Simple (32 page)

“No. Thank you, no.”

Then he came back to sit. He hadn't written anything down yet. “Look. Let me explain something. I was married once, a long time ago. I've lived what many people would call a perfect bachelor life since. I've had a lot of fun. Just lately I'm torn between the old me with the temporary liaisons and something new that surprises me—a wish to get settled. I don't know where I'm going to land.”

“And you're saying?”

“Both impulses were at work that day. And I'm smart enough to feel a little shame. I made sure Cassie got home, then I went straight to Rita.”

He ignored the pen she'd pushed across the table and pulled out one of his own. He wrote down Rita's particulars without touching the notebook.

*   *   *

CHRISTIE PICKED UP
his phone. He was parked a block from the shop and not happy about sitting in a car, motor running for the air con—like a rookie detective.

“Got him,” Colleen said. She quickly gave the relevant specifics. “He gave me a lot of rigmarole about being embarrassed. But. He wouldn't touch my notebook. Not giving up one jot of his DNA no matter how careful he was at the scene.”

“Don't worry. We'll get it.”

“But if he did it—and I think he has a lot to hide, so I think it's highly likely—was it out of his own anger at her for rejecting him or was he protecting his candidate? That's something I can't tell yet.”

“Guess?”

“Both? The anger. The carefulness.” The more she thought it through, the more right that seemed. “Still, to work up to a strangle … Where are we, then?”

“We have the gray/silver car detail. We still need to solve the black car,” Christie murmured, thinking. “We can get the DNA one way or another. The big question, to my mind, is whether Connolly ordered it or not. Or even knew it.”

“Yeah,” she said, deflated. “How do we get there from here?”

“Baby steps.”

“So next, what, I go see this woman in Centre County—where he maybe spent the night? Rita Sandler.”

“Yes. We're honing in on alibis now. I sent Dolan to talk to Haigh. I don't think Potocki is done with his research yet, so I'll follow you to Centre County. Will she be home?”

“My understanding is she'll be at work. You think we need two cars?”

“Here's my thinking. Simon might be going straight to her. I had my eye on his car, but he got too far ahead. If he's there, I don't want you going in alone.”

“Ah. Got it.” Colleen was already moving.

It was close to noon. She knew that somewhere on the road, she would get a call from Christie, suggesting they stop for lunch. It would be nice to spend a little time with him, but she worried he needed her more than she needed him. It made her sad that she'd stopped thinking about him in that sexy way. It made her want to put an arm around him, kiss the back of his hand, his cheek, old pal kisses.

*   *   *

DOLAN CALLED IN
later that day, saying, “Haigh is a good good old boy—he defines the term.”

“And?”

“He says he had Connolly staying there and that he has security cameras at his house. He turned over the DVDs, said if the guy left in the middle of the night, we'd see him get into his car. So probably Connolly's alibi is going to hold up. This guy Haigh was pretty mad. He said, what were we doing smearing an upstanding man, how ridiculous it all was, all that. Lots of fun. How is yours going?”

“I'm tracking Todd Simon. Don't know whether to believe him that he was going to Harrisburg today or whether he's going to hightail it to his alibi, this woman, Rita Sandler. Why don't you hang in Harrisburg for a bit, keep an eye on Haigh, see if anything is up. What were you doing? Eating?”

“I was just about to get on the turnpike coming home. Okay, Boss, I'll grab a takeout and go back.”

*   *   *

SIMON WAS ON HIS
way to
Harrisburg. While he drove, he called Rita Sandler at work. “I'm pretty sure,” he said easily, “the police are doing that check of alibis I told you about. Remember how we watched the Steelers together?”

“I remember,” she said. “Mind like a trap.”

Rita was a good soul. He felt secure about her.

It was Haigh avoiding him he was worried about. After repeated calls to Haigh, with quick assurances and speedy hang-ups, he was finally getting an audience. He drove fast. A little over three hours later, he was there.

A young fellow wearing a black shirt and pants opened the door. Simon had met him before. He did secretarial work for Haigh.

