Bouncer (23 page)

Randy Phelps suddenly appeared at Chief Rollins’ shoulder. “We’ve got the samples from the crib and took several photographs.”

Chief Rollins grimaced. “God damned crib. There are a bunch of sickos out there, and I for one have had about enough of this whole mess. Check the rest of the house and garage for gardening tools.” The young man scurried off.

Thayne turned back to the chief. “You’re dead wrong about Philemon.”

“Yeah? Is that what your unladylike partner told you? Well, here’s a word of advice. Part company with that broad. I’ll keep you on the case and pay her off for the three days she’s worked. If you don’t split with her, you’re released as well. You understand me?’

Nick stared long and hard at the angry chief. “You can’t ignore this new evidence. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you already knew about Charlie.”

Rollins’s facial hair bristled. He bellowed, “Listen, you fricking asshole. It’s only because of Roger I’m letting you remain on this case at all. Now, if you did some real investigative footwork instead of that moodoo voodoo you’re famous for, you might realize that Philemon is the killer, hired by Eddie Murdock to do in the Mayor when he wouldn’t pay up his child support.”

“Now, that’s a switch. We’ve gone from gambling debts and the mob to child support? Frankly, that makes much more sense since both Fox and I are convinced blackmail is indeed involved. I need to see Ashley’s death report and the murder book. I have a sneaking suspicion she was raped and Charlie is her child!”

“Of all the goddamned notions! You have
got
to be kidding. That girl was more willing than a child in a Santa Claus line. I don’t need some of your Asian ‘intuitions’ muddling up this case.”

That was the final straw. Nick began quietly and deadly, “Then maybe your relationship with Trish Fisher needs to be further investigated. Since you had an affair with her years ago, perhaps you just got fed up with waiting for Trish to become free of Thad and popped off her husband! Or maybe Bouncer’s a relative of
yours
?”

“Of all the goddamn nerve! That’s it! You’re fired! Get the hell out of here before I have you thrown out!”

“Are you threatening me, Chief? Such an over-reaction. The way I see it, no one would respond the way you do unless they have something to hide. And believe me, my forte is finding out even the most reluctant’s hidden secrets and sharing them with the world. You’ve heard of my ‘gift’, boss? Well, I ‘see’ an envelope with your name on it, bulging with cash. There’s a sleeping, oblivious wife, and a car easing down a driveway, silent and sinister. Should I go on? I have a word of advice for you, bucko. Back off and let me do my job. And you better have the key to Philemon’s cell ready—because you know as well as I do that he’s innocent. So, be ready, Chief, be ready.” Thayne’s voice had taken on a tone Lea had never heard before, and it frightened her. It must have startled the chief as well, because he took a step back.

“Get out of Monroe,” Rollins squeaked weakly.

“When I’m good and ready, and not a minute before. I want this entire house turned upside down for Philemon’s prints, which I can guarantee you aren’t going to find. But who knows, maybe yours are spattered about, or perhaps even Trish Fisher’s. And do mold of Charlie’s jaw, because I’m positive the bite mark on Connie Judson’s arm is a perfect match, which puts this case in an entirely different light. And, if I hear a peep of contention from you or any effort to derail the proper investigation of this case, I’ll head to the current mayor faster than you can say
Obstruction of Justice
. Do I
make myself clear?”

The chief didn’t respond for the longest time. Finally he said in just above a whisper, “Then go do your goddamned job, you half-breed bastard.”

“That’s a given. I’ll be updating Roger regarding our
conversation
.” Thayne turned on his heel, the kitchen door banging shut behind him.

His diminishing footsteps echoed upon the tile, and Lea noted Chief Rollins’ face had become ashen. He sat down shakily upon one of the dinette chairs and removed his handkerchief, first mopping his brow before mindlessly wadding and unwadding the crumpled square of white linen. The chief remained that way for a full twenty minutes, staring into space, as the overworked police unit went about their business. Lea painfully remained dead still, her injured leg at first only aching until finally turning numb.

Randy Phelps finally appeared in the doorway. “We’re finished, Chief.”

