Execution of Innocence (8 page)

Riles spoke to his friend. “Handcuff these young women. And while you're at it, put plastic bags over each of their hands. When we get back to town I want to check their skin for powder marks.” Riles stepped close to Hannah and breathed frost in her face. “Did you wash your hands tonight, Hannah? Did you wash them real well?”

Hannah did not seem scared at all. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”

CHAPTER EIGHT

It was the night of the murder. But no one was supposed to die, Mary had understood. They were just supposed to scare Charlie. Scare him out of his pants so he’d feel bad about everything he had done to Mary. And then…then he was supposed to want her back. In Mary’s mind, even then, this one and one did not add up to two. Mary knew she was dealing in fractions of reality. Charlie was two dimensional, and he couldn’t possibly conform to her simple equation. Still, she was so mad at him she didn't really care if he did or didn’t.

And that was as untrue as anything could possibly be.

They
were Mary, Hannah, and Dick.

They were sitting in the Pizza Palace eating—what else—pizza. The time was between nine and ten. So later, what Mary told Riles and Sharp was true. But just the first part. Charlie had never been to the Pizza Palace that night. He was supposed to meet Mary at twelve midnight at the Crossroads, as far as Mary knew. She had called him and asked him to meet her. They were going to
talk
out their problems. He had agreed to come, and she had been surprised.

“Charlie wanted to know why the hell we had to meet out there,” Mary said to Dick and Hannah. They were sitting in a booth in the corner. The place was crowded and loud; it was all the town had going on Friday night. Mary kept glancing around to see if anyone she knew was there, and, lo and behold, she realized she knew everyone. She was pissed at Hannah for talking her into such a stupid plan. And it was stupid, there was no debating that.

“That doesn't matter,” Hannah said, blowing smoke.

“One place is as good as another,” Dick said.

Mary chewed on cold crust. “I don't know why we’re doing this.”

“We don't have to do it,” Dick said.

“Shut up,” Hannah said.

Dick shrugged. “He's such an ape. How do I know he won't attack me?”

“Because you'll be the one with the gun, stupid,” Hannah said.

Dick gave a weird grin and looked at Mary. “And what do I get out of all this?”

“The thrill of the scare,” Hannah said.

“I want sex,” Dick said flatly.

“Subtle, aren't we?” Mary said.

Dick drank his beer. He was, of course, underage but that didn't seem to matter in Maple. “I tried subtlety and it didn’t work,” he said.

“Sticking your tongue in my mouth was not subtle,” Mary said. She threw her pizza crust aside and leaned closer. “Do this tonight and get me into Stanford, and then you get some of what you want.”

Dick was amused. “The hookers in Vegas aren’t as pricey as this.”

“But you don't want a hooker,” Mary said.

Dick snorted. “Isn’t that what I'm getting?”

Mary started to slap him. Hannah caught her hand midflight.

“Why are you so interested in her body, anyway?” Hannah asked her brother, putting Mary’s hand back in its proper place, or almost.

Dick eyed her and it seemed a familiar inspection. “For the same reasons you are, sis.”

Mary blinked. “Am I missing something?” She realized right then that she was. Her hand was on Hannah’s knee. She quickly took it off.

Hannah didn't care. “You take care of your end and I’m sure Mary will take care of hers.”

“Where did you get the gun?” Mary asked Dick.

Dick was looking out the window. “Does it matter? I have one, a revolver, and I have blanks as well.”

“Are you absolutely sure they’re blanks?” Mary asked for the second time. She had no idea where Dick or anyone could possibly buy such things.

Dick stared out the window and contemplated the external darkness. “They're blanks,” he finally answered. “They won’t even scratch your pretty boy.”

“We assume you tested them on yourself,” Hannah said.

Dick burped. “That’s right.”

Mary shook her head. “This plan is no plan at all. It is totally unsophisticated. I'm supposed to meet Charlie in the woods and then you're going to jump out from behind a tree and start shooting. I mean, what the hell kind of plan is that?”

“I'm not going to sit out there in the cold and wait for you guys,” Dick said. “I'm going to drive up shooting.”

Mary was disgusted. “That’s even worse. That really won’t work.”

