Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) (23 page)

42

A poster of Guy Fieri stared down at Maggie from the wall of the Duluth Grill. The punk-haired host from the Food Network had profiled the restaurant on
Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives
, and since then, tourists had swarmed the place, grabbing most of the tables. Even so, the Grill was still a hangout for the Duluth Police, and the servers all knew Maggie. They always found her a booth near the window.

She dug her fork into a cinnamon roll that was twice the size of her fist. To wash down the sweetness, she took a slug of coffee from an artsy Duluth Grill mug. With her mouth full, she checked her watch.

Nathan Skinner was late.

She wolfed down the pastry while she read the
News-Tribune
. When her plate was empty, Nathan still hadn’t arrived, and she began to get impatient. She moved on to her third coffee refill. Her bacon and eggs replaced the cinnamon roll, and she nibbled at the bacon while she devoured the paper’s editorial page.

Finally, she heard a familiar laugh near the front door.

After all these years, Nathan was still a star to Duluthians who were old enough to remember his championship season. He couldn’t walk through a restaurant without being grilled about decades-old college hockey games. She wondered if it annoyed him or if he relished reliving his glory days on the ice.

Nathan slid into the booth across from her. He had the same masculine grin. ‘Maggie,’ he said.

‘Hello, Nathan.’

‘Long time.’

He hadn’t changed much physically. He was shaving his head, and Maggie guessed it was because he was losing his blond hair. His punched-down face looked baby-smooth, enough to make her wonder if he’d had a nip and tuck. His blue eyes still twinkled with male magnetism, and he kept in shape. His career prospects had obviously improved, because he was dressed better than in the old days, in form-fitting khakis and a yellow silk shirt. He looked like a Republican heading for the golf course, not a washed-up security guard.

‘What have you been up to?’ Maggie asked.

‘I run a business now.’

‘Yeah? What kind of business?’

‘It’s sort of like a corporate dating service. I help entrepreneurs in the northland find venture capitalists who have money.’

‘Interesting career change,’ Maggie said. ‘How’d you get into that?’

‘A college buddy helped me out. Said he didn’t want to see God-given talent like mine go to waste. I’d like to say it’s all about spreadsheets and ROI, but really, my end is mostly about cigars, luxury boxes, and hook-ups. I know how to schmooze people. I talk the talk.’

Nathan grinned again, and Maggie didn’t doubt that he’d found his niche. He was still in a fraternity, selling to other frat boys.

‘Nice to see you doing well,’ she said without enthusiasm.

‘Probably not as well as you are. Your husband left you a pile of money after he got shot, didn’t he? Condo over the Sheraton next to all those hospital docs? Pretty nice for a cop.’

‘You’re well informed,’ Maggie said, but she wasn’t surprised. Two winters ago, her husband Eric had been murdered. It was the biggest news story in the city. She’d been the prime suspect. And when she was cleared, she’d sold Eric’s sporting goods business and banked several million dollars.

‘Well, that’s part of my job. I keep track of where the money goes in town. Eric was on my radar, so now you are, too. If you’re looking for investments, you should call me. I can get you in on the ground level of some exciting projects.’

Nathan was smooth. He’d left the rivalry between them far behind. At least on the outside.

‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Maggie said.

‘I’m sorry about you and Stride, by the way. You guys flamed out, huh?’ She couldn’t hide her annoyance, and he said: ‘Cops talk, Maggie. You know that.’

She did know that, but she hated being the subject of office gossip. She felt her face grow hot.

‘Hey, I wasn’t trying to poke the bear,’ he went on. ‘Seriously. I’m sure it was tough on you.’

‘What, do you watch
Dr. Phil
now, Nathan?’

He laughed. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, but I’ve spent enough time on the down side of life to know it sucks.’

‘Fine, it sucks,’ Maggie said. ‘Move on. You’re not my therapist.’

‘Are you still holding a grudge against me? Come on, we’re both too old for that now. People really do like me, Maggie. I know that may be hard for you to believe. Actually, you might like me, too, if you gave me a chance. I’ve changed.’

‘What’s the old saying about leopards?’ she asked.

He grinned and shook his head. ‘No, really. I’ll be the first to admit, I was a pig in my misspent youth. Racist. Sexist. You name it. I was angry at the world and blamed everybody but myself. But time mellows people. Even me.’

‘Well, let’s light up some weed and sing Arlo Guthrie songs, Nathan. Since we’re being so mellow.’

