Snowjob (6 page)

At last I said, “Thank you for the information, lieutenant. It’s not what I wanted to hear but you had no choice. It’s up to the courts now.”

That pleased him. He stood up and stuck out his hand, creasing his face into a minimal smile. “Sorry to give you bad news but you’re right.”

I shook his hand and he nodded to Hinton and left.

Hinton said, “G’night, Lieutenant,” and sat where he was until Cassidy had gone. Then he asked, “Seen enough?”

I nodded. “Enough to see that a good defense lawyer will be able to make a case for him, but I can also see that you had to arrest him. Thanks for the help, Pat.”

“You’re welcome. But now I’ve gotta be starting work.” Hinton stood up. “Anything else I can show you?”

I took the hint and stood up. “No. Thanks. Be all right if I get back to you over the next day or two?”

“Anything I can do, I will.” He stood there with his hands on the desk. “Keep on digging. I want to see Doug walk out of jail with everyone standing in line to apologize. He’s a good buddy of mine too.”

It was five o’clock and fully dark, the streetlights glinting yellow on the piled snow around the parking lot. I sat in my car, patting Sam’s head absently, wondering what to do next. There wasn’t much really, not before I’d spoken to Doug again and tried to get him to open up some more. I had to find out what he had been working on. If mob money was involved it was motive enough for someone to have killed the woman and framed him to get him off their backs. But unless Doug opened up to me, I couldn’t do much more for him.

The only other thing I could follow up was the beer can. It seemed the weak link in the case. From the placement of the prints it looked as if it had been served to Doug, on a tray. If he’d helped himself to a beer, the prints would have been random. And I wondered why it, alone of the six-pack, had other fingerprints on it. Anyone could have bought the six-pack, wiped it clear of prints and stuck it in the cooler at the Laver house, taking one out to account for the empty in the garbage can. No, I decided, the beer can was a good place to start investigating.

On my own patch, under Ontario law, the only place to buy beer is the government store. I could have chased the staff up to see if they remembered Cindy Laver buying beer. But here, in Vermont, booze was sold in grocery stores. I could never canvass them myself. No, I decided, I would concentrate on the can with the prints and there was one logical place to start, at Brewskis, where Doug and Cindy Laver had taken their last public drink together.

Carol Henning was behind the bar again. She pulled me a Budweiser and waved my money away. “Draft beer we can cover. It’s on the house. How’s your work going?”

“Pretty good, thanks.” Nobody wants to hear bad news. “Thought I’d drop in and ask about the last night Doug Ford was here. Can you remember what he drank that night?”

She shrugged. “I serve around three grand’s worth of drinks in a shift.”

“I hope everybody tips big,” I said and she snorted.

“Not bad. I make about twice my pay in tips, but don’t go telling that to the boss.”

“I promise.” I sipped my beer. “Do you think you could ask, Joyce is it? Next time she comes to the bar.”

“Will do.” She tilted her head on one side, flirtingly. “Is this gonna help?”

“Lord knows. I’m just a nosy SOB, that’s all.”

Now she looked at me levelly. “You’re married, right?”

“Yeah. How can you tell? Do I look round-shouldered, what?”

She laughed, a nice friendly sound. “I can always tell, even when the guy’s coming on to me. But you don’t. I figure you play it straight.”

“I’m terminally married. But they didn’t poke my eyes out on my wedding day.”

She laughed and said, “I’ll see what Joyce remembers.”

Someone came to the other end of the bar and she bobbed away while I sat sipping my Bud. A minute or so later, the waitress I’d helped the night before came up to me. “Hi. Carol said you wanted to talk to me.”

“Just a dumb question. I was wondering if you can remember what Doug Ford ordered the night he was in with Ms. Layer. The night she was killed.”

“Yeah. I remember because she was kind of mad. She said to me, ‘I suppose we’ll have what we always have. That hasn’t changed.’ And then he said, ‘No, make it a beer for me, please, a Coors.’ And I found we were all out of bottles but there were cans. I served him a can of Coors.”

