Murder One (44 page)

“Thank the jury,” Ben said, nodding toward the twelve people in the box, all of whom were now making eye contact. “They did it.”

Keri looked across the courtroom and mouthed a heartfelt thank you. But she hugged Ben’s neck all the harder. “You’re the one who made it happen,” she said. “You believed in me. You were the only one.”

Judge Cable pounded his gavel. “We’re not quite done yet, ladies and gentlemen. If you could please put the party on hold a few more moments.” Judge Cable rattled through the final cautions and instructions to the parties and the jurors. He thanked the jury for their time and effort with a sincerity that surprised Ben, since he suspected Cable almost certainly disagreed with the verdict. “Ms. Dalcanton, the State apologizes for the ordeal you have been put through. You are now free to go.” He slammed down his gavel, and at long last, it was over.

Keri stood beside Ben, poised like an anaconda ready to spring. “All right, Christina,” she said. “I need your permission.”

“My permission?”

Keri nodded. “Can I kiss him now?”

“Be my guest.”

Keri sprang. Her lips pressed against Ben’s with an intensity that took both of them by surprise. The kiss did not last long, but the passion behind it was strongly felt, just the same.

“And that’s just a preview, big boy. Let’s get out of here.” She tugged his collar, urging him toward the back door.

“Wait a minute. We’ve got all these documents to transport. There’s paperwork to be filed …”

“I’ll do it,” Christina said, with an expression not unlike a disapproving mother on prom night. “You two go … smooch. Or whatever.”

“Thanks, Christina. I’ll call you in—”

That was all he got out before the insistent tugging lifted him off his feet and halfway toward the door. And he was out of there.

H
IS EYES CLOSED, FATHER
Danney sprinkled a fine layer of dirt into the gravesite.

“We need not grieve for this man, for we know that God cares.”

Ben watched as the assembled mourners filed past the grave. Keri was holding up well. He had been concerned; after all the stress she’d been through of late, the last thing he wanted her to have to endure was a funeral. But tragic though it was, her tormented brother was dead. What she needed now was closure, and Ben knew that would never come until the funeral was finished and Kirk was laid to rest for eternity.

The priest said a few more words, then concluded the ceremony. The time to pay last respects had come. There were only ten people present, and some of them, Ben knew, worked for the church. Still, there was a tangible sense of tragedy in the air—tragedy and relief, as if this was acknowledged to be horrible, but was simultaneously perceived as the final chapter in a mercifully ended episode.

Keri paused by the open grave. She laid her hand gently in the dirt surrounding the opening. Tears sprang to her eyes, but for once, it seemed to Ben, they were not tears of terror, not the horrified reflex of a young woman overwhelmed by circumstances outside her control. This time, they were simply the tears of a sister who much loved and now much missed her only brother.

After a long moment, Keri scooped up a handful of dirt and poured it into the grave. A short beat later, she walked away.

Ben met her at the perimeter of the site. “How are you holding up?”

Keri leaned close to him, bracing her cheek against his shoulder for support. “I’m fine. Really.” She hesitated. “But oh God I’ll miss him.”

Ben pressed her head against him. He felt her warmth stirring his blood into hyperdrive. He felt more than a little guilty, feeling such emotions at a funeral, but it was beyond his control. “The pain will fade. In time.”

“I know,” she said. He could feel her moist cheek through his shirt. “That’s what bothers me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Kirk loved me so much. He deserved better than he got.”

“Keri.” He pulled her away and looked at her levelly. “I know Kirk was your brother, and you’ll miss him. But in many respects—this is for the best. What kind of life did he have to look forward to? Kirk killed someone.”

“Yes, Kirk killed someone—but he did it out of love. Because of me.”

“Keri, it’s not your fault. You’re not to blame.”

“I know that.” I didn’t say I was. But I still wish that somehow, some way, we could go back in time. I could do everything differently.”

“Don’t torture yourself, Keri. What you need to focus on now is the future.”

Her eyes closed briefly, as if in prayer. “You’re right.” She graced him with a tiny smile. “Can I see you later?”

“Of course. I have a couple of chores to attend to. Life as a landlord, you know. But maybe later …”

“Just give me a call when you’re ready to come over.”