‘Come on. You think I can do business with the attitudes I had back then? It doesn’t work that way. The economy is diverse. The world is diverse. So am I. My wife’s Hispanic. I met her on a trip to Guatemala. I even speak respectable Spanish these days. So if you want the old Nathan Skinner?
No más
.’

Maggie wondered whether to believe him. In her own experience, people didn’t change. They just became more of who they really were, for better or worse. She knew that was true of herself, too.

‘Actually, I do need the old Nathan Skinner for a few minutes,’ Maggie told him. ‘The guy who spouted racial obscenities at Wisconsin cops and cheated with Janine Snow. That guy.’

Nathan leaned across the table with a serious expression on his face. She had to admit that she still felt the old, unwanted attraction to him. He knew how to turn on the physical charm. There was also more calm and restraint about him than he’d shown in the old days. She couldn’t push his buttons so easily now.

‘I heard about you guys finding the gun in the Jay Ferris case,’ he told her. ‘I know what you want to ask me, but the gun’s not mine. It never was.’

‘So where do you think it came from? And where has it been all these years?’

Nathan eased back into the booth. He swiped a piece of bacon from Maggie’s plate, which annoyed her, because she loved the bacon at the Grill. ‘Honestly? I have no idea.’

‘This was a street gun,’ Maggie said. ‘Not a suburban Gander Mountain special.’

‘Do you think Jay had gang connections you never heard about?’

‘Not according to his brother Clyde. And we never got a whiff of that during the original investigation.’

‘Well, street guns don’t usually show up in a domestic murder case,’ Nathan said. ‘It’s gangs and armed robberies. Or maybe murder-for-hire. Wasn’t there some old lady who thought Janine killed her husband on the operating table? Did she pay some money to have Jay whacked?’

Maggie nodded. ‘Esther Rose. She passed away last year. It wasn’t her. We checked her finances nine years ago, and there was no evidence that she paid anyone to get rid of Jay.’

‘Then I don’t know what to tell you,’ Nathan said. ‘The gun disappears for years and then shows up at another murder scene? I don’t get it.’

‘There’s something I need to ask you about. Just between us. Did Janine Snow really want to know how she could get a handgun off the books?’

‘That was my testimony in court,’ he replied cautiously.

‘I know. Was it true?’

‘Even if it weren’t, do you think I’d admit perjuring myself? Sorry.’

‘I’m not trying to bust you. I just want to know if Janine could have figured out a way to buy that gun.’

‘You’re talking about a Texas girl, Maggie. They’re half-animal under those pretty faces. If Janine wanted a gun, she wouldn’t be shy about asking around. That woman knew how to get what she wanted. So yeah, the gun could have been hers, but I don’t think it was.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because there’s one thing about Jay’s murder that always bothered me. And it has nothing to do with the gun.’

‘What’s that?’ Maggie asked.

Nathan shook his head. ‘I didn’t have any trouble believing that Janine was the one who shot Jay. Frankly, I didn’t blame her for it. The man treated her like shit. But Janine’s a smart woman. Scary-smart. There’s no way – no way – she would have let you guys pin it on her. Losing control? Shooting Jay in the head and coming up with a lame story that nobody believes? Sorry. That’s not Janine Snow. She would have had a plan for the whole thing, and she wouldn’t be sitting in prison right now. As much as I hate to admit it, she may have been telling the truth all along. The gun wasn’t hers.’

*

‘Hello, Cat,’ Anna Glick said. ‘You shouldn’t be here, you know.’

Anna sat on a plastic chair on the weedy front lawn of her house in Morgan Park. It was a two-story house barely wider than an old Chevy, with a sharply peaked roof and brown stucco walls. Ivy vines draped over the wall facing the street.

‘You haven’t called me back,’ Cat complained. ‘You haven’t answered any of my texts.’

Anna had a Chromebook on her lap, and she wore shorts and a skimpy tank top that showed off her pale, bony limbs. ‘Uh, maybe because the cops you live with told me I should stay away from you?’

‘My friends are my own business,’ Cat insisted stubbornly.

‘Maybe, but I don’t need trouble.’

‘Hey, I won’t tell them. They don’t need to know who I see. Come on, I’m bored. I just want to hang for a while.’

‘Okay, fine, stick around if you like,’ Anna agreed with a sigh. ‘How’d you get here, anyway?’

‘Bus.’

‘Is that smart?’ she asked, eyeing Cat’s bump.

‘We’re only three blocks from the stop. It’s not like I’m handicapped or something.’

