‘The hammer.’
‘What hammer?’
‘The one that killed Father Julian.’
‘Who’s Father Julian?’
She frowns a little, unsure of where I’m going with this. ‘The man whose church you have been parked outside of for the last four weeks.’
‘What church?’
The frown becomes a deeper crease and breaks a line into her make-up. ‘Is this a game to you?’
‘What game?’
‘People are showing up dead and you’re the only
commonality’
‘What’s a commonality?’
The creases deepen. Her smirk fades, quickly replaced by her annoyance, and beneath the surface of her make-up a different Casey Horwell is simmering.
‘Where is Sidney Alderman?’ she asks.
‘What’s an Alderman?’
She turns to her cameraman. ‘That’s it,’ she says, and the camera is lowered.
‘You’re fucked,’ she says. ‘We got you on tape driving into the street, and that makes you look bad.’
‘You think that’s the best you can do?’
‘Actually no. You haven’t seen the best I can do, but you will.
Come on, Phil,’ she says, turning to her cameraman, ‘let’s go.’
‘Wait,’ I say.
‘What for?’
‘Your source. Who is it?’
Are you that fucking stupid? You think I’m going to tell you?’
‘Just tell me this. Is it a cop?’
“I’m not telling you anything.’
‘Is it a cop?’ I ask, and this time I yell it at her.
She takes a step back, and the cameraman swings his camera back up and starts to film me again.
“I suggest you back down, Tate.’
And I suggest you think about what you’ve got yourself into,’
I say. ‘This source of yours, if it’s not a cop, then who can it be, huh? Who else can possibly have fed you all that bullshit about the murder weapon, huh? There’s only one possibility. You’re being played, Horwell, and you’re too stupid to know it, and when you figure it out you’ll be too arrogant to admit it. But you’re responsible for anything that happens now, you get that?
If you keep that name to yourself and it turns out to be the guy who killed those girls, and he kills again, then that’s on you. You get that? You keep your mouth shut and don’t go to the police, you’re as good as helping him.’
‘Fuck you,’ she says. ‘You don’t know a damn thing. You’re some washed-up private detective who thinks he can do what the hell he wants and get away with it, just because his daughter got herself killed. You think her death is going to keep people feeling sympathetic towards you even after all of this? You’re the one who’s arrogant and stupid, Tate. Your career is fucked and I’m going to make sure of it. You’re a piece of shit murderer who isn’t going to keep getting away with it. And you’re going to see me every single day of your trial and I’m going to expose you to the world as the man you really are.’
I feel like jumping on her and slapping her until she gives up the name of her source, but that’s not going to happen, especially with the cameraman standing here probably hoping I do. I just have to trust that the tapes and the statements will tell me what she won’t.
I move past her and shut the door. I stand in the hallway, my heart rate up, feeling angry at her and also angry at myself for letting her get to me. I go into my office and sit down, but I can’t focus on anything. I leave the tapes and the bank statements on my desk and I head out to the lounge. I switch on the CD player and turn the music up and walk around my kitchen, opening up cupboards looking for something to eat, and end up making myself some coffee. I need something to calm me down, and I decide coffee isn’t it, and I let it sit on my bench and watch it go cold. The anger starts to fade. I do what I can to push Casey Horwell from my thoughts, and when she is far enough in the background I go back to the office and sit down with the bank statements.
I reckon the original statements would have changed colour and style as the bank updated its logo and even its name from time to time but the printouts all look identical. I start adding up the amounts, comparing them against the logs Father Julian kept. Over the years he has taken in almost one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in deposits. He has made the exact same amount in withdrawals. The deposits are from the people on the tapes who didn’t know their Bless me, Father, because I have sinneds weren’t the first steps up to salvation but steps down into Father Julian’s world. The logs go back twenty-four years. So do the bank statements.