Razzamatazz (A Crime Novel) (20 page)

Colin walked down the hall, past the bank where Susan and Consuelo were pasting copy, and up the stairs to Mark's office. At the desk he turned the calendar page from Thursday to Friday. There was nothing written down before eleven. He knew Mark had another calendar, a leather-bound book. Hurriedly he searched through the papers on the desk but found nothing. Feeling like a louse, he opened the top right-hand drawer and began examining the contents.

"Can I help you, pal?"

Colin jumped. "Jesus, Mark!"

Mark's eyes were hard, like chipped glass. "What are you looking for, Colin?"

"Your calendar."

"Yeah? How come?"

"Sarah called and said you'd left the house by six, and she didn't know where you were. I told her you had a meeting with Gildersleeve about the murders. She didn't believe me, she said she never heard of a breakfast meeting starting at six. I said you probably came into the office first. She hung up on me. She said you should call when you came in."

Mark tapped a sneakered foot. "So why're you looking for my calendar?"

"I wanted to see if you did have an appointment."

"What business is it of yours?"

"Come on, Mark, don't be a shit. I had to lie to your wife for, God's sake."

"So? Are you some fucking Boy Scout suddenly? Or are you bucking for the George Washington award?"

Colin slammed the drawer and started for the door. Mark stopped him, his fingers pressing into Colin's shoulder, his eyes looking cold, devoid of any emotion.

"What the hell's wrong with you lately?" Colin asked.

"Me? What about you?"

Colin remembered this technique from college days; Mark would always turn things around so that the questioner was on the defensive. He pulled out of his grip. "Let's just forget it. You'd better call Sarah."

"I was with Amy," Mark said.

"You're a schmuck, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know. I couldn't help it, Colin. She called me yesterday and said she was going to kill herself if I didn't come see her. 1 mean, what the fuck else could I do?"

"For one thing you could have lied to Sarah instead of just disappearing. Do you think Sarah's a dope or something?"

Mark slumped down into the gray denim couch and put his head in his hands.

Funny, Colin thought, you know a man for years, think you understand him, and then in a flash you realize you don't know a damn thing. He would have bet twenty to one that Mark wouldn't jeopardize his marriage again.

"It's none of my business," Colin said, "but what are you going to do now?"

"I don't know, that's the trouble," he said gloomily. "She's such a kid, Amy. Such a mixed-up kid."

Colin wanted to ask him why a thirty-eight-year-old man had gotten involved with a kid in the first place, but he knew that was beside the point.

Mark said, "I'm afraid she'll do it, Colin, I really am."

"Does she want you to leave Sarah?"

"Yes."

"You don't want to leave Sarah and the kids, do you?"

"I'm so screwed up," he lamented. "You don't know, Colin, you just don't know how screwed up I am." He ran both hands through his gray hair.

The words chilled Colin and he didn't know why. "Maybe you should see a shrink."

"Like who?"

"I don't know. Aren't there any out here?"

"Yeah, I guess but—"

The phone rang, sounding shrill and assaultive.

"Want me to get it?" Colin asked.

"No, I will." He plodded to his desk and picked up the white phone. "Yeah? When?" Mark looked ashen, as if he'd been drained of blood. "Oh, shit. Okay, yeah, right away. Thanks."

"What is it?" Colin asked.

"Another one."

"Jesus. Who?"

"Joe Carroll, the undertaker. Do you want to go or should I try to locate Babe? I can go, for that matter."

"No, I'll go. I told you, it was just the kid I—"

"Yeah, sure I understand."

Colin felt a twinge of irritation that Mark had forgotten their agreement about him covering the murders. "We'll talk later, okay?"

"Right."

"Don't forget to call Sarah."

"Yeah. And thanks for covering for me."

Colin waved a hand in answer, but didn't say he wasn't going to go on lying to Sarah. Now he had to be a reporter, a goddamn crime reporter. Again.

LOOKING BACK—50 YEARS AGO

On Tuesday noon a large sedan carrying four people fell into the excavation on the former R. Young property, corner of Main and Center Streets, and although the heavy sedan ended up in the deep cellar, no one was injured and the only damage to the car was a bent fender. The machine, a Buick sedan, was the property of Fred Goodwin of Seaville.