“It’s a date.”

She pressed her firm body against him and gave him a long sweet kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Ben watched as her black-clad figure moved away. It seemed as though the further she went, the sharper and more intensely her taste lingered on his lips.

“So, kemo sabe. Hitting on women at funerals now?”

Ben pivoted around. “Mike!” He reached out and clapped his friend’s arms. “When did you get back in town?”

Major Mike Morelli grinned, then shoved his fists deep into the pockets of his unseasonable trenchcoat. “Just last night, as it happens.”

“Was your mission a success? Did you catch the bad guy?”

“Don’t I always?”

“Yeah. You and Dudley Do-Right.”

“But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Couldn’t stay out of trouble while I was gone, huh? Not even for a few weeks.”

“So you’ve heard? Those clowns you work with at Tulsa P.D. actually arrested me.”

“I’ve heard. Penelope gave me the full scoop last night when I got in.” He paused. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”

“You and me both. If I go my whole life without again experiencing delousing, that’ll be just fine.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t around to help.”

“I don’t think it was a coincidence. I think Matthews and his cronies waited until you went undercover to make their move.”

“No doubt. I guess you’ve heard—Matthews has been suspended. I don’t know if he’ll ever work as a police officer again. Frank Bailey is being investigated by IA. They’ll come up with some kind of punishment for him, but the general feeling is that he was more a follower than a leader. And he did come clean at trial, more or less. That counts in his favor.”

“I agree. I don’t want to see any more people hurt by this. They were all basically pawns in Andrea McNaughton’s revenge game. Like I was just telling Keri, I think we should put this behind us. Move on.”

“Noble sentiments. And speaking of your client Keri …” He leaned in a little closer and winked. “I gather the relationship has moved somewhat beyond attorney-client.”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Oh, mainly that twenty-second smooch I just observed.” He jabbed Ben in the ribs. “You old chick magnet, you.”

Ben pushed him away. “I want to make it clear that we didn’t let this thing develop until after the case was completed.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, maybe there were one or two slips. Three, actually. But still—”

Mike held up his hands. “Relax, Ben. I’m certain that whatever you did, you did it in a morally responsible, hand-wringingly ethical manner.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“It means chill out. I’m your friend. And I’m glad to see you finally connecting with someone.”

Ben tilted his head to one side. “I have to admit, I’m feeling a little guilty about the whole situation.”

“What, because of the attorney-client thing?”

“No. Because of her age. Which is roughly half mine.”

“You’re exaggerating. Besides, she’s an adult and she can make choices for herself. You’re not breaking any laws.”

“No, not quite.”

“You’re probably the best thing that ever happened to that poor girl.”

“Maybe, but still—”

“My God, Ben. Are you totally incapable of being happy? You’ve got a good thing here. Don’t spoil it haranguing yourself because she’s younger than you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Ben glanced up at the cloudless sky. It was fairly warm out, especially for this time of year in Oklahoma. “So when are we going to get together so I can hear about this archcriminal you tracked down? There’s a game on tonight.”

“Sounds good. We can drink beer, swap stories, and you can pretend to understand football. Say, my place at eight?”

“I’ll look forward to it.” Ben glanced at his watch. “What are you doing now?”

“Oh, work, what else? Now that I’m back, they’ve dragged me into the cleanup of this Joe McNaughton disaster. Well, triumph for you. Disaster for us.”

“What’s left to do?”

“For LaBelle, major damage control. When that verdict came down, he saw his reelection bid flittering away right before his eyes. He hasn’t decided whom to blame yet—the judge, the jury, you—but I can guarantee he’ll be on the evening news soon ranting about this miscarriage of justice.”

“And for you?”

“Well, we finally found the dive where Kirk Dalcanton lived after he moved away from his sister. Man, you thought the place where she lived was grim—you should see this hellhole. I didn’t think dives like this still existed in Tulsa.”

“What do you have to do?”

“Oh, everything. Look for any additional proof that he was the murderer. Catalog his belongings, which I guess are now his sister’s belongings, since she’s his only living relative. In fact, there’s some stuff you could take over to her. And judging by that last kiss, you’re going to be seeing her soon.”