“He's expecting you,” the guy said.

Simon started up the wide staircase to the office he knew was on the second floor.

“Oh, sorry, I forgot to say … You should just wait in the front room.”

“Oh.” He descended again. Front room. A parlor. What did that mean? Not welcome upstairs?

Soon enough Haigh was down the stairs, pulling on a sport jacket over his suspenders and white shirt and well-rounded belly. He had a bluster in his voice when he said, “Those judges are going down, down. Good news for us. We'll use it.”

Simon hardly cared about this bit of political news—a couple of corrupt judges using the juvenile courts to further their own financial endeavors—but he cheered halfheartedly. This was public conversation, something the secretary was allowed to hear.

“Go for a drive?” Haigh asked, but it wasn't really a question. “My car. It's right outside.”

They climbed up into the Explorer. Todd thought about how the high-up cushy seats, roomy interior, and noisy engine compared to his closer to the ground, more sophisticated European compact. The two cars just about summed up the relationship between the men.

“Where are we going?”

“Just to find a road, any road. We stop, get out, then we talk.”

“Christ.”

“Yeah.”

Todd said, “Why the elaborate—”

Haigh interrupted. “Tell me about those judges. Tell me you can use the topple.”

“Sure I can. I use everything.”

Haigh said, “Tell me about Centre County and Luzerne County. Tell me about Esposito and his pals.”

Todd thought, I am the employee; he wants a report, I have to give it. He managed a rote recitation about the people and districts Haigh wanted updates on.

It took twenty minutes to get to a park area. Haigh nosed the SUV around to a more or less secluded spot. “Let's walk,” he said. He got out of the car.

Todd had to laugh. He pictured Haigh carrying a gun, bam, no more worries for old Todd. But it wasn't going to happen. Todd's car was back at the house. The secretary knew they were out together. Plus—he had to laugh—the Pittsburgh police were very aware of his existence. So. He squinted a hard look at Haigh, who was already puffing before they went ten feet. The poor guy was not a walker. For Haigh it was a significant exertion just getting up and down his stairway.

When they had walked some thirty feet into a wooded area, Haigh stopped. He turned to Todd. “Okay. Show me you're not wearing a wire.”

Todd, aghast, almost hooted at the question. “Are you—? You're not kidding?”

“It's a necessary precaution.”

He took off his jacket and handed it to Haigh. “Examine it. Pat me down.”

He continued to be surprised that Haigh actually examined the jacket, taking his time. “When are you going to tell me what this is about? We could have talked back at your house.”

“This is safer.” Haigh patted him down.

He wanted to hit Haigh—it was that simple. He gritted his teeth, felt the blood rising to his face. When he saw Haigh point to his shoes, he took them off and watched his old mentor examine them, lifting the inner soles, for God's sake.

“Okay,” Haigh said while Todd struggled back into his shoes. “The hearing for that kid is tomorrow. Is it going to stick? The police are everywhere asking questions. I just had some Pittsburgh cop up here asking me about Mickey. What is going on? How is it they are still asking? Why the hell didn't you use Frank Santini? I offered him to you. If this falls apart—”

“If it falls apart, it's not my fault. It could be Mick being stupid. Nobody, but nobody, could have thought it out like I did. I chanced a lot for you.”

“Did you, huh? Doing it yourself?”

“Tell me when Benton gave me orders he was speaking for you. Tell me that.”

Haigh pursed his lips. “You might have to go down. DNA and all that. If you do have to take the fall, I want an airtight story. I want you to keep Mick out of it. We'll get you the best, somebody to get you off on a technicality. Do you understand?”

“I figured all that. I'd want a lot more than that. I'd want some serious money. Whatever you were going to give to poor old Santini. And more.”

Haigh stared at him. “I want you to ask yourself, Which is better? You take us down but stay in prison for some period of time and come out without money or work? Or you shut it and we get you out? Which is better?”

“Don't talk to me like I haven't figured the angles. I'm light-years ahead on every count.”

“Tell me. From A to Z. I need to know.”

