Brothers in Blood, page 18
Elaine cleared her throat. “Um, maybe we should call the police.”
I stepped out into the hall. Something else was bothering me, but I couldn’t pin it down. From where I stood I could see through the bedroom window into the backyard and the garage where the rear end of a Chevy Impala—circa ‘75—protruded. A single light bulb was suspended from a wire attached to the ceiling. I went back through the front room and into the kitchen. A fluorescent overhead light glowed dully. Elaine was watching me. Waiting. “All the lights are on like it’s dark out. Only it’s a bright afternoon.” I glanced at my watch. “It’s not even four.”
“Yeah? So?”
“Let’s check out the garage.”
Much to his dismay, we left Peanuts in the house and cut across the yard. As we approached the garage, the sounds of rock music grew louder. The rear of the Chevy stuck up at an odd angle, and as I moved around the car, I saw there were no tires on the front axle. A can of beer sat next to a jack that lay on its side, and sticking out from under the front fender were black high tops, a pair of legs, and the lower half of a torso. “Jesus.”
Elaine gasped. I took hold of the fender with both hands and pulled up, but apparently my adrenaline was low. I maneuvered the jack under the fender, and with a smack of my palm, lodged it in place. We both pumped the handle.
As soon as the car rose a couple inches, I grabbed Dworski’s ankles and pulled. I wasn’t holding out much hope that he was alive at this point but did hope he came out in one piece. He did, but it didn’t make much difference in the end. The weight of the car had come down right on his chest, crushing it. Dried blood covered his jaw and neck, and his eyes were frozen wide. At first I thought they were moving, but then I realized that only the maggots were moving. Elaine gagged and turned away. From the smell of things, he’s been dead awhile. He wore a dark plaid shirt with the cuffs rolled up. The parts of his arms closest to the ground were a bluish purple. The discoloration resembled a bruise but was probably caused by his blood, no longer in circulation, responding to gravity. I slid my hand under his wrist and lifted his arm to see how much movement there was. When I released him, I realized I’d been holding my breath. I took in a quick lungful and slapped my sleeve over my mouth and nose. As I stepped away from him, I was thinking there were worse things than being drugged and busted up.
Elaine’s hand on my shoulder brought me back. “Quint, maybe now we should call the police.” This time I had to agree.
A squad car from the Abel County Sheriff’s Department responded in about fifteen minutes. I put Peanuts in the car to keep him out of the way. The deputy was around my age and thick around the middle. He introduced himself as Mike Keenan. Aside from a slight grimace, he didn’t seem fazed by the sight of the corpse. As he knelt for a closer examination, I saw Gene Moore and Henninger coming up the driveway. Why wasn’t I surprised?
He nodded to the deputy, then walked around the Chevy to take in the full spectacle. After a glance at Dworski’s body, he turned to me, his mouth twisted up like he’d just sucked a lemon. “You’d never get me under a ton of metal with just a jack supporting it. No way.” For a change, I had to agree with Moore.
“Heard about this and thought I’d come take a look. May be related to a current case of ours,” he said to Keenan, who nodded and moved away to consult with his partner.
Moore ran his thumb and forefinger down the corners of his mouth. “Thought I told you to keep your nose out of this. This is police business. What we call an ongoing investigation. What the hell were you doing out here?”
“We were going to ask him if he’d do a few chores around the house.” Elaine nodded toward me. “He’s got so much to do with the business, there’s no time.”
I was constantly impressed with Elaine’s ability to tell a good story. Lie. Whatever.
Moore regarded her for a moment. “What did you say your name was again?”
She tried not to act pissed, but only partially succeeded. “Elaine. Elaine Kluszewski.” Then she spelled it for him. Both parts.
“You think pretty fast, don’t you?” He glanced at me. “You oughta take a few lessons.”
“Maybe we both should,” I said and proceeded to explain how we’d entered the unlocked house and found Peanuts locked in the basement.
“Somebody swiped your dog and you didn’t report it?”
I sighed. “Well, you folks seemed to have your hands full.”
“You got the ransom note?” I detected a touch of sarcasm.
“At home.”
“What’s it say?”
