Execution of Innocence (3 page)

“Lieutenant,” he said, “you are too sensitive a man for this kind of work. You should have been a baker.”

“Then you could have fed me pastries all day,” Riles agreed, patting his gut.

Sharp tried not to stare at Dick's brain. Yet the gruesome sight held his eyes. To think that all the boy's thoughts had originated from that three pounds of jelly. To think that just a few hours earlier blood had pulsed through the organ and an entire universe had been alive. But these thoughts, these observations, were painful for Sharp who preferred to believe that even the dead were somehow immortal. That was the trouble with police work. It was too real.

“What have you discovered?” Sharp asked quietly.

Dr. Kohner puffed on his pipe and gestured to a metal basin not far from the body. A bloody slug, mangled from impact, lay in the center of the container. With a gloved hand Dr. Kohner pointed to a small scale beside the basin.

“I weighed the bullet,” he said. “A .38, no question.”

Riles stepped to the basin but did not pick up the bullet. “We're never going to match that thing with the gun that fired it.”

“But Charlie’s father owns a .357, which can take .38s,” Sharp said. “That’s quite a coincidence.”

“Coincidence is not proof,” Dr. Kohner said.

“Not unless you have the right jury,” Riles agreed. He gestured to Dick. “At what distance was he shot?”

“Judging from the powder burns,” Dr. Kohner said, “not more than four feet. It could have even been less. But I doubt he pointed the gun at himself.” He added, “It doesn't mean he knew the killer.”

“Playing policeman, Doctor?” Sharp asked.

“He probably knew the killer,” Riles muttered thoughtfully. “He might have even trusted him. Or her.”

“Mary doesn’t strike me as a killer,” Sharp said quickly.

“But you don’t trust her,” Riles said.

“True,” Sharp said.

“I would like to meet this young woman,” Dr. Kohner said, his gloved hands dripping blood. Riles scowled at him a moment and then shook his head.

“You stick with your end, Doctor,” Riles said. “When did Dick die?”

“He was found outside I understand?” Dr. Kohner asked, consulting his notes.

“Lying face-up in the snow,” Sharp said.

“Within the last four hours,” Dr. Kohner said.

“You're sure?” Riles asked.

Dr. Kohner snorted softly as he picked up Dick's brain. The whole bloody mess had somehow swum out of the bony cavity. It seemed to shudder in the coroner's hands, as if his touch caused it pain. Dr. Kohner smoked as he stared down at it and both cops thought the smoke was probably upsetting any chance of detecting minute chemical compounds in Richard Spelling’s body. Not that there was any doubt about what had killed the boy.

“I'd have to ask the young man to be a hundred percent sure, lieutenant,” Dr. Kohner said. “But my estimate is, I believe, fairly accurate.”

They left Dr. Kohner and had another mini-conference.

“That guy gives me the creeps,” Sharp complained.

“Have you met a coroner who doesn’t?” Riles asked. “I mean, who would want to grow up and cut dead people open?”

“Who would want to grow up and be a cop? God, did you see how that brain wiggled when he held it?”

“The kid isn’t still alive if that’s what you’re thinking.” Riles paused. “We have to see if Hannah's story matches Mary's.”

“I have a feeling it will.”

“That's what I'm afraid of.”

“There is consistency in truth as well as in lies,” Sharp said.

Riles snorted. “I think you have a crush on her.”

“That's ridiculous. She's too young for me. Besides, she might be a killer.”

“She's protecting her boyfriend,” Riles said flatly.

“We don’t know that. We don’t know anything.” Sharp considered. “After we try to match up their stories, what do you want me to press Hannah about?”

“The relationships between all these characters. I can't believe Dick wasn't jealous of Charlie.”

“That's because
you
have the crush on Mary.”

Riles nodded. “She is a honey. But then, they all are until they shoot you in the head. Let’s go get Hannah, and try not to piss off Mr. Spelling.”

“That guy was born pissed off. I think the killer shot the wrong Spelling.”

“The night is not over,” Riles said.

They found Hannah alone with her empty Coke can. Mr. Spelling had gone to the bathroom. They tried to whisk her away before Daddy reappeared but were not fast enough. The guy seemed to come out of a wall. He was yelling at them before they could even reach for their guns. Not that they wanted to shoot him, but it was somehow a pleasant thought.