Anna shrugged. She nodded at a second patio chair leaning against the house, and Cat went and grabbed it. The day was hot. Both of them wiped sweat from their foreheads. Anna had a can of Bud on the lawn beside her, and Cat ducked into the small house to pour orange juice from the carton in the fridge. Outside, she sat next to Anna and sipped the drink in silence. Anna tapped away on her keyboard, playing a fantasy game. Cat didn’t interrupt her.

‘So where’s Al?’ Anna asked without looking up from her computer game.

‘I don’t know. Working, probably.’

‘Are you guys still an item?’

‘I guess,’ Cat said.

Anna’s eyes flicked away from the Chromebook. ‘You guess?’

‘I haven’t talked to him. He’s busy.’ Then she added: ‘I did something stupid. I asked if he was in love with me. It freaked him out. We haven’t talked since.’

‘Guys don’t want serious. They want right now.’

‘Al is different. We’re not even having sex. We’re waiting until it feels right.’

Anna’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, and then she kept typing. A smirk flew across her lips. ‘You think he’s going to get hornier as that basketball of yours gets bigger? I don’t think so. Most guys are afraid the baby will reach out and grab their dick while they’re pumping.’

Cat frowned as Anna giggled at her own joke. Then she said: ‘So how’s Fred over at the bar?’

‘Fred is Fred. He’s pissed about the cops and reporters hanging around. Are they any closer to finding the guy who did it?’

‘Stride and Serena don’t tell me anything about that,’ Cat replied.

‘They’re cops. No surprise.’

‘I miss the bar.’

‘Well, Fred won’t let you back in. Sorry.’

Cat knew that Anna was right, and she wasn’t happy. She chafed under the restrictions on everything she did. It was summer. No school. She was free, but she felt as if she’d been locked in prison.

‘I’m low on cash,’ Cat admitted.

‘Seriously? Again?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Don’t the cops give you an allowance?’

‘It’s not much,’ Cat said. ‘I don’t think they trust me with money. They figure I’ll buy cigarettes. Or drugs.’

‘Uh huh.’ Anna took off her wool cap and primped her spiky hair. ‘Well, there’s a church project this weekend if you want. Cleaning out a house in West Duluth. You might pick up a couple bucks that way.’

Cat hesitated. ‘I don’t like doing that stuff.’

‘Hey, the last job worked out okay, huh? Painting that place in Superior? Plus, that’s where you met Al. You complaining about that?’

‘No.’

‘Well, it’s your call,’ Anna said. ‘Do whatever you want.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

Anna flipped down the cover of her Chromebook. ‘I don’t have to be at work for a couple hours. You want to go get a burger and a Coke somewhere? I’m buying.’

Cat grinned. ‘Great!’

‘Where do you want to go?’

‘How about the Anchor?’

Anna shook her head. ‘You just want to run into Al.’

‘I miss him.’

‘Cat, he’s a guy. Guys like him come and go like empty beer cans. Especially when you start throwing the L-word around with someone who hasn’t even poled you yet.’

‘I told you, we’re waiting
—
’ she began, but Anna waved a hand in front of her face to stop her.

‘Listen, I didn’t want to tell you this, okay? I knew you’d get upset.’

‘Tell me what?’

Anna fixed a drooping strap on her tank top. ‘Couple weeks ago, Al was over at the Grizzly Bear talking to Fred. I think he was looking to pick up some PT work. Anyway, my car had a flat, so Al drove me home. It was late, and he came inside with me, and we had a few drinks and put on some flicks. Next thing I know, his tongue was down my throat, and his hands were inside my T-shirt.’

Cat shot to her feet. ‘Al made a pass at you? Al?’

‘Sorry, kiddo,’ Anna told her, ‘but yeah, he did. Like I said, we were both pretty drunk. He’s probably been nursing a major hard-on wanting to get into your pants. The thing is, I won’t lie to you, Cat. As passes go, this wasn’t exactly a dropped ball in the end zone.’

‘What are you saying?’ Cat asked, but she already knew.

‘I’m saying it was a completed pass. Al spent the night with me.’

43

When Janine entered the visiting room, Stride noticed the physical changes of eight years, the same way he did when he looked at himself in the mirror. They were both older. She wore no makeup. No jewelry. Like every other inmate, she was dressed down. In the past, watching Janine walk was like following a celebrity who could part a crowd with her presence. She had an otherness that set her apart from ordinary people. Now she was one of many.

‘Hello, Jonathan,’ she said as she sat down across from him.

‘Hello, Janine.’

He could see her taking his measure, the way he’d done to her. She was probably thinking similar things. He was older. Bruised and not as cocky. They sat in silence for a while, and others in the waiting room stole glances at them. Everybody knew who they were. There were no secrets here.