“We're not planning a bank robbery,” Hannah said. “We want Charlie to piss his pants. It’s better to keep it simple and stupid. Believe me, when Dick starts firing Charlie will start running.”

“Then what?” Mary asked.

Hannah stubbed out her cigarette in the cold crust. “Then you can start laughing your head off, who cares? Then you tell Charlie he's been an asshole and you make love and make up.”

“In that order?” Mary asked.

“What are you bitching about?” Hannah asked. “I’m doing you a favor. You said you wanted to kill the guy.”

“I think we should kill him,” Dick muttered.

Mary put her hand to her head and groaned. “I feel like I'm getting in over my head.”

Hannah lit another cigarette, holding it in her left hand. “You're a lightweight, this is nothing.”

Dick was suddenly concerned. “Charlie could go to the police and report me.”

Hannah waved her hand. “He’ll be too embarrassed when he realizes they were just blanks.”

“Charlie is no fan of the police,” Mary muttered. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Do I have to worry about the terms of collection?” Dick asked.

Mary fidgeted. “You’re despicable.”

Dick was happy again. “You can close your eyes and pretend it's Charlie.”

Mary growled. “Scaring Charlie is secondary to getting me into Stanford.”

“Then you can pay me back on the installment plan,” Dick said.

Mary stared at him and realized with sudden clarity that she would never sleep with him, no matter what he did for her. Of course, once she was accepted at Stanford it would be hard for them to un-accept her. Dick wanted her so bad that he didn’t know how stupid he was being.

“Payment is only made upon full delivery,” she said to him.

He looked at her as if he knew what she was thinking. Maybe he did; maybe he didn’t care. He stood suddenly and thrust his hands deep in his coat pockets. Something was buried in there, maybe it was the gun. Again she wondered where he would have bought blanks.

“I'm going to the movies,” Dick said abruptly.

Hannah was annoyed. “You don’t have time for a movie. You have to be at the Crossroads at exactly twelve-ten.”

“The movie is over at twenty to twelve,” he said. “I checked.”

“What movie?” Hannah demanded. “
Ashes of Agony?
It started ten minutes ago. You can’t go; it's not fair.”

“I'm going; it's Friday night,” Dick said, and walked away.

Hannah sprang out of her seat. “I'll talk to him, Mary. You stay here.”

“I don't want to stay here,” Mary said. She could taste the pizza in her throat and it was not inspiring. Hannah paused to stare at her. Mary wondered if she was looking at her in a sexual way. It was just a thought.

“I’ll meet you in an hour in the center of the square,” Hannah said finally.

“I don’t like this,” Mary said.

Hannah smiled. “You're going to love it.”

An hour later, sitting in the center of the square, Mary chatted with Deputy Howard when he pulled up in his cruiser. He was not much older than she was—three years—but there was a sad inevitability about him that said he was already beat. Howard had a gut and bad heartburn and slouched when he thought he was standing tall. Seldom was his shirt tucked in all the way. His greatest hope for this particular incarnation was to be a good cop. Not that Mary had anything against cops, it was just that Howard would never be very good at that either. Howard was kind of slow, his brain was, and there was a clumsiness to his movements that made even strangers yawn. Married to the first girl he had ever slept with—the equally cerebral JoDean Jones—they had already made three little babies that cried all the time. When he was not being a deputy, he worked as a fryer at Harvey’s, just to be able to feed the munchkins. Mary liked him, even though she felt sorry for him. He asked how she was doing, and they chatted about the weather and other such Howard-like subjects. Then he moved on in a black and white cruising the cold night.

Mary hoped he wouldn't hear the gunshots.

Yet she wished she had asked Howard where one bought blanks.

Hannah finally showed up and she was in a cheery mood.

“Dick is fine, he'll be there on time,” Hannah said.

“I forgot to ask, where are you going to be at midnight?” Mary asked.

“I want to watch. I’ll be in the woods, out of sight. Drop me off before you get to the Crossroads.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Mary asked.

“What does wisdom have to do with any of this? Why are you in such a bad mood?”

“Because I don't like guns. I don't like any form of revenge. I don’t know why I’m doing this.”

