He backed up away from the boy, and looked around. Pete Donovan was in the middle of a cluster of policemen, state and local, talking earnestly to a tall man in a Smokey the Bear hat and riding boots. Gregor had never understood why state police everywhere went in for riding boots. He walked over to the group and pulled at Donovan’s sleeve.
“There’s one more thing I have to check out and then I think we’d better hurry,” he said. “I know this is the middle of nowhere, but I can’t believe we’ll have much time.”
“Time for what?”
“Time to pick her up.”
“What are you talking about?” Donovan demanded. “She isn’t going anyplace. Why would she bother? She thinks she’s got it made. Miriam dead, Josh ripe for the plucking, a ton of money in Bailey bank accounts or whatever it is that Josh inherits.”
“We don’t know that he inherits anything,” Gregor said irritably. “And not one of these three people was killed because Ann-Harriet Severan wanted Miriam Bailey’s money.”
“They weren’t.” Pete Donovan was stupefied. “Well tell me,” he exploded, “why were they killed? Why else could they have been killed? Do you think I’ve got two or three murderers running around town? Why kill Miriam Bailey at all if you aren’t after her money?”
“Exactly,” Gregor said. “Why kill Miriam Bailey at all? Brigit Ann Reilly was killed because she stole a postulant’s habit and brought it to a building down on Diamond Place to be picked up by someone she liked and trusted. She was killed on the day she was killed because that was the day the bank packaged up the old money to be sent to the Federal Reserve for new bills—”
“You mean Ann-Harriet stole the old bills?”
“If she had, Maryville would have been invaded by federal marshals long before now,” Gregor said. “It wasn’t old bills that were stolen. It was new ones. If you check the bank’s computer system I think you’ll find evidence of a fraud, a very small and confusing fraud, going back some months. That’s what would have been used to cover the missing cash, at least temporarily. It would have to be very temporarily.”
“You’ve gotten yourself into the bank’s computer?” Donovan demanded. “How?”
“I didn’t get myself into anything, Mr. Donovan. I’m extrapolating. You’ll find that fraud because it has to be there. Go looking for it. Don Bollander was killed because he saw what he thought was Brigit Ann Reilly wandering around in the bank a quarter of an hour before Brigit was found dead.”
“Right,” Donovan said.
“It’s a good thing we’re dealing with such monumental arrogance,” Gregor said. “If we weren’t, she’d have had time to get all the way out of the state by now. She might have had time to get out of the country. Do you know where Josh Malley is?”
“Yes”
“Good,” Gregor said, “let’s go talk to him. Just in case there’s even the slightest chance I might be wrong, let’s make absolutely sure.”
Donovan looked like he was about to make a protest, stopped himself and turned. Then he marched into the crowd with no attempt whatsoever to make sure
Gregor could keep up with him.
[3]
They found Josh Malley sitting by himself, alone and ignored and dressed only in a heavy sweater, against the end of the stone wall closest to the house. There was a lot of activity going on around him. Men and women walked in and out through the gap, carrying equipment and notebooks and talking to each other in loud voices meant to carry through the shouts of firefighters still battling away at the house. They ignored Josh and Josh ignored them. Gregor thought he had never seen a more thoroughly dejected man, or a more ineffectual one. Josh at this meeting was just as Josh had been this afternoon outside the bank. Most of the boys who sold themselves for money—to men and women both—were psychopaths. They had neither scruples nor emotions and weren’t interested in acquiring either. Josh was just a floater, a perfectly harmless type but lacking in organization and purpose and especially in intelligence. He went from one thing to another without knowing why or where or what it all meant. If it turned out badly he was upset. If it turned out well, he was surprised. Gregor almost felt sorry for him.
When Gregor and Donovan reached him, Josh looked up, blinked, and tried a smile. Then he slumped down again and shrugged.
“Nothing,” he said. “I’ve been sitting here for half an hour now and I still have absolutely nothing.”
Pete Donovan cleared his throat. “Never mind what you have, for the moment,” he said, displaying what Gregor thought was a commendable lack of concern about what Josh Malley had actually meant. “Mr. Demarkian here wants to ask you a few questions. Mr. Demarkian is the man—”