“Okay. I took the bitch out for a drink the day … the day it happened. I really worked her. I was totally sure she would
not
keep quiet. I know you told me to work on her for a couple of days, to send this Santini in if she got impossible. But she was already impossible. She was reckless and dangerous. So I had to act fast, before she went back up to the office and made a scene. I let people see me with her. That was on purpose. Just in case there is any DNA of mine at the scene. I'll say something must have rubbed off earlier in the day. But they aren't going to find any DNA. Want to know why? I figured it all. I saw this worker kid outside her house, working on the porch. I said to myself what a very good suspect he would be. I thought it. I borrowed a full-cover painting gear—that thick paper shit which is honest to God impenetrable. I was covered. I even wore plastic gloves. Who else could have come up with that in two hours of thinking?”

Haigh made that funny move—finger and thumb squeezing his nose as if to stop breath—that he sometimes did when he was thinking. “Okay.”

“I used the kid's work gloves. I was hoping they'd make a print on her neck. I don't know if they did. I took her cell phone, I took her wallet, I made like the place was robbed. Or like the kid tried to make it look like the place was robbed.”

Haigh nodded. “Not exactly what I told you to do.”

“What?”

Haigh gave him a steely stare. “You heard me.”

Suddenly Todd thought, Shit, shit. He's recording this. He said, “So, tell me, are
you
wearing a wire?”

“Don't be ridiculous.”

“Prove it.” He started slapping at Haigh's clothes. It was an odd feeling, like hitting your father and realizing he was only made of flesh and blood and bone. He felt no wire, but he kept at Haigh, who started to hit back. Soon they were grappling at each other. Haigh's glasses fell and then he tripped and soon after that, both men were on the ground.

After a while Todd started laughing. “I ought to do this more often,” he said. “I used to scrap a lot when I was a teenager. I forgot how good it feels.”

Haigh grunted something like a laugh. He stood up, winded, and brushed himself off. “Where's the stuff? The stuff you took from her?”

“Buried. Gloves thrown away. I was careful. I know where I buried the phone and her wallet. I know how to get to them if I ever need to plant them.”

“How do you figure that?” Haigh gestured him toward the car.

“In case it doesn't stick with the kid. I'll find a way.”

“You
have
thought of everything.”

“Yes.”

“And you're loyal, right?”

If Todd heard any word thousands of times from Haigh it was that one. Loyal. The most desirable of traits.

*   *   *

“THEY SEEM TO HAVE
gone someplace together,” Dolan was saying. “Simon's car is here, and they just came back in Haigh's SUV. Simon isn't going into the house. They're shaking hands. I have to keep moving. I think, yes, Simon is getting into his car. You want me to follow?”

“From way behind. See if you get a direction at least. Let me know. We're partway to Sandler's house. We had a quick bite.”

“I had a quick bite in the car. Not my style at all. I dropped mayo. How did I get sloppy?”

“It comes with age. You ever noticed old geezers? They have spots all over their clothes.”

“Just what I needed to hear.”

Christie was laughing. He liked ragging Artie. “Can't you laugh?”

“I'm laughing a little.”

“Good.”

“Is Greer in the car with you?”

“Two cars. I want to be around if Todd shows. Otherwise I want her to soft-pedal it with Sandler.”

“Got it. You unpartnered her with Potocki?”

“Not yet. It's something I have to do.”

“I'd say so. The vibrations are heavy-duty.”

“Yes,” Christie said. His tone didn't disguise his irritation. He missed having Greer in love with him. Well, real life was full of losses. You could even lose fantasies.

She drove fast. In the car ahead of him, she bounced with music—presumably music. She answered her phone. It wasn't a call from him.

*   *   *

RITA SANDLER SEEMED
miffed to be bothered at work when Colleen introduced herself and showed her badge and announced that she needed a little of Sandler's time.

“I never take time away from work,” Sandler said.

“This will take only a few minutes. Really.”

“It's … What is this about?” Her fakery showed. It was clear Simon had called her.

“Do you have a conference room? Or we could step outside.”