Gary Alexander - The Best American Mystery Stories 2010

“They’re hunting guns, miss.”

“What do you hunt?”

“I don’t, anymore. I build boats. And don’t be wanderin’ around back there. Workshops can be dangerous.”

“Is that how you lost your fingertips?” Zina asked, rejoining them.

“My fingers?” Reiser glanced at them, as if he was surprised they were missing. “Yeah. Bandsaw, couple of years ago.”

“Looks like it hurt,” Doyle said.

“Compared to what?” Reiser snapped. “Your eye don’t look so hot either, sport. Can we get on with this? I got work to do.”

“I understand you had a beef with Jared Bannan?” Doyle said.

“My wife and I are breaking up. God knows, we’ve had enough trouble the past few years to wreck anybody. I got no beef with Rosie taking half of everything, though she’s been doing more drinkin’ than workin’ lately. When this is over, I’ll probably get drunk for a month myself.”

“When what’s over?”

“Our daughter is dying,” Reiser said bluntly. “Cancer. You’d think being born deaf would be enough grief for any child, but...” He trailed off, swallowing hard.

“I’m sorry,” Doyle said. “Truly.”

“It can’t be helped,” Reiser said grimly. “All I asked from Bannan was a few extra months, so Jeanie could be at home until... her time. Rosie was okay with it, but Bannan said he had a big-bucks buyer lined up who wouldn’t wait. Then Rosie’s drunk-ass boyfriend put in his two cents. If Marty Lehman hadn’t broken things up I swear I would’ve pounded ’em both to dog meat. But I never laid a hand on either of ’em. If Bannan claims I did, he’s lying.”

“Mr. Bannan isn’t claiming anything,” Doyle said mildly, watching Reiser’s face. “He’s dead. His car was run off the road last night.”

“Jesus,” Reiser said, combing his thick mane back out of his face with his shortened fingertips. “Look, I had no use for the guy, but I had no cause to harm him.”

“Not even to get the extra time you wanted?” Zina asked.

“We already worked that out. My wife’ll tell you.”

“Where is she?”

“Stayin’ at the Lakefront Inn, in town. On my dime. With her speed-freak boyfriend, Mal La Roche.”

“We know Mal.” Doyle nodded. “Would you mind telling us where you were last night?”

“Here with Jeanie, where else? You can ask her if you want, just don’t upset her, okay? She’s got enough to deal with.”

“We’ll take your word for it, Mr. Reiser. No need to bother the girl. Thanks for your time. And we’re very sorry for your trouble.”

Zina craned around to take a long look back as they pulled out of the boatyard. Reiser was at the water’s edge, standing beside his daughter, his hand on her shoulder. Talking intently on a cell phone.

“We’ll take your word for it?” she echoed, swiveling in her seat to face Doyle.

“As sick as that kid is, she probably goes to bed early, and she’s hearing-impaired. How would she know whether Reiser went out? What did you make of him?”

“An edgy guy with a world of trouble. Given his state of mind, I wouldn’t want to get crossways of him right now. You think his daughter’s the kid Dr. Bannan mentioned? The one who wanted an early Christmas?”

“She’s deaf, and the Blair Center is the only school for special-needs students. Check with the school when we get back to the House. Meantime, we’ll talk to Reiser’s wife, confirm his story.”

“Or not,” Zina said.

“Rosie don’t want to talk to you,” Mal La Roche said, blocking the motel-room doorway, has massive arms folded. Shaggy and unshaven, Mal was a poster boy for the cedar savages, backwoodsmen who still live off the land, though nowadays they’re more likely to be growing reefer or cooking crank than running trap lines. Mal has two brothers and a dozen cousins rougher than he is. Every cop north of Midland knows them by their first names.

“This isn’t a roust, Mal, it’s a murder case,” Doyle explained. “We need to ask the lady a few questions, then we’re gone.”

“Or we can pat you down for speed,” Zina added. “You look jumpy to me, Mal. Been tootin’ your own product again?”

“I ain’t—”

“It’s all right, Mal, I’ll talk to them.” Rosie Reiser pushed past Mal. Bottle blond and blowsy, in a faded bathrobe, she looked defeated. And half in the bag. “Out here, though, not inside. Things are a mess in there. Is this about Bannan?”

“Your husband called you?” Doyle asked.

She nodded. “He said you might be by.”

“Did he also tell you what to say?”

“I don’t need him for that!” Rosie said resentfully. “I’m here, ain’t I?”

“So you are,” Zina said, glancing pointedly around at the rundown motel cabin, “though I can’t imagine why. Your daughter—”

“Is where she needs to be! With her father, by the damn lake. His little princess. It’s always about her! Has been since she was born. Never about me.”

“Okay, what about you?” Zina said coolly. “Is this dump where you should be?”

“Just ask your questions and git!” Mal put in. We don’t need no lectures.”

“What was the beef between your husband and Jared Bannan?” Doyle asked.

“It’s over and done with.”

“I didn’t ask if it was settled. I asked what it was about?”

“It...” Rosie blinked rapidly, trying to focus through a whiskey haze. “I don’t know. Something about... Emil wanted to wait until after Jeanie... you know.”

“Dies?” Zina prompted coldly. “And Bannan had a problem with that?”

“He had some big-shot buyer lined up, but they wanted to break ground right away,” Mal put in. “It’s taken care of now, though. Jared and Emil worked it out.”

“How?” Doyle asked.

“I don’t know the details.”

“Who was the buyer?”

“We don’t know!” Rosie snapped. “I just know it’s settled.”

“Because your husband said so?”

“Screw this, I don’t have to talk to you. You want to arrest me, go ahead.”

“Why would we arrest you?” Doyle asked, puzzled.

“That’s what you do, ain’t it? So get to it or take a hike.” She thrust out her wrists, waiting for the cuffs.

“We’re sorry for your trouble, ma’am,” Doyle sighed. “Have a nice day.”

Zina started to follow him to the car, then turned back.

“Mrs. Reiser? It’s none of my business, but losing a child must be incredibly difficult. You might want to wait a bit before you throw away your marriage for the likes of Mal La Roche.”

“Hey,” Mal began, “you can’t—”

“Shut up, Mal, or I’ll kick your ass into next week. Mrs. Reiser—”

“Butt out, Pocahontas,” Rosie said, clutching La Roche’s arm protectively. “At least Mal can show me a good time. Just because Emil’s got no life don’t mean Igotta live like a damn hermit.”

“No, I guess not.” Zee shrugged. “You’re right, ma’am. You’re exactly where you belong.”

“It’s the same kid,” Zina said, hanging up her phone. “Jeanie Reiser is enrolled at Blair Center. Or was. A special-needs student, hearing-impaired. She was taken out of school a few weeks ago, because of health issues.”

They were in their office at the House.

“Which means Dr. Bannan knows Emil Reiser,” Doyle mused. “Interesting.”

“Interesting how?” Zina snorted. “Like Strangers on a Train? He kills her husband and... Who does she kill? Mal La Roche? Besides, neither one of ’em has an alibi.”

“Maybe they aren’t as tricky as the guys in the movie.”

“Yep, that sounds like the doc all right. Dumb as a box of rocks.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Glad I caught you,” Captain Kazmarek interrupted, poking his head in the door. Fifty and fit, “Cash” Kazmarek bossed the Investigations unit. An affable politician, he was also a rock-solid cop, twenty-five years on the Tri County Force. “I got a call from the sheriff’s department at Gaylord. They have your truck. Red Ford pickup, passenger’s-side front fender damaged, reported stolen yesterday. Found it an hour ago, abandoned in a Wal-Mart parking lot. What the hell happened to your eye?”