Linwood Barclay - Too Close to Home

“Is it a stretch to think Colin McKindrick was feeling guilty about something? That he’d kill himself when you came asking about the Langleys?”

“Yeah, well, he might just have been depressed, Jim.”

“But you don’t know for sure.”

Barry bristled. “You seem to think you know everything. Well, wise one, here’s what I do know. I went to see him, identified myself through the intercom thing at the door, said I was with the police, looking into the Langley thing, and he told me to get the hell off his property or he’d start shooting right through the door. So I put in a call for backup, but before you could say ‘Bob’s your uncle’ the bastard shot himself. Front door was locked but I found my way in through the garage, found him in the hall, but some of his brains found their way to the kitchen.”

“Barry,” I said, not impressed by his attempt to shock me.

“But here’s what you don’t know,” Barry said. “Colin McKindrick spent from Friday night to Saturday morning in the drunk tank.”

I just looked at him.

“He was in the Promise Falls lockup. He’d been drinking downtown at Casey’s, apparently he’d been doing a lot of that since his son died, and even more since Albert got the guy off who did it. Got in his car, went weaving down Charlton Street, cop pulled him over, he blew off the scale, he got hauled in. His car, too.”

“He was in jail,” I said, more to myself than Barry. “When the Langleys were murdered.”

“The whole time. As alibis go, being in jail’s one of the better ones.”

I shook my head slowly. “Maybe he hired someone. McKindrick hired somebody to kill Albert Langley, ended up killing the bunch of them.”

Barry Duckworth made a face. “Hired killers. In Promise Falls. What do you think this is, Jim, Fargo ?”

I leaned my head back against the headrest. I was feeling exhausted.

“So,” Barry said, getting back on track, “the case is open, and I’m still asking questions, which is why I’m asking you about this not-an-affair you had with Donna Langley.”

“Why don’t you tell me what her sister said, and I’ll see what I have to say,” I said.

One corner of Barry’s mouth went up a notch. “That’s good, Jim. That’s really good. But I don’t think you understand how this whole criminal investigation thing works. I don’t tell you the other person’s story first so that you can get yours to line up with it. That was one of the first things they taught me back in detective school.”

I looked straight ahead and said nothing.

“Look, Jim, we’ve known each other a pretty long time. Ever since you went to work for Finley. I think you’re a pretty good guy. I’m trying to be straight with you. I didn’t sit down at your kitchen table and ask you this question with Ellen there. I’m trying to cut you some slack. So play ball with me here.”

“You could have asked me this in front of Ellen,” I said. “Because nothing ever happened.” I paused. “Not really.”

“There’s a couple of weasel words if I ever heard them,” Barry said.

“It was a long time ago. Not long after Ellen got her job at Thackeray. I was working outside, Donna came over because her power was out, I went over, flipped a breaker-”

Barry snickered. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

I shook my head. “She kissed me. I mean, we kissed each other. She wanted me to have sex with her, but I didn’t go through with it.”

“Okay,” said Barry skeptically.

“It’s the truth. She. . Donna seemed like a very unhappy person. There was a sadness in her. I think trying to get me into her bed was a way of dealing with that.” I thought about that for a moment. “Maybe there were other men, other than me, that she was a little more successful with.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Barry said.

“I’m telling you the truth. After it happened-almost happened-I decided to try to fix what was wrong in my marriage, to put things back together.”

“There was trouble between you and Ellen?” Barry asked.

Shit. I hadn’t intended to open that door. Especially now that, with the news that Colin McKindrick couldn’t have killed the Langleys, I was again considering telling Barry about the missing computer with Conrad’s book on it. I didn’t want him thinking I was acting out of malice, that I was trying to get Conrad in trouble to settle an old score.

“Just. . it was a bit rocky,” I said. “I was, I don’t know, kind of distant. A bit depressed, unhappy with where I was in life. Ellen had thrown herself into her job, and maybe I was a bit jealous of that.”

Barry, one hand on the wheel, pointed at a doughnut shop with the other. “Want a coffee or something?”

“Too hot,” I said. “Maybe you could turn around and take me back. Derek’s probably done and waiting for me.”

Barry pulled off at the doughnut shop and got in the drive-through line. “Medium coffee, black, and a chocolate dip doughnut,” he said into the speaker.

When he had the window back up, I said, “So now that you’ve ruled out McKindrick, do you have any other leads?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, inching the car forward to the delivery window.

“Like what?” I asked.

“This and that.”

“What about other clients Albert had? Somebody at the law firm?”

“You bet, we’re looking into all of that.”

I decided the time was right. “I might have something for you.”

He turned, raised his eyebrows. “That so?”

“Yeah. You know when you took Derek through the house Sunday morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Afterwards, he was talking to me, and he realized he’d noticed something. He wasn’t even sure it was a big deal, which is why he didn’t mention it to you, but it was kind of bugging him.”

“Hang on,” Barry said. We were at the window. Barry gave the clerk a five, got some change and his coffee and doughnut. “You’re sure you don’t want anything?” he asked me. “Maybe something cold for Derek? One of these frosty things?”

“We’re good.”

Once he had his coffee in the holder and we were back on the road to my job site, he said, “So, go on.”

“Derek says there was a computer in Adam’s room, one of those bulky tower things, that was there as recently as Thursday, the day before the murders, but he didn’t see it there Sunday when we did the walk-through.”

“A computer?”

“Yeah.”

Barry shrugged. “Derek said this.” There was something, I don’t know, dismissive in his voice.

“That’s right,” I said.

“How’s Derek know about this computer?”

I told him about Agnes Stockwell giving it to him, that it was old, that it had belonged to her son, Brett.

“Jumped off Promise Falls,” Barry said. “I remember that.” He reached into the bag with one hand and worked out his chocolate dip doughnut. “So this was Derek’s computer in Adam’s room, then.”

“Yeah. They both tinkered around with old computers.”

“Well, I’ll keep that in mind, Jim. It might be important and it might not be-”

“There was a book on the computer. A novel. Brett Stockwell was a writer.”

“That’s great, Jim,” he said between bites. “You mind prying that little cap back on the coffee for me? I can’t do it while I’m driving.”

I peeled back the lid and gently put the cup back in the holder. It was filled right to the top and a sharp turn would see it spilling all over the place.

“The book was virtually identical to A Missing Part, ” I said.

“ A Missing who?”

“You don’t know that book? By Conrad Chase?”

“What the fuck did you call it?”

“ A Missing Part. It’s a novel.”