fallon spun around, her face unable to hide her hurt. She walked slowly back toward him as he tied Anna’s legs at the ankles.
‘Please stop calling me Sheba,’ said Siobhan quietly. ‘It’s not that hard to say. Shiv-awn. It’s easy.’
‘Let me see,’ said Duke. ‘Sh…Sh…She. Bah. Right?’ His smile was fixed.
‘Why are you…what did I do?’ She reached a hand to his cheek. He stopped it halfway, squeezing her wrist too tight.
‘Oh, you did good work,’ he said. ‘You did. Think of your best burger order with fries on the side and a milkshake and a hold-the-mayo and a hold-the-pickle and an extra barbecue sauce, all written down in your little notebook, spelled right, times ten.’
She smiled nervously. Her pulse pumped under his grip. She tried to pull away. He moved closer.
‘Take that big ol’ sweater of yours off,’ he said.
‘Why?’ she said, her voice catching.
‘Because I have this.’ He let go of her wrist and pulled a curved blade from his back pocket and held it up to her face. She froze. Duke stared through her. She slowly pulled her arm from the right sleeve, keeping her elbow close to her body. She did the same with her left arm until the sweater hung around her neck. The sleeves fell loose, barely covering her faded grey cotton bra. Goosebumps rose on her pale skin. She started to shiver. Duke leaned over and untied the rope around Anna’s neck, lifting the hood free. Anna turned her head away. Duke grabbed her face, forcing her to look.
‘You don’t wanna miss this,’ he said. He raised the knife to his mouth, biting down on the handle to keep his hands free.
‘Now, let me see if I remember how to do this,’ he said, reaching around Siobhan’s back and unhooking her bra. Her broad, flat breasts fell to the rolls of flesh at her waist. A look of disgust flashed across Duke’s face. Suddenly, Siobhan thrust out her hand, grabbing the handle of the knife, pulling it towards her sharply so the blade sliced through the side of Duke’s mouth. She turned to run, but he was on her, quickly throwing her down, pinning her arms above her head.
‘Son of a bitch,’ he hissed, spitting onto the grass beside her. Then he held his face over hers, letting long, slow drops of blood fall onto her lips and run gently down her cheeks with her tears.
‘Stand up. Get up! And take off your jeans—’
‘Leave her alone,’ spat Anna. ‘Leave her.’ Duke grabbed her face and shook it with a force that silenced her.
