Los Alamos (19 page)

“He got out of hand. I told you.”

“He didn’t want to have sex with you?”

“He wanted me to do
him
. I don’t do that.”

“You tell him this?”

“Sure, but he don’t want to listen, you know? And then he’s all over me, so—”

“So you hit him. With what, by the way?”

“With what?” Connolly could see his face working, sorting through answers.

“Yes. Did you just use your fists, or did you have something?”

“A branch,” he said quickly. “It was lying there right on the ground. Hey, what do you want to know all this for?”

“And you threw it away afterward?”

“Yeah, I guess. I don’t remember too well.”

“But you do remember hitting him.”

“Yeah, I
said
I did. I didn’t know he was dead, I just thought he was out, you know.”

Holliday got up then and walked over to the window.

“You must have been pretty angry,” Connolly said smoothly.

“I was surprised, you know? I just did the first thing that came into my head. I wasn’t trying to kill him.”

“What surprised you? The sex?”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t expect it from him? Was that because he was Mexican too?”

He could feel Holliday turn to them from the window, watching Kelly’s confused face. Kelly hesitated for a minute, then said, “No. It was just the surprise, you know.”

“Ramon, have you ever been to San Isidro?”

“What’s that? A church?”

“Yes. Ever hear of it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“It’s a church in Santa Fe. You ever go there?”

“I don’t go to church much.” Then, suspicious, “What do you ask that for?”

“The man you killed—the man you hit—used to go there. I just wondered if you’d ever gone there with him.”

“I told you, I only saw him the one time. No, I didn’t go to no church with him. What do you think?”

Holliday sat down again. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly gentle. “You know, Ramon, the police really appreciate cooperation.”

“Yeah,” he said, not looking at Holliday. Connolly came from somewhere else; this was the devil he knew.

“Makes our job a lot easier, so we appreciate that. When you make it easier for us, then we’re more inclined to—well, make it easier for you.”

“Yeah.”

“When we understand something, we got a much better idea what the charge should be. Like here, for instance. Somebody might think first off this is nothing but a murder one, you know, but when they understand it, when they know all the facts, they might think it’s not so bad. We don’t want you to hang for something you didn’t do.”

Connolly sat back, watching him work.

“That’s right,” Kelly said. “That Jack Duncan. That wasn’t no
murder
, that was just a fight, you know?”

“That’s what it sounds like to me. The boys down here understand that? They explain that to you?”

Ramon looked up at him. “Yeah, they explained it.”

“Good. You know, it’s a funny thing, boy in your position. Sometimes the police are the best friends you got.”

Ramon absentmindedly rubbed his cheek. “Yeah.”

“So you’d just want to go right on cooperating with them, wouldn’t you?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, we got two dead bodies here, so we got some kind of trouble, but that don’t have to be murder trouble, does it? Not the worst kind. I mean, two counts of second ain’t nowhere near as serious as even one first. You still got your life. They explain that to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good. Now I got one more question. After you hit the guy, you go through his pockets some?”

Kelly hesitated for a minute, suspecting a trap, then went ahead. “Yeah, okay, I did. What the hell—I figured he owed me something.”

“Uh-huh. You find much?”

“I don’t remember. Some. Not much.”

“You throw the wallet away too?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“What about the car?”

“I don’t know nothing about a car.”

“Oh, well, maybe he didn’t have one. You didn’t find any keys, huh? Just the wallet.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Just a wallet.”

Holliday turned to Connolly. “Anything else you want to know?”

“No. I guess that’s it,” Connolly said. “Better get the guard.”

“You got another cigarette?” Ramon said.

“Sure. Anything else we can do for you?”

Kelly stood up, the cigarette tucked behind his ear. “I’d sure like to get out of solitary. Think you could do something about that? I mean, it’s not like they’re accusing me of being a murderer or something.”

Afterward they stood on the steps of the building, caught in the glare of the afternoon sun. Holliday lit a cigarette, ignoring Connolly, looking deliberately at the street. Only a few cars broke the quiet.

“Well, that explains the warm welcome,” Connolly finally said.

Holliday just continued smoking.

