Linwood Barclay - A Tap on the Window

I managed to get the word out, but I nearly choked on it. “Thanks.”

He glared at me.

“I don’t think you made a friend out of Hank Brindle in there,” I said.

“He’s a big boy. He’ll get over it.”

“Brindle’s a bad cop,” I said. “He’s a bully.”

Augie shook his head. “He’s okay. Cut him some slack. He’s had a rough few months. His dad’s been sick. He’s had to take a few days off, help his mom look after him. And don’t let Haines fool you. He’s quieter, but he’s bent out of shape these days, too.”

“What’s his problem?”

“Girl he was seeing dumped him a few weeks back, packed up and moved back in with her family in Erie. They’re a pair. But you know something, Cal? This little meeting we’re having isn’t about them. It’s about you. It’s about you, and your attitude problem.”

I slumped in my chair.

“Why’d you do it, Augie?” I asked.

“Why’d I do what?”

“Why’d you save my ass? I was facing some serious charges in there.”

He struggled for an answer. “Jesus.”

“What?”

“You’re my brother-in-law.” He said it with more than a little shame.

“Seriously.”

“Don’t, for a minute, think I was doing it for you. I was doing it for Donna.”

That much I believed. But I remained puzzled. “Tell me this, then, Augie. If you’re actually looking out for me, then why the hell did you seize my car?”

“Why’d I what?”

“My Honda. You’ve still got it. I just hope it’s not in a million pieces.”

Augie’s mouth hung open for several seconds. “I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about. Who seized your car?”

“Haines and Brindle. They got the word from Marvin Quinn, who said he got the order from you.”

Augie leaned back in his chair, laced his fingers together atop his stomach.

“Well,” he said, “isn’t that a kick in the head with a frozen boot?”

“You didn’t tell Quinn to have my car taken in?”

Augie shook his head. “I did not. You’re a lot of things, Cal. Dickhead, asshole, a conceited fuck if I ever met one. And the stupidest son of a bitch I know at the moment, trying to scare these kids the way you did. But you didn’t kill that girl.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Why would Quinn do that? I’d understand one of my officers bringing in a car to have it searched. They don’t need my approval for that. The question is why he would have said I wanted it done.”

Neither of us spoke for a moment.

“I saw Quinn while I was cooling my heels in the cell, before the lineup,” I said. “He might be in the building.”

Augie picked up a phone. “Where’s Quinn?” He waited a few seconds. “When did he go off shift?” He looked at me and mouthed “ten minutes.” He hung for another moment, then said, “Get him at home or on his cell. I want to talk to him.”

He pressed a button, then said, “Get me the compound.” Another moment on hold, then, “Chief Perry here. You got an Accord, was brought in last night, belongs to Calvin Weaver? Yeah, that’s the one... Uh-huh... Uh-huh... Okay. He’s coming to pick it up. I would ask that you extend him every courtesy.”

He hung up.

“No one’s even touched it,” Augie said. “They were awaiting further instructions.”

“I guess I’ll be on my way, then,” I said.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to keep looking for Claire,” I said.

“You don’t think maybe it’s time for you to take a step back? You nearly got yourself charged. Maybe you should count your blessings and go home for a while.”

“I told the mayor I’d stay on this for—”

It was like I’d poked a bear with a sharp stick. “Hold on,” Augie said. “Tell me you’re not actually working for that son of a bitch.”

“Sorry, Augie. You so pissed with him you don’t think he’s entitled to get his daughter back?”

He waved an angry hand at me. “We’re already looking for her. We’ve got a whole load of questions for her about this game she and Hanna Rodomski were playing.”

“I’ll try not to get in your people’s way,” I said. “Although that may be difficult, given the campaign of harassment you’ve been conducting against Sanders.”

“What in the hell are you talking about?” Bellowing.

“I’m talking about having cruisers parked on his street, watching him, trying to intimidate him. Cops frisking his daughter. Sanders is convinced you’ve even got his phone tapped.”

“That’s the biggest crock of horseshit I’ve ever heard.”

“Sanders blames you and all your surveillance for his daughter having to go to such lengths to get out of town without being noticed.”

His cheeks were getting red. I was reminded of a boiler on the brink of exploding.

“All bullshit,” Augie said.

“Here’s the thing,” I said. “When you go to a public meeting and tell the mayor your officers have never violated anyone’s rights, I know that’s a lie, and so does everyone in the room, but no one really cares, because everyone here is happy for you to treat the Constitution like it’s toilet paper. So what if you run roughshod over a bunch of punks from Buffalo? But if I know you’re lying then, how am I supposed to know whether you’re telling me the truth now?”

“I need my head read, helping you out.”

I moved toward the door. “What I’m doing has nothing to do with you or Sanders or any of the bad blood between you. I just want to find Claire. Once I do, maybe we can figure out who killed Hanna.”

Augie blinked, and a smile formed in the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you know?”

“Don’t I know what?”

“We made an arrest this morning.”

“You’ve charged someone with Hanna’s murder? Who?”

“The boyfriend.”

“Sean Skilling?”

“Yup.”

I let my arm fall away from the doorknob. “The kid’s got an alibi. One of your own people pulled him over for running a stop sign.”

“I asked around,” Augie said. “There’s no record of a ticket.”

“I told you, they didn’t write him a ticket. He got a warning.”

“What do you want from me, Cal?” Augie said. “I asked around — no one remembers pulling that kid over in his Ranger.”

“My gut says he didn’t do it.”

“Would your gut feel any different if it knew Hanna’s jeans and panties were found under the seat of his pickup truck?”

Augie arranged for me to reclaim my phone at reception on my way out. There were three messages. Two from Donna, who’d evidently gotten word that I was in some kind of trouble, and one from the manager of the landscaping company. Before making callbacks, I got a cab to take me back to where I’d left Donna’s car on the shoulder of the road when Brindle and Haines had picked me up. Then I trekked back to the police department and parked the car in the lot.

Then I phoned Donna.

“Your car’s where you usually leave it,” I said.

“I called you twice.”

“I was indisposed.”

“Which was why I called. I’d heard you were in the building. And not in one of the rooms where they hold community meetings.”

“Yeah, but it’s sorted out. How’d you hear?”

“Kate heard it from Marvin, and she told me. I called Augie, but by that time you were out.”

“He intervened.”

“They didn’t find something in the car, did they?” Donna said.

“No, it was something else.”

A pause. “Something else?”

“Yeah. I guess I’ve been pressing my luck. Something came back and bit me in the ass.”