The walk took roughly six minutes. Coming from my office, my route had me passing the police station and I half expected Cheney to join me as I crossed Santa Teresa Street at the light. The courthouse takes up an entire city block, with the sunken garden tucked away in the lee of the main structure, which boasts a tower that once housed the county jail. The architectural style of the original courthouse was Greek Revival, but that building was severely damaged in an earthquake in 1925. Construction of the current courthouse, built in the Spanish Colonial Revival style, was started in 1926 and completed in 1929, two months before the stock market crashed. The thick white walls, red-tile roof, deeply recessed windows, and wrought-iron grilles are typical of many Santa Teresa buildings of that era. Charles Willard Moore, a prominent architect, called it the “grandest Spanish Colonial Revival structure ever built.”
I settled on the wide stone steps, which were chilly in the shade of the two-story building behind me. The drought had browned out most of the sweeping lawns, but the palms, while stressed, seemed to be holding up well. From the right, I watched Cheney cross the grass, his head bent, his hands in his pockets. He looked up and when he saw me, he smiled and lifted a hand. I tried seeing him as I would if I hadn’t known him for so many years. Height, five foot eleven, medium build with curly brown hair. I wondered if Anna’s report was true, that he was learning to finish projects. It seemed odd that the disconnect between his intentions and their manifest completion had bothered me so much. During our romantic entanglement, I remembered being irritated by rooms half-painted, perpetual drop cloths down so long they resembled wall-to-wall carpeting. It annoyed me that door and window hardware was always missing, the floors littered with electric drills and nail guns. Now I couldn’t imagine reacting at all, which said more about me than it did about him. I was a neatnik and a control freak, traits that others don’t find restful as a rule.
He settled on the step beside me and we exchanged pleasantries.
“You have news for me?” he asked.
“More like an update.”
I laid out the circumstances under which I’d picked up Celeste’s alias and her out-of-state phone number. I was forced to loop back in time and include a quick summary of my original call to Phyllis, Ned’s eavesdropping, and the beating he’d administered in his attempt to get his hands on Celeste’s contact information.
“You’ve talked to her?”
“I left her a message and she returned my call this morning. She’s prepared to deliver Ned’s souvenirs. Her plan is to fly in tomorrow. I’ve agreed to pick her up at the airport and drive her to the station. Once she’s handed over the package, I’ll take her back to the airport and put her on a plane.”
“All of this to avoid Ned?”
“Absolutely. The man’s a maniac. Both of us credit him with supernatural powers. Somehow he’s managed to drop off the radar again. I don’t know how he does it.”
“He’ll surface at some point. He can’t run forever, and how many places can he hide? If you’re lucky, his suppurating wound will throw him into sepsis and he’ll die before sundown.”
“This is giving me a stomachache,” I said. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
“I’ll get to that,” he said. “First, I think we should talk about Anna’s situation. I know you were convinced the two of us were having an affair.”
“I was not.”
“Yes, you were.”
“You don’t owe me any explanations,” I said.
“Just let me say this. I felt bad about the deception, but it was the only thing we could think to do until we knew where things stood.”
“Fine. I understand. Not to worry.”
“Come on. It bothered you. I could see the looks you were giving us.”
“I wasn’t giving you looks,” I said.
He smiled. “Are you being defensive or indignant?”
“Is there a difference?”
“Big one. Defensive is I’m dead right and you’re denying it out of embarrassment. Indignant is I’m dead right and you’re pissed that I saw right through you.”
“Indignant then, or maybe both.”
“I can make it up to you. I have information. This will probably appear in the paper anyway, but keep it to yourself. Burgess is a bit of a hardass.”
“Scout’s honor.”
“One of the evidence techs came across a handgun up at Yellowweed. It was in the scrub off the beaten path, so it looks like the shooter tossed it.”
“Thinking it wouldn’t come to light?”
“Not sure. It’s an Astra Constable.”
“The one that killed Sloan?”
“No doubt in my mind. We’ll know for sure when ballistics have been run. Probably killed Fritz McCabe as well.”
“That gun’s been missing for years.”
“Right. Seems pointed that it would magically reappear, just when we’re beginning our investigation.”
“It’s good news, though, isn’t it? To finally have the murder weapon?”
“Theoretically,” he said. “Three possible explanations. The shooter dropped it, tossed it, or planted it.”
“What if someone else had the gun and dumped it?”
“Make that four possibilities.”
“You think it’s Austin.”
“I’m not ruling him out, but I don’t get it. If he’s the extortionist, why kill the golden goose? I don’t like the timing and I don’t like the convenience of the Astra dropping in our laps.”
“I thought the gun was registered to Austin’s dad. Have you talked to him?”
“Burgess is doing that. He’ll claim ignorance.”
“Well, you know he didn’t go up there and shoot anyone,” I said.
“What bugs me is the motivation. You’re the one who said it wasn’t robbery.”
“Not if Fritz was happy to hand over the money. His pal Stringer is convinced he knew the guy. I wondered if it might be someone he knew at CYA.”
“That’s worth looking into.”
“You said ‘if’ this was the extortionist. Who else might it be?”
“If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t be sitting here.” He held up a finger. “One more item of note. ME found traces of a white powder on Fritz’s clothing. No idea what it is yet, but they’re working on it.”
“Powder as in cocaine?”
“No point in guessing. The lab report should get back to us sometime today.”
? ? ?
My office phone rang as I was unlocking the door. I was in my usual panic about entering the alarm code in the twenty seconds allotted, which is ample unless you feel you’re working against the clock. I successfully achieved entry and reached my desk on the fourth ring. I picked up the handset in haste and identified myself.
“Kinsey, this is Erroll.”
I said, “Oh lord. Is everything okay?”
“Sure, sure. I’m sorry to scare you. Phyllis is doing fine. She tires easily and she has a long way to go yet, but she’s in good shape compared to where she was. Thing is, she wants to see you. She’s been asking for the past two days and made me promise I’d call. Any chance you can get down here?”
“I’ve got time this afternoon. Any idea what’s bothering her?”
“All she says is she wants to talk to you.”
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