The Headsman (43 page)

But it was also annoying. Ethics and regulations were all wonderful, but damn it, this was a tough, competitive world. He could at least have given her a hint as to what was happening. The phone call from him earlier today—had he already received that hideous package?

Probably he had. Shit.

As if she hadn’t stuck her neck out for him, spending hours pulling those old photos out of the files, and then letting him borrow them. Was this all the thanks she’d get?

She’d also strained her relationship with Maxwell. The old man had to be getting senile. First he’d fallen all over himself in praising her work on this story, including her initiative in digging up the angle of the Donovan murder. But then when he’d discovered her returning the photos he’d had a fit.

Of course, she hadn’t told him
why
she’d slipped them out. If she had, he probably would have fired her on the spot, judging from his frenzied reaction when he saw her with them.

But what was the big deal anyway?

The press conference was on the edge of chaos. Two guys with TV camcorders were trying to outmaneuver each other and looked as if they were about to come to blows. The noise level was even higher, and Jud was trying to get the reporters to shut up.

She realized that from here on out this event would be little more than an exercise in futility. Beyond learning that Buddy Harper had been decapitated and that his severed head had been sent to the police, she’d get nothing more of value.

But what a hell of a development
that
was. Not only would the town of Braddock and every city in the area go crazy; the story of the headsman would be
national
news. She knew at once that the
New York Times
and the
Post
and
Time, Newsweek
and
U.S. News
would all send crews up here, as would the television networks.

So what was there to gain by staying here and watching these guys muscle each other? She’d do better to go back to her desk as fast as she could and bang out the story. Before the others got the same idea.

Getting out of here would certainly be easier than coming in had been. She shoved her way through the crowd and left the stationhouse via the back door.

Outside, snow was continuing to fall with the persistence that presaged a major storm. She turned up the collar of her trenchcoat and tugged her hat down, walking as quickly as she could through the cushion of white. Her boots were crunching in the stuff, and the wind-whipped flakes stung her face and her eyelids. She was grateful that the offices of the
Express
were only a short distance away.

7

The conference room in which the Town Council meetings were held was on the second floor of the city hall. When Jud went up the stairs he was trailed by a couple of reporters who had hung around, apparently hoping to glean something more on the story of Buddy Harper’s murder. He ignored their yapping, going through the paneled doors and shutting them behind him.

This was an ornate room, with high ceilings and tall windows flanked by heavy, dark blue drapes. Portraits of past city officials looked down from the paneled walls, and an American flag hung from a pole at the far end. Illumination was provided by an elaborate brass chandelier that had originally supported gaslamps when the building was constructed over a century ago.

In the center of the room and running most of its length was an ancient, intricately carved mahogany table. Seated around it and eyeing him coldly were the members of the Braddock Town Council.

Sam Melcher was at the head of the table. As mayor, he was automatically chairman of this group. On either side sat three men: to the left Ed Dickens, Charley Boggs and Ray Maxwell; to the right Loring Campbell, Bill Swanson and Peter Harper. The mayor indicated the chair at the foot of the table. “Sit down, Chief.”

Jud did, noting that there was none of the cozy informality he’d observed the last time he’d been together with some of them, when he’d been invited to Melcher’s home for a drink. The hostility was so thick now he could almost reach out and touch it. Seeing Peter Harper here was startling; he would have expected Harper to be at home after learning the devastating news of his son’s death. Instead here he sat, staring at Jud as balefully as the rest of them.

“The reason for this meeting,” Melcher began, “is to question you about recent events in this horrible murder case. The first thing we want to know is—” he shot a glance at Harper “—why that, uh, package was sent to you.”

Jud had heard that on several other occasions today; this time he was ready for it. His manner was calm. “I don’t know. It’s reasonable to assume the killer sent it, I suppose. Maybe he was also sending a message to the police. Killers have been known to do things like that, especially psychopaths, as this one has to be.”

“Has to be?” Swanson was peering at him. “What proof do you have of that?”