“And Thayne?”

“Took off a couple minutes ago. Said he was heading for Dr. Koh’s.”

“Well, it’s almost all over then. You guys go on and head out. I’ll lock the place up.”

The rookie hesitated. “You alright, Chief?”

“Yeah, yeah. This case is just taking it out of me. As soon as those paints flakes from the crib are analyzed, I want to be notified immediately. Have Koh call me.”

“Of course, sir.” Officer Phelps backed away. The chief didn’t look so good.

As soon as the junior officer left, Richard Rollins rushed over to the beautiful porcelain sink and turned on the tap. He ducked his head underneath and drank like a child from the gushing flow. Cupping his hands, he splashed water over his pallid face before grabbing a blue-checked dishtowel to mop his pasty cheeks. It took several minutes before he finally gained control. Finally, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in a single number. He waited a long time for a response.

“Hello,” he said. “It’s me. I know, I know. I’m not supposed to call you at home, but there’s something I need verified . Was Thad aware of the dwarf being babysat here at the Collins place? Now, don’t go and get all hysterical on me. I just want to know if you knew anything about it. Please calm down, honey. Nobody’s pointing a finger at you. It looks like the kid was probably held prisoner here, and frankly, there’s gonna be a lot of questions. I’m not sure if I can ward them off or if I even want to anymore. A part of me believes that, after all this time, everything should come out in the open. There, there now. Come on, sweetie; everything is going to be fine. Let’s meet tonight and talk about it. It’s been so long since we’ve talked.” A short pause made the chief even more agitated.

“What do you mean you’re not free? You used to be free all the time.” Chief Rollins rubbed his balding head fiercely. “That’s better. Okay. Seven p.m. Let’s meet at
The Range
? I need some answers and no more excuses, babe. Do you understand? You’ve been putting me off for far too long, and now look at this damn mess. I swear Thayne knows. Tonight then.” He abruptly disconnected the line and sighed heavily, his broad face sad but determined. He whispered to the empty kitchen, “You owe me, girlie. It’s my right to know. I’ve rolled over and played dead for long enough.”

Chief Rollins strode resolutely out of the kitchen and through the open doors of the house, which slammed hollowly. The key turned in the lock, and finally, Lea heard the rev of his engine followed by the creaking of the metal gate. Lea waited until the roar of his Ford had fully diminished before leaving her retreat, limping badly as she tried to rub some life back into her stiff limb. She waited in the immaculate kitchen and listened for a long while. Finally satisfied, she wandered about the first floor.

Try as she could, though, Fox could find nothing after fifteen minutes of fruitless searching. She then headed back upstairs to the cozy and lavish bedrooms so clearly unused and sat on one of the lovely beds thinking long and hard, before finally whipping open her cell.

“May I speak to Daniel, please?”

It took only a few moments for the assistant coroner’s deep voice to answer. “Daniel Scott.”

“This is Inspector Fox. I had Officer Phelps bag up some dirt found in the kitchen of the Collins residence a couple days ago and wanted to know if you’ve had any time to analyze it.” Daniel Scott had been Steven Koh’s assistant for the past three years and was more of a general science expert than a coroner.

“I’m just writing up the report now.”

“Could you give me a thumbnail sketch?”

“Of course. The soil is a subterranean mixture of 24 percent river clay, fairly sodic, mixed with unmetamorphosed sandstone and likely having low permeability.”

“And now for the translation?”

Daniel laughed in his nerdy way. “What it means is that this is deep soil, not loamy—which means it lacks plant matter. It maybe came from a well or manmade cave or something.”

“How’d you know that?”

“Okay, I cheated. My brother’s a geologist who contracts out to the Agrit-Empire’s Soil Management Department.”

“Figures. Thanks a lot Daniel.”

“No problem. Next time give me something really hard!” You had to love a scientific zealot.

