HIGHWAY HOMICIDE (13 page)

“Almost said you’d told him you thought
Errol had cancer,” Judy said.

“I said
it was just a hunch. And that Almost of yours talks way too much.” Doc snapped.

“He also said
it was one of your ‘educated guesses’ based on a lifetime of experience,” Judy added, trying not to smile.

“That boy should join
the ladies gossip group, if he’s not a charter member of it already.” Doc said tersely. “Dammit, Carl, he repeats everything you say to him, word for word.”

“He’s supposed to, Doc. That’
s what he was trained to do. Accurate reporting. He’s a cop, isn’t he? You know, Doc, just the facts, ma’am, just the facts,” Carl grinned.

Doc just scowled at him and started to drink his coffee.

Judy dug Carl in the ribs and whispered to him. “Don’t tease him like that, Carl, or he won’t help us at all. As Lisa says, we Keystone Kops need all the help we can get.”

At that point, Lisa arrived with their lunches, but now it was Carl’s turn to scowl as he busied himself with his hoagie.

Chapter Nineteen

When they got back to the office, Carl sat himself down behind his desk. Almost was already there minding the store.

“So, Jude is there anything in from Forensics about the watch Iona Cackett found?” he asked.

“Yes, there is. Just came in while we were out, as
a matter of fact. It seems both Patti and Iona must have picked it up by the strap. I suppose that’s the way most people would pick up a watch, though, isn’t it?”

“Are you actually going anywhere with this, Jude, or is this just supposed to be a lesson in careful watch handling?” Carl asked.

“Patience, dear boy, I’m just getting to that. People
pick up
a watch by its strap, usually, at least. But someone
setting
a watch would hold it differently, by its shoulder.”

“So, what’s the difference?” Almost asked.

“The difference is a good and usable partial of a thumb Forensics has found on this one.”

“They have!” Carl exclaimed.

“They have indeed, Carl, and that’s not all,” Jude said, pausing expectantly.

“Okay, Jude, I’ll bite,” Carl said, shaking his head, “What’s not all?”

“Well, this is something you mere men wouldn’t probably even think about anyway,” she said.

“What wouldn’t we think about?” Carl said, getting a little irritated now.

“Dusting.” Judy said smugly.

“
Dusting
? You mean dusting for prints?” Carl asked.

“No, just dusting generally,”

“Jude, what the hell has dusting
generally
got to do with our case, for Christ sake?” Carl yelled.

“Actually, everything, as it happens, Carl.” Jude smugly replied. “Let me explain.”

“Oh, yes, please
do
explain
,” Carl said. “I can hardly wait for you to explain the gentle art of
dusting
to me!”

“Carl, don’t be so sarcastic. Just listen, okay? Whoever it was that usually did the dusting in David Gates house, whether it was Gates himself or his girlfriend, would normally pick up an item to be dusted by its middle.”

“Alright, go on,” Carl said.

“If
it wasn’t picked up by its middle, like a lamp maybe, then it would probably be by its base. But rarely, if ever, would it be picked up by its top, okay? Are you with me so far? Do you agree?”

“Yeah, okay, keep going.”

“Well, guys, whoever it was wiped the statuette that killed Maria Caspar free of prints, just didn’t do a very good job, that’s all. You see, in order to kill Maria with it, he had to pick it up
by the head
so he could swing it. And guess what?”

“What, Jude?” Carl said wearily, resigned now to the fact that Jude was going to drag this out as long as she possibly could. She had some very good information here and she damn well knew it.

“Forensics had already found a usable thumb partial on the shoulder of the statuette and…”

“And it matches the thumb partial on the watch, right?” Carl finished for her as she pursed her lips.

“Yes, that’s right, it does.”

“And?” Carl asked.

“And
what
?”

“Whose print is it, Jude, for Christ’s sake?”

“They don’t know whose print it is yet.” She paused again, to get the most mileage she could out of what she had left to tell them, “but they sure as hell know whose print it
isn’t!”

“David Gates, right, Jude?”

“Right on the button, Chief. David Gates. They say he definitely wasn’t the killer of Maria Caspar and based on the watch, not of Forrest Appleyard either. So for some reason, it looks like this poor Gates guy is on the run for nothing at all.”

