'Townsend called Gunderson to come over for Clarissa's .. . to get
Clarissa,' said Susan. 'He came over and took Clarissa to the
Glenville property, then stashed the hammer at Jackson's.'
'And how would Gunderson know that Jackson had a grudge against
Clarissa? Your story's not adding up.' Chuck did a better bad cop
routine than most. His tone struck the perfect balance between anger
and dismissiveness.
'She's cooperating, OK?' Johnson said.
Susan looked at Johnson. She probably recognized the routine, but she
played along anyway. 'Townsend told him about Jackson.'
'And Jackson just happened to work for Gunderson? Wrong again,
Susan.'
'Clarissa got Gunderson to give Jackson a job. I told you she felt
sorry for the guy. I think she was probably trying to turn what she'd
done into some kind of good deed. Karma and all.'
'God, she's good,' I said.
'Maybe,' Russ said, 'but I still can't believe she hasn't law-ye red
up.'
I shook my head and smiled. 'That's because you don't know Susan Kerr.
She thinks she's way too smart for all of this. She's been
manipulating people her whole life, getting away with it every time.
And she probably figures, Hey, she's a woman, she's in here first;
she'll be the one to get the deal. She's convinced Gunderson and
Townsend will go down, and she'll waltz out with a few months of local
jail.'
'That's not going to happen, is it.' It wasn't a question.
'No way,' I said.
'Ready to call Duncan?'
'Let's do it.'
It took a good forty-five minutes, but we finally laid it all out for
the boss.
'And you think we've got PC for Townsend and Gunderson?' 'I do,' Russ
said. 'We've got a coconspirator implicating Townsend directly in the
murder, and at the very least she's implicating Gunderson in the
cover-up. Add the circumstantial evidence of the various connections
between everyone, and we've got enough for warrants.'
'Start working on search warrants,' Duncan said, 'but call their
lawyers and give them an hour to turn themselves in.'
'What?' I screeched into the speakerphone. 'You've got to be kidding.
This is a murder case, Duncan.'
'No shit, Samantha. But we're not dealing with a bunch of gang bangers
here. You don't need a perp walk on this one. They'll turn themselves
in.'
'Right,' I said. 'Just like Susan Kerr did. In case you forgot, we
pulled her off a plane after she tried to kill me.'
'Don't be dramatic. She locked you in a room,' Duncan argued.
I looked at Russ and shook my head. 'Yeah, Duncan, without any air.'
'Look, Samantha. You're new to this. We let guys TSI all the time,
even in murder cases. Russ, if you're worried about it, call the
airlines and make sure they know not to let these guys fly out. But
giving them an hour's not going to kill anyone.'
If only he'd been right.
When the deadline came, Gunderson was there with Thorpe, but Roger had
been stood up. We dispatched cars immediately, but we were too late.
Townsend Easterbrook was dead.
Seventeen.
A week later, I attended the funeral with Chuck and my father.
I don't know why I went or why I made anyone come with me. Maybe
because death was still new to me. Or maybe part of me actually felt
sorry for him.
Susan Kerr may have tried to put all the blame on Townsend, but in the
end he had the last laugh. He had found one decent concluding act to
his life. He left a note. He'd probably written it as the final dose
of painkillers settled in, but I was confident it was reliable. Unlike
most coconspirators, Townsend no longer had a reason to point the
finger at others. He just wanted, finally, to tell the truth.
These are my words, not his, but the truth went something like this:
Townsend Easterbrook had believed that building the pediatric wing was
the most important accomplishment of his life. He knew he'd earned his
position more for his administrative skills than his healing ones, and