“How do you want to play this?” Connolly said.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Holliday said, his voice low.

“Yes you do. They can’t railroad a confession like this. Who the hell do they think they are, anyway?”

“I don’t know that one either.”

“Is this just some more Wild West stuff? What do they think’s going to happen when he talks to a lawyer?”

Holliday sighed. “Well, that’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Lawyer gets him to change his statement and he’ll hang for sure.”

“But he didn’t do it.”

“He did the first one all right.”

“Then let him take the rap for that.”

“Well, aren’t you the hanging judge. I don’t know as I’d recommend that if I was his lawyer.”

“They’re going to hang him anyway.”

“Maybe. But we don’t know that. Maybe he thinks it’s worth the chance.”

“This is what they’re doing in Germany, for Christ’s sake.”

“In New York City too, I hear.”

“We don’t beat phony confessions out of people just to make the police look good.”

“No? Well, then I stand corrected.”

“You’re not going to do anything about this, are you?”

Holliday turned to face him, his expression more weary than angry. “Just what did you have in mind?”

“It’s not right.”

“I didn’t say it was. But it’s done. Kelly’s a little punk who’s probably going to get better than he deserves. The boys here are going to take credit for solving crimes they probably couldn’t ever have solved anyway. Nothing worse than a murder hanging over you. People don’t like it, makes them feel uneasy. So now everybody can just go about his business. Until the next guy goes out in the parking lot—but at least he won’t have Kelly getting his rocks off and playing with knives. So maybe everybody’s better off all around.”

“Except us. We’ve still got a murder to solve.”

Holliday didn’t say anything.

“You’re keeping the case open, aren’t you? You know he didn’t kill Bruner.”

“I can’t, Mike,” Holliday said quietly. “He’ll have my badge. I can’t go against him like that.”

“Don’t, then. Just don’t close the case.”

“It’s closed.”

“Doc, you’ve always been straight with me. At least I think you have.”

“Then don’t ask me to do something I can’t do,” he said, his voice resigned.

Connolly stared at him. “You know I can’t let this go.”

“Maybe. But as a police matter, it’s closed. What you get to up there on the Hill is your business.”

“I still need your help.”

He looked at the street, deciding. “What, exactly? I can’t hold every drifter who passes through town.”

“And I can’t go talking to everybody who lives around San Isidro. Only the police can do that.”

“Why San Isidro?”

“Because Bruner was killed there. Somebody must have seen something. There’s always somebody.”

Holliday raised his eyebrows. “Then why move him?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they didn’t want you snooping around, just in case somebody
did
see something. No crime, no questions. People don’t volunteer, do they?”

“Not much.”

“And they didn’t want him found.”

“So they move him to the center of town.”

Connolly sighed. “Yes.”

“Damnedest thing, isn’t it? You roll a guy, and instead of running away you take
him
away. All right. You don’t want him found—put a little distance between you and the law. So you’ve got all of God’s country around here, you can just drop him off somewhere in the woods and let the coyotes have him. But you don’t. You take him right back into town, where you
know
he’s going to be found. And then you take his ID, everything, so he’s not exactly found. Nobody knows who he is. Sounds like you can’t make up your mind one way or the other.”

“Go on,” Connolly said quietly, watching him.

“Now you take Mr. Kelly here. That’s a whole lot of trouble for him to go to. He’s more what I’d call the careless type. Love ’em and leave ’em. Don’t think he’d bother much about covering his tracks. He’d just get the hell out.”

“We know it’s not him,” Connolly said impatiently.

“And it’s not anybody
like
him either.”

Connolly looked up at him. “Meaning?”

“Meaning I don’t think he was rolled. I think it was somebody he knew. Or anyway who knew him.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

Holliday grinned. “I never said you were dumb. Just an arrogant son of a bitch.”

“So why would whoever it was want him to be found?”

“Well, he was going to be, wasn’t he? You don’t just lose a security officer in a top secret government base. They’d be all over the place. In fact, you were.”

“So we’re back to square one. Why move him?”