It was all beginning to make sense, and after a couple minutes, Lea ended back in the tasteful kitchen staring at the lovely granite countertops. A small metal wine rack sat next to a food processor. She leaned forward and removed the single bottle, her eyes widening at the year; a 1993
Heitz Cabernet
Sauvignon.
Even
she
knew this was an expensive bottle of wine. On the sloped shoulder of the bottle sat a fine layer of dust.

Dust? It came to her like a bolt of lightning. Of course! A house like this had to have a wine cellar, and if there was a cellar, maybe . . .

“Wine has to stay cool,” she murmured to herself looking around. Hadn’t Thad Fisher ingested not only good food but fine wine? And where would you stash a wine cellar? Where those dirt piles had been discovered, of course! Fox clumped to the pantry and flipped on the overhead light. Moving aside a small footstool, an ironing board, and several brooms, she discovered a heavily stocked white shelving unit with jams and relish lining its dusty planks.

She yanked forcefully at the whitewashed panels, and the shelf swung open without a sound.

The metal door’s knob was slightly tarnished. Lea smiled and pulled, revealing a set of steep wooden steps and a light switch on the whitewashed wall. One flick and the plunging stairs were fully illuminated as a cold draught spiraled upwards. Fox held onto the metal railing and descended carefully. The large, square room smelled musty and damp, and Lea marveled at the vast collection of varied vintages.

Reds, whites, and rosés crammed the dusty racks. She grasped a dark bottle and read its peeling gold label. 1979. Another said 1978, and lay next to countless others in dusty rows.  One ledge had such an accumulation of dust Lea had to scrap away the dirt, revealing a dozen bottles dated from 1965. Good God, there was a fortune housed here! In fact, as she scanned the amazing contents, Lea realized there must be hundreds of bottles of wine stocked in the chilly cave.

French, Chilean, South African, Californian, Italian, you name it, had all somehow found its way here. Chardonnay and Riesling, Rose and Merlot, Pinotage and Chenin Blanc. Heavy, foiled labels of dessert wines rested next to southern Spanish Sherries and there was even the strong, sweet Port her father had so often consumed after dinner.

This place was a wine connoisseur’s wet dream, but Lea remained oblivious to the dusty fortune shifting beneath her frenzied hands. She tugged and yanked at every appendage, seeking the catch to a hidden door she was positive must be secreted within the cellar. Finally, situated between towering racks of dusty vintage and behind several empty boxes, a metal door protected by an oversized padlock gleamed dustily before her. Lea prayed and pulled, jerking at the silver lock. Unfortunately, her feeble efforts proved useless; the rusty door stayed securely bolted, and without a key or Randy’s unparalleled expertise, it would stay that way.

She hesitated, wondering if it was worth the effort. This door might simply lead to an exclusive wine chamber housing even more expensive wines. She’d heard of rich men hoarding wines that were fifty, sixty, even a hundred years old and worth thousands of dollars apiece. Yet, she argued against herself; this had to be the secret passage leading out of the house. How else was Bouncer transported here unseen, the neighbors never realizing a mentally handicapped dwarf was kept on the premises? How else did Eddie Murdock slip in and out to obtain his groceries and cash, all the blocks’ nearest residents—including Mrs. Simms—oblivious to the house’s occupation? Only once had activity disrupted the calm façade of the house, and that was when the little girl Katie witnessed the big limo’s arrival.

Eddie Murdock probably had his car parked at a neighboring house. The home directly to the left of the Collins mansion belonged to the older couple named Crawford. While highly unlikely, it wasn’t impossible. Directly across the street, the Shaw family with three teenaged children and two huge Rottweilers lived and squabbled. Then there was Katie’s house and the many others Fox had visited. Lea couldn’t imagine Bouncer behaving himself around children or dogs and the closest four houses except for the Crawford’s’ and Simms’ housed an ample number of each.

Lea remembered Mrs. Simms’ comments about never seeing anyone in residence before another possibility struck her. If it wasn’t one of the neighboring houses then perhaps a passageway led either into the vacant lot between the Simms and Collins houses or the scrub oak field behind it. That had to be it! That would explain how the cream soda cans with the finger and Philemon’s incriminating fingerprints were deposited.