“Well, thanks, Jude, that was
all a bit longwinded, but at least it clears the air a whole lot. Did Forensics say anything else?”

“Only that they’
re searching the print data bases for a possible match. They’ll let us know as soon as they come up with something. Takes time, they said.”

Just like you telling us about it, Carl thought with a gri
n. But whatever else it was this guy Gates was doing out there, it sure as hell wasn’t going around killing people. It had also been a coincidence he’d happened to pick on Jack Finlay’s old place to bed down in during the blizzard. It was damned sure no one would do that from choice!

Carl thought back over some
of the recent conversations he’d had and decided to follow up on some of them. Jack Finlay had been murdered in Carl’s jurisdiction and it was up to him to find out who did it.

It didn’t matter if the murder took place five minutes, five years or fifty years ago, he still had to know who the killer was.

He thought for a long time about what Doc had said about motives, with revenge and jealousy being two of the most powerful. The other was money. He knew he could rule that out. Apart from that old dump of a house of his, Finlay didn’t have two cents to rub together or the proverbial pot to piss in either! Leastways, no one in Cooper’s Corners had ever seen any evidence of him spending money.

So, jealousy or revenge, which one was it? Or had Jack Finlay just been a victim of circumstance, as David Gates had apparently been. Carl shook his head in frustration. The more he thought about this case, the more he just went around in circles.

Carl was pretty well convinced now, the only thing he had on the elusive David Gates was Grand Theft, Auto. He smiled to himself when he thought about Lisa’s beat up old Honda and Jack Finlay’s old Ford tractor. There wasn’t too much ‘Grand’ about either of those two.

Sam Connor had reported
the theft of his Buick and he’d described the thief. His description pretty well matched Lisa’s except Sam never mentioned the cute blue eyes! Sam was upset at himself because in his clearing of the snow to get his Buick out of the garage, he’d inadvertently blocked in his pickup.

He told Carl
by the time he could’ve got his tractor over and got the snow cleared away, his car would have been long gone anyway. If the guy had reached the Interstate, Sam knew he wouldn’t have a hope in hell of catching him. His wife was none too pleased to have to make their planned trip into the State’s Capital in the goddamned pickup either.

And that was
after
he’d dug it out!

Chapter Twenty

For Dav
id Gates, it was like when you’re trying to recall a name that seems to be on the tip of your tongue. Or like a file your computer refuses to give you access to, even though you’d created the file yourself.

Then suddenly, in the middle of the night sometimes, that elusive name or memory would just pop into your head for no reason at all. David’s memory of that terrible night popped into his head in much the same way.

But for David, it wasn’t in the middle of the night when it came back. It was in the middle of the Interstate!

He swerved the Buick off the highway and skidded to a stop on the shoulder. The image of what had happened that night was now crystal clear in his mind. His subconscious mind had finally seen fit to bring it to the surface.

He now knew exactly what it was that he’d seen!

He’
d seen
Maria
!

He’
d seen his former lover lying dead on his own living room carpet. She’d been lying there; eyes wide open in shock, with her whole head surrounded by blood. No wonder his mind had refused to accept it. His last recollection was of a bulky figure crouched over her.

Whether the figure was male or female, it was impossible to tell. It had been no mor
e than a fleeting image as he’d passed out.

But what was Maria doing back in his house, he wondered? Had she returned to get back together with him? But neither question mattered at all because somehow she was now
dead
on the floor.

He realized
she’d been dead already when he’d entered the room and that changed
everything
. It would change his whole life. There was no doubt in his mind his perceived situation as a possible killer had made him into a car thief. Well, a car and tractor thief actually, but he also knew for sure now he wasn’t a killer.

He sat in the Buick with his heart pounding as sweat poured down his face. His whole body felt drained and weak with relief and he couldn’t stop himself from trembling.

He
wasn’t
a murderer! 

But if
he
wasn’t, then who
was
?

Had the shadowy figure in the room di
scovered Maria dead, just as he’d done, or was that the person responsible for her death?

He sat and thought about it for a moment. Until his heart rate settled down, he was in no fit state to resume driving.
He finally realized he really only had one good option. And that was to return to the diner and the spot on the highway where it had all started. He was gladder than ever now he hadn’t hurt the waitress there.

In his heart, he’
d known at the time he hadn’t hurt the girl out on the highway either. It was just that, with the body being face down and progressively getting more covered with snow, he hadn’t recognized her.

