Ricochet (38 page)

She hesitated; Duncan laughed shortly. “We never get further than that, do we?” He pressed another of the digits on the telephone. “Motive trips you up every time. But you had plenty of motive to shoot Napoli, didn’t you?”

“Yes. No.”

“Well, which is it?” he shouted.

She put her hand to her butchered hair. “You’re confusing me.”

“Welcome to the club, lady. I’ve been a little confused myself lately.”

“I had motive to shoot him, but I didn’t. I got away from him and ran. He chased me. He stepped on the heel of my sandal and it snapped off. I stumbled, fell. Napoli hauled me up by my arm. He wrenched it hard and I screamed. That startled him. I took advantage of his surprise and grabbed for the gun. I yanked it out of his hand and threw it into the river. He hit me in the face.” She pointed to her eye. “I swatted at his head, grabbed his hair, and pulled hard. He fell back, and I took off running again.”

“At some point you shot him in the stomach with your husband’s old twenty-two.”

“I don’t know anything about a twenty-two,” she cried. “In any case, I didn’t shoot Napoli.”

“Well, somebody plugged him in the gut.”

“Savich.”

His breath came out in a gust of disbelief, almost amusement. “
Savich
?”

“That’s right.”

He laughed. “What a convenient scapegoat. First you used his name to get me to the old house for our secret meeting. Now you’re trying to—”

“It’s the truth!”

“You watched Savich shoot Napoli.”

“Yes.”

“And he let you get away?”

“He didn’t see me.”

Laughter as well as patience deserted him. Giving her a hard look, he said, “Try again.”

She took a deep breath as though ready to launch into a long and complicated story. “I was running from Napoli—”

“On second thought, save your breath. I’m sick of your bullshit. You killed Napoli. Otherwise you would have notified the police.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Couldn’t?”

“I knew everyone would think that I had killed him. Like Gary Ray Trotter. No one would have believed me.”

He didn’t. Certainly not this crap about Savich, especially now, knowing what good friends they were. But for the time being, he played along. “Okay, so you ran and miraculously escaped Savich. Where have you been for the last ten days? How’d you live? What did you do for money? We’ve had cops up and down the East Coast from Miami to Myrtle Beach checking hotels and motels, from the ritziest to the sleaziest. Bus stations, airports, boat rentals and charters, car rental companies. Anything that moves, we’ve checked. Bicycles, motorcycles, and pogo sticks,” he finished angrily. “How did you manage to disappear? Did you have help?”

“Help? No. I had a contingency plan to disappear. For months I’d been preparing for it. I had some money stashed away, a credit card in another name, a fake ID, a place to go.”

“You didn’t go to the house where I met you.”

She tilted her head. “You went back there to look for me?”

“Yeah, I went back.”

“Alone? Or with your partner?”

He avoided that. “You hid out until tonight when the search was called off. Now, nobody’s looking for you or your remains. So why’d you come back? Why’d you come to
me
? Why didn’t you just stay dead?”

It was a vicious thing to say and she reacted accordingly. But he let the question stand.

Finally she said softly, “I came back because I have unfinished business.”

“Yeah, I know about that. You’ve got a smooth operation going with Savich.” Reading her shock, he moved toward her in a measured tread. “I saw the pictures. The ones Napoli was using to blackmail you.”

“Blackmail me? What are you talking about? What pictures?”

The thought of hitting a woman was repugnant to him, but remembering the photographs with her and Savich raised the level of his frustration and brought him close to slapping her. At the very least giving her a hard shake to dislodge the phony perplexity in her expressive eyes.

He also wanted to touch her, to crush her against him and inhale the scent of rainwater coming off her, just to reassure himself that she was real and warm, not a figment of his cruel imagination, just to see if she felt as good against him as he remembered.

Duty and desire were warring again, and he hated her for it.

“I curse the day I first saw you,” he said, meaning it. “God damn you for dragging me into your scheme, whatever the hell it is. I wish to heaven—”

The telephone in his hand rang, startling them. They both looked at the instrument as it rang a second time.

“Don’t answer, Duncan. Please.”

