Ice Shear (18 page)

Chuck opened up his interlocked fingers and I was reminded of the game I used to play with Lucy: “Here's the church, and here's the steeple, open the doors, and see all the people.” Chuck was at the “people” stage. “That husband. I guess he brung his brother to keep an eye on Dani when he was working, and wouldn't let her go nowhere. Or at least that's what Jackie said.”

“And Ray? Was he trouble?”

“He was kind of a dope. But as long as she made her curfew and didn't screw up school, what was I going to do? She's gonna bring home plenty of dumb kids. He spent Christmas here, didja know?” When we shook our heads no, he continued. “Yeah, he showed up here on Christmas Eve, sayin' his brother'd thrown him out. He looked like a stray dog—wet and shaking—and it being Christmas I let him stay. He ate half a ham and told some lame jokes, but Jacqueline laughed more than she had in a long time. I spent the night sleeping in the hallway, halfway between the living room and Jacqueline's room, but he didn't try nothin'.”

I smelled Jackie before I heard her. Her tread was light on the stairs—I bet she was eavesdropping—but she'd soaked herself in some drugstore perfume and gave herself away.

“Anyhow, the brother showed up early, before we opened presents. He ordered Ray outside. I don't like being bossed around, and told Ray he didn't have to go nowhere, but Ray followed his brother. The two of them talked in the driveway for a long time. Oh, and Danielle was there. At one point she pulled Ray into the car with her.” Chuck cocked his head—he had picked up on Jackie's approach. “I could see her and Ray talking, and then next thing you know Ray came back and grabbed his clothes. The brother said he was sorry and tried to give me a fruitcake, but who eats that shit? Plus, I got more baked goods than are good for me already.”

Jackie walked in, wearing black patent-leather high-heeled knee-high boots covered in tiny buckles. One of Danielle's gifts? She clomped over to the table and slumped bonelessly in a chair as if it was a fainting couch.

“Hi, Jackie.” I held out my hand. She shook it, gripping mine limply. “I'm so sorry about Ray.”

Jackie nodded, keeping her eyes on the ground and letting her hand drop out of the handshake. She was taking to her role as widow. “I don't know what I'm going to do without him. He was the love of my life.”

“I could tell,” I said quickly. “We want to figure out what happened to him and bring his killer to justice. Do you have some time to talk?” Jackie didn't answer, looking from Chuck to us.

“Chuck,” Dave said, “you mind if we talked to Jackie alone?”

Jackie nodded her head yes vigorously at this. She could rouse herself when it mattered.

“Yeah . . . okay,” Chuck said. He went into the other room, and after a minute we could hear the noise of different channels: sports, game shows,
Judge Judy,
and back to sports. He could hear if he listened closely, so I leaned in and dropped my voice, like a friend sharing a secret. “Jackie, can you tell us the final time you saw Ray?”

“I was the last person to see him alive,” Jackie said in a rush. “We were hanging out at Craig's, the three of us. Ray was upset leaving me and moving back to California. He didn't say it, but I could tell—we had, like, a psychic bond. He was a man of action, not words, playing video games, reading comic books, that sort of thing. He gave his heart to me.

“And he really cared about Marty. Probably too much. What my dad told you about Christmas, well, what you need to know is that the accusations about drugs were completely false.” Her voice rose and she caught herself, dropping to a low hiss. “I told him he could stay here as long as he needed, even forever. But Ray was the bigger man and forgave his brother.”

Chuck hadn't mentioned drugs at all. “What did Marty think Ray did, Jackie?”

“He thought Ray'd smoked meth. Danielle planted the idea in his head, but once she did, Marty was thinking all kinds of crazy things, like he smelled ice on Ray's clothes.”

I was surprised that Jackie knew the slang for meth. “Why did Danielle do that?”

“Why did Danielle do anything? She liked to play with people. But playing with her was like playing with razor blades.”

“Did she play with you, Jackie?”

Her chin quivered. “No. Never. I was too smart for her. But she convinced Ray . . . she
tried
to convince Ray . . . that he didn't love me.”

Danielle had been more persuasive than Jackie realized, but I wasn't going to tell her that.