TWENTY-ONE

A special emergency meeting of the town board was called for the afternoon of Joe Carroll's murder. Colin sat in the audience waiting for the meeting to begin, still shaken by the scene he'd encountered at the funeral parlor that morning.

By the time he'd arrived, the mortuary was packed with people. Schufeldt and Hallock were screaming at one another while the lab technicians popped their flashbulbs and made their measurements. Buzz Gormley from
Newsline
was on the scene because he'd been in the area on another assignment.

In the far wall of the prep room, a closet door hung open, grotesquely exposing the nude body of Fred Turner, who was wedged inside on an angle between floor and side wall, arms hanging forward limply like a huge inflated doll. On the table Joe Carroll lay dead, his shirt ripped open, a carving on his chest. Only this time it wasn't an A. Now there was a new symbol, more complex, more mystifying than the other.

Colin flipped the pages of his notebook and looked at the copy he'd made of what the murderer had carved into Carroll's chest. He had drawn it speedily and now he ran his pen over it, making the markings thicker, darker. And then he studied it:

Schufeldt had insisted it was a swastika, but Hallock had pointed out that although it resembled a swastika it was not one; the characters were backwards. A loud argument had ensued, then escalated into a shoving match, Hallock and Schufeldt having to be separated by Charlie Copin and himself.

The way Colin saw it, it could either be a swastika drawn by someone who didn't know what one looked like, or it could be an arcane symbol. But whatever it was it had completely blown Hallock's theory about the A being an initial of a name and had made the women's two-and-a-half-days' work totally useless.

The Town Hall was a new building. The meeting room was large, with orange and yellow plastic chairs, tan drapes, and an orange carpet of indoor-outdoor material. Fluorescent lighting was recessed into an Armstrong ceiling and spilled out in a depressing glow. In the right-hand corner of the room was a large American flag and on the nearby wall a photograph of the president of the United States. At the front of the room was a platform supporting a long, desk-type piece of furniture where the mayor and board members presided.

Word about this emergency session had leaked and now a number of townspeople were filing in. Hallock and Schufeldt sat in front, ten seats separating them.

A few board members, Phil Nagle one of them, had already taken their seats when Jill Townsend, town clerk and the only woman on the board, joined them. Colin watched Gildersleeve as he climbed the four steps to the platform and assumed his place in the middle. He removed his sunglasses and surveyed the room, his small mouth tightly closed in an unyielding line. He wore a seersucker suit, white shirt, red striped tie. A handkerchief in a breast pocket showed three neat points.

The room was filling up. Colin was surprised to see Fran Hallock seated in the back with about eight other women. She looked tired. Burton Kelly came through the main double doors. Colin slid down in his seat, not wanting to talk to Kelly.

The last councilman arrived just as somebody tapped Colin on the shoulder. He felt a rush when he saw her. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I'm a citizen," Annie said smiling.

"Sorry. I didn't mean—I don't know what I meant," he laughed. "Why don't you sit here?" He indicated the chair next to him.

They brushed shoulders as she sat, and Colin felt as if he'd touched a live wire. She was wearing a lavender button-down collar oxford shirt, and a khaki skirt. He thought she looked terrific.

"What do you think will happen?" Annie asked.

"I think we're going to see a lynching, figuratively speaking."

"Waldo?"

"Between Gildersleeve and the state trooper, old Waldo doesn't have a chance. But the people will do it for them, you'll see."

"I can understand how they feel. Four murders in two weeks is a lot of people to deal with, Colin."

He liked it when she said his name. "That's not Waldo's fault."

"No, of course not, but he's in the office of chief to protect the people of Seaville."

"And he's not doing a very good job, is that what you're saying?" The last thing he wanted was to fight with her.

"I'm not saying that, but it's what the people are saying. I had a lot of calls today after word got out about Joe Carroll."

"What kind of calls?"

"Angry calls, scared calls. Everybody feels very vulnerable, and they are," she said thoughtfully.

"I can't argue with that but Waldo's doing the best he can, Annie. He's got practically nothing to work with. Whoever's doing this is very smart, very cagey."

The gavel sounded and Gildersleeve rose. "We'll begin this special meetin' of the town board, as usual, with the salutin' of the flag."

