Brian Freeman - Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7)

Howard said nothing. The other jurors nodded their heads.

‘All right, but what about Skinner’s testimony that Dr. Snow asked him about getting a gun?’ Eleanor said. ‘I just don’t think I believe him about that. They were lovers. Frankly, if she wanted a gun, he would have gotten her one. And he didn’t do that.’

Bruce pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘Yeah. Yeah, I guess I’m with you on that.’

‘Let’s focus on what we do know,’ Eleanor went on. ‘In her statement to the police, Dr. Snow admitted that she was home when the murder occurred. She admitted arguing with her husband, which was confirmed by testimony from Cindy Stride. Mrs. Stride also testified that Dr. Snow wanted to get a divorce, but she couldn’t because she felt trapped.’

‘Feeling trapped doesn’t mean she killed her husband,’ Howard insisted.

‘She’s a pill junkie!’ Bruce barked. ‘Ferris was holding it over her head. You bet she was trapped. And she only had one way out. Bang!’

There was silence again. The twelve of them looked at each other, and Howard felt all of them looking at him. The man with doubt. The only man who wasn’t ready to throw Janine into the fire.

Stride pulled up to the gravel driveway of Jessie Klayman’s house in the town of Gary. It was on Dickson Street, near where the road dead-ended. The house was single-level, with a detached garage and wooden steps leading to the front door. The large yard was mostly scrub grass and weeds, and in back, the lot butted up to a line of trees. He saw two cars in the driveway, a green Dodge Neon and a rusted Pontiac Firebird.

He got out on one side of his Bronco, and Maggie got out on the other.

‘Know where we are?’ she asked, pointing down the street to 108th. ‘Turn left there and left again on Becks—’

‘Ely’s Peak,’ Stride said.

‘Yeah.’

He studied the small house. He’d walked up ordinary driveways to ordinary houses too many times to take it lightly. The outside never told him what was happening inside. ‘Stay alert,’ he said.

They headed for the front door, where he pressed the doorbell and heard the chime. Thirty seconds passed before a woman answered. She pushed the storm door open and smiled, but her eyes were wary. If this woman worked security, she knew how to recognize cops.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked. Her voice had the overexcited trill of a bird at dawn.

‘Are you Jessie Klayman?’ Stride asked. When the woman nodded, he said, ‘My name’s Jonathan Stride, and this is Maggie Bei. We’re with the Duluth Police.’ He showed her his badge, but she hardly looked at it.

‘Yeah, I figured,’ the woman replied, smoothing her dyed-red hair with dyed-red fingernails. She was pudgy and short, and she wore a form-fitting Twins T-shirt with jean shorts. ‘What’s up?’

‘We just have a couple questions for you. May we come inside?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’

She waved them into her living room. A game show blared from the television. The room smelled of beer. So did Jessie’s breath. Stride saw the kitchen adjacent to the living room, where dirty dishes mingled with empty Budweiser cans. There was no air conditioning, and the shadowy interior was warm with stale air that hung in the room.

‘You were on the security team during the marathon last month, weren’t you?’ Maggie asked her.

‘Yeah.’

‘We’re trying to identify the man who’s standing next to you in this picture.’

Jessie took the photograph from Maggie with two thick fingers. The glib smile on her face wavered. ‘Why are you looking for him?’

‘Do you know him?’ Stride asked.

‘Has he done something?’

‘Ms. Klayman, is this your son?’ Maggie asked. ‘Troy Grange thought it was.’

She sat down on the old sofa. An empty bag of Doritos was on the coffee table in front of her. ‘Okay, yeah, that’s Ross. So what?’

‘Is he here?’ Stride asked.

‘No.’

Stride eyed the hallway that led to the bedrooms. ‘Does your son live with you?’

‘Yes. What is this about?’

‘We’d just like to talk to him. Do you know when he’ll be back?’

‘No, he went for a walk. Do you think Ross has done something wrong? Because he hasn’t. He’s a great kid.’

Maggie withdrew another photograph from her pocket. This one was a blurry picture taken by Jay Ferris near Ely’s Peak, showing a man in camouflage aiming an assault rifle. ‘What about this photograph?’ she asked. ‘Is this Ross?’

Jessie studied it. ‘I don’t know. I can’t make out the face.’

‘Do you or Ross own a rifle like this?’

She shrugged. ‘We have guns. They’re all legal.’

‘Including a Bushmaster rifle?’ Maggie persisted.

‘Yeah, so what? I told you, they’re all legal.’

‘What about handguns?’

‘Yeah, we have some. Sure. I don’t have to remind you guys about the Second Amendment, do I? A person would have to be nuts not to carry a gun in this day and age. No offense to cops, but I don’t have time to wait for a patrol car to mosey over here if someone breaks into my house.’

‘Would you mind if we take a look at Ross’s room?’ Maggie asked.

Jessie folded her arms across her ample chest. The chirrup in her voice rose higher. ‘Actually, I do mind. You come in here asking all these questions about my son, and you won’t tell me what’s going on.’

Stride exchanged a glance with Maggie. ‘Well, thank you very much for your time, Ms. Klayman. We’d appreciate it if you or Ross could give us a call when he’s back. We need to meet with him in person.’

She shrugged. ‘Okay, but it’s a waste of time. He hasn’t done anything.’

Stride and Maggie let themselves out of the small house and returned to his Bronco. He turned on the engine, and a song by Sara Evans began playing on the stereo. ‘Born to Fly’. He put the truck in park but kept his foot on the brake.

‘You think it’s the same guy?’ Maggie asked him. ‘That Jay Ferris spotted Ross Klayman at Ely’s Peak?’

‘Probably, but I don’t think we’ll be able to prove it. We don’t have enough for a warrant to test their guns.’

‘The jury’s already out. Do we need to tell Dan about this?’

‘Yeah, I’ll tell him, for what it’s worth,’ Stride said. ‘It’s up to him whether he wants to disclose it to Gale. I don’t think this changes anything at all with regard to the case.’

Maggie glanced at the house, where Jessie Klayman stood at her front door, watching them. When the woman turned away, Maggie slid sunglasses over her face. ‘You don’t have any doubts about the case, boss?’

‘What, that Janine killed Jay?’ Stride asked. ‘No, I don’t.’

‘None at all?’

‘No reasonable doubt,’ he said. ‘That’s the only thing that matters.’

An hour later, Jessie jumped as she felt a hand tickling the back of her neck. She spun around and saw Ross standing behind the sofa. His lips folded into a grin. He could always sneak up on her.

‘You scared the crap out of me!’ she exclaimed.

‘Sorry.’

He wore an army hat, with the brim pulled low, and wraparound shades. A black tank top left his shoulders and skinny arms bare, exposing his tattoo of a skeleton dressed for combat. His skin glowed with sweat from the heat of the day, and he smelled of pine. He wore camouflage pants and heavy trail boots.

Jessie went back to her game show. ‘The police were here for you,’ she told him.

Ross didn’t say anything. She turned and saw her son staring down at her from behind his shades. The grin was gone. His mouth had no expression. She saw a twitch ripple through his bones.

‘Did you hear me?’ she said. ‘The police were asking about you.’