“What do you mean?”
“He won’t talk. Keeps his eyes closed and his lips moving, like he’s praying.”
“What did he say about the graves?”
“You listening to me?”
“You must have other interrogation techniques.”
“Right. The rubber hoses slipped my mind.”
“What about a psychologist?”
“We reminded Mr. Winge of the popularity of capital punishment in this state. Now we’re letting him ponder that.”
An image of the two skeletons fountained up in my mind. I felt anger and sadness. Pushed them away.
“Now what?”
I asked. “I’m going to squeeze Lynn Nolan a little harder. This time pop her at home.”
“Why?”
“I want to know more about the guy Lovette was talking to at the Double Shot.”
“You think Nolan was holding back?”
“Let’s just say I want another run at her.”
“Did Williams tell you the FBI confiscated the Gamble-Lovette case file?”
“No.”
“He virtually admitted it.”
“Yeah?”
I described my
“Randall made a call, confirmed that Winge’s wording was identical. He must have had someone check the original file.”
“Those arrogant pricks.” Slidell’s jaw muscles bulged, relaxed. “Don’t matter. That sonofabitch is guilty and he’s going down. The question is, who else?”
“Where does Nolan live?” I asked.
“The old hometown. Kannapolis.”
It was obvious Slidell hadn’t been home. His BO was strong enough to put down a horse. The prospect of a car ride together was not appealing.
“You’re going now?”
“I thought I’d have a couple beers first, maybe catch a movie.”
The clock said 9:20.
I desperately craved sleep.
“Hold on.” I hurried to the study and grabbed my purse.
I’d overestimated the drive time. But underestimated the aromatics. By the time we got to Kannapolis, I craved another hot bath.
Nolan lived in a faux-colonial complex that looked like it had taken five minutes to construct. Her apartment was in the middle building, on the upper of two floors. Her unit and three others were accessed by the same iron and concrete staircase.
Slidell and I climbed to her door and rang the bell.
Nolan answered almost at once. She was wearing very little, most of it black and transparent.
“Did you forget your key, silly?”
Upon seeing us, Nolan’s face fired through a series of reactions. In a heartbeat, her expression went from bewilderment to recognition and finally settled on fear.
“What are you doing here?” Hopping behind and peeking around the door.
“Is this a bad time, Mrs. Nolan?”
“Yes it is.” Nolan was looking past us toward the staircase at our backs.
“There are just a few small points I don’t understand.” Slidell was doing Columbo.
“It’s late. Can’t we do this tomorrow?” The woman was nervous as hell. “I’ll come downtown or whatever you want.”
In the lot below, a car door slammed.
Nolan’s expression morphed to terror.
Footsteps ticked up the treads.