Hannah knelt in front of Mary and brushed her own blond hair back. The move was not necessary because Hannah had recently taken to wearing her hair shortish, sort of butch-like. Yet she wore thick red lipstick and mascara, odd. Hannah rested her elbows on Mary’s knees.

“What are you thinking?” Hannah asked.

“I told you.”

“Nah. You're wondering if I'm a lesbian.”

“No.” A pause. “Are you?” Mary asked.

“Does it matter?”

“No. Are you?”

Hannah considered seriously. “I don't know what I am. I think I'm bi.” She paused. “Does that gross you out?”

“No. Not as long as you don't want to undress me.”

Hannah was thoughtful, her unfocused gaze shifted to a distant point.

“I just want to do this to Charlie,” she muttered.

“I love Charlie,” Mary said.

Hannah appraised her. “Honestly? I don't think so, Mary.”

“You don't know me.”

“You don't know yourself. You don't know what you’re capable of.”

Mary stood. “I’m getting cold.”

They got in the car, Mary’s car, the one Charlie had fixed. They turned on the heat and drove around. They ran into Deputy Howard again—that part of what Mary later told Riles and Sharp was true. Yet it was the second time Mary had seen Howard that night, and the first time she had been alone when she was supposed to be with Hannah. These pesky details—they had buried wiser people than Mary and Hannah.

Closing on midnight, they drove toward the Crossroads. Two hundred yards from the spot, Mary slowed and let Hannah out. The snow was deep except under the still and silent trees. Hannah wished her good luck. Mary thought it an odd remark. Alone, she drove to the Crossroads, parked, and got out. The chill from the snow went right through her running shoes, up her legs, into her chest even, where her heart strained to keep her body warm. What an idiot, she told herself, not to wear boots. She loved Charlie. Hannah was wrong. Hannah just wanted to seduce her.

In the distance Mary could see a truck approaching.

It looked like Charlie’s.

CHAPTER NINE

Back at the police station, Lieutenant Riles and Lieutenant Sharp got one of their wishes fulfilled. They had taken a sample of Mary's damp hair and put it in a plastic Baggie. Through the clear bag they could see that the hair fibers had stained the plastic red. The police gave one another knowing looks. Sweet innocent Mary had blood on her hair.

But whose blood?

They gave the sample to Dr. Kohner, who was working very late, and asked him to type it immediately, along with the samples of blood from the frozen puddles. A definitive test, such as a DNA comparison, could take as much as a month to conduct. But typing the blood would narrow the number of suspects, and the two detectives believed that might be enough to make one of the girls talk. Obviously, they thought it would be Mary. Hannah had retreated to a slant-eyed realm of silent venom. Curious, since it was her beloved brother who had taken the slug in the eye.

Typing would take at least two hours, maybe three.

There was still no word on Charlie. Where he might be, what he might be breathing. Air or dirt, snow or water.

Outside, the sun slowly began to warm the sky.

The detectives placed the girls back in the interrogation room where Mary had spent a portion of the night. The police station wasn't that large; they used the room for taking physical evidence as well as verbal. After drawing the blood, the detectives called for the coroner. At first Kohner hung in the background, and to the girls, he looked like a healthy corpse come to feed on their brains. He stared at them as if he had energy left for another autopsy. He only stepped forward as Riles was preparing to sample the
stuff
under their nails, and the
stuff
on their hands, particularly around their thumbs, where powder remains from a fired revolver would collect. Riles, with Kohner’s help, used needles, razors, and tweezers. They scraped the girl's skin very lightly, but Hannah hated the process and expressed her discomfort.

“You can't do this,” she said. “I want to see my lawyer. I want to talk to my father.”

“You can talk to both after we've collected our samples,” Riles said, holding Hannah's hands firmly. “Remember, young lady, you are under arrest and charged with first degree murder.”

Hannah snorted. “Not for long.”

“We can keep you for at least twenty-four hours,” Sharp said.

“We'll be out of here in less than four,” Hannah answered.

That could be true, the cops thought. Hannah's father did know the judge and probably sent him expensive Christmas cards each year. But at least by then they'd have the blood typed. It was going to be real interesting to see what matched what. Riles could hardly wait to get the results, but Sharp was still uneasy. Hannah seemed awfully confident, as Mary showed signs of cracking.