“I don’t have any proof,” Jud said. “But his actions would certainly convince me. No sane person kills kids with an ax.”

Boggs spoke up. “So let’s say the killer sent the package. He didn’t just send it to the police. He sent it to you.”

“As chief, I represent the police force,” Jud said. “Maybe that was why.”

“Maybe,” Ed Dickens said, “it was you he was sending a message to.”

“I don’t know what his motives were,” Jud said. “And I don’t think anyone else does, either. Except the killer himself.”

Swanson leaned forward, his heavy hands curled on the table in front of him. “Chief, I’d be interested in hearing what your role in this investigation has been up to now.”

That caught him off balance. “My role? I’ve been doing what I can to help. Inspector Pearson is in charge, as you know.”

Swanson looked at Melcher. The mayor said to Jud, “We had a talk with the inspector after this latest development. I’m going to be blunt with you, because we want all the cards out on the table. Inspector Pearson told us you’ve been very uncooperative throughout the entire investigation.”

Despite his resolve, Jud felt a surge of anger. “I don’t know how he could say that.”

“Neither do we,” Swanson said. “Unless it’s true.”

“Have you been reporting to him?” Melcher asked.

Jud shifted in his chair. “Not on every detail, I suppose.”

For the first time since the meeting had started, Peter Harper spoke. “The morning you came out to our home,” he said, “after Buddy disappeared. You didn’t report to Inspector Pearson then. You just came out without telling him anything about it. When he got to the house he was obviously angry with you for not informing him of what was going on. After you left, he told us he was disturbed by your failure to cooperate.”

Loring Campbell had also been silent up to now, holding Jud in a cold stare. He said, “We get the impression you’ve been poking into a lot of people’s private business under the guise of working on this investigation. Yet Inspector Pearson didn’t know anything about that, either.”

“I’ve been trying to develop leads,” Jud said. It sounded weak even to him. He felt foolish, mumbling half-baked excuses. But what could he say? The last thing he’d want to do would be to let on why he’d been asking questions and to reveal what answers he’d turned up—especially to this group. Among the men who were grilling him now were several he could definitely link to Janet Donovan. Men who’d slept with her. Men who might have a motive for killing her.

“Developing leads is one thing,” Campbell said. “Snooping around in citizens’ private lives is something else.”

“Loring’s right,” Melcher said. “A chief of police has a very important position in our community. A sensitive position. One of his responsibilities is to maintain law and order, of course. But another is to see that high standards are maintained. To see that citizens’ rights are protected, not violated.”

Ray Maxwell cleared his throat. “Frankly, I was astounded by what I’ve been hearing. Not just today’s news, but other things that have come to light recently. It seems you’ve been using your position—and this case—to pry into matters that have nothing to do with police business.”

“Just what is it you’re looking for?” Melcher asked. “I’d like to know what it is you’re after, and why you think you have a right to be carrying on the way you have.”

Jud looked at the faces of the seven men. Each of them was glaring at him with obvious resentment and barely controlled anger. He felt as if he were being pilloried. And yet there was no way he could defend himself without revealing information he wouldn’t want any of them to have.

Despite the tension, he kept his voice steady. “I’ve been looking at various angles of the case, seeing if I couldn’t find something that would be useful.”

Ed Dickens spoke again, his voice harsh. “When my daughter died, it was clear that outside help was needed. That’s why the state police were called in. Could it be you were so miffed when they were that you started working at cross-purposes? That you were deliberately hindering them?”

“Or did you see a way to use the case as a cover,” Campbell added, “for whatever your real motives were?”

This was too much to take. Jud leaned forward. “That’s goddamn ridiculous. I’ve been doing everything I can to help solve this thing, and that’s been my only interest right from the beginning.”

“Maybe,” Melcher said. “And maybe not. Whichever way we look at it, you’ve contributed nothing while you’ve gotten a lot of people very upset. The bottom line is, you’ve betrayed our trust in you. It’s my duty to inform you that the Town Council is giving you a vote of no confidence.”

