The Dirt Peddler (31 page)

The waitress brought our pie, and we ate in silence for a few minutes until he resumed talking.

“If you knew Randy Jacobs, you know what he did for a living. He hustled his ass on the streets. A lot of our residents did that, or worse. That three former residents got themselves killed, out of the hundreds and hundreds who pass through our program every year, is hardly surprising, I'd imagine.”

I finished a forkful of pie before saying, “I suppose you're right. But all three…and Randy, too, for that matter…worked in the residence office.”

He shrugged. “Coincidence.”

Sure.

“How do you get along with your brother-in-law?”

He looked at me sharply, his fork halfway to his mouth.

“We get along fine. Why would you ask that?” He finished conveying the pie to his mouth and replaced the fork on his now empty plate.

“Just curious. I'd heard some talk that maybe you weren't the best of friends.”

He picked up his coffee mug and took a sip.

“Don't know where you'd have heard anything like that.”

“So it's not true?”

Another slight shrug, then, “Look, my mother died when Barbara was seven. I was seventeen. Our father was an important man, and a busy one. He loved us, but he just wasn't able to be around as much as he wanted. So it fell mostly to me to look after her. I've done the best I could ever since. She'll always be my little sister, so I guess it's only natural that I wouldn't think
anyone
was good enough for her. But she loves him, and that's good enough for me.”

I gave a small laugh. “I guess if I were Reverend Dinsmore, I'd better watch my step.”

He looked at me, his eyes narrowing for just the fraction of a second.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just an observation.”

He excused himself to go to the bathroom and I took the opportunity of his absence to allow some of the thoughts that had been piling up in my head to air themselves. Either he, his sister, and Jeffrey were all very good at conning me, or they really
didn't
know about
No Door to Heaven
. And if they didn't know about the book, what motive would any of them have had to kill Tunderew? Hooper had been right about it maybe not being surprising that three former New Eden residents had met untimely deaths, given their lifestyles.

But the residence office connection? That's stretching coincidence way past the breaking point.

Did Hooper know the good Reverend had been playing around with his residence office staff? I had little doubt from meeting him and from what I'd heard that if he thought for a minute that Jeffrey had been betraying Hooper's little sister, he'd snap him like a twig.

So if Tunderew hadn't been killed because of what he was writing about New Eden, who did kill him and why? Back to Catherine Tunderew, the Bernadines, and the way-in-the-rear contenders, Larry Fletcher and Judith Francini.

Sigh.

*

The waitress brought the check, and I quickly reached into my wallet to hand her a bill to cover it and the tip. Hooper returned to the table, slid back in long enough to drain the coffee from his cup, then said, “Well, I've got to get back to the farm. I'm glad we had a chance to talk. But I think you know where I stand when it comes to asking the Dinsmores any more questions. You need information, I suggest you get it somewhere else.”

He obviously read the expression on my face.

“That's not a threat…it's a strongly worded suggestion.”

He motioned to the waitress for the check, but she merely pointed at me and nodded.

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” And yet another little ritual of civilization was observed.

We got out of the booth at the same time, and he extended his hand. We shook, and I followed him to the door and outside. We didn't say a word as he walked three paces ahead of me, without looking back, to his pickup, which was parked right next to mine.

As I walked behind it, I took a closer look at that extended platform I'd noticed when it had passed me on the road. It was a pretty solid-looking affair, unpainted steel, apparently. A perfect, rectangular box about two feet deep and two feet wide, running the width of the truck. It had slightly recessed brake lights built in, but I doubted the back-up lights could be seen if he needed them. And I noticed that it wasn't, indeed, quite a perfect rectangle. There was a slightly pushed-in section on the corner of the driver's side.

The blood rushed from my head and I actually saw little flashes of light behind my eyes as every one of my mind-voices realized what I realized in that instant, and yelled in unison:

Jeezus H. Kryst, Hardesty!!

