‘Mr Spabrunt takes his work seriously. He covers up his tattoos, piercings and his hairstyle to show an acceptable professionalism at work. Is that so unusual? I’d say it’s pretty common in a world which is still unaccepting of people bringing their whole self to work, don’t you think? I imagine it’s even stricter in the police force. Tell me, do either of you two have any tattoos which you’re hiding away?’
Vanessa shuffled and pulled at her top as if the marking on her back was exposed. Neither of them said anything in response to the lawyer’s question.
‘Exactly.’
‘Talking about your client’s tattoos. They seem to be giving off a particular message. They seem to be giving us an alternative image of some of our favourite animated heroes, or indeed their creator. It’s a similar message we’re receiving about President Lincoln on this trail to find his body.’
‘His tattoos are irrelevant. What is it exactly that you’re trying to say, Detective Jackson?’
‘I believe that Rick Spabrunt is responsible for this. I believe it was an inside job. I’m not saying he carried the body out. Far from it. The team saw how ill he was that night. But I believe he had a hand in it in some way. He had access to the site, knew where the cameras were and has been seen at other Lincoln sites across the Midwest. I think he set it up, or at least knows who did.’
The lawyer laughed. ‘So you’re saying that my client, a security guard, and…’ she turned to Spabrunt ‘with all due respect, Rick, very little education, could master this genius plan, somehow drill through concrete without any noise and get back in time for the police to arrive, all the while being violently sick, so much so that he ended up in hospital? Do you really believe this, detective?’
‘I’m not saying he acted alone. But he’s got something to do with it. He knows where the cameras are, he knows how the site works.’
‘There was another security guard on duty that night too, Carl Bradshaw. He’s got connections to drug gangs, so my client tells me. Will you be following up with him as much as you are with my client? Maybe he happened to visit one of the most visited attractions in the Midwest in recent weeks too. Do you have anything else on my client, Detective Jackson?’
‘Not at this stage, but we’ll be following up on our enquiries.’
‘In which case, if he’s not under arrest, he should be able to leave.’
The lawyer and her client departed the room. Darnell banged the table with his fist before throwing his head in his hands, rubbing his temples as he considered his next steps, but his avenues were closing up quicker than a dead end maze.
‘Well that was a grand old waste of time,’ Vanessa said as she packed up her papers. ‘Come on, let’s go. Can I hitch a ride home?’
In the car, Vanessa still felt an itch which desperately needed to be scratched regarding her colleague’s unusual tardiness earlier that day.
‘Where were you really this morning, as I don’t buy that you were in bed? You don’t seem like the kinda guy who sleeps in. Not after thirty years in the police.’
‘I went to see Lae Chang,’ Darnell replied.
‘What? Why would you do that? That’s a big no-no, Darnell.’
‘I wanted to know more about her dissertation and the claims within it, anything which could lead us to find the body. She’s a sweet girl and was very helpful.’
‘Please tell me she doesn’t know that we read her work or we’re doing background checks on her,’ Vanessa replied, glimpsing at her colleague through the gaps of the fingers, which she hid behind.
‘Of course not, I’m not an idiot. I just said we were in her class and that she’d brought up some interesting points in the lecture. I asked more about her knowledge on Lincoln. She was pleased to help with our enquiries, especially seeing our most famous historic sites are being vandalised.’
‘So what did she offer you? Anything insightful?’ Vanessa shook her head before throwing it back on the headrest and rolling her eyes.
‘Well, yes actually. She took me to this church downtown where they had records of Lincoln’s plans to deport people like me to Haiti after the war. Colonisation it’s called. They had actual quotes from Lincoln stating his intentions.’
‘Shit.’ A moment of silence hovered between them as Vanessa took in his harrowing findings. ‘That couldn’t have been easy to read.’
‘You’re damn right about that.’ Darnell banged his fist onto the steering wheel. ‘It’s rough hearing your hero isn’t exactly who you thought he was.’
‘I know how you feel. Growing up I loved Bill Cosby. He was on our television every week. Now all we hear is what he’s done to those poor women. I hope to God it isn’t true, but still it leaves something sickly inside of you, doesn’t it? I know it’s not the same as Lincoln.’
‘No, it’s not the same, Vanessa, as what you’re describing there is a comedian. I’m describing somebody who allowed my family to be free.’
They drove into the town centre where they were immediately met with the images and sounds of Lincoln all around them. His picture was embedded into every poster and sign around town, his name printed on every corner, and impersonators walked tourists through the spaces Lincoln walked upon. His heroic status was thrust upon every visitor, which was quickly becoming distasteful to the two detectives who were chasing the answers to his questionable legacy.
‘Listen, I know it might not be what you want to hear right now, but it was a different time. A