“Thank you.” I didn’t let any satisfaction show but my spirits lifted. “Can you remember who else was working that night?”

She pushed out her lower lip. “The same bunch. Carol was at the bar and Ellen was working the dining room, from the bar that is, taking drinks through.”

“Any management people around?”

She thought about that before answering. “Not working. But Walt was here, Walt Huckmeyer. He hurt his leg that day, skiing on his lunch break at Cat’s Cradle. He was sitting over there.” She pointed to a table near the big log fine. “Like that’s his favorite table.”

She was excited at the chance of helping me but I didn’t want to give anything away so I changed my tack. “I’ve not met him. Is he a good skier?”

“He used to be on the national team,” she said. “You should see him carve those moguls.”

I wanted to get her mind off Doug so I said, “You wouldn’t get me down there, not on a bet,” and laughed. “Anyway, thanks for the help. You’ve got one heck of a memory.” Always get people talking about themselves, my father told me once. That way you’re sure they stay interested.

“I took one of those courses,” she said, delighted. “It’s good for the tips. You take someone’s credit card and see their name and next time they come in, you call them by name. Makes them feel welcome.”

“And does it work, with the tips?”

She tapped me on the arm with her forefinger. “I’m a bookkeeper when there’s any work going and I know figures. It’s increased my take by twenty-seven percent.”

I pushed the conversation into asking if she would really prefer working with money rather than doing what she was doing here and she spent a minute or two talking about herself. Then Carol waved at her, pointing to one of her tables, and she excused herself and bustled off. Mission accomplished, I thought, and I finished my beer, raised my hand to Carol and left.

Melody’s car was in the driveway when I arrived and I pulled in behind it. As soon as I switched off the motor the house door opened and Melody ran out to meet me. She looked anxious and I said, “Hi. It went well today.”

She wasn’t listening. “Reid,” she blurted, “somebody’s kidnapped Angela.”

“Kidnapped?”

She was weeping but she had her voice under control. “A man just called. He said something like we’ve got your daughter. Tell Bennett to wait for our call. Don’t call the police or your kid’s gonna be sorry.”

“Come inside.” I took her by the arm, clucking at Sam to follow me, and led her bade into the house. Ben was at the door. He looked at me, eyes wide. “Shut the door,” I told him, then asked Melody, “When did he call?”

“About ten minutes ago. I phoned the police station to see if you were there but they said you’d gone. Reid, what axe we going to do?” She was trembling and I put my arm around her shoulders.

“I’ll take care of it. By the sound of it, they want me gone, whoever they are. Tell me, when did you see Angie last?”

“This morning when she went to school. She wasn’t home when I got back from the library but she usually stays a while with her friend Jennie until six. They do their homework together. So I didn’t worry until the phone went.”

“How did the man sound? Was he a local, would you say?”

I had led her to the armchair and she sat down, perching on the edge of it as I squatted in front of her. She was taut with fear, every muscle frozen rigid, but she had stopped crying and was thinking hard. “No. He sounded like he could have been from New York or someplace,” she said. “You know, the kind of whine in the nose.”

She’d heard a white voice, I registered. “Okay, now tell me exactly what he said.” I held both her hands and she looked at me sightlessly as she tried to remember.

“He said, ‘Hi. Is Angela still not home?’ and I was worried right away and asked him who he was. Then he said, ‘No, she’s not, because she’s here with me. Now just listen. We don’t want to hurt the kid. We want to talk to Bennett. Tell him to wait for our call, and don’t call the police or your kid’s gonna be sorry.’ Then he hung up.”

I patted her hand and stood up. “Somebody wants me out of town. They’re not going to hurt Angela. I’ll talk to the guy and then when he tells me what he wants, I’ll do it. Try not to worry.” I made sure I sounded calm but my mind was racing, wondering which of the people I’d spoken to that day had passed the news on to the big boys.

