Goodbye to the Dead (Jonathan Stride Book 7) (14 page)

‘Yes.’

‘You discovered this affair because the defendant brought it to your attention, is that right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did Jay Ferris have a history of animosity with Nathan Skinner?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘In fact, Nathan Skinner was fired from the Duluth Police because of columns written by Jay Ferris, is that right? Columns in which he cited Nathan Skinner’s use of vile racial slurs?’

‘In part, yes.’

‘Did Nathan Skinner assault Jay Ferris after he lost his job?’

‘Yes, there was one such incident.’

‘During the course of your investigation, did you find evidence that Jay Ferris had discovered the affair between his wife and Nathan Skinner?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is it reasonable to conclude that this information would have upset Mr. Ferris?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Mr. Ferris’s wife was sleeping with a man whom Mr. Ferris described in his columns as a racist, and you don’t think he would have been upset?’

‘I can’t speculate about Mr. Ferris’s reaction,’ Stride said.

‘Did you interview Nathan Skinner when you learned about his relationship with Dr. Snow?’

‘Yes, I did.’

‘Did Nathan Skinner admit to being angry at Jay Ferris?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Did Nathan Skinner have a verifiable alibi after 9:45 p.m. on the night of the murder?’

‘We confirmed he was at his apartment for part of the evening, but we couldn’t specifically confirm that he was there after 9:45 p.m.’

‘Thank you, Lieutenant.’ Gale put down one set of papers on the counsel table, and he picked up another folder. ‘Can you tell the court, please, did Jay Ferris file a police report last October 5 regarding an individual with a gun?’

‘Yes, he reported seeing an individual using an assault rifle in the woods near Ely’s Peak.’

‘Mr. Ferris took photographs of this man, did he not?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Were you able to identify this individual?’

‘No. The photographs weren’t clear enough.’

‘However, your wife believes that she saw this individual in Miller Hall Mall and that he was carrying a handgun, doesn’t she?’

‘My wife followed a man who was similar in appearance to the man in the photographs. We don’t know if it was the same man.’

‘Did he threaten her?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘But you still haven’t identified this man, have you?’ Gale asked.

‘No,’ Stride admitted, ‘we haven’t.’

23

Heather Hubble was a photographer.

Cindy had worked with Heather the previous year following a fall she’d taken while shooting the ice caves of the Apostle Islands. Cindy had seen her twice a week for three months, and during that time, she’d poked into Heather’s life story with her usual curiosity. She learned about Heather’s five-year-old daughter, Lissa, and about the short-lived affair that had produced her. She found out that Heather’s parents didn’t approve of her vegan, out-in-the-woods lifestyle. She pegged Heather as one of the fringe loners dotting the northland, not bothering anyone and not wanting to be bothered.

Heather lived on a dirt road half a mile off the North Shore highway. Dense trees made the small home almost invisible, and the driveway was rutted with mud. It was the kind of house that would have been built decades earlier as a three-season getaway, but Heather lived in it year round. The cabin had been handed down by her grandfather, and it needed work. Fresh paint. Repairs to the roof and the deck. New windows. Cindy knew that Heather didn’t have much money for maintenance.

‘Hi, Cindy,’ Heather said with surprise when she answered the door. ‘What are you doing in the middle of nowhere?’

Cindy smiled. ‘I need your help.’

‘Sure, come on in.’

The small living room smelled of berries from two lit candles. With the windows open, a warm summer breeze made music on wind chimes hung from the ceiling. The house was messy, cluttered with old furniture and children’s toys. Nature photographs in cheap frames adorned the walls, leaving almost no open space. The photographs were good; Heather had a gift.

Heather cleared space on a plaid recliner for Cindy to sit. There were holes worn in the arms, with white fluff poking out from the fabric like drift from a cottonwood. Heather herself flopped down in a rocking chair and bounced back and forth. She wore shorts and a loose green tank top. Her sandy blond hair was shoulder-length, and her pale, freckled skin had no makeup. She was almost thirty, which sounded young to Cindy now. Once upon a time, it had felt old.