“Shut up.”

Using the pistol, he motioned her to back away from him then raised the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

He listened for about thirty seconds, his gaze never wavering from her face. He ended the call by saying, “Sure. I’ll be right there.” Even after disconnecting, he held her stare.

Her chest rose and fell anxiously. She wet her lips. “What?”

“Earlier tonight a woman’s body was pulled out of the river,” he stated slowly. “Judge Laird has just identified it as you.”

“S
HE’S PRETTY MUCH A MESS.”
D
OTHAN
B
ROOKS SPOKE IN A
reverential undertone. “You know what a floater looks like, and she’s been in the water.” He looked Duncan up and down. “You’re not much drier than she is.”

His hair and clothes were wet. “I’d been out in the weather when I got the call. Didn’t want to take time to change.”

He’d reached the morgue as quickly as possible, having to first jog from his town house to the parking lot of Smitty’s to retrieve his car. He and the ME were standing a discreet distance from the judge, granting him time alone with the corpse on the gurney. The body was entirely covered by a sheet, save for the right hand, which the judge held clasped between his as he wept unabashedly.

The body had been discovered by a tugboat crew beneath a pier where the tugs docked. The Talmadge Bridge was well within sight.

“How come she didn’t surface sooner?” Duncan asked.

“Got hung up on something under the pier is my guess. Fish have had at her. She was a feeding ground. She finally shook loose of whatever was holding her down, and up she came.”

“If she looks that bad, how did he make the ID?”

“Birthmark. Lower abdomen, part of it under her pubic hair. Only a husband or lover would know about it. I told him we could wait on a positive ID until we obtained her dental records, but he insisted on looking at her. Nearly tossed his cookies when he saw her face, or lack thereof. Said no way was that his beautiful Elise.

“But then he saw that birthmark, and I’m here to tell you, he fell apart. Would have collapsed if I hadn’t caught him.” Dothan took a package of peanut M&M’s from his pants pocket and ripped it open. “Want some?”

“No, thanks. Any signs of her struggle with Napoli?”

Dothan chewed a handful of the candies, crunching them noisily between his teeth. “Not readily apparent, but they wouldn’t be, considering. I’ll take a closer look during the autopsy. But no bullet wounds or anything like that, if that’s what you mean.”

“Cause of death was drowning?”

“If so, there’ll be water in her lungs.”

“What was she wearing?”

Dothan motioned him over to a sterile table on which lay a wristwatch with a narrow leather strap and three articles of badly stained and sodden clothing. They were filthy, but recognizable. The ME said, “According to the judge the watch belonged to her and the clothes match what she was wearing the last time he saw her.”

“He should know. He bought them for her.”

Duncan left the ME with his snack and approached the gurney, moving to the left side of it so that he was facing Judge Laird across it. He pretended to be contemplating the still form beneath the sheet but actually he was studying Elise’s seemingly bereft husband.

He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, looked up, and nodded a greeting. “Detective.”

“Everyone working the case extends their condolences.”

“Thank you.”

Mentally he braced himself and lifted the top corner of the sheet. Dothan had understated the damage. His stomach lurched. The organic destruction to the features made them practically indistinguishable as such. However, one ear remained intact. He noted that it was pierced, but there was no earring in the hole. The hair was wet and matted with God knows how many varieties of river matter, but it was the approximate color and length of Elise’s. He lowered the sheet. “It must be very difficult for you to see her like this.”

The judge squeezed his eyes shut. “You have no idea how painful.”

“Are you sure it’s your wife?”

His eyes popped open and he looked at Duncan with reproach. “Of course.”

“I’m not trying to pick an argument with you, Judge. It’s just that people have made false identifications before. You wouldn’t be here if the situation wasn’t already traumatic. You come down here scared, emotionally and physically drained. Under those circumstances, mistakes have been made before.”

“There’s no mistake. Did Dr. Brooks tell you about the birthmark?”

“Yes.”

“I couldn’t possibly mistake that.”

“I’m sure. All the same, we’ll rely on dental records.”