‘I can’t tell you how sorry I was to hear about Cindy,’ Janine said finally.

‘Thank you.’

‘She was probably my only real friend. Not that I’m comparing my loss to yours. I know what a love match the two of you were. My heart ached for you when I heard. Really. I wrote to you, but I didn’t expect a reply. I just wanted you to know that my grief was sincere.’

‘I got your letter,’ Stride told her.

‘Good.

More awkward silence followed. Once upon a time, they’d been something like friends. Now he didn’t know what they were.

‘Are you involved with someone?’ she asked him.

He didn’t answer, and she sighed and looked away.

‘So I’m still the enemy, am I?’ she went on. ‘I thought after all this time things might be different. Well, it may not matter coming from me, but I know Cindy would want you to be in love. I envied the two of you. How you could be different and yet the same. Obviously, I never mastered the art of relationships.’

He was silent again, and then he said: ‘I’m involved.’

‘I’m glad. Is it serious?’

‘Yes.’

‘Even better,’ she said. Her eyes traveled around the room. ‘I suppose it doesn’t happen very often, coming to see people you put in prison.’

‘No, not very often.’

‘Of course not. Why would you? I don’t get many visitors.’

‘What about Howard Marlowe?’ Stride asked.

Janine’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘You know about him? Well, of course you do. I forgot I have no privacy here.’

‘Howard has built quite a hobby out of you,’ Stride told her. ‘He got copies of most of our investigative records through Archie. He calls us all the time. He wants us to investigate new leads. I gather he’s writing a book.’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘He visits you here, too.’

‘He does. Is it strange, a man like that who can’t let go?’

‘It happens,’ Stride said. ‘People get obsessed.’

‘On one level, I’m grateful. For the company. For someone who believes in me. On the other hand, I feel as if I’m cheating him out of his life.’

‘You don’t have to see him.’

‘I know. And yet when I think about taking him off the list, I just can’t do it. A part of me can’t let go. I’m hoping he’ll decide on his own that I’m not worth it.’

Stride wondered if she was sincere. The old Janine would always have put herself first.

‘I assume Archie has been in touch with you,’ he told her.

‘Yes, of course.’

‘So you know we’ve identified the gun that was used to kill Jay,’ he went on.

‘After all these years. It’s quite a mystery.’

He expected to see a glint of triumph in her face. She knew that this discovery, whatever it meant, opened up new legal doors for her. For the first time, she had a realistic chance at a new trial or even a complete dismissal. The idea of release from prison was no longer a fantasy. Except he was surprised by what he saw. Anxiety. Even fear. The life inside was the life she knew. She really had become an indoor cat. Outside was uncertain. Outside was scary. She couldn’t simply walk back to her old life, and she knew it.

‘I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on that mystery,’ Stride said.

Janine shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. You know I can’t do that.’

Which was the answer he’d expected.

‘I suppose Archie reminded you not to tell me anything that might jeopardize your release,’ he said.

‘Yes, he did.’

‘There’s a solution to this puzzle. I’m going to find out what it is.’

‘I wonder if you will,’ she replied. ‘I’m not doubting you, but nine years is a long time.’

Stride stared at her eyes, looking for answers. ‘Can I be honest with you, Janine?’

‘I’m sure you will be.’

‘I think you’re guilty. I always have.’

‘I know that.’

‘And if you’re guilty, that means you must know what happened to the gun that killed Jay and where it’s been all these years.’

‘In other words, where did I hide it?’ she asked. ‘Or who did I give it to?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Even if I knew, you realize it would be foolish of me to tell you. Legally speaking.’

‘I know that.’

‘So why ask me? Why did you come down here?’

He couldn’t keep the frustration out of his voice. ‘Because this is about more than finding an old gun in the woods and running a ballistics test. This gun was used to kill a woman just a few weeks ago. The man who did it is on the loose. The lives of other women may well be at stake. I have just one clue. His gun. Eight years ago, that gun was in your living room. It’s the gun that murdered your husband. If I knew where it went after that, then I stand a chance of figuring out who used it last month.’

He hoped he would get through to her. She was already in prison, and he wanted to believe there was enough regret in her heart over what she’d done that she would choose to save someone else’s life. He saw her hesitate. He knew –
he knew
– that she had the answers he needed.

Janine leaned across the table and, violating the prison rules, took both of his hands in hers.

‘I’m sorry, Jonathan,’ she told him. ‘I know what you think of me, but I’m telling you the truth. I was telling you the truth all those years ago. That gun was never in my hands. I’m not the one who shot my husband.’