Red Man Down(34)

‘And I went back and checked some old records yesterday,’ Sarah said. ‘The newspaper was indeed full of it at the time Frank got arrested. People tweeted and called in from all over town to talk about his good deeds. “He helped with the Kiwanis car wash, he found shelters for homeless vets,” they said, “you’ve made a mistake.” They wanted the bad bank examiners to stop persecuting Frank and go find the person who took the money. You don’t remember any of this?’

‘I usually just read the headlines,’ Delaney said. ‘I get all the drama I require right here, most days.’

‘Ah. But surely you do remember that the bank examiners never found the money, and neither did we. If Frank Martin hadn’t killed himself, convicting him would have been difficult, if not impossible. Because if he ever had the money he must have buried it under a bush somewhere, in coffee cans. It isn’t in anything he owned, or in any account those hard-working examiners were ever able to find.’

‘I know, I remember that part. But why’d he off himself if he wasn’t guilty?’

‘That’s what everybody in town wants to know,’ Jason said.

‘He left a note worthy of the Delphic Oracle,’ Leo said.

‘I forget – what did it say?’

‘I have a copy,’ Oscar said, ‘if you want to …’ He stopped when every eye in the room turned toward him.

‘What does it say?’ Delaney asked him.

Keeping his poise under scrutiny, Cifuentes pulled that same slip of paper out of his shirt pocket (Sarah thinking, It can’t be the same pocket, he’s changed shirts two dozen times since we talked to Cecelia). In a voice as expressionless as if he was reading a grocery list, he read again that tragic and puzzling message: “I didn’t take the money, but I won’t put my family through this investigation any longer.” And then the postscript: “Eddie, I’m sorry for everything. I’ve loved you all your life, please try to forgive me.”

Delaney said, ‘You carry the damn thing around with you?’

Oscar shook his head a stoical inch each way and said, ‘I thought we might be discussing it today.’

‘What do you think he was sorry about?’

‘Taking the money, I guess.’

‘But he says he didn’t do that.’

‘Well then, I guess I have no idea, do I?’

Delaney scanned around the circle. ‘Where is it, by the way? The actual note?’

‘I don’t know that, either. Does anybody?’ They all shook their heads. ‘Must be in the case files, I guess.’

Delaney swiveled his chair sideways and faced the wall above his console, where a number of plain black frames held pictures of his children winning awards at school. He was not admiring his family, though, Sarah saw. His eyes were closed and his lips were moving, but no sound came out.

All his detectives waited, watching the clear plastic clock on his desk scroll through thirty seconds. When he turned back he said, ‘I’m not sure you’re right that this death is connected to the other two. But it seems to make sense out of a confusing string of events, so let’s run with it for now and see if we can prove it right or wrong. Here’s what I want you all to do. Everybody ready? Leo, you’re a good searcher, find everything that was printed in the local papers about the embezzlement case at the time it was discovered. Make one copy and bring it to me.’

‘I can certainly do that,’ Leo said.

‘I know you can or I wouldn’t have asked you. Editorial comments can wait, folks – we don’t have all day to fuck around here.’ Detectives began stealing furtive glances at each other. Delaney seldom had recourse to obscenity, unless he was pressured or angry.

‘Oscar,’ he swiveled his fierce blue gaze toward Cifuentes, whose face turned to polished granite as he stared back. ‘You seem to have a knack for remembering details, so let’s put it to work. Pull out the case files for both Frank Martin and Ed Lacey. Read them all the way through, including the autopsy reports. Keep on reading them until I tell you to stop. I want you to be totally conversant with everything that’s in them, so that if I ask you a question, you can answer it. I want you to do this all by yourself. Is that clear?’

Oscar glanced quickly at Sarah, his mouth a grim line, and said, ‘Yes.’

‘Jason, put fresh batteries in your pocket recorder, go back to that bar on Flowing Wells where the two men phoned in about the wire stripper. Hang out there for a couple of hours drinking plain soda and striking up conversations with everybody who comes in – but not about the shooting, understand? Talk about the weather and the band you heard Saturday night and the Cats’ chances in the playoffs – any old shit to get in everybody’s face, make sure they’ve seen your Glock and your badge and are changing the plan they came in with. About the third time you empty the place, the bartender will start trying to find out what you want. Keep smiling till he asks. Then tell him we need to know exactly what he saw during that shooting. And how well did he know Ed Lacey, for how long, how much of what did he sell him and what did he buy from him? Tell him we’re Homicide, we don’t give shit about what he’s buying and selling, unless he fails to tell us exactly how much he knows about Ed Lacey. You know the drill – if he helps us we forget his name and address; if he doesn’t his whole operation is toast.’