‘Where’s Lissa?’ Cindy asked.

Heather rolled her eyes and grinned. ‘My parents took her on vacation with them. Disney World. She’s going to come back with princess dresses and Mickey Mouse earrings. I’m not sure how I managed to raise a girly girl. That must be her father’s DNA coming through. He was always pretty impressed with how he looked.’

‘How’s the photo business?’ Cindy asked.

‘Not bad. Summer is wedding season. Brides are hell, but their daddies pay good money.’

‘And your back? It’s okay?’

‘Yeah, thanks. All the PT really helped. I’ve been pretty good about keeping up with the exercises, and yoga keeps me limber, too.’

‘Good.’

‘What’s going on with you?’ Heather asked. ‘You need some portraits done? Glamour shots for the hubby?’

Cindy laughed. ‘I think that would make Jonny blush. Actually, I have an odd favor to ask. I talked to Kon at
Lake Superior Magazine
, and she said you took a ton of photos at Grandma’s Marathon this year.’

‘Oh, yeah. Lots.’

‘Do you have many crowd shots?’

‘Sure. Crowd shots. Runners. I staked out several spots along the route, and I got onto the roof above the Canal Park shops so that I could get pics as people hit the finish line.’

‘I’d like to see them,’ Cindy said. ‘Are they all digital?’

‘Yeah, but you’re talking about hundreds of photos. What are you looking for?’

She started to give Heather a brief explanation about the man in Jay Ferris’s photographs, but the explanation got longer when she realized that Heather knew nothing about the murder or the trial. Heather didn’t get the newspaper, and her awareness of current events didn’t extend beyond an occasional report on the MPR classical music station. Cindy gave her the background of the case and then explained about the man she’d followed in the mall who’d eluded the police efforts to find him.

‘One of Jonny’s sergeants thinks he saw this guy in the marathon crowds,’ Cindy went on.

‘And you thought maybe I snapped him?’ Heather asked.

‘Exactly.’

‘That’s one needle in a pretty big haystack. Thousands of people cram the marathon route.’

‘I know.’

Heather shrugged. She went to a rolltop desk in the corner of the living room and dug inside several cubbyhole drawers. Finally, she withdrew a USB flash drive, which she deposited in Cindy’s hand.

‘Here you go,’ she said. ‘That’s a backup drive of all of my marathon pics. Knock yourself out.’

24

‘You lied to get on to that jury, didn’t you?’ Carol Marlowe asked.

Howard’s head snapped up at the dinner table. He put down a square of Sammy’s pizza and stared at his wife. Their six-year-old, Annie, chewed a strand of spaghetti that dangled from her mouth and watched with wide eyes.

‘What do you mean?’ he said.

‘Did you tell them you’re obsessed with that doctor?’ Carol asked.

‘No, I didn’t, because that’s not true.’

‘Oh, really? You think so? I’ve got a good mind to call the judge. How many articles about Dr. Perfect would they find if they searched your computer?’

‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ he protested. ‘So I read some things about the case. Everybody in town did the same thing. I can still be objective.’

‘Sure you can.’ His wife cut a square of pizza in half and stabbed it with a fork. ‘Annie, stop playing with your spaghetti.’

Howard went back to his dinner in silence. Carol was jealous. She resented that he was in the midst of something big – that he had a starring role in a drama that was consuming the city. He didn’t believe she’d follow through with her threat about calling the judge, but the thought of it made him nervous. If they looked, yes, they’d find articles about the case on his computer. And pictures of Janine Snow he’d gathered around the web. He’d be kicked off the jury, which was the thing he feared most. This was the event of his life.

‘So what’s your plan, Howard?’ Carol continued, not letting the subject drop. ‘Do you have some fantasy of rescuing her? Will you be the one to convince the jury to let her off, and she’ll be grateful to you forever?’