“It warned me off the Tanner case.” “We’ll have to take a look at it.” “No problem.”
Moore turned to Henninger. “I want you to see what you can turn up here. If he did kill that woman, he had to do something with the gun.”
“Gee,” I said to Moore, ‘'you think maybe Jubal Tanner didn’t do it?”
He stared in my direction, chewing his gum. “Easy enough to hire somebody.”
“Maybe. But Mr. Dworski’s not talking anymore.”
Moore removed his sunglasses and squinted at me. “We’ll see about that.”
As we drove back into Foxport, Elaine said, “You think Jim Dworski was hired to kill Gayle? Or Brig?”
“I don’t know.”
“You sound kind of doubtful.”
“Well, I guess I am. Not sure why.” Peanuts’ breath was on the back of my neck. “I guess it’s partly because I have a hard time believing Peanuts would get in the car with Jim Dworski. He’s got a pretty good sense of character” There was more that bothered me, but I was still trying to work it out.
“No offense, but I think you’re giving your dog too much credit.”
“I’m serious. He left the room whenever Bush gave a State of the Union address.”
“Uncanny,” Elaine murmured.
“When I talked to Jim Dworski at Brig’s place a couple days ago, he was pretty vocal about his opinion of Gayle. It wasn’t very high. Somehow I doubt he’d have said all that if he’d just killed her. Intentionally or otherwise.”
“Maybe you’re right.”
We drove in silence for a few minutes. Peanuts had settled into the backseat.
“Will you come back to my place with me? And stay?” I didn’t want to wake up alone.
“Sure.” She barely hesitated.
We had to park behind a couple cars in our driveway. Louise must have had company. “I swear, that lady entertains more than I do.” That wasn’t saying much, but it was nice of Elaine not to agree.
“That’s because she knows everyone in town.”
Peanuts bounded ahead of us up the stairs. Elaine walked with me, her arm around my waist. It felt so good, I wanted to drop my head on her shoulder and fall asleep midstep. Peanuts’ nose was in the door before it was open more than an inch, and he pushed the door out of my hand. He made a dash for the food dish and halfway there came to a skidding stop. I was two steps into my apartment before I saw why.
Three men were sitting in my living room. One of them stood. At first I didn’t recognize him, but then I never thought I’d live to see Ed Carver out of his uniform.
17
WHAT WAS IT about Ed Carver and his accusatory posture that made me feel like a dog caught lapping water out of the toilet? I knew he was on his way back to Foxport, and in the back of my mind a little warning bell should have been clanging. I guess I hadn’t figured that when Ed Carver left his connubial paradise, the end of his journey would be the couch in my apartment. I suppose these feelings of paranoia date back to one of our early encounters, during which he professed his undying disdain for me and his desire to nail my privates to the wall. First impressions have that indelible quality. Since then our relationship had improved somewhat, but gut-level responses are persistent, and the situation with Elaine had put a new spin on things.
I didn’t need Dr. Ruth to tell me that Carver uprooting himself in the midst of a marriage encounter, or whatever they were engaged in, didn’t bode well for the marriage. It also meant that he’d probably soon be just another one of us lonely bachelors. I’ve never thrived on competition and didn’t look forward to dueling with him for Elaine. I could see it now—pistols at forty feet—maybe Elaine would shed a few tears over my bloodied torso. Then she’d get up, wring her hankie, and walk right into Carver’s arms. With thoughts like that keeping me company, it’s a wonder I don’t slip while shaving.
I refocused on Carver. He really wasn’t as tall as he looked. Maybe he had a couple inches on my six feet, but he was bony and angular with sharp features and a tendency to slouch. He reminded me of a hawk—keen-eyed and ominous, though a little less so in his crewneck sweater and jeans.
Jeff Barlowe was the other person on the couch, and my director’s chair was occupied by a man with blond hair and a ruddy complexion. I knew he was a cop, but I couldn’t place him.
I nodded at Carver. “When did you get back?”
“Late this afternoon.” He shifted his stance, appearing vaguely uneasy and not at all familiar with the sensation.
