Джон Коннолли - The Dirty South

‘Did he give a reason?’

‘The damage to Estella Jackson was far greater than that inflicted on Donna Lee and Patricia. Also, in Jackson’s case some of it was meted out while she was still alive. The conduct of the Hartley investigation means we don’t have much more than Cade’s word for most details, but we’ve both seen the instant photographs taken by the forensic analyst. Those branches were inserted very deliberately, and very deeply, into Patricia Hartley – even the fall down the slope didn’t succeed in dislodging them entirely – but any other injuries occurred when the body hit the rocks, not from the actions of her killer. With Donna Lee, you got to see the body exactly as the killer intended. Again, he didn’t go tearing at her face or groin, despite the stab wounds: what mattered was the placement of the branches. So, bearing all that in mind, I’m disposed to agree with Cade.’

‘Two killers,’ said Griffin. ‘And I already thought events couldn’t get any more complicated.’

Parker added to Griffin’s woes by telling him of his conversations with Ferdy Bowers and Loyd Holt, and the apparent removal of Wadena Ott from the county, almost certainly at the instigation of Jurel Cade.

‘If that’s what passes for cooperation around here,’ said Parker, ‘I’d hate to encounter obstruction.’

‘Damn Jurel and his ways,’ said Griffin, ‘but you wouldn’t have got much out of Wadena anyway.’

‘I’d bought her a bottle of cherry brandy.’

‘Then I retract my last statement.’

‘What are you going to do next?’ said Parker.

‘I’m going to wait for the autopsy results to come back, just in case they throw up any more surprises, before I go sounding the alarm. I’ve already pulled up the most recent photos of Hollis Ward in the hope that we can start circulating them once we receive the full report from the ME. But most everyone in the county of a reasonable age knows what Hollis looks like, so it’s not as though they’re going to require pictures to jog their memories. We still need to talk to Tilon Ward, but we may have to find Pruitt Dix first, and if we can’t, we’ll rattle Randall Butcher’s cage.’

‘And Rhinehart?’

‘I’ll be speaking with Denny soon enough. Right now, though, Jurel Cade doesn’t know about Hollis Ward’s fingerprint, and the longer that state of affairs persists, the better.’

‘Why?’

‘Tilon Ward. If Jurel finds out about the fingerprint, he’ll use the excuse of the father to go after the son, and this will stop being about dead girls and become more about narcotics and settling scores. Tilon Ward is connected to Randall Butcher. We know that because Pruitt Dix is the one who took Tilon out of town, and Dix comes running when Randall Butcher whistles. The Cades would enjoy nothing better than to see Butcher put out of commission, because he’s unwanted competition in the county, and Ferdy Bowers would be collateral damage. That’s a lot of pieces wiped off the board with one move.’

Once again, Parker resisted the urge to question Griffin about his own links to Tilon Ward. He had a feeling the inquiry wouldn’t be welcomed. If the mood struck, he thought he might try Colson or Naylor, who might be more amenable to sharing such information.

‘What about you?’ said Griffin. ‘What are you planning to do after your sitdown with Nealus Cade?’

‘I want to talk to Eddy Rauls. Even if Jurel Cade is right about two killers, there has to be a link back to Estella Jackson. I don’t believe that whoever murdered Patricia Hartley and Donna Lee Kernigan decided to desecrate their bodies with branches just because of some half-remembered detail from an older murder. It means something, and Rauls may have some inkling of what it could be. Also, I want to find out what he remembers about Hollis Ward’s statement, and why it might have been important enough for someone to make it go missing.’

‘Call Colson,’ said Griffin. ‘Her father and Rauls have been friends for a long time. It might help to make the old fart more amenable to conversation. He took being forced out of his job pretty hard.’

‘I’ll do that. Once I’ve spoken with him, I’ll get back to you. I made a list of names from the case files, and thought we should look at talking again to some of the people on it, but it may be that whatever Rauls has to say will enable us to narrow the focus, especially if he can point us toward anyone familiar with Hollis Ward.’

‘Okay. Man, Hollis Ward.’