Chapter 14

I managed to get into my car and even exchanged a wave with Hooper as he backed out of his spot and proceeded up to the street, where he turned left. I waited until he was out of sight, then got back out of the car and returned to the diner. I'd noticed the ubiquitous pay phone in the short hall leading to the restrooms, and fished around in my pocket for change.

I dialed the number, asked for the extension, and prayed he'd be in.

“Lieutenant Richman.”

*

I made it to the City Hall Annex in what seemed like record time, though I couldn't actually be sure because my mind had been racing so furiously all the way from the diner, I really had little awareness of the time. I was lucky I didn't get into a traffic accident—I do remember running a yellow light and being grateful there wasn't anyone around to see it, or to collide with.

After parking the car in the Warman Park underground garage, I'd practically sprinted the two blocks to City Annex.

I found myself pacing back and forth in the elevator on the way to Richman's floor.

“Come,” the familiar voice said in response to my knock.

I opened the door to Richman's office and went in, only mildly surprised to see Marty Gresham was there as well. We did our little hand-shaking ritual, and Richman gestured me to one of the seats in front of his desk, next to Marty.

“I asked Marty to sit in since he already knows a little bit about what's going on on this Tunderew matter,” Richman said as we all settled in.

“That's fine. I'm really glad you agreed to hear me out.”

“No problem. So, we're listening.”

And the verbal dam burst.

Even as I heard myself talk, I was aware of a part of my brain that was somehow removed, and far more objective than the rest of me was at the moment.
It's really weird how things happen,
it observed.
I'd been working on Tunderew's murder for what seemed like months, bouncing from one clue to the next. And then in the space of two seconds…

I heard my voice explaining that it wasn't Tunderew's murder I should have been working on all along, it was Randy's! While any number of people might have eventually murdered Tunderew if they'd had the chance, they didn't. Instead of Randy being coincidentally in the car when Tunderew was murdered, it was exactly the other way around.
Randy
had been the intended victim.

Why in hell hadn't I seen that?

I heard myself laying out the scenario of the night Tunderew and Randy—make that Randy and Tunderew (see how perceptions make all the difference?)—died. We'd gone to New Eden to pick up Randy's sneakers. As I stood at the front door, I'd seen whom I now know to have been Mel Hooper walking across the back of the room. All he had to do was look out the kitchen window and he'd have seen Randy.

Hooper had known all along about Jeffrey Dinsmore's taste for male hustlers. How he'd found out I had no way of knowing, but he did keep a tight rein on all the residents and what went on on the premises.

I heard Lieutenant Richman interrupt me. “Why, if Hooper knew Jeffrey Dinsmore was cheating on his baby sister, didn't he simply kill Dinsmore?”

That had been one of the questions I'd asked myself on the way from the diner.

“I think it was probably simply because his sister loves the guy, and Dinsmore's death would hurt her too much. I think he wanted to send Jeffrey a loud and clear message when he murdered Jim Temple and threw his body into the Chattahoochee. He almost surely assumed it would be found downstream somewhere. But fate intervened, and Temple's body got snagged along the bank in a remote area where nobody noticed it. When it hadn't shown up in several weeks, Hooper tried another message by sending Dinsmore Temple's Bible, which Hooper had probably taken from him before or after the murder.

“It wasn't as clear a message, but Hooper probably figured Dinsmore would get it. He didn't. “How Dinsmore could possibly have missed making the connection when Mike Barber was killed is almost beyond comprehension, but incredibly, Dinsmore apparently missed it. I wouldn't be surprised if Hooper had set Mike up to get booted out of New Eden—he was always careful not to have too direct a link between the deaths and New Eden itself—and have Mike show up dead within a day
still
didn't register with Dinsmore! Dinsmore isn't stupid, but the only possible reason I can think of as to why he could have been so dumbfoundingly dense is that it may just never have occurred to him that someone actually knew what was going on. He gave himself too much credit for being discreet.”

Both Richman and Gresham just sat there, watching me, saying nothing. Maybe they figured they wouldn't be able to stop me if they tried. They were probably right. So I went on.

