Joseph Kanon - Los Alamos

“He wanted me to do him. I don’t do that.”

“You tell him this?”

“Sure, but he don’t want to listen, you know? And then he’s all over me, so—”

“So you hit him. With what, by the way?”

“With what?” Connolly could see his face working, sorting through answers.

“Yes. Did you just use your fists, or did you have something?”

“A branch,” he said quickly. “It was lying there right on the ground. Hey, what do you want to know all this for?”

“And you threw it away afterward?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t remember too well.”

“But you do remember hitting him.”

“Yeah, I said I did. I didn’t know he was dead, I just thought he was out, you know.”

Holliday got up then and walked over to the window.

“You must have been pretty angry,” Connolly said smoothly.

“I was surprised, you know? I just did the first thing that came into my head. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

“What surprised you? The sex?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t expect it from him? Was that because he was Mexican too?”

He could feel Holliday turn to them from the window, watching Kelly’s confused face. Kelly hesitated for a minute, then said, “No. It was just the surprise, you know.”

“Ramon, have you ever been to San Isidro?”

“What’s that? A church?”

“Yes. Ever hear of it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a church in Santa Fe. You ever go there?”

“I don’t go to church much.” Then, suspicious, “What do you ask that for?”

“The man you killed-the man you hit-used to go there. I just wondered if you’d ever gone there with him.”

“I told you, I only saw him the one time. No, I didn’t go to no church with him. What do you think?”

Holliday sat down again. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “You know, Ramon, the police really appreciate cooperation.”

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at Holliday. Connolly came from somewhere else; this was the devil he knew.

“Makes our job a lot easier, so we appreciate that. When you make it easier for us, then we’re more inclined to-well, make it easier for you.”

“Yeah.”

“When we understand something, we got a much better idea what the charge should be. Like here, for instance. Somebody might think first off this is nothing but a murder one, you know, but when they understand it, when they know all the facts, they might think it’s not so bad. We don’t want you to hang for something you didn’t do.”

Connolly sat back, watching him work.

“That’s right,” Kelly said. “That Jack Duncan. That wasn’t no murder, that was just a fight, you know?”

“That’s what it sounds like to me. The boys down here understand that? They explain that to you?”

Ramon looked up at him. “Yeah, they explained it.”

“Good. You know, it’s a funny thing, boy in your position. Sometimes the police are the best friends you got.”

Ramon absentmindedly rubbed his cheek. “Yeah.”

“So you’d just want to go right on cooperating with them, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, we got two dead bodies here, so we got some kind of trouble, but that don’t have to be murder trouble, does it? Not the worst kind. I mean, two counts of second ain’t nowhere near as serious as even one first. You still got your life. They explain that to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good. Now I got one more question. After you hit the guy, you go through his pockets some?”

Kelly hesitated for a minute, suspecting a trap, then went ahead. “Yeah, okay, I did. What the hell-I figured he owed me something.”

“Uh-huh. You find much?”

“I don’t remember. Some. Not much.”

“You throw the wallet away too?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What about the car?”

“I don’t know nothing about a car.”

“Oh, well, maybe he didn’t have one. You didn’t find any keys, huh? Just the wallet.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just a wallet.”

Holliday turned to Connolly. “Anything else you want to know?”

“No. I guess that’s it,” Connolly said. “Better get the guard.”

“You got another cigarette?” Ramon said.

“Sure. Anything else we can do for you?”

Kelly stood up, the cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I’d sure like to get out of solitary. Think you could do something about that? I mean, it’s not like they’re accusing me of being a murderer or something.”

Afterward they stood on the steps of the building, caught in the glare of the afternoon sun. Holliday lit a cigarette, ignoring Connolly, looking deliberately at the street. Only a few cars broke the quiet.

“Well, that explains the warm welcome,” Connolly finally said.

Holliday just continued smoking.

“How do you want to play this?” Connolly said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Holliday said, his voice low.

“Yes you do. They can’t railroad a confession like this. Who the hell do they think they are, anyway?”

“I don’t know that one either.”

“Is this just some more Wild West stuff? What do they think’s going to happen when he talks to a lawyer?”

Holliday sighed. “Well, that’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Lawyer gets him to change his statement and he’ll hang for sure.”

“But he didn’t do it.”

“He did the first one all right.”

“Then let him take the rap for that.”

“Well, aren’t you the hanging judge. I don’t know as I’d recommend that if I was his lawyer.”

“They’re going to hang him anyway.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know that. Maybe he thinks it’s worth the chance.”

“This is what they’re doing in Germany, for Christ’s sake.”

“In New York City too, I hear.”

“We don’t beat phony confessions out of people just to make the police look good.”

“No? Well, then I stand corrected.”

“You’re not going to do anything about this, are you?”

Holliday turned to face him, his expression more weary than angry. “Just what did you have in mind?”

“It’s not right.”

“I didn’t say it was. But it’s done. Kelly’s a little punk who’s probably going to get better than he deserves. The boys here are going to take credit for solving crimes they probably couldn’t ever have solved anyway. Nothing worse than a murder hanging over you. People don’t like it, makes them feel uneasy. So now everybody can just go about his business. Until the next guy goes out in the parking lot-but at least he won’t have Kelly getting his rocks off and playing with knives. So maybe everybody’s better off all around.”

“Except us. We’ve still got a murder to solve.”

Holliday didn’t say anything.

“You’re keeping the case open, aren’t you? You know he didn’t kill Bruner.”

“I can’t, Mike,” Holliday said quietly. “He’ll have my badge. I can’t go against him like that.”

“Don’t, then. Just don’t close the case.”

“It’s closed.”

“Doc, you’ve always been straight with me. At least I think you have.”

“Then don’t ask me to do something I can’t do,” he said, his voice resigned.

Connolly stared at him. “You know I can’t let this go.”

“Maybe. But as a police matter, it’s closed. What you get to up there on the Hill is your business.”

“I still need your help.”

He looked at the street, deciding. “What, exactly? I can’t hold every drifter who passes through town.”

“And I can’t go talking to everybody who lives around San Isidro. Only the police can do that.”

“Why San Isidro?”

“Because Bruner was killed there. Somebody must have seen something. There’s always somebody.”