I really wanted to sleep, but I could tell from the expressions on the three wise men that I’d have to put sleep on the back burner for a while. Peanuts turned his pointed nose up toward me, and the look was so human I almost laughed. It was like he was saying “And you call this being rescued?” Peanuts, being a sensitive dog, picked up on people who weren’t immediately bowled over by his charm. And, being a reasonably bright dog, he kept his distance from them. Now he hung his head and quietly retreated into the kitchen. Carver had that effect on animals. Some people too.
Elaine, never one to let a conversation lapse, crossed the room and stepped right up to Ed. Elaine is tall—five eight or nine—and I had to admit that they complemented each other—each possessing their own brand of strength. “I’m sorry we had to call you. It’s just that we thought …”
He held his hand up to stop her. “I’m glad you did. You were right, and it’s worse than you knew.”
I was still getting my bearings, something I didn’t feel I should have to do in my own apartment. I felt the stirrings of hunger and recalled that I hadn’t eaten much at lunch. For Peanuts it had been longer. I put food out for him, and he seemed grateful for the distraction. Then, as I stood in front of my refrigerator, empty of everything except a shriveled apple, a quarter slab of Velveeta wadded up in its foil, and a six-pack of beer, I wondered if Peanuts would be willing to share.
“Is anyone hungry?” I asked. Carver shrugged and returned to the couch. Elaine perched on the arm next to him.
Jeff jumped up and headed into the kitchen. “God, I’m starving. We helped ourselves to your beer, not much else was worth taking.” And the other cop cocked his head and nodded. “I could eat.”
Jeff stood behind me gazing into the open refrigerator. “Well, gang,” he said, “how does pizza sound?”
As everyone murmured their assent, Jeff said, under his breath, “I hope you’re not planning on sleeping for a while.” Then, as though noticing my battered condition for the first time, added, “What the hell happened to you? Looks like you went head-on with a train.”
“Later,” I said.
“Give me a hint. Is this”—he waved his can of beer at my face—“related to the current state of Foxport’s police department?”
“I sure as hell hope so.” I hated to think there might be two separate situations to deal with.
Momentarily satisfied, Jeff frowned and nodded, then retreated back to the living room.
Carver introduced the other cop as Darryl Rush, one of his sergeants. He wore dark-rimmed glasses and flashed a wide gap between his front teeth when he smiled.
Jeff got the consensus on topping preferences and placed the order. I heard him tell them to throw in a couple six-packs of beer. When he hung up, he made a show of consulting his watch. “Thirty minutes and counting.” Rubbing his hands together, he returned to the couch. “Well,” he began, turning to Carver and pausing as he made a note of Elaine’s proximity to Carver. “Why don’t you go first?”
Carver took a deep breath and crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, I guess the long and short of it is, I’m being sent up the river.”
Jeff nodded in agreement and waited for Carver to continue.
I stared at Jeff in utter amazement. I never thought I’d see the day the two of them shared a couch, let alone an opinion.
Rush shook his head. “It’s pretty bizarre.”
Elaine sipped from her can of beer and returned it to the Cubs coaster on the scarred end table.
Carver took a long drink out of his beer can, then nodded at Rush. “Why don’t you tell them what you told me.”
Rush crossed his right ankle over his left knee and paused for a minute, apparently collecting his thoughts. “Right after the Millard murder, next day I think it was, Brig Tanner showed up at the station to talk to Moore. They had this long, private talk, and when Moore walks out of his office, you know things have changed. I don’t know what happened in there, but it was like one day Moore’s using a corner of Carver’s desk and the next day he’s spread out over the whole thing.”
“How was Brig acting when he left the meeting?” I said.
“All I can say is he left in a better mood than the one he came with.” He turned to Carver. “Like I said, if I’d had your number, I’d have called you right then myself.” I watched Carver as Rush told us how Moore had effectively split the police department, convincing a number of officers that they’d be better off if he were in charge on a permanent basis. Rush avoided Carver’s gaze when he said, “I guess it was easy for him to convince some of these guys to write letters of complaint.”
Carver twisted his mouth into a bitter smile. “Some things you can count on. Guys who slack off’ll take any chance they can get to stick it to you.”
