“What was said?”
“He was mad as hell. Jack Lawrence had come to the house the day before and made a scene. Jack was convinced DeAnn had somehow jump-started our renewed interest into Tony Cosgrove’s disappearance.”
“Had she?”
“No, not at all. DeAnn Cosgrove had nothing to do with it. According to Donnie, Jack told DeAnn she didn’t know when she was well off—whatever that means.”
“Did Donnie come right out and threaten Jack Lawrence?”
“Not in so many words. He mentioned something about tearing Jack’s head off. He certainly didn’t say he was going to shoot him. I told him he should swear out a restraining order. But it sounds like you’re thinking Donnie’s responsible.”
Lander gave me a grim smile. “Are we talking proof or gut instinct here?” he asked. “The man was nervous as hell when I was there talking to them this morning. He could barely sit still, his hands were shaking, he looked like he was about to puke.”
The symptoms sounded familiar. “Maybe he was just hungover,” I suggested.
“That’s what he told me,” Lander said. “Claimed he had been out late last night, drinking with his buddies and tying one on. I’ll be checking his alibi. I’ll also be checking the gum. And as I was leaving, Donnie Cosgrove’s SUV just happened to be parked out on the street and I just happened to have a camera with me, so even if he goes out this afternoon and buys a new set of tires, I’ve got a copy of the tread to match up with our plaster casts.”
I thought about DeAnn Cosgrove—her little house in Redmond and her three little babies. I hated to think that her husband might be responsible for any of this. But a homicide detective’s suspicions often count for something, whether they’re mine or someone else’s. I had to give Detective Lander his due.
“What about getting the Lawrences’ phone records?” I asked. “Finding out who they’ve called and who’s called them in the past few days would probably be a help.”
Lander frowned. “We’re working on it,” he said glumly, “but of course that’s going to take time.”
I know that drill all too well. When I used to send requests for phone information from Homicide at Seattle PD, getting a response usually took forever. Now that I worked for the A.G.’s office, however, that was no longer true. Requests for information that had been signed by Ross Alan Connors were usually handled with surprising alacrity. Not only that, I suspected that giving Tim Lander a leg up in his double homicide investigation now was something that could possibly serve me in good stead in some future investigation of my own.
“Ross Connors could probably speed up that process for you,” I suggested.
Lander looked at me sharply. “He could?”
I nodded.
“And would he?” Lander asked.
“If you and I made a joint request.”
Lander looked astonished to think that I might be able to bring the power of the Washington State attorney general to bear on his investigation. Since I’ve never been much of a team player, I couldn’t quite believe it either.
“How long would it take to do that?” Lander asked.
For an answer I picked up my phone and scrolled through my phone book. I located Ross Connors’s cell number and punched “send.” Ross himself answered after the fourth ring, and he didn’t sound the least bit fazed by the fact that my call was interrupting his Sunday-afternoon golf. From the sounds in the background he was already ensconced at the nineteenth hole.
“So you think the new double homicide up in Leavenworth is related to your old missing persons case?” Connors asked once I finished.
“No way to tell that for sure,” I told him, “but it’s a distinct possibility. I drove up to Leavenworth thinking the Lawrences might have had something to do with Tony Cosgrove’s disappearance and they had simply used the Mount Saint Helens eruption as convenient cover. Now, though, with both Jack and Carol Lawrence dead, there’s a possibility someone else was involved as well, someone who doesn’t want us looking into Tony’s disappearance any more than Jack did.”
“All right, then,” Connors said. “Fax over the paperwork. I’ll see what I can do.”
“He must be a pretty good guy to work for,” Lander commented after the call was finished.
“He is that,” I agreed. “Ross is all about getting the job done. He doesn’t much care who gets the credit.”
“Where do I sign on?” Lander asked.
“We’re full up right now,” I told him. “But I’ll tell Harry I. Ball about you and ask him to keep you in mind.”
“Harry who?” Lander asked.
“Harry I. Ball,” I told him. “My boss.”
“You’re kidding me. That’s his name, no shit?”
“Yes,” I said. “Harry middle-initial-I Ball.”
Detective Lander shook his head in wonder. “Sounds like you guys have a great time working here.”