“Yeah?” Buzz asked. “How could he know that?”
“Water in the lungs, for one. She was alive when she hit the water. Hundred percent certain.”
“What I mean is, Lorraine said Kimi wasn’t upset when she left. So how could he know she jumped in?”
“That’s what they say about suicides, right? You can’t tell because the person is calmest right before they do it. They got their mind made up. It’s a relief. Everybody says, ‘Never saw it coming.’” Ostertag gave Buzz a condescending smile. “Okay? We good?”
Buzz nodded, but he wasn’t feeling good.
“Here’s another thing.” Ostertag lowered his voice. “Those Indians? They’re not like us, okay? They get out of whack about stuff that doesn’t bother us, like the school mascot bullshit. They’re high-strung, can’t handle their liquor. Who knows what sets them off half the time. Tomorrow, I’ll take a drive out and tell the family the pathologist’s findings. It isn’t what they want to hear, but you learn in this job that you can’t argue with the evidence.”
Ostertag turned and walked off, wing tips tapping on the linoleum. Buzz wondered if it was guilt for having told Earl and Nettie Kanasket that he’d find their daughter that was driving him to find something that might not exist. Maybe Ostertag had a point. Maybe you couldn’t argue with the evidence.
Except in this case, Buzz Almond still thought you could.
Judging from the fledgling foliage next to the sidewalk and in the yards, Tracy surmised that the development where Tommy Moore lived had been built within the past year or two. Unlike Earl Kanasket’s neighborhood, the address for each of the one-and two-story homes here, cut from the same cookie-cutter architectural plan, was prominently displayed on the wall between the garage and the front door.
Tracy turned on her truck’s headlights and slowed as she approached the house she had stopped at earlier that afternoon. A heavyset man in jeans, work boots, and a winter jacket stood in the yard spiking at the ground with a bladed shovel, but with one eye seemingly watching the street. Parked in the driveway was a white truck, the bed filled with gardening tools, rakes, a mower, and gas cans, and the words “Golden Gloves Landscaping” stenciled on the doors and tailgate.
Tommy Moore stopped pretending to be picking at the ground when Tracy pulled to the curb. He approached her truck before she had a chance to step out. Tracy instinctively moved her right hand to her Glock. “You the detective from Seattle?” he asked.
Little remained of the Golden Gloves boxer Buzz Almond had described in his report as looking “like a Hawaiian surfer.” Moore had fought as a welterweight, which had a weight limit of 147 pounds. The man before her was considerably heavier, with fleshy features and nub-short gray hair.
“Tracy Crosswhite,” she said.
“élan said you would be stopping by.”
“You two still talk?” Tracy said.
“No,” Moore said, shaking his head. “We don’t.”
“Getting kind of dark for gardening,” Tracy said.
Moore glanced at the house. “I have a wife and two girls. They don’t know anything about Kimi. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“I understand. I saw a bar in town.”
“I don’t drink.”
Tracy recalled Moore’s Triple I criminal background check and the lack of any convictions after 1982. “How long have you been sober?”
“Twenty years.”
“Congratulations. How about coffee?”
“Can’t drink it at night. Keeps me awake. Let’s go for a drive. I know a place.” Moore left the shovel on the lawn, walked around the bed of Tracy’s truck, and got in the cab. “Head back out to the main road. There’s a park,” he said. “I take my kids there.”
Three turns later they came to an open field with a playground structure. At the moment, the park was deserted. Tracy shut off the engine, keeping her right hand near her Glock, though Moore showed no signs of aggression. To the contrary, he looked and sounded tired.
“You mind if I smoke?” Moore asked.
“Let’s step outside.” She walked around the hood to where Moore leaned against the front fender shaking a cigarette from its pack. He pulled it free with his teeth and cupped the tip with his hand to light it. The breeze quickly caught the smoke and caused it to dissipate.
“Not a day goes by I don’t regret going into the diner that night,” Moore said, slipping the cigarettes and lighter into the pocket of his wool-lined jean jacket and looking out at the playground like he’d already mentally slipped forty years into the past.
Tracy thrust her hands into the pockets of her jacket to warm them. “Why did you?”
Moore shot her a lazy glance. “Why do you think? I was angry at Kimi for breaking up with me. She was heading off to college at the end of the year. Said she wanted to spend her final year in high school with her friends, but that wasn’t it.”
“What was it?”
“She could do better.” He shrugged and took another drag.
The wind kicked up the dust and caused the swings to shake and sway on their metal chains. “So why do you think she went out with you in the first place?”
“I was better-looking back then.” Moore smiled, but his smile quickly waned. “You know how it is. I was a boxer, and I played that . . . you know? The brooding, silent type. I was also older, and élan put in a good word. That doesn’t work for long on girls like Kimi.”
“You told Buzz Almond the breakup was mutual.”
He flicked the ashes. “Who’s Buzz Almond?”
“The deputy who came and interviewed you.”
“I probably did. But that was just pride talking. I probably also told him I didn’t care about her. That was also pride. I wouldn’t have gone into the diner that night if I hadn’t cared.”
“What happened?”
“I was mad, so I took a girl in with me, thinking I’d get even.”
“Cheryl Neal?” Tracy said, recalling the name from the file.
“That’s right. She and Kimi didn’t get along. Cheryl was a cheerleader and had a reputation of sleeping around, and she didn’t much care for Kimi.”
“Why not?”
Moore took another drag on his cigarette, the tip glowing red. He didn’t exhale, just let the smoke escape his mouth and nostrils. “Jealous,” he said. “Like I said, Kimi was smart and athletic. She had a lot of guy friends, without having to sleep with them.” Moore’s gaze was focused on the ground. “Kimi acted like it didn’t even bother her when I walked in with Cheryl. And that just made me more angry.” Moore glanced at Tracy. “I was angry a lot back then, at just about everyone and everything. My job. My boxing career. It didn’t take a lot to set me off.”
“Did Kimi set you off that night?”
Moore didn’t hesitate. “Yeah, she did. I grabbed Cheryl and left. Took her home. I didn’t even walk her to the door.”
“Where’d you go?”
“A bar in Husum.”