“And just what do you think you’re doing?” he thundered.

Mr. Spelling was a stump hit by lightning. Short and squat, he had the build of a weight-lifter gone soft and the ruddy complexion of too many after-dinner whiskeys. His head was massive; it seemed to grow out of his neck rather than sit on it. He was also intensely ugly, even though his offspring were fair and attractive. Sharp and Riles held their ground as he approached. Spelling was the big man in town but they were the big detectives and that was all that mattered at the moment. Yet they were not out to offend him. They both felt genuinely sorry for the guy—he wept real tears when he had viewed his son’s body. Sharp spoke diplomatically.

“We told you earlier that we had to question your daughter,” he said. “We know this is a difficult time for both of you, but memories fade fast. If we can talk to Hannah now, it would be best.”

“No,” Mr. Spelling said. “I've thought about it some more and she’s not to talk to you without a lawyer present.”

“Why not?” Sharp asked. “Your son has been murdered. Your daughter was one of the last people to see him alive. She may be able to help us find the murderer.”

“Daddy,” Hannah said, touching her father's arm. “I want to talk to them. Please?”

Mr. Spelling chewed on his pain and anger. “How long will you keep her?” he snapped.

“It shouldn’t be long,” Riles said.

Mr. Spelling considered. Then tears destroyed his impatience.

“Are you taking good care of my boy?” he asked, weeping.

Sharp spoke gently, trying not to think of Dick's wiggling brain in Dr. Kohner’s gloved hands. “Yes. He is in good hands.”

They led Hannah into a room across from where Mary sat waiting. But they did send in Deputy Howard to alert Mary that they would be a few minutes. They thought they were being optimistic, but in reality it took them only a few minutes to corroborate the main points in Mary’s story, at least as far as the timetable was concerned. However, the match in stories did not soothe their suspicions. The match was too exact. Sharp and Riles looked at each other and thought the same thing. The girls had gotten their stories straight before they had come into the station. Yet why would Hannah lie to hide her brother's murderer?

Hannah was an interesting-looking girl, not as heart-warmingly cute as Mary but pretty enough to catch the eye. Like her brother, she had short fine blond hair and clear hazel eyes. Hannah seemed much more animated, and not just because her brother was a corpse. She had a narrow chin and a way of focusing that made her emotions easy to read on her face. It was as if her brain had a thought and immediately her expression conveyed it. Yet that may have been deceptive as well. They had not been talking long to Hannah when they realized she was one shrewd cookie.

Her clothes were beautiful and expensive. Her dark slacks could not have been purchased in Maple, and the light sweater beneath her brown leather coat was yellow silk. It almost matched the topazes in her sparkling earrings. Presents from Daddy during happier times. She wore more makeup than Mary but she applied it expertly. In fact, she must have touched it up after her initial attack of hysterics.

Hannah dabbed at her eyes as she repeated the same story Mary had told them. When she was through Sharp looked at Riles and the detective nodded. Go for the jugular.

“Do you think Charlie killed Dick?” Sharp asked.

“No.”

“Could you elaborate on that statement?” Sharp said.

Hannah spread her hands. She had done her nails earlier. “Charlie couldn't hurt a fly,” she said. “What makes you think Charlie did it?”

“He had access to the right kind of revolver, and we understand that he was jealous of your brother.”

“Did Mary tell you that?” Hannah asked.

“Yeah,” Riles said, without hesitating. A white lie.

Hannah was surprised. “I don’t think Charlie killed my brother, officers.”

“Do you know where he could be?” Sharp asked.

“He's not at home?”

“No,” Sharp said. “There's no one at his house.”

“I don't know where he is,” Hannah said.

“What about Dick?” Sharp asked. “Was he in love with Mary?”

“He liked Mary. He didn't love her.”

“Had he slept with her?” Sharp asked.

“I don’t think so. You would have to ask Mary.”

“But is it possible they slept together?” Sharp asked.

Hannah shrugged. “Sex happens.” She paused and a big tear popped from her right eye. She stared at the Kleenex they had given her and her hands shook. “Dick was a normal young man.”

It seemed an odd phrase to apply to a dead brother.

“Tell us more about Charlie,” Sharp said. “Was he normal?”

“Yes.”