Ben had been listening to every word and he knelt down beside his mother. “I’ll kill the guy,” he said.

I patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll get your chance. I’ll find him and you can punch his lights out. But first we’ve got to get Angie back. If the phone goes, let me answer it. Right now, your mom would like a cup of coffee.”

Melody raised her head to protest but I winked at her and she said, “Yes, please, Ben. And get one for Reid as well.”

“No problem,” he said automatically, then added, “I mean it, Mom,” and went into the kitchen.

I crouched beside her again. “Good thinking. It’ll keep him busy for a minute or two. Tell me, do you want me to stop working for Doug?”

“I want Angela back safe, that’s all. Nothing else matters,” she whispered.

“I understand. Now tell me. Does Doug have a gun in the house?”

She looked at me very straight. “Yes. He didn’t think I knew, but I found it in the basement. I went into his toolbox for a hammer to hang a picture and I saw it there.”

“Go and get it.” I straightened up and she stood and walked out to the kitchen and downstairs. A minute later she was back with a dish towel over something in her hand.

I took it from her and flipped the towel back. Inside was a standard police Smith and Wesson .38 revolver. I flipped the chamber open and saw it was loaded. I tipped the shells out and checked. They were standard police rounds. “That’s not his issue gun. They took that when they arrested him. That’s his backup.”

It was big for a backup gun. A lot of New York cops carry a second weapon, but it’s usually smaller, a .25 automatic usually, something they can holster in their sock in case somebody takes their artillery off them. “That’s the one he carried in New York,” Melody explained. “But here he carried the issue gun.”

“Have you ever used one?”

She was shocked. “Of course not.”

“But you know how? Doug showed you, I’m sure.” I’d instructed my own wife, despite her not wanting to know.

“Point and pull,” she said soberly. “If you’re expecting trouble, pull the hammer back first but it’s double action. Doug told me.”

“Pretty soon that guy’s going to call again. When he does, I’ll be going out. I’ll leave Sam on guard here but I want you and Ben to go upstairs and wait. Take this with you. Okay?”

“You think they’re going to call?”

“I’m sure of it. Doug figured there was a mob involvement in his work. That’s why he wouldn’t share it with you. And those are the guys who want me out of here. I’ll see them and they’ll let Angie go.”

“What if they’re hurting her?” I could see in her eyes what she meant but I didn’t let my own fears show. “They won’t touch her, believe me.”

She closed her eyes. Her lips were moving and I lip-read her prayer. Then the phone rang. I picked it up. “Hello, this is Reid Bennett.”

Melody was on her feet beside me, trying to listen. I concentrated on the man’s voice when he spoke. “Just the guy I want to talk to.”

“I’m listening.” Melody was right, I judged. The voice had the raw edges of New York in its tone, or maybe New Jersey, somewhere around the metropolitan area. I couldn’t pinpoint it closer.

“We hear tell you’re askin’ a lot of questions.” Not “I,” but “we.” This was not the main man, this was some foot soldier.

“Doug Ford’s a friend of mine. Do you have his daughter there?”

“The kid’s fine. But we want you should go home, back to the Eskimos. Am I making myself clear?”

“Release the girl and I’ll do whatever you want.”

“Okay. Now you’re bein’ smart. Come down to the town square an’ park in front of the library. The spade lady knows where it is.” He was baiting me but I didn’t rise.

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll have a little talk an’ after that you drive the kid home an’ them go home yourself. You got me?”

“When?”

“Right away. An’ don’t bring the dog with you.” It came out “dawg.” New York, no doubts left.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Good. An’ don’t waste time calling the cops. These hayseeds’ll be bumping into one another. If we see any of them, the kid dies. Got that?”

“Got it.”

He hung up and I did the same, very slowly. Melody was holding my arm. “Is she all right?”

“She’s fine. He’s going to hand her over to me. He wants to talk to me first, outside the library.”