‘That’s crazy,’ Howard said. ‘I’m doing what the judge said. I’m keeping an open mind until I hear all the evidence. Now would you drop it, please? I’m not allowed to talk about the case, so stop asking me about it.’

‘Open mind,’ his wife muttered. ‘You think she’s innocent. You’ve said so from the beginning. Did you tell the judge that?’

‘I never said anything like that!’ he protested. ‘I’ve always said I don’t know what happened. You’re the one who convicted her from day one. You and your friends at the grocery store. What is it about her that drives you crazy, Carol? Is it that she’s everything you’re not?’

The words were out of his mouth before he could take them back, and the implication hung in the air, as toxic as poison. Janine Snow was rich, successful, and beautiful. Carol Marlowe was none of those things. His wife went from angry to hurt in the blink of an eye. She pushed back her chair, which toppled behind her, and stood up with the rigidity of a statue. He wanted to apologize, but he didn’t. She stalked to their bedroom in silence and slammed the door, making the house shudder.

‘Oh, hell,’ he hissed.

Annie leaned over and whispered, ‘That’s a bad word, Daddy.’

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Is Mommy mad?’

‘I guess so.’ He added: ‘Are you done with your dinner? You can go watch television.’

Annie hopped out of the chair. He cleaned up the dishes, and then he sat in the living room by himself. The smart thing to do was go to their bedroom and apologize, but he knew it would just prompt more anger and more yelling. He didn’t have the strength for another fight with Carol.

Howard left the house to clear his head. It was dusk in the neighborhood, but it was summer, and he heard the noise of kids squealing in the nearby yards. He sat in his Chrysler in the driveway with the windows rolled down. Humidity made his neck sticky. Bugs flew inside. He smelled the overgrown lilac bushes on the side of their house.

He thought:
Carol’s wrong.
She didn’t understand what was at stake. She didn’t realize how hard he was trying to do the right thing. Block out everything he knew about the case. Ignore the attraction he felt to Janine Snow and the fascination he felt for who she was.
Listen to nothing but the evidence.

There had been more witnesses at the trial.

They’d heard from a ballistics expert who talked about the bullet recovered from Jay Ferris’s brain and about the gun Jay wore in the photograph provided by his brother. Yes, the two were consistent. No, they couldn’t be matched without the gun itself. Yes, it was one of the most common guns sold in the country.

They’d heard from the private detective. Melvin Wiley. Yes, Jay knew about the affair and had witnessed Janine’s prescription drug use on the videos. Yes, he’d sworn to get even with his wife.

They’d heard from an attorney named Tamara Fellowes. Yes, she worked for a law firm that was suing Janine Snow over the death of a patient. Yes, she knew Jay Ferris, and yes, Jay had called her in December. No, she would not discuss the contents of the conversation, but she did testify about what she’d heard in the background of the call – a woman’s voice screaming at Jay.

‘Don’t do this to me, you bastard! Don’t you dare do this!’

Did she recognize the voice?

Yes, it was Dr. Janine Snow.

Howard backed onto the street and drove. He headed east out of his Piedmont Heights neighborhood and soon found himself on Skyline Parkway, with the green fairways of the golf course on his left and the steep pitch of the hillside on his right. The Enger Tower loomed above him. He turned at Hank Jensen Drive and made his way up to the parking lot at the base of the monument. There were other cars there, from people enjoying the summer evening. In a Ford Taurus, two teenagers groped each other, kissing, their clothes askew. When the girl saw Howard watching them, she extended her middle finger. He looked away.

Everything made him think of the trial.

A teenage boy had driven here with his girlfriend on January 28, just like the boy and girl in the Taurus. They passed a Rav4 on the way to the tower but couldn’t say exactly when or where.

