Эд Макбейн - Beauty and the Beast

Lying in bed with Dale that night, I told her all about the encounter the day before with Michelle Harper and her subsequent murder (which she’d read about in the Calusa Journal , without connecting the story to the beautiful woman we’d seen on the beach Saturday) and the Q and A with her husband, and the fact that he had no real alibi for where he might have been when Michelle was first being beaten and next being killed. Dale listened — I love the way she listens, those magnificent green eyes intent on my face — and then rolled over naked to light a cigarette, nodding, absorbing what I was telling her, weighing it with the keen mind of a lawyer searching for a case that could possibly be made in Harper’s favor. She blew out a stream of smoke (I realized all at once that she was smoking pot) and then said, “If he really did it, you’d think he’d have a ready—” and the telephone rang.

I have always regretted the moment of insanity that prompted me to give Morrie Bloom the telephone number at Dale’s house on Whisper Key. She answered the phone now, listened for a moment, said, “For you, Matthew,” handed me the receiver, and then sat cross-legged on the bed, closing her eyes and puffing on the joint.

“Hello?” I said.

“Matthew, it’s Morrie. Sorry to disturb you so late at night.”

“No, that’s okay,” I said, and Dale pulled a face.

“Few things I think you ought to know,” he said. “You remember I was telling you about that empty five-gallon can we found on the beach?”

“Yes?”

“Well, we checked with the gas station where Harper brings in his truck, and also where the woman used to get her Volks serviced, it’s right around the corner from where they live. We figured it would be the most likely place, and we got lucky. Place called A&M Exxon on Wingdale and Pine. Anyway the attendant there — black guy named Harry Loomis — filled Harper’s gas tank on Saturday morning, around seven, seven-thirty, sometime in there. He also sold Harper an empty five-gallon gasoline can. Filled it for him. A red can like the one we found at the scene.” Bloom hesitated. “Matthew,” he said, “we had him up here looking at the can, he’s identified it as the one he sold to Harper on Saturday morning.”

“How can anybody tell one red can from anoth—”

“That’s not all of it. I got a call from the lab ten minutes ago — well, let me go back a few steps, okay? You remember that before Harper left the station house this afternoon, he agreed to let us print him, said he had nothing to hide, you remember that, don’t you? You were there when the guy downstairs was printing him.”

“Yes, I remember.”

“Well, we sent those prints over to the lab, where they were working on the latents they lifted from the can, and I got a call from them ten minutes ago. The prints on the can match Harper’s. And, Matthew, they were the only prints on the can. Harper’s and nobody else’s.”

“Are you calling for my advice, Morrie? Then here it is. Harper first bought that gasoline can—”

“And had it filled, Matthew.”

“Yes, at seven, seven-thirty Saturday morning. He then went back to the house and was home all day Saturday. There’s nothing to say he didn’t leave that can in the garage or wherever before he left for Miami at 2:00 A.M. Sunday . If he left the can home, anybody could have found it and used it to—”

“His fingerprints are on it, Matthew.”

“They’d naturally be on it. If he handled the can...”

“What happened to Loomis’s prints? The guy who sold him the can, the guy who filled it for him?”

“Are you suggesting that Harper wiped off the attendant’s prints, and then committed murder and neglected to wipe off his own? Come on, Morrie.”

“People panic, Matthew. I had cases before where the killer left incriminating evidence behind. I had one guy, he strangled this hooker to death while he was fucking her, he was naked when he did it, you know? And he left behind a monogrammed shirt, ran out of there barefoot with only his pants on, left behind a shirt with his initials on it, R.D., I can still remember the initials. So it’s not too unusual, Matthew. Even the pros panic. And murder isn’t a professional crime unless the mob has it done for them.”

“This is all circumstantial, Morrie. A man buys a gasoline can, he has it filled—”

“I got a witness who saw them on the beach Monday night, Matthew.”

“What witness?”

“A fisherman anchored just offshore. Saw a white woman and a black man struggling on the beach.”

“Has he identified Harper?”

“Close enough. Big black guy struggling with a naked white woman.”

“But has he specifically identified Harper? ”

“We’re bringing Harper in. I expect identification will be made at that time.”

“So why are you calling me , Morrie?”

“Because if we get a positive make, we’re going to have to charge Harper. I mean, Matthew, I know it isn’t the strongest of cases...”

“What does the state’s attorney think?”

“He thinks if this guy can identify Harper, we’ve got a case.”

“And if he can’t?”

“We keep looking. Those prints on the can, the fact that he bought the can two days before the murder was committed, the fact that his wife filed a complaint the day she was killed — that may not be enough for a sure conviction, but it’s enough to keep us working. That’s if this guy who was out on the water—”

“A fisherman, did you say?”

“Yeah. Claims he saw them struggling, heard the guy yelling her name. He didn’t pick that out of the air, Matthew. Michelle isn’t that common a name.”

“No, it isn’t. I still don’t know why you called me.”

“If we get a positive make, the state’s attorney will have a whack at him this time, and this time we’ll be charging him, Matthew. So I thought you might want to represent him during the formal Q and A. This is serious this time, Matthew.”

“I’m not a criminal lawyer, Morrie...”

“I know you’re not.”

“But I know damn well what I’d advise him this time. If it’s serious this time.”

“If that guy identifies him, it’s very serious this time.”

“Then I’d advise him not to answer any further questions.”

“That’s what I figured you’d advise him. But shouldn’t somebody be here to tell him that?”

“Me, you mean?”

“Well, you, yes, if you want to come down. It’s just, this fucking Miranda-Escobedo, the law says we’ve got to appoint a lawyer if the man requests one, but we don’t have lawyers just hanging around here at the station house, you know, the law’s got a jawbone but no teeth, do you follow me? So since you already know the man, and did such a good job this afternoon, which by the way I’m sorry I hassled you so much...”

“That’s okay, Morrie.”

“So if you wanted to pick up here where you left off, it might not be a bad idea. For Harper, I mean.’Cause the way I look at it, he’s in bad trouble here, and he’s going to need all the help he can get.”

“When will you have him there?”

“Pete Kenyon’s already on the way to Wingdale. Unless Harper’s skipped, he should be back here within—”

“Do you think he may have skipped?”

“My guess? No, he’ll be there at the house when Pete pulls up. No, I don’t think he’s skipped.”

“So when will you have him downtown?”

“I suppose maybe five minutes, unless he gives Pete trouble.” Bloom paused. “Pete didn’t go alone, Matthew. I sent two cars with him. If Harper murdered his wife—”

“ If ,” I said.