“Please. Give us more than one word,” Riles said.

She sniffed. “What can I say? He wasn't an alien or anything. He loved Mary and Mary loved him. None of this has anything to do with Dick. Why do you keep asking about their relationship?”

“We're searching for motive, for clues,” Sharp said. “Hannah, we know this must be very hard for you, but please bear with us and we'll get you home as soon as we can.” He paused. “Was your brother the least bit upset when you two said goodbye to him at the Crossroads?”

“No.” A strange light entered her eyes. “Are you suggesting he shot himself?”

“No. We know that wasn't possible,” Sharp said quickly. “At least it seems highly unlikely. There was no gun in the snow near the body. No, we are quite sure Dick was murdered. Can you think of anyone, anyone at all, who was mad enough at him to do such a thing?”

“No.”

“He was school president. He must have made a few enemies,” Sharp said.

“No.”

“Are you sure?” Sharp persisted.

Hannah hesitated. “Well, everybody has a few enemies.”

“Charlie?” Sharp persisted.

Hannah momentarily closed her eyes and took a breath. “Look, they fought once. Everybody at school knows that. It's no big secret.”

“What did they fight over?” Sharp asked.

Hannah sighed. “Mary.”

CHAPTER FOUR

Two days before Christmas, Santa Claus set it up so that they could have sex. It really was Santa Claus who made it all possible; Mary’s parents had to attend a Christmas party where her father was playing St. Nick. As a result her house was completely empty for five blessed hours. Of course, if she had really wanted to get Charlie into bed, she could have gone to his house. But the cockroaches scurrying over the floor—they didn’t like the snow outside—somehow ruined it for her.

Charlie was supposed to come over, eat dinner, get his Christmas present, and then attack her. She was supposed to put up moderate resistance and then excuse herself to put in a cervical cap she had recently obtained from a clinic in nearby Sutter. That was the plan and she thought it was a good one. They had been dating a month and she had had enough of just kissing him. Really, she had never wanted a guy before. When she was in Charlie's arms, she felt as if she were at the center of the universe. He was either a wizard or else she was in love. And he seemed to like her as well, although he had never said the three magical words. She was not totally sure he knew what they were. She was going to have to teach him, oh yes, when she was lying naked beside him.

It was a fantasy of hers.

But good old Charlie was just too good. After eating a half pound of steak and three baked potatoes, and then opening the box that held the sweater she had stayed up many nights knitting him, he just gave her a quick kiss and turned on a football game. Now Mary liked football. She often watched it with her father, who was a big Pac Ten fan. But at that moment she felt like cursing the man who had designed the football. For God's sakes, she had on a light sweater and no bra, a pair of silky sweats that a stiff breeze could have vaporized. She was even leaning on him, stroking his hair, but the jocks in black were going for it on third and long. For some reason she just lost it then.

She picked up an old shoe and threw it at the screen.

It exploded, which surprised them both.

“Wow,” Charlie said. “I thought you liked football?”

Mary got up slowly and stared at the glass on the floor and the hole in her parents' brand-new RCA big screen. She had not thrown the shoe hard; then she noticed that a golf ball had rolled out of the toe.

“This is terrible,” she gasped.

“I don’t know, the Raiders were going to lose anyway.”

She clenched her fists. “I am not talking about the stupid game!”

Charlie stared up at her with his innocent blue eyes.

“What's wrong?” he asked.

“I want you to kiss me.”

“I was going to kiss you later.”

“I want you to make love to me.”

His eyes got real wide. “Really?”

She lowered her head. “Yeah. But I didn't want to have to beg.”

He stood and leaned over and kissed her deeply. He slowly pulled off her sweater and kissed her again. Then he just stared at her, all of her, and she blushed.

“What?” she said.

“You're beautiful.”

She took his hand, wanting to put it on her breast but was too shy.

“I'm not beautiful,” she said. “I'm just cute. Like you.”

He hugged her. “Mary, you are a goddess.”

They stepped on some glass on the way to the bedroom. They both cut their feet, but not too bad. But later she was to think maybe it had been an omen, the blood on the sheets. She was not one of those girls who had a lot of guilt over sex. Still, at the back of her mind, she wondered if she would have to pay the price for her joy. He loved her deeply even though he never told her he loved her.