“How did Ray seem last night?” I asked.

“He was fine. We spent hours together. He didn't want to leave my side.”

“Tell me the exact chronology, Jackie. We want to be able to capture Ray's killer.”

“Marty called, and we dropped Ray off at his house so he could spend some time with his brother.”

“Did you see Marty?” Dave asked. “How did Ray and Marty seem together?”

“I didn't see him. Ray always made me wait outside when Marty was there. And then we came here and Ray dropped me off.”

“And did you know he was going to the Brouillettes'?” Dave asked.

“He said Dani left some of her things in the barn. Marty wanted him to go get them. That's all I know.” She slid her arms out to full length and laid her head down, her hair fanning out around her, the pietà of Hopewell Falls.

“What time was that?” Dave asked.

“Ray dropped me off at eight thirty,” she mumbled into the table.

“That's not what your dad reported,” I said.

“What?” Jackie sat up with a start, her hair showering behind her. “Of course he dropped me off. Who else would it be?”

“I don't know Jackie, who would it be?” I asked.

Jackie craned her neck to make sure her dad was still in his chair, and then frantically whispered: “My dad'll kill me if he hears I was with a guy he didn't know.”

“So you better tell me fast.”

“Craig, okay? Craig drove me home 'cause Ray asked. Ray was always so considerate of me. And I wasn't lying about Ray having to go to Marty. He did, and he was going to be late, so they agreed Craig would drive me home and then go help Ray.”

“What time was that?” I asked.

“Seven thirty. He journeyed out into the snow.” Jackie made Ray sound like the hero of a romance novel instead of, well, Ray.

“And you and Craig hung out?” Dave asked.

“Yeah. We watched TV.”

“What was on?” Dave asked.

“What? Um, a lot of stuff. A movie.”

“What movie?”

“It had Bruce Willis and explosions,” Jackie said, describing every Bruce Willis movie ever made.

I flipped back through my pad. “And you didn't fool around with Craig?”

“No!” Jackie shouted.

From the living room, the TV muted and we heard the snap of a footrest being lowered.

“Jacqueline?”

“I'm fine, Daddy,” she called, her voice, sweet and light, filling with air. The three of us waited until we heard the footrest snap back into place and the football game start up again.

“No. I was in love with Ray and Ray was in love with me. Besides, Danielle was having an affair with Craig.”

“You know this for sure?”

“Yes. She was one of those girls, those bitchy ones, who aren't happy unless every boy falls in love with her. Not that Ray did.”

“And you didn't mention this before?”

“I didn't want to gossip!” Jackie protested. I doubted any such thing. “And, you know, I never saw anything with my own two eyes. I mean, he's good-looking, if you like big guys with deep eyes and long hair. He'd come over when Marty was working, the four of us would hang out. Danielle and Craig would go into the bedroom to ‘talk,' if you know what I mean. Ray said we couldn't disturb them no matter what, not that he cared. He only wanted to be with me.”

“And Marty knew?”

“Yeah. He knew. He told Craig not to come around. And I bet he killed Ray because he was mad at Ray for being better than him, having more friends, for being friends with Craig.”

“No one else who might have wanted to kill either of them?” I pushed.

“Danielle was a spoiled rich bitch who wasn't as hot as she thought she was—no one liked her. But Ray didn't have any other enemies.” Jackie started crying again. “He loved me. And everyone loved him. Everybody.”

T
O BE HONEST, RAY
was an annoying little pain in the ass,” Craig Madigan said, balancing his beer on the back of the couch. “Oh, would you like to sit?”

He moved to clear the dirty clothes from the corner of the sofa onto the floor. Dave and I'd been there for a good ten minutes, and this was the first time he'd given a thought to the fact that we were standing. Of course, Hale had taken the only decent chair in the place.

“Finished the search and thought I would come on by and support you,” Hale had said when he met us at the front door. Currently sandwiched between a beer-can tower and a massive stereo system that was balanced on a series of milk crates, he was penned in. Good.