“Let me think. Do I want to deliver to Keri her dead brother’s belongings? I think that’s a no.”

“Come on, kemo sabe. It would save me a lot of time.”

Ben frowned. “I’m entirely too soft. But I missed you, you big lug.”

Mike fluttered his eyelashes. “I love it when you sweet-talk me.”

Half an hour later, Mike parked his TransAm in front of a dilapidated flophouse just a few blocks from central downtown. Some parts of Tulsa’s downtown area had been refurbished in recent years, giving people more and more reason to venture northward, even during nonwork hours: Greenwood, the Brady, OSU-Tulsa, Gilcrease Museum. Almost every time Ben came downtown it seemed he discovered something new and charming. But there were also isolated pockets of the past, places where it seemed nothing had changed for decades—except maybe for the worse.

Kirk’s apartment—his room, to be more accurate, was barely habitable. The two-story house was a faded grayish color, so ill-maintained and uncared for that as he looked at it, Ben wondered that it could even remain standing. This place could be a poster house for landlords everywhere:
DON’T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!

Kirk had the room at the top, a converted attic, which Mike informed Ben he had rented for a whopping twenty dollars a week. As Ben stepped through the creaking door, he was almost knocked over by the putrid odor that assaulted him.

“How could anyone live here?”

The tiny room was so cluttered with stuff the two men could barely get from one end of it to the other. Despite the haste of his move, Kirk seemed to have taken with him everything that was of the remotest importance to him.

“Anyway,” Mike said, “you can see that most of this clutter is just personal junk. Not going to help us understand anything about the murder. Not worth anything to anyone, except maybe his sister. And in most cases, probably not her. But someone has to take it.”

Ben pushed his way through the room. “Funny, isn’t it? Or not funny at all. Depressing. Some of this stuff must’ve been special to him. He may have used it, or looked at it, every day. But now he’s gone and—pow. One week later, it’ll all be on the scrap heap.”

Ben saw some books, a few CDs. Kirk seemed to favor country-western, not exactly surprising for a boy from Stroud. Several Bibles, also not a gigantic surprise. Ben picked one up and found numerous passages underlined in red. In some cases, messages were scrawled in the margins, in what had to be Kirk’s handwriting.

“Kirk was seriously into the Good Book,” Ben murmured.

“No surprise there,” Mike replied. “Don’t get me wrong. The Bible’s a great read, especially the King James Version. But it’s also a standard volume in the library of virtually every psycho you’ll ever meet in this neck of the woods.”

Ben kept sorting. He found a couple of magazines on tattooing and other means of “bodily enhancement.” “There are magazines about tattooing? Three different ones?”

“Ben, there are magazines about everything. We live in the era of the niche audience.”

“I guess so.” He was surprised that he found only one photograph, of Kirk’s sister, Keri. It had to be several years old; Keri looked thirteen at best. But it was lovingly framed, even cleaned, unlike everything else in the room.

“He loved his sister so much,” Ben commented. “I can’t even conceive of devotion of that magnitude.”

“Just as well you can’t,” Mike said. “Given what it led him to.”

Ben continued looking. He realized this was not much different from sorting through a dead man’s pockets, but it was fascinating, all the same. After pushing aside some decorative brass doodads, he found a large cardboard box. “What on earth could this be?”

He opened it up—and gasped.

“What?” Mike said, whipping his head around. “What is it?”

Ben stared into the box, his mouth open, his eyes wide. “I don’t believe it. I don’t believe it.”

“What?” Mike repeated. He stumbled toward his friend, knocking over items right and left. He peered into the box. “Okay, so what? I don’t get it.”

“No, you couldn’t. But I do.” Ben’s eyes seemed glassy and fixed. “Oh, my God. I do.”

Mike grabbed his shoulders. “Would you stop that? Tell me what’s going on!”

“I can’t.” He pressed his fingers against his forehead. “My God, how could I be so stupid? How could I be so blind?”

Mike was getting angry. “Would you please tell me what you’re talking about?”

Ben ignored him. He pulled away, grabbed his coat, and headed toward the door. “I’m sorry, Mike. I have to go. There’s someone I have to talk to.” He rushed out the front door and started down the decaying staircase. “Now.”