“A unanimous vote,” Campbell added. There was a satisfied smirk on his face. Jud wished he could rip it off.

“We’re putting you on notice as of now,” Melcher went on. “The next step will be a formal hearing to determine whether you should be dismissed.”

“The thing you don’t seem to understand,” Boggs said, “Is that we’re in a crisis situation here. The children of two of our leading citizens, both members of this council, have been murdered in their homes. People are in a panic, and you can hardly blame them.”

“This headsman business,” Swanson said. “It’s got everybody hysterical.”

“It’s like a circus,” Boggs went on. The set of his mouth looked as if he’d bit into something rotten. “All those reporters swarming around. They’re tearing Braddock’s reputation to pieces.”

Jud was incredulous. This pack of wolves was as much bothered by the fact that the town was the subject of a lot of bad publicity as they were by the murders. As far as they were concerned, the headsman was an unfortunate problem, like a natural disaster. As if a blight had run through the town, or a fire.

And at the same time, he wondered if one of the men at this table didn’t know a lot more about all of it than he was letting on.

“Do you have anything to say?” Melcher asked.

It took self-control for Jud to get the words out, but he kept his voice as steady as possible. “I’m sorry to hear how you feel about my work as police chief. When I was appointed, I took pride in your faith in me. In the short time I’ve had the job—just over a year—I’ve done my level best at all times. Now we’re trying to deal with a tragedy—a series of tragedies—that’s been tearing the town apart. I don’t think it’s right to blame me for the lack of progress in the case. I haven’t been in charge of the investigation, and in spite of what anybody says, I’ve done whatever I could to help. I certainly haven’t tried to obstruct the state police, and I have tried to cooperate. If my efforts to uncover a useful angle have rubbed some people the wrong way, I’m sorry. That was never intended, and I regret it. All I was trying to do was my job, the best I knew how. If that’s so wrong, I’m sorry about that as well. You say you’re putting me on notice. That won’t be necessary. You want me out, I’ll spare you the trouble and resign.”

The faces showed no change in emotion, and all eyes continued to hold him in a hostile, unblinking stare.

“On the other hand,” Jud went on, “I’d like to point something out to you. As you’ve said, the town is hysterical. And I agree that what the media will be saying now will make it even worse. But I think you ought to consider what effect my leaving the job would have. Seems to me it would just fan the fire. It’d give them another headline to call all the more attention to our problems.”

There was silence for a moment, and then Charley Boggs turned to the mayor. “He’s right about that, Sam. We got enough hooting and hollering from the newspapers and TV without having something else for them to yell about. It’d give the town an even bigger black eye. Make people think there was even more to all of this than what they knew about. As if maybe we were hiding something.”

“No,” Campbell said. He spoke to the others, but his gaze was fixed on Jud. “I don’t agree with that at all. What the chief is doing now is squirming to find a way to hold on to his job. I think he’s given us the answer by offering to resign. If he’s willing to do that, we should take him up on it right now.”

Melcher hesitated, his bulbous nose seeming to sniff the wind. He looked at the others around the table, most of whom didn’t appear now to be quite so resolute.

“It seems,” Campbell said acidly, “as if we have a division of opinion.”

Melcher covered his mouth with his fist and coughed once. “Maybe we ought to hold off our discussion until we’re by ourselves.”

There was muttering and mumbling among them, as they turned and spoke with each other in low voices. As they did, Jud looked out the window across from where he sat. The snow was whirling down in thick white flakes, making a ticking sound as the wind drove it against the glass. This would be one bitch of a storm.

Finally Melcher looked up at Jud. “We’ll defer taking action until we’ve had a chance to talk about this. As far as you’re concerned, Chief, there has been no change in your status. At least for the time being. Above all, you’re not to discuss this meeting, or anything to do with the Council’s business, with anyone. Is that clear?”

“Yes.” Jud got to his feet. “That’s clear. Good afternoon, gentlemen.” He turned and left the room.

Fifteen