the Forgotten Man (2005) (32 page)

"I didn't know. I been here for eight years; all I knew was Payne."

"Payne had a son. Did you know about his son?"

"Jesus Christ, no. That's what the sheriff said. I didn't know anything about a son."

"His name was David."

"Jesus, next you're gonna tell me Payne was Elvis-fucking-Presley."

We moved into the office. If Lewis had worked with Reinnike for eight years, he could probably name Reinnike's closest friends. I asked him. Lewis hesitated, and I could see he was bothered by how little he knew about the man with whom he had worked so closely.

"Payne didn't have friends. He kinda stayed to himself."

"Everybody has someone."

"Maybe up at the church. Payne was big on the Bible. He was up at the church a lot."

"Anyone else?"

"Just me and Frederick, that's all I know. We helped him here at the station, then up at the house when he needed it. Frederick's been here longer than me."

"How long has Frederick been here?"

"I don't know - ten, twelve years, something like that. You want his number?"

"What does Frederick look like?"

"Little younger than you, maybe. About your height, but heavy. I dunno. Why you asking about Frederick? What does that have to do with Payne?"

"Did Payne tell you why he was going to Los Angeles?"

"I thought he was in Sacramento."

"He told you he was going to Sacramento?"

"He called Frederick. His sister got T-boned in a bad wreck, he said. I thought he was in Sacramento taking care of her, not down in L. A. getting himself shot."

"He called Frederick."

"Yeah. Frederick talked to him."

"Payne didn't have a sister."

Elroy Lewis muttered under his breath, and we were both wondering why Frederick had gotten all the calls and not Elroy Lewis. Lewis turned off the last lights, then locked the door behind us.

He said, "If you see the sheriff up there, you tell him I went home. He said he was gonna call."

"I'll tell him you went home."

"You going up to Payne's right now?"

"That's right."

"Look for the big dead sycamore right by the drive, otherwise you'll miss it."

"All right. Thanks, Mr. Lewis."

The dog lifted its head when he saw us approaching, and struggled to its feet. It wobbled sideways before it steadied itself. Lewis stared at the dog as if it were homeless.

"I don't know what in hell we're gonna do now."

He stared at me, then started blinking again.

"Payne read the Bible all the time. He would read it sitting here in the station. He had these statues of Jesus. He went to Mass, I dunno, three times a week, and now he gets shot to death down in L. A. I'm not a religious man, but it doesn't seem right."

Lewis walked away, and the dog gimped along after him. I climbed back into my car, but I didn't leave right away. I thought about Frederick Conrad. Payne Keller's house was close, and the sheriff was supposed to be there. I had Conrad's address, and could have gone to his home, but I decided to see the sheriff first. Like failing to return to my office, it was exactly the wrong decision.

Chapter 55

L ewis warned me to look for a dying sycamore, and that's where I found it - an overgrown private lane little more than a break between the trees without even a mailbox to draw passing attention. It looked more like a trail than a road, with nasty potholes and cuts that would discourage the idly curious with a broken axle. It was a good place to be an invisible man and live an invisible life. I worked my way over the potholes and through the trees. Reinnike's house was a rustic cabin built of clapboard and river stones, with a covered porch in front. I had expected to see the sheriff's vehicle, but Kelly Diaz's Passat was parked alongside the porch. No other vehicles were present. I pulled up behind her, and shut off my car. The front door was open.

Diaz would have heard me drive up, but she did not come to the door. I got out, and went to the porch.

"Diaz?"

I crossed the porch, and stepped inside.

"Diaz, it's Cole."

Furniture was upended, magazines were scattered over the floor, and books had been swept clean from a bookcase that was twisted away from the wall. Statues and portraits of Jesus were everywhere; watching from the walls and the television and the tables. More little statues were strewn over the floor.

"Diaz, you in here?"

Reinnike's house had been searched, but not by Diaz. Cops know you can't find something by throwing things in the air. Someone with a disordered mind had searched this house. An image of a collie with a garden stake through its chest flickered in my head. I was frightened of what I would find.

"David?"

I moved to the kitchen. Drawers had been emptied; the cupboards were open, and Tupperware raked to the floor. I didn't want to go into the back of the house. I wondered if Diaz had been here when David Reinnike came to call.

I backed out of the kitchen, and turned toward the living room. Kelly Diaz was waiting in the mouth of the hall, holding her pistol loose down along her leg. She could have killed me; she could have shot me down from behind, but she didn't. Her face was strained as if she had caught up in time with her mother, and carried her mother's lost years, but she gave me a wicked bright smile.

"Damn, Cole, you really are the World's Greatest Detective. You found the sonofabitch - Payne-fucking-Keller."

"I found a suspect in his murder, too."

Her shirt was taut over the swell of a bullet-resistant vest. Detectives never wore vests, but Diaz had come up here to do business. She waggled her gun at the room.

"He's here, Cole. The sick freak is shitting his pants. We can get him."

"Pardy knows. He's talking it over with O'Loughlin right now. They're going to issue a warrant."

"Pardy doesn't know his ass."

"He found the gun and put it with one of your cases. You had access. He has a witness who saw a woman matching your description with Reinnike the night of the murder. I found the murder book in your house -"

She waggled the gun again, but a sheen of sweat slicked her face and her eyes were bright.

"We'll see with the jury."

"Your footprints are all over this, Kelly. You're wearing your mother's necklace, forchrissake."