He had no doubt in his mind now just who the girl was. It had been Maria! It just
had
to be. There was no other explanation, was there? And someone had transported both of them out to the highway somehow. And that someone had also left him there unconscious to freeze and to die of exposure beside her.

Was t
hat someone the same person he’d seen crouching over Maria’s body? He’d never know because he’d never got a clear look at the person.

The important thing right now was
he
hadn’t killed her and it was only the belief he may have done so, that had sent him on the run.

Ethan Lanchester, of the Vermont State Police, ‘A’ Troop, slowed his cruiser as he came up alongside the Buick on the Interstate’s shoulder. He had seen the Buick swerve suddenly off the highway in front of him from way back and he wondered if the driver was perhaps ill or required some other kind of assistance.

David had seen the police cruiser approaching in the rear view mirror and as he came up alongside, David smiled and gave him a thumb’s up sign. The trooper nodded once, gave David a casual wave, and accelerated away again.

It
was obvious, David thought, the theft of the Buick was not widespread on the police networks yet. Taking a deep breath to calm his jangling nerves, he put the car into gear and pulled back on to the Interstate.

Just past the Camel’s
Hump State Park, he was able to cross back over into the eastbound lanes. Once he was heading back in the right direction, he drove slowly and carefully, turning north on to Highway 100. He drove straight on through Cooper’s Corners and a few minutes later he pulled into the diner’s parking lot.

He got out of the Buick, walked over to the door of the diner, opened it and went on inside. Today, there were two women working in the diner. The younger one of the two was waiting tables and looked like she might be the older woman’s sister.

There were also several customers sitting at the booths but none were at the counter. The older woman, the one he’d met before and the one whose car he had stolen, looked up from the grill as he sat himself down at the counter.

“
You
!” she said in a loud voice, loud enough for everyone in the diner to hear, “Christ, buddy, but you’ve got a bloody nerve, coming back in here.” She glanced over David’s shoulder at the Buick in the parking lot, “And still stealing cars, I see,” she said contemptuously.

David looked at her and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ma’am,” he said, “I came back here to apologize, to say I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? Stealing my car or killing the girl out on the highway?”

Actually she already knew he wasn’t a suspect in the murder any more, because Carl had already told her. But she wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. He’d still stolen her car.

“I didn’t kill the girl on the highway,” he began, fully aware that everyone in the diner was listening to every word. “I loved her and we were planning to get married. Well, I was. But she had other ideas and we broke up. But I didn’t kill her. I swear it.”

At his mention of killing, several of the male customers had moved to the edge of their seats, in order to be ready in case there was any trouble.

“And I suppose you didn’t take my Honda then, either, I suppose?”

“Yes, I did do that and I’m really very sorry,” he said, and then rushed on before she could interrupt him again. “When I came in here that day, I thought possibly I
had
killed her. I was scared to death and I just wanted to get away from here.”

“In
my
car” Lisa said.

“Yes, alright, in your car, and that was just because it was the only one available.”

“My friend Pam’s car was parked right outside the goddamned door,” Lisa said. “Mine was parked out back and covered in snow, so why didn’t you take hers?”

“I know that, but you would have both seen me take her car
and I would’ve had the police after me in seconds.”

The reaction to this statement surprised him by bringing guffaws of laughter from the diner’s customers. It even made Lisa smile.

“Listen, buddy, this is Cooper’s Corners you’re in right now and our local cops sure as hell aren’t the N.Y.P.D. either. They’d get out here eventually if they really put their minds to it but, believe me they’d take their own sweet time about doing it.”

“Amen to that, Lisa,” one of the customers called out.

“Can you call them for me, please,” David asked.

“Call them? What, the police? What do you want to do that for, if you’re on the run?” Lisa said curiously.

“It was me who notified them in the first place about the girl on the highway. I called 911 from a phone booth at a feed mill down the highway.”

“Well, I’ll call them, pal, but what do you want me to tell them?” Lisa asked.

“I don’t want
you
to tell them anything. I’d like to speak to them, please,” David said quietly.

Lisa shrugged, picked up the phone and called Judy.