Holliday lit another cigarette, taking his time. “Well, I’ve been giving that a little thought. And what occurs to me is
how
he was found. See, we don’t know him from Adam—all we got is a victim. You find a body in the desert, you got a real mystery on your hands. San Isidro? Well, what would he be doing there? But the way we did find him, there was no mystery about that. You get the picture right away. What you got there is kind of an embarrassment. You don’t want to look into that too closely—you never know what you’re going to find when you turn that rock over. You just want to clean it up. The army wouldn’t want to go looking for pretty boys. They’d be squeamish about that. He just thought they’d sweep it away.”

“And now they will.”

Holliday shrugged. “I have to say, I’ll bet he never figured on old Ramon. That’s just another example of how the Good Lord looks after his sinners.”

“So where do we go from here?”

“Like I said, this case is closed. I can give you the benefit of my wisdom—that just comes from being in the business. But Hendron finds out I’m conducting an illegal investigation and he’ll have my ass. He can do it, too.”

“Not if you blow the whistle on him first.”

“Forget it,” Holliday said. “Not me. Not you either. He’s got a signed confession, and you don’t have much more than a theory about a parking lot and a few pieces of goddamn turquoise. That’s not just sticking your neck out, that’s handing him the ax. So right now it’s his show and there’s not a damn thing we can do about it. Hendron’s the kind of guy, if we were in combat you wouldn’t be surprised if he got shot in the back. One bullet and out and nobody’d look twice. To save themselves, you know. But we don’t do that here yet. Maybe you ought to use some of your contacts in Washington and get the bastard drafted. Let him go push the Japs around.” He ground out his cigarette, finished with the conversation. “But I guess he’s too valuable keeping the peace at home. Something for our boys to come back to.”

Connolly was silent for a minute. “What about the car?”

“The car?” Holliday said, looking up, intrigued.

“You still need to find the car.”

Holliday smiled. “Well, you know, a missing vehicle is another story. Strictly speaking, it’s not part of this case at all.”

“Unless you find it.”

“Well, we have to find it first. Plenty of time to worry about that.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Holliday looked at him. “This isn’t anything. Just a missing car.”

“Thanks anyway. You’ll sleep better. I guarantee it.”

“Don’t go giving me too much credit. I sleep pretty good now.”

“You’d think they’d want to know,” Connolly said, shaking his head. “I mean, don’t they care that whoever killed Bruner is still out there somewhere?”

“Well, you know, they probably should, but to them it’s just some fairy fight. Don’t matter. The thing is, nobody’s ever really cared about this except you.”

“I can’t now,” Oppenheimer said, coming out of the building. “I’m already late. I’m flying to Washington. Can’t it wait?”

“No.”

“Ride with me to Albuquerque if you like,” he said, nodding to the driver, who held the door for him.

“I’ve just come from Albuquerque. Two minutes.”

“Then ride with me to the gate. I really am late. Just like the White Rabbit.” He smiled, climbing into the car as if it were the hole in the tree. Connolly followed.

“Bad news?” Oppenheimer said as they passed the Tech Area.

“That depends on how you look at it. I thought you should know. The police in Albuquerque have arrested someone.”

“Splendid. Anybody we know?”

“No. Some kid who knifed a guy down there a few weeks ago. They got him to confess to both crimes.”

“Poor Bruner,” Oppenheimer said indifferently, his mind clearly elsewhere. “Well, it’s a relief in a way, isn’t it? One less thing to worry about.” He looked up when Connolly didn’t answer. “Isn’t it?”

Connolly shook his head and nodded toward the driver, a slight fair-haired soldier, but Oppenheimer waved his hand.

“He’s the wrong man.”

“Do you know that?”

“Yes.”

“Do they?”

“Maybe. They don’t care.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He killed their man. He didn’t kill Karl. But it suits them to wrap it all up, I guess. Neat and tidy. Anyway, they’re doing it.”

“You said they had a confession?”

“He’s lying. It wouldn’t hold up for five minutes in court.”

Oppenheimer looked at him, frankly puzzled.

“But no one’s going to challenge it. The police want to believe it, and Kelly—that’s the guy—wants them to believe it. He thinks he’s making a deal.”