I wasn't sure I wanted to take Craig up on his offer of a seat on the couch. It was sticky. But really, what was some congealed soda and cigarette ash in the scheme of things? Add some Funyuns stuck between the couch cushions and the place would be exactly like Hale and Kevin's suite at Quantico. I sat.

Dave sank deep into the couch, which seemed to be all cushion and no frame, and I struggled not to fall into him.

“I'm not sure if I'll be able to get out of this again,” Dave joked.

Craig laughed. “Yeah, it's pretty comfortable. The ladies love leather.”

Hale chuckled, but neither Dave nor I laughed, not that Craig noticed.

“Anyway, Ray, man, he was okay to hang out with, kind of fun. He always had these big plans, stupid plans that were going to force people to show some respect, if you know what I mean.”

“No, actually, I don't,” I said, and out of the corner of my eye saw Hale tap the armrest twice. Was that a nervous twitch or some sort of code? “You better explain.”

“He was always saying how he was a member of the Abominations and people were going to quake in fear when they saw him coming. Mostly I thought he was a dopey little kid who mouthed off.” Craig edged closer to me as he talked and I got a good look at the pendant that hung from the leather thong around his neck. It wasn't just jewelry—it was a med-alert necklace, albeit a trendy one in gunmetal and black. “I let him tag along because I had to watch out for Danielle.”

“So you and Danielle,” Dave said. “The two of you date?”

“What the hell? Who said that? Her husband? He was a suspicious bastard. Danielle took the sacrament of marriage very seriously.” Thinking of the pictures on Ray's phone, I somehow doubted that, but I let Craig continue. “That first time I met Marty was when he went berserk on Phil. Don't get me wrong, I could take him, but who knows what he would have done next. The stories Danielle told . . .”

“What stories?” I asked.

“Well, his family was bad news, and Marty, well, he was a chip off that tree.” It took me a minute to disentangle the two clichés Craig had just mashed together. “He was violent and kinda lazy.” Craig had a satisfied smile on his face. “Danielle wanted someone who was going places, and Marty was not that guy.

“Back in L.A., I kept the peace because Dani and I'd been friends for years. She's always looked up to me, like I'm her cool older brother.” He frowned. “Well, maybe not brother. But I was her cool older friend. Cool older
guy
friend. Her dad had me run her back and forth at Thanksgiving when she was out in L.A., and she always showed me the city—it was wild. Back when she was in high school, I'd help keep the peace between her and her dad, giving Dani a heads-up when her dad was planning one of his surprise trips, trying to catch her partying. And I always helped her clean up after her fun, if you know what I mean.”

“No. Tell us exactly,” I said, thinking of drugs.

“You know, after high school parties, airing out the place, getting rid of empties, rehanging pictures.” He swigged off his beer and put the bottle on the table.

“Chopping wood?” I asked.

“Nah. Phil asked me to cut some wood for the fireplace. Why?”

“Well, we found your prints on the ax that killed Ray,” Dave said. I wondered if Hale had clued Craig in to that in advance, letting him know his prints had turned up on the murder weapon. I was spending as much time studying Hale as Craig, splitting my attention and seriously throwing myself off my game.

Dave continued. “Did she offer you a special thank-you for the chores?”

Understanding crossed Craig's face. “Oh, wait. You heard this from that girl Jackie.” Neither Dave nor I said anything. “God, she chased after Danielle and always had her nose in everything, butting into Danielle's business.” Craig didn't need confirmation. “Did she tell you me and Dani would talk together?”

“Spend time in the bedroom alone together,” I said. “Danielle's a pretty girl, you're a nice-looking guy. . . .”

Craig laughed, shooting a panicked look at Hale, who shook his head, a quick no. “God, I knew Jackie'd say that. What Danielle and I had went deeper than sex. We were connected in a very deep way. Plus, with her husband and, God, before, that father of hers? Danielle needed a shoulder to cry on. And that was me. I was the only person she could trust.”

“And where were you on the night she died?” I asked.

“Flying a round-trip to Montreal.” He looked at Hale. “I thought you checked my flight logs.”

“We did. They were right as you reported,” Hale said. I was ready to shut down this interview right now—Craig was compromised as an informant—but Dave jumped in with a question.