Howard left the parking lot and kept driving. It was as if he were on autopilot, not setting a course. He was back on Skyline Parkway, and moments later, his LeBaron drifted to a stop at a spur road that climbed sharply up the cliffside to his left. At the summit of the road was the mansion belonging to Janine Snow. He knew he shouldn’t be here, but he turned the wheel and drove slowly to the top of the hill.

There was Janine’s house. He recognized it from the television reports and from the photographs at the trial. What an amazing place, like a palace built on the roof of the world. Lights were on. She was home, the defendant out on bail. There were no cars around. He wondered if she was alone. Just her, sitting amid the ruins of her perfect life. And Howard only a few feet away.

Judge Edblad had told them:
You are not investigators.

Even so, he couldn’t restrain his imagination. He sat in the car with the engine running, and he realized that this was the very place where everything had happened. On January 28, inside that door, behind the glass windows, Jay Ferris had been murdered. If Howard had been here then, he would have heard the shot.

What would he have seen? A stranger running away?

Or Janine Snow pulling out of the garage in her husband’s Hummer to hide a gun?

Howard realized that what he wanted more than anything was to hear the story from Janine’s own mouth. He wished he could talk to her, look into her eyes, and listen to her answer every question. The frustrating thing was that he knew he never would. She wouldn’t take the stand. Defendants hardly ever testified. She was the one person who really knew the truth, and he would never hear her say what it was.

Somehow, his car engine turned off, and his door opened.

He didn’t think it was him getting out and walking toward the house. It was someone else. He felt his feet on the walkway, heading toward the front door. That was what a stranger would have done, coming to murder Jay Ferris. If there was a stranger.

Howard stood at the door. Janine’s door. He felt dizzy. His finger quivered; he wanted to stab the doorbell. If he did, she would come. He’d see her appear behind the glass. She would open the door –

– and that would be the end of everything.

He would have crossed a line from which there was no going back. Wheels would be set in motion. Attorneys would talk, and he would be called in front of the judge, and he would be admonished and dismissed, and one of the two alternates sitting in the jury box would take his place.

Howard Marlowe would be just Howard Marlowe again. A footnote in the newspaper, soon forgotten.

Carol would laugh at him.

He felt as if he were awakening from a bad dream. He turned and ran back to his Chrysler, needing to escape before he was seen. Before the police spotted him. Or the media. No one could know he’d ever been here. He got into his LeBaron and shot down the steep street.

*

Janine watched him go.

She sat in her office, where the security camera at her front door fed video to her computer. She’d installed the camera months ago when she had a parade of unwanted visitors coming to her house after the headlines brought notoriety.

She recognized him, of course. Juror #5. He was the one who sat closest to her in court. She hadn’t missed the fact that he liked to watch her. He tried to be discreet about it, but she caught his wandering glances in her direction. At first, she’d written it off as curiosity, but now she realized it was something more. She’d understood men all her life, much better than she ever understood women. This man was in love with her.

She knew she was attractive. Men had fallen for her since she was a high school girl in Texas growing up fast. This was different. Since the murder, men had sent her e-mails, proposals of marriage, and naked pictures. All types of men, married and unmarried, black and white, old and young, from across the country. For the stalkers, she’d become an object of fascination. And now, it seemed, one of those stalkers had made his way onto her jury.

He was an ordinary man. Physically, he was neither attractive nor repellent. If she’d met him on the street, she would have stared through him as if he didn’t exist. In other circumstances, the only way a man like that would have come into her circle was as a patient, but circumstances were different.

She was tempted. All she would have had to do was go to the door. Call to him through the speaker. Invite him into her home. She could have taken his hand and fulfilled his fantasy with a night unlike any he’d ever experienced. Sex meant nothing to her, but she knew it would have meant everything to him. For the price of giving up her body, she would have asked only one thing.

Hang the jury.

He would have done it, too.

Instead, she let him go.

Janine knew she should call Archie to have Juror #5 swiftly and quietly removed from the case, but she didn’t do that. He might yet be her salvation. She wondered if a man who was in love with her could really believe that she would shoot her husband in cold blood.