It wasn’t difficult for me to see how Carver might alienate some of the people who worked for him. He had no patience with laziness or ineptitude and had no qualms about dressing someone down in front of an audience. Usually his recriminations were deserved, but he sometimes had trouble discerning the line between ineptitude and an honest mistake.
“Anyway,” Rush continued, “as you know Carver was demoted to sergeant at the last city council session. The motion was, of course, introduced by Brig Tanner. Some of us spoke up on his behalf, but Moore’s crowd, well”—he glanced at Carver—“they had a few tricks up their sleeves.”
Carver had leaned forward, elbows on knees, and was staring into his folded hands. Elaine remained impassive but attentive. “Like what?” I prompted.
“Well, they brought up Ellie.” Carver’s jaw clenched, but otherwise he didn’t move. “They said, ah …” Rush hesitated, shifting in his chair.
Carver continued to stare into his hands as he spoke. “They said she’s got a reputation for wandering and that was a good way to compromise a cop. They also said I was looking the other way when it came to some businesses.” He sighed and glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “One in particular. The Outback Inn?”
I nodded. How well I knew it. It was a little dive east of town and also the place where I inadvertently picked up Ellie Carver. I say “inadvertently” in the sense that I didn’t know she was married to the police chief or to anyone else for that matter. There was nothing, however, inadvertent in my action. It was when I’d first moved to Foxport, and I was pretty lonely at the time. Ellie had been sweet and funny, and I’d found talking to her the easiest thing in the world. Much later I learned that Ellie only got conversational after four or five manhattans.
Carver cleared his throat and continued. “They’re saying I’m turning my back on certain ‘improprieties.’ “ He turned to Rush. “Was that the word they used?” Rush nodded. “Anyway, they’re saying I’m turning my back on all the improprieties that are going on there because Ellie’s one of them.”
“Is she?”
Carver scowled. “I don’t know. I haven’t asked. I don’t think so, but …” He rubbed his forehead. “What the hell difference does it make anyway? Nobody from the Outback Inn or anywhere else has ever gotten a favor out of me.”
I didn’t ask Carver to get specific about the complaints against Ellie. At this point it didn’t matter. And while I believed Carver when he said he’d never look the other way, everyone in this room, including Carver, knew how much appearances counted here. He continued. “And then there’s this crap about that DUI thing. You add all of it together with the whiners on the force and that horse’s ass Moore, and I guess it was enough to convince the city council to give me the boot.”
No one spoke for a minute, and I began to wonder if I was the only one in the dark concerning DUI things. I had to ask. “Ah, excuse me. What’s this DUI stuff?”
Carver shifted uncomfortably, glanced up at Elaine, then back to me. Sighing, he crossed his arms. “About eighteen months ago I got pulled over in Hillcrest. Blood-alcohol level was borderline DUI. It was right after they lowered the level too. Legal limit’s one-point-oh. Mine was one-point-oh. Barely.” He rubbed his hand over his mouth and took a minute before finishing quickly with: “I have some friends over there. Let’s just say a few records were slightly altered. I didn’t think anything would ever come of it.”
“Am I safe in assuming that not everyone in Hillcrest’s police department is a friend?” I asked.
Carver managed a grim smile. “Guess you could say that. They can’t prove anything, but it sure raised some questions.” He finally worked up the nerve to glance at Elaine, who gave him a little smile and patted his shoulder.
Rush spoke up again. “All this might add up to nothing more than a power play, but there’s been some evidence suppressed in this Millard investigation.” Carver eased back into the couch as Rush continued. “For one, Tanner suspected this stable hand of his, Jim Dworski, of theft. Seems that in the year he’d been working for him, a couple expensive saddles and a few other pieces of tack had turned up missing. I guess Gayle Millard was pretty outspoken about the guy’s guilt. Said she’d seem him loading some stuff in the trunk of his car. Dworski denied it, told Tanner the woman was lying.” He paused and shrugged. “Tanner couldn’t prove it either way, so he didn’t fire him, but I guess Dworski didn’t take it quiet. He didn’t exactly say anything to Tanner, but behind his back he did plenty of bad-mouthing about him and the way he ran his business.”