“Hi, Jude, Lisa here. I’ve got a fella here who wants to talk to Carl and I’m pretty sure Carl will want to talk to him as well. Can you ask him to call me, please? Yes, that’s right and as soon as possible and thanks, Jude,” Lisa said and hung up. “She said our Sheriff will be calling back in a few minutes.”

But barely thirty seconds had gone by before the phone rang. All conversations in the diner stopped instantly. Nobody wanted to miss a word of what would be said
next. This wasn’t the usual gossip. This was the real thing.

“Olde Tyme Diner, Lisa speaking,” Lisa said. “Yes, Carl, hold on a moment.”

She held out the phone to David Gates. “That’s our Sheriff, Carl Berger. You’d better make whatever you have to say to him pretty good, because believe me, pal, he’s pretty damned pissed at you. Even more than I am.”

“Hello, Sheriff,” David said. “This is David Gates. Can you come and get me, please?” He paused for a
moment, listening. “No, sir, I’m not armed and I’m not dangerous either. But I am a stupid bloody fool and right now I’m scared out of my mind.” He paused again and listened some more. “Yes, sir, you’re right, I did steal another car. A black Buick. It’s parked outside the diner, and no, sir, I’m not planning on going anywhere. I’ll be here waiting for you. I’d like the opportunity to explain my recent actions to you. Yes, sir, and thank you.”

David handed the phone back to Lisa.

“Thank you,” he said politely.

There wasn’
t a sound in the diner from the other customers.

“You’re giving yourself up then, are you?” Lisa asked.

David nodded. “I really didn’t do anything, you know,” he said.

“Didn’t do anything! You should see the mess my car was in when I got it back. You left the bloody window open and it was full up with snow. You think that was nothing?”

“I’m sorry,” David said simply. “I just didn’t want to hurt anyone else. And believe me, ma’am, you came awfully damned close. I just wanted to get away from here.”

“I thought you said
you didn’t do it, hurt the girl, I mean.” Lisa said, a little nervously. Carl had said this guy wasn’t guilty, but he wasn’t standing right in front of him like she was, was he?

“I didn’t kill her or even hurt her in any way, but I didn’t know that for sure until about a half an hour ago either.”

One of the diner’s customers broke their silence by calling out, “Give the guy a break, Lisa. Even if he did steal that old heap of yours, the guy deserves a medal not a hassle.”

One of the other customers, a woman, yelled, “Give the poor bastard a coffee and a bite to eat, for Christ’s sake. I’ll even pay for it if you want. If he’s been on the run for days, the poor devil must be starving.”

“Yeah, Lisa, get off his case,” someone else called.

Lisa looked David up and down. He really does have nice eyes, she thought. She heaved a sigh of resignation and said in a more friendly tone of voice, “I guess she’s right, you must be hungry by now, right, Bud?”

David nodded.

She placed a hot cup of coffee down on the counter in front of him.

“Cheeseburger and fries okay with you? It’s on the house if you’re broke,” she added, to a round of applause from her other customers.

David smiled. “Thanks, but I’m not broke. I can pay for it and a cheeseburger will be just fine, thank you.”

Suddenly Lisa put her hands down flat on the counter in front of him.

“Well?” she demanded.

“Well, what?” he answered, surprised that she wanted payment for the meal already.

“Where the hell are my keys?”

David reached into the pocket of his jeans and dropped her key ring down on the counter between her hands.

“I must have known I’
d be returning them,” he said, smiling nervously at her.

Lisa picked them up, dropped them in her pocket without a word and turned back to the grill.

David was halfway through his burger when the Sheriff came charging through the door. He stared at the fugitive, his wanted felon, calmly eating lunch at the counter.

“What the hell is this then, Lisa?” he said. “Still consorting with a wanted felon then, are you?”

“As I’ve told you once already, Carl Berger, I’m not
consorting
with him. I’m merely serving him lunch. A lunch he’s planning to pay for, I might add, which is far more than I can say for you.”

Carl strolled over and sat himself down beside David at th
e counter. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of crumpled one dollar bills, slapping them down on the counter.

“A coffee, then, Lisa, and keep the change.”

“Put it away, Carl. You know I was only teasing you,” Lisa said, pushing the bills back at him.

David waited patiently while this exchange took place.

Finally, he turned to Carl, held out his hand and said, “David Gates, Sheriff. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any trouble, but I have a lot to tell you.”