‘Does it surprise you?’

Griffin ruminated over this. ‘I believe Hollis had it in him to kill someone. He had a streak of cruelty to him a mile wide, and no love for any living creature. But I’d convinced myself he was dead, and I dislike having my illusions shattered.’

‘One fingerprint,’ said Parker.

‘A perfect fingerprint. I think it would be hard to leave unintentionally. I’ve messed up my share of fingerprints, and I’ve lost count of the number I’ve taken. If it is Hollis, he wanted that print to be found. He wanted us to know it was his handiwork.’

‘Did Ward have a grudge against the Cades?’

‘Hollis worked for Pappy for a time, until he didn’t. He was a fixer, of a kind.’

‘What kind exactly?’

‘The kind that dealt with problems requiring a firm hand.’

‘What changed between them?’

‘That’s a question for the Cades to answer.’

One fingerprint , thought Parker.

‘It’s a shame there was no autopsy on Patricia Hartley,’ he said.

‘Because it might have revealed a similar print on her body?’

‘Yes.’

‘If the evidence hadn’t been destroyed, I could have prevailed upon Tucker McKenzie to go back to the negatives and try to enlarge them.’

‘Don’t worry about it. If you get Hollis Ward for Donna Lee, you’ll also have him for the Hartley killing. Speaking of which, did Billie have any luck tracing the Hartley family down in Lonsdale?’

‘Nope,’ said Griffin. ‘She managed to talk to someone else in the building, though, who said the Hartleys moved out yesterday, leaving no forwarding address.’

‘Just like Wadena Ott,’ said Parker. ‘As you said, damn Jurel and his ways. Look, I have to go. I’m at the Dairy Bell now.’

‘Be careful of the peach pie,’ Griffin advised. ‘It may look light, but the memory of it lingers in the digestion.’

‘Thanks for the advice. I’ll avoid it.’

‘Don’t be too hasty. If you see fit to pick one up on your way out, I’ll reimburse you out of petty cash.’

‘I thought you said it lingers.’

‘It does,’ said Griffin, ‘but it lingers good.’

70

Leonard Cresil returned to the motel and knocked on the door of Charles Shire’s room.

‘It’s me, Mr Shire.’

‘Come in. It’s unlocked.’

Shire was sitting at the room’s single table. His laptop was open, and connected to the Internet. Cresil did not use the Internet, and distrusted cell phones – all phones, if he was being honest. He had never yet encountered a situation that could not be best handled in person. Those who were forced to contend with Cresil’s physical presence in their lives might have differed, but he bothered little with their opinion.

Shire paid Cresil well for his work, and didn’t ask too many questions about how the ends were achieved. Unlike Cresil, Shire was married and had a family. He spoke to his wife twice daily on the road, once in the morning before his children left for school, and once in the evening before they went to bed. Cresil had occasionally been privy to these conversations and was struck by the absence of warmth in the exchanges. Shire might as easily have been checking on a set of underperforming minor investments, or the progress of some repairs on his car. He was a man almost entirely without amiability, or anything approaching character or charisma, yet he was extraordinarily good at brokering agreements and gaining the confidence of politicians and businessmen. Perhaps those with whom he had dealings believed that no man so dull could ever prove untrustworthy, because duplicity required imagination. In this much they might have been correct: Charles Shire was corrupt down to the marrow of his bones, but his corruption was undisguised, and balanced by an innate understanding of the corruption of others, whether actual or potential, which made him an adept negotiator. His was also corruption for its own sake: Shire did not live an ostentatious existence, drive a particularly expensive car, or overly resent staying in motels as unremarkable as the Lakeside Inn. Neither did he indulge in narcotics, drink to excess, or cheat on his wife. It was simply in his nature to manipulate and undermine – whether people, systems, or institutions both private and public – for the ultimate benefit of his employer, Kovas being only the most recent in a long line. Once the Burdon County agreements were signed, Shire would remain in place for a few months to ensure that his efforts were bearing fruit before accepting a generous payoff and moving on to pollute pastures new.