Jeffery Deaver - The Lesson of Her Death

"What investigation?"

"What I'm saying. About Corde, about him eighty-sixing the evidence. But he wasn't ever found innocent. They just dropped it."

Treadle's eyes brightened. "Think that's something we can use?"

"I suppose that depends," Cooper said, "on whether we want to use it or not."

Bill Corde was talking on the pay phone to Diane. It was after dusk and he was in front of Dregg's Variety, perilously close to Route 117. Every sixth or seventh car whipped by so fast he felt his uniform tugged by the slipstream as if the drivers were playing a fun game of cop-grazing.

"Jamie?" Corde asked, "What's the matter with him?"

"He got home late. He didn't call or anything. I want you to talk to him. It's the second night in a row."

"Well, I will. But I'm…" Corde let the cyclone from a Mack eighteen-wheeler spin past then continued, "But I'm a little busy right at the moment. This lead on the Gebben case. He's okay?"

Diane said testily, "Of course he's okay. I just said he's okay."

"I'm out here on the highway," Corde said to explain his distraction. Then he added, "I'll talk to him tonight."

"I don't want you to talk to him. I wanted…"

"What?"

"Nothing."

Corde ignored the brittleness and asked, "How's Sarah?"

"She had a good session with Ben and she said she did two more chapters of her book. The insurance money didn't come again today. I was thinking maybe you should call…"

I'm out here in the middle of the highway.

Diane continued, "It's over two thousand. Mom had her ovaries out for three thousand five. I'm so glad Ben's only twenty an hour. That's a lifesaver."

"Right." Who's Ben? Oh, the tutor. "Well," Corde said, "that's good. I better go."

"Wait. One more thing. The team can't get a bus for the match in Higgins. Jamie wants to know if we can drive him and Davey?"

"I guess. Sure."

"You won't forget? It's the last match of the season."

"I won't forget."

Another car was approaching. This one didn't speed past. It stopped. Corde looked up and saw Steve Ribbon and Jack Treadle looking at him. Ribbon was solemn.

Oh, brother.

It was Jack Treadle's car – a bottom-of-the-line Mercedes though it had a big fancy car phone. They pulled in front of Corde's cruiser and parked. The two men got out. He realized Diane was saying something to him. He said, "Gotta go. Be back around eight." He hung up.

Treadle stayed in the car. Ribbon walked toward Corde. They nodded greetings. "How's that lead of yours panning out, Bill?" he asked with no interest.

"Slow but we're making progress."

Ribbon said, "How about we walk over that way?" He pointed to a shady spot of new-cut grass beside an enormous oak.

Something familiar here. Haven't we done this before?

Corde walked along under the tree's massive branches, studying Ribbon's expression then focusing on Treadle's. He fished a nickel out of his pocket and did the coin trick.

There were many things to think about but the one concern he settled on was purely practical: how he was going to break the news to Diane that he'd been fired.

"We could sell the car."

Diane Corde had been cleaning out the cupboards. There were cans and boxes covering the counters and tabletop. Corde pulled off his shoes and sat at the kitchen table. A pork-and-beans can rolled toward him. He caught it as it fell off the table. He read the label for a moment then set it down again.

"The car?" he asked.

Diane said, "You got the axe, ain't the end of the world. We can sell the second car, don't need it anyway, and that'll save us the insurance and upkeep."

He looked back at the bottle. "Why you think I got fired?"

"You looking as mournful as you do presently got something to do with it."

Bill Corde said, "They offered me the job of sheriff."

After all these years of marriage there were still a few times when she couldn't tell when he was joking. She put away two cans of pinto beans, reached for a third then stopped.

Corde said, "I'm serious."

"I'm guessing there'd be a little more to it."

"They bailed Steve Ribbon out. He blew the case bad but he's in tight with Bull Cooper and Jack Treadle so they're moving him up to some plush job with the county. I'm sheriff. Jim Slocum takes over on felony investigations. T.T. got fired. With this new witness, we know that Philip was innocent. They needed somebody to blame for the boy's death. T.T. took the hit."

"But I thought there was an inquiry?"

"He's not been charged with anything. He's just been fired."

"That's too bad. I always liked him. He's a good man."

"He's a damn good man," Corde said vehemently.

She sat on the kitchen chair that Corde held out for her. They'd refinished these chairs themselves. A memory smell of the sulfury Rock Magic stripper came back to him.

She said, "And it's T.T.'s the reason you're upset?"

"Partly. And I'd have to give up investigating."

"So what you're worried about is sitting behind a desk?"

"Yeah," Corde said. Then figuring he shouldn't be lying to her at least when it was so clear a lie: "No. What it is is Slocum'd take over the Gebben case."

"Well?"

Corde laughed. "Honey, I've worked with Slocum for years. God bless him but Jim could catch a killer liming the body with the victim's wallet in his hip pocket and the murder knife in his teeth and he'd still screw up the case."

Diane stared at the groceries for a long moment as if looking for something good about the deputy. She said, "I guess."

"I'm not inclined to let go of this one."

Diane said, "You won't like my question but I suppose they'd be paying you more money."

"Some."

"How much?"

"Five."

"Hundred?"

"Thousand."

"Ah." There was enough reverence in her voice to send a bristle of pain all the way through Corde. Diane stood up. The third bean can joined its siblings on the shelf and then she started on the spices. "You haven't eaten. What should we have for dinner? You interested in burritos?"

"I don't want this fellow to get away."

"Slocum taking the case doesn't mean he's going to get away. Jim won't be the only one working on it, will he be?"

"There'll be some rookie from the county probably. The case's an embarrassment now. They just want it to go away."

Diane gave up on the packaged goods. "Just let me ask you. Say this fellow hadn't left those pictures of Sarrie for us. Would you still be this hot after him?"

"Maybe not."

"That hadn't happened you'd take the job?"

Corde said, "I always wanted to be sheriff."

"Well, he didn't do anything to Sarrie and he's gone now. He's scooted, hasn't he?"

"Maybe. Not necessarily."

Diane paused for a moment. "You've wanted this for a long time. Everybody in town thinks more of you than Steve Ribbon. You could get yourself elected as often as you want."

"I can't tell you I don't want it bad… And I better say it: With Steve gone, they need a new sheriff. It'll be either me or Slocum. We're senior."

Diane said, "Well, honey, I don't think you should pass it up. You can't be working for Jim. I just can't see that at all."

Corde smiled in frustration. "It'd be hard to do that to New Lebanon. Believe you me."

She ripped open a cello pack of beef chuck cubes. They fell out glistening and soft on the cutting board. She picked up a knife and began to slice the cubes smaller. She wished she could talk to Ben Breck about this. Not ask his advice but just tell him what she felt. Without looking at her husband she said, "I've got to be honest with you, Bill…" She rarely used his name. Sometimes in connection with expensive presents he'd just given her, more often in connection with sentences like that one.