“Denny Rechter was dumped in a place where Hooper again assumed the body would be quickly found. Again, it wasn't. In a way, Hooper was as unlucky in sending his messages as Dinsmore was dense in ignoring them.”

When I paused for breath, Richman took the opportunity to step in. “How could Dinsmore have been sure the guys he was having sex with wouldn't expose him?”

“He probably bribed them with promises of a good job when they left New Eden in exchange for their silence. Randy had hinted as much before Mrs. Dinsmore caught him and her husband in the act. I kind of doubt that Mrs. Dinsmore told Hooper about it. She might well be afraid of what Hooper might do to Jeffrey. But Hooper undoubtedly figured it out when she demanded Randy be thrown off the property. Whether Hooper wanted Randy to be another message or whether he was just out to punish Randy for Mrs. Dinsmore's having actually seen him servicing her husband, I don't know.”

I could feel Marty's big brown eyes focused on my face as I spoke.

“Anyway, Hooper undoubtedly followed us when we left New Eden. I wasn't expecting to be followed, of course, so I didn't pay any attention to who might be behind us. We dropped Randy off at the bus station, and Tunderew probably picked him up almost immediately, or Hooper might have made a direct move on him, and Tunderew would never have been involved.”

“And the accident itself?” Richman asked.

“I'd guess Hooper just followed Tunderew into the foothills, then when he knew there weren't any major side roads for Tunderew to turn off on, Hooper pulled past him until he came to that convenient curve. When he was out of Tunderew's line of vision, all he had to do was to shove the pickup into reverse and back around the curve and directly at Tunderew. It was raining, and the platform at the back of Hooper's truck blocked Tunderew's ability to see the back-up lights. By the time Tunderew saw him, it was too late, He tried to swerve around him, but the platform hit the passenger's side fender, smashed the light, and sent the car swerving out of control and over the edge. The platform was unpainted steel; it wouldn't have left any paint residue on Tunderew's car. But you should be able to match up the impression it left in Tunderew's fender to the dent in the platform.”

And all of a sudden, I felt like a balloon whose knot had been undone, and all the air was gone. I just sat there, feeling both relieved and not a little tired.

Marty Gresham grinned at me.

“You're good, Hardesty,” he said approvingly.

“Yeah. If I'm so good I should have figured it all out a long time ago.”

*

Mel Hooper was arrested for the murders of Randy Jacobs and Tony Tunderew. Investigations were launched into the deaths of Denny Rechter, Mike Barber (by the police in Kaufman County, Texas), and in Atlanta for the death of James Temple. The full weight of the Eternal Light Foundation was thrown into keeping the exact motive for the crimes from becoming public knowledge. Jeffrey Dinsmore left the area for San Francisco shortly after Mel Hooper's arrest, to finalize plans for the next New Eden. Barbara Dinsmore remained behind in semi-seclusion to be near her brother and aid in his defense.

And the world goes on.

*

On Sunday morning, early, we drove out of the city, taking the Neeleyville turnoff toward the hills. Jonathan sat quietly, the small box in his lap. We headed up the hills, passing the spot where Tunderew's car had gone through the guardrail. I didn't point it out to Jonathan, but he spotted it and turned his head to look as we passed.

We drove on to where the road crested the ridge, then took a dirt road that went even farther up the hill. When the road ended in a small turnaround, we parked the car and took a narrow trail winding upwards through the woods. This was one of my very favorite secret places, but for some reason I'd never brought Jonathan here before.

The trail ended at a small clearing on the edge of a granite bluff which looked out over the forested hills and the wide valley. To the right, far below, was a small lake, glinting in the sun. To the left, in the distance, was the haze of the city.

Jonathan handed me the box while he took a small folding knife from his pocket and cut the seal on the box. Then he took the box from me and walked alone to the edge of the bluff. A sudden breeze from behind ran its fingers through his hair and ruffled his shirt.