The tough smile wavered, but strengthened with anger.

"Well, so fucking what? I made my choice, and I'm good with it. This bastard murdered my family. I am officially mentally ill. I snapped under the strain of being confronted by the man who murdered my family. I feared for my life, and reacted accordingly. I then proceeded with an investigation in preparation to come forward. We'll see what the jury does with it."

She must have told herself those things a thousand times, convincing herself it would work.

"There were better ways, Diaz. You could have made the case. You could have arrested him."

Her gun came up.

"Oh, fuck that, Cole - please. You don't know. You weren't there. Man, it was intense."

"Look, I understand -"

"You can't -"

"You don't know me well enough to know what I can know - all you know is what you read in the papers."

I was shouting, too, and maybe that's what made her smile, the two of us in that house, shouting.

"The papers got a lot right, buddy. You stayed with it. You found him. Here we are in his house."

"You led me. You planted the clippings and the key card. You baited me to the Medical Examiner's so I would see him again and you could set the hook even deeper. You didn't need me for any of this, Diaz - you could have found him without me."

Her eyes glistened like black buttons, and she lowered her gun. She tipped back her head against the wall, and spoke without seeing me.

"But then everyone would have known I was in on the kill. I wanted them to think it was just you, you see?"

She laid it out and confirmed my guesses. She had me trace Reinnike to find David. She needed me to do the legwork to set me up for the murders, both George's and David's.

I said, "But it didn't work out that way."

She tipped forward again, and the sad smile returned.

"It was so intense, Cole; everything happened so fast, and I was making it up as it happened."

"Did you find George or did he find you?"

Now she drew herself up, and straightened.

"When I finished the Academy and came on the job, the Daily News ran a little piece about what happened to my family. He saw it, and kept it. Man, that was years ago - years. I guess it took him all these years to work up his nut. He called last week. Out of the blue, he just called. He said he had information about the death of my family."

She touched the necklace, and I knew my guess about it was right, too-he had brought it as proof. She was still in that awful moment when he called. I have information about the death of your family.

"What did he tell you?"

Her fingers caressed the silver, and her eyes were lost. I moved slowly, and took her gun. She did not resist.

"Did he tell you what happened, Kelly? Was it just David or was George part of it?"

Her fingers fell away from the necklace as if their weight was too great. Her eyes filled, and she clenched them shut. Her chin quivered. She fought hard to stop it.

She said, "Shit."

I put my arms around her. She shuddered, and cried for a while, and I cried along with her, for everything she had lost and for all the things I never had. And when we wore ourselves out with it, she told me how her family had come to die: Her father and brother were driving, and saw David Reinnike hitchhiking. David Reinnike would have been three or four years older than her brother, but the two kids got along, so her father probably brought the hitchhiker home to play or have a little dinner or whatever. Diaz only knew what she had been told by George Reinnike, and George only knew what he had been told by David. David hadn't been at their home for more than fifteen or twenty minutes when something set him off. Her brother showed his baseball bat to David. David probably tested it out with a few warm-up swings, but her brother probably wanted it back. Then David started swinging for real. He hadn't been in their home long enough to know a little girl was playing in her closet. Between what George provided and the information available in the murder book, David Reinnike beat them to death, and then he just walked away and hitchhiked home, and not one goddamned person saw him. Not one person in a neighborhood filled with people saw or heard the murders, or David leave the scene. When he reached home, covered in blood - he had to be covered in blood, wouldn't you think? - George cleaned him up, took him away, and never told a soul. His son had problems, he said. His son needed care.

I said, "He contacted you because he had to get it off his chest, but he wouldn't tell anything about David."

"The sonofabitch wouldn't tell me where David was or even if he was alive, but I know he's up here. George would have to keep him close to control him. That sonofabitch cried like a baby, saying it was eating him alive. Well, fuck him."

I nodded.

"So you killed him."

Diaz cleared her throat, then pulled herself together and stepped away from me. She seemed angry again, and ready for hell.

"That's right, Cole. So what are you going to do? You going to slap the cuffs on me and wait here for Pardy and my lawyer, and let this bastard get away? Look at this place - he knows we're coming. Daddy's been keeping him out of jail all these years, and now Daddy's gone. You think he's going to wait?"

"I'm not going to let you kill him. If you kill him, you're just killing yourself."

"Then what?"

"We're going to identify David, and you're going to take him into custody. You're going to arrest him, and bring him in to show you did the right thing. You're going to show them you didn't let what happened destroy you."

Diaz sighed deep, pushing out air like she was trying to get rid of something that was trapped inside her. She tipped back her head again and stared at the ceiling.

"What a goddamned mess."

"Pardy's coming. We don't have all day."

She squared herself, and nodded.

"My gun."

I gave her the gun. She put it into her holster.

"Do you know who it is?"

"Probably the other guy who worked at the station. That's what it sounds like from talking with Lewis. I can't be sure, but that's what it sounds like. Lewis told me how to get to his house."

Diaz stepped past me and went to the door.

Chapter 56

Starkey S tarkey picked up Pike where the 405 crossed Mulholland. If Pike wondered why she was frantic, he didn't ask, and he didn't quibble over which car they would take. Her car had the lights and a radio. They would make better time. Starkey flipped on her grille lights, and blasted out of the parking lot. When they were rolling north on the freeway, she keyed her radio, surprised that the damn thing worked. "Six-whiskey-twelve." "Six-whiskey-twelve, go."