CHAPTER 43
Cheryl Landry was not in uniform. She wore light blue capri pants, a yellow sleeveless blouse, and white sandals. Her hair, unconstrained by a police cap, was down around her shoulders.
Puller rose from the table at Darby’s as she approached.
He had taken a shower at a local YMCA for a daily fee and changed into fresh clothes—khaki pants, short-sleeved shirt, and loafers.
As she sat down, she looked, he thought, a little self-conscious, as though she preferred the uniform and clunky shoes to what she had on.
The waitress brought menus and Puller glanced over his while also checking out the folks at the other tables.
She caught him doing this.
“Scoping the place?” she asked.
“Always good to have alternate exits, just in case.”
“One behind the bar. Another left of the kitchen.”
“I take it you like scoping too.”
“Comes in handy.”
“What’s good on here?” he asked, indicating the menu.
“Scallops, swordfish, mussels. And the New York strip, if you’re into cows.”
They ordered drinks and their meals. Puller had opted for the swordfish over the cow.
They sat back and Landry finally seemed to focus on him.
“Something you want to say?” asked Puller.
“I don’t know. Should there be?”
“We could run that one in circles for days.” “You invited me to dinner, not the other way around.”
“Fair enough.”
“But you do make people nervous, Puller.” “I’ve been told that before.”
“I’m sure you have. Eight guys beaten up. Nearly ramming another car. Doing your own investigation. And we found out you got a set of elimination prints from your aunt’s body. The chief was not happy about that.”
“No law against me visiting my aunt’s remains.”
“But there is a law against obstructing a police investigation.”
“I was under the impression that you weren’t conducting one, so what exactly am I obstructing?”
“It’s not that simple and you know it.”
“I do?”
Their drinks and appetizers came and they both plunged into them, perhaps as a way to avoid more conversation, at least until it became absolutely necessary. They didn’t return to the topic until their entrees were nearly done.
Landry took a sip of her Riesling and glanced at him.
“Ready to resume the War of the Roses?” he asked.
“Oh, I haven’t started to fight.”
“I think we should be on the same side. A house-divided thing, you know.”
“I’m in one kind of uniform. You’re in another.”
“Not that much of a difference, really.”
“Look, I’m not saying that your aunt wasn’t murdered.”
“And I’m not necessarily saying that she was. That’s why people investigate. So I’m really not seeing the problem.”
“You come here, do your thing, and let’s say you find out she was killed.”
“Okay.”
“Then what do you do?”
“Find the killer.”
“Wrong. That’s for the police to do. That’s my job.”
“So you want me to do all the grunt work and then hand off the arrest to you?”
“I don’t need you to help me look good,” she said heatedly.
“Never said you did. So where does that leave
“I don’t know.”
“You could work with me.”
She glanced sharply at him.
“I usually work solo,” he added. “So it’s a remarkable offer. Shows I have great confidence in you.”
“And exactly how would that work? I do it on my off time, the little I have of it?”
“Yeah.”
“And then what? We crack the case and shove my boss’s face in it? How does that advance my career in law enforcement?”
“I’m not saying it does. And if that’s your only goal then your answer to my offer should be no.”
“What other goal should I have?” she asked.
“Bringing to justice somebody who killed an old lady.” He leaned forward, his look growing as dark as he suddenly felt right now. “I hoped that might be why you put on the badge in the first place.”
“Don’t read me the riot act. I don’t deserve that.”
“Twenty seconds ago I would have agreed with you.”
“Do you really want to go down that road? I can make your life miserable.”
“I think the police department has already done a good job of that.”
“Yeah, well I’m a lot more subtle than Hooper.”
“I’m not looking to make enemies, Cheryl. I’m just trying to find out the truth. If this had happened to your family I have to believe you wouldn’t just walk away.”
This comment seemed to pierce whatever wall Landry had built up during this exchange. She looked away and then down, all the classic signs of capitulation, Puller knew, from interviewing so many suspects.
She said, “I get how you’re feeling. I really do.”
“Okay. Then I guess it’s just a matter of where we go from here. But just to be up-front, I’m going to keep looking into this. It’s just how I’m built.”
He paused, searching Landry’s face for her reaction to this. When she said nothing, he continued. “If I find something substantial, I will bring it to you. Then we can determine what to do from there. Does that seem workable?”
“What do you define as substantial? If it’s a suspect or a body, I think that might be too late.” “I will work really hard to keep you in the loop the whole way, how about that?”
“How about if I work with you on my own time?”
He studied her. “Is that what you want?”
“I think so, yeah. It’s what you originally suggested, isn’t it?”
“I guess so. I just never really expected you to bite on it. So why are you?”
“I don’t like people dying when they didn’t have to.”
“Then I think we have a deal.”
As they were leaving the restaurant Puller’s phone buzzed. It was a text from General Carson. She had run down the plate.
When Puller saw the information his eyes widened.
This case had just gone to a whole new level.