“Of course. Whatever Dr. Brooks needs, I’ll make available to him tomorrow.” He gazed at the draped body. “I wish with all my heart that I was wrong. But it’s Elise.” He bent over the hand he was holding. It was a ghastly color, and Duncan knew it must be cold and repugnant to the touch. The judge kissed the back of it. As he straightened, he said, “In times of personal crisis, it’s very difficult to be a public official.”

“You’re in the spotlight even as you’re grieving,” Duncan said, following his thought.

“I understand there’s already press outside.”

“Your wife’s disappearance has been a big story. This is the final chapter.”

“I can’t cope with the media right now. Besides, I want to stay with Elise for as long as possible before turning her over to Dr. Brooks for the autopsy.” He voice cracked and he covered his eyes with his hand.

Duncan walked around the gurney and stood beside him. “I’m sure Dr. Brooks will give you all the time you want, Judge. And we’ll have officers outside to protect you from the press when you leave. Until you’re ready, let our department’s PIO deal with them.”

As he made to go, the judge detained him. “We got off to a rocky start, Detective Hatcher, and we’ve had some cross moments. But generally speaking, you’ve been extraordinarily sensitive to my distress during all this. I want you to know how much I appreciate everything you did for me and my wife.”

Duncan shook the hand extended to him, but as he looked into the judge’s tearful eyes, he was thinking, You wouldn’t appreciate everything I did for your wife, you lying, cocksucking son of a bitch.

She was sitting on the bathroom floor where he’d left her, handcuffed to the plumbing pipe beneath the sink. She’d fought him like a wildcat as he wrestled her into the bathroom and put the handcuffs on her. He left her pleading with him not to leave her there like that. He’d told her it was for her own protection, but the truth was that he didn’t trust her not to pull another vanishing act.

He didn’t trust her not to be in cahoots with Savich, either. Before leaving, he didn’t neglect to set his house alarm. And even though the LED didn’t register a disturbance when he disengaged it upon his return, he climbed the stairs with pistol drawn.

She was alone, just as he’d left her, although she no longer looked angry. Either that or she was simply too exhausted to rail at him as he knelt down to unlock the handcuffs. He helped her to her feet.

“What happened?” she asked. He gave her a few seconds to massage circulation back into her wrists before reaching for her hands again. “Oh, please don’t,” she begged as he replaced the cuffs. “Why?”

“My peace of mind.”

“You still don’t trust me?”

He opened his closet and pulled out a duffel bag, tossed it on the bed, and unzipped it. “Did you bring anything here with you except the rain slicker?”

“No. Did you see Cato?”

“Yeah, I saw him.”

“Where?”

“At the morgue.”

“And he identified
my
body?”

“She was wearing your wristwatch.”

“Napoli made me take it off and give it to him.”

“It wasn’t in the car when we found him.”

“Then Savich must have taken it.”

“Must have.” There was much to learn, but not before they were safely away from here. “Where have you been staying all this time?” he asked as he rifled bureau drawers and began throwing items of clothing into the duffel bag.

“In a house on Hilton Head. I paid a year’s rent on it six months ago, but I hadn’t used it until this past week.”

“How’d you get to the island?”

“A while back I bought a used car and kept it parked in a paid lot, so I could leave in a hurry if I needed to. That night I walked to it from the bridge.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked at her. “And then drove back across?” One route to the island meant crossing the Talmadge Bridge.

“No, I took the interstate.”

“Going back to the bridge would have been audacious, even for you,” he said bitterly. He resumed packing. “How did you manage to come by a house, car, et cetera when your husband had Napoli following you?”

“I guess I wasn’t under constant surveillance.”

Or Napoli had deliberately withheld some information to use to bait the judge later, up the ante, make more profit. “Where’s the car now?”

“Same place. This evening, as soon as I heard on the news that the search had been called off, I drove from Hilton Head. I left the car in the paid lot and walked from there to here.”

“A rental house and a car purchase. That’s a paper trail a mile wide. A blind man could follow it.”

“Then how come nobody discovered it while I was missing?”

“Good point,” he said wryly. “But I don’t want to take any chances. You’ve got to stay invisible.”