Everyone faced the flag and placed their hands over their hearts. When they'd finished the pledge and resumed their seats, Gildersleeve banged the gavel once more.

"Councilmen, members of the audience, this special meetin' has been called to determine what action the town of Seaville should take in relationship to these unsolved murders. As you all know, there have been four terrible killin's since Saturday, May Twenty- third. That is to say, the discovery of one murder," he coughed and scratched an ear, "and then the brutal killin's of three of our own citizenry. One of them a darlin' little girl, Mary Beth Higbee."

Along with the rest of the audience, Colin followed Gildersleeve's mournful gaze and found himself looking at the broad back of Chuck Higbee. The man's shoulders heaved and Sally Higbee leaned closer to her husband, a hand sliding up his arm. Colin felt disgusted by Gildersleeve's theatrics. He wondered if Russ Cooper was in the audience, then spotted him two rows from the back. None of the Carrolls was present.

"... and so," Gildersleeve was saying, "we intend to take action today. There will be no more so-called privileged information. Every citizen in this township will know everything he or she wants to know about these killin's."

Colin shook his head. "What an idiot," he whispered to Annie.

"Don't the police purposely hold back information to trap the killer?" she asked.

"Exactly."

"... it is our duty. We will now hear from Councilman Philip Nagle."

"Swell," Colin said sarcastically.

Nagle pulled his microphone closer and adjusted his aviator glasses. He was wearing a light blue linen jacket, gray creaseless trousers, a white shirt, and a dark blue tie. When he bent his head to read his prepared statement, the light shone on his thinning hair, revealing a pink scalp.

"This guy is the pits." Colin said. "Do you know him?"

"I've seen him around."

"He was Gloria Danowski's lover."

"No kidding?"

"But he's innocent."

"... and members of the Council. I am here today to propose the immediate dismissal of Chief Waldo Hallock. In the past weeks, Chief Hallock has failed to uncover one shred of evidence, not to mention that not one suspect has been detained. Why? Because Chief Hallock has not been able to come up with a suspect. Why? Because Chief Waldo Hallock is incompetent and ill-suited for the responsible and difficult job of chief of the Seaville Police. I urge you, Council members, to vote for removal of Waldo Hallock from his present position. Thank you."

Colin made some notes on his pad. "He probably thinks he should be chief, the creep."

Annie said, "I'm getting the feeling you don't like him."

"Hey, you're one sharp woman."

"You have to get up early to get something past me, fella."

Colin laughed.

Gildersleeve wiped his face with a handkerchief and leaned toward his microphone. "Thank you, Councilman Nagle. We will now hear from Special Agent William Schufeldt."

Schufeldt, his broad shoulders straining the jacket of his green leisure suit, looked around for the standing microphone. It was in the aisle, near Colin. When Colin made no move to bring him the microphone, Schufeldt's fleshy face began to turn the color of raw beef.

Colin heard the scrape of a chair and footsteps behind him, then saw Burton Kelly carry the mike to the front. Coming back to his seat, Kelly gave Colin a dismissive glance.

Schufeldt adjusted the mike. "Mayor Gildersleeve, and Councilmen, I thank you for this opportunity to put my problems before you. Since I have come on this case four days ago I have had no cooperation whatsoever from your chief of police, Waldo Hallock. I would have to say that he has gone out of his way to be obstructive. Time after time when I asked him to give me certain information he refused."

Colin looked at Hallock, saw the muscle jumping in his cheek.

"Each new line of inquiry I wished to pursue was met with disapproval and insubordination. I am not familiar, as you can imagine, with this township. Therefore, I needed the help of the chief to clue me in to the various criminals, their records, and that. On several occasions he told me that that was unnecessary, and even went so far as to steer me wrong about things."

Hallock's head snapped up. He wore an expression of puzzlement that quickly turned to understanding, then finally faded into a bemused smile.

"And last but not least," Schufeldt went on, "I happen to know he pursued lines of inquiry that he did not make me privy to. There is no way that I can work with this man and bring this case to a swift conclusion. I urge the Council to dismiss Chief Hallock from his present position. Thank you." Schufeldt sat in his chair with a thud.