The edge, p.34
The Edge, page 34
“Well, I’m happy to listen to whatever you can tell me that might be helpful.”
“I take it you don’t believe that Earl took his own life?”
“No, I don’t,” he said bluntly.
“Because he couldn’t have managed the chair and all?”
“You’ve been talking to Harper.”
“Actually, Wendy Fuss filled me in on your theory.”
“Harper agrees with me now. But you still think he killed himself?”
“I admit I did not take into account his physical ‘challenges’ in making my conclusion. I was looking strictly at the forensic evidence.”
“But not all the forensic evidence, because you didn’t run blood or tox screens. You just chalked it up to ‘adrenaline.’”
“I explained that to you. When suicide appears to be obvious there is no need. If he’d been fifty years younger and wasn’t found hanging, then, yes, I would have done a full postmortem.”
“So we’ll never know if he was rendered unconscious so they could string him up.”
“I’m sorry. I wish I could take it back, but I can’t,” she said firmly.
“So… insights?” prompted Devine, who had a feeling now that this evening was going to be a waste of time.
She set her wineglass down and seemed to steel herself. “Putnam, like many small towns, has secrets.”
“The big one is who raped Alex Silkwell.”
“I’m not talking about that, though it does involve the Silkwell family.”
An intrigued Devine took a swig of beer. “I’m listening.”
“Curtis Silkwell.”
“What about him?”
“What would you say if I told you that many here believe he is Annie Palmer’s father?”
“I’d say tell me more.”
“Curt and Valerie Palmer were attracted to each other; everyone here knew it. He was twenty years older than she at least. But she was beautiful—Annie took after her—and she caught Curt’s eye. He was quite the philanderer. But I’m sure you knew that.”
“No, I didn’t. Is there proof?”
“DNA? No. No one ever talked about doing that. But I can tell you that Curt paid for Annie’s college education out of state before she came back here. And I understand that Dak helped with the financing of her café. But when Annie was born, Curt was a congressman with plans to one day run for the Senate, which he eventually did and won.”
“So it was all hushed up?”
“Of course it was,” she said. “Those sorts of affairs always are.”
“And did Clare know?”
“She would have been blind not to. And Clare was never blind.”
“And you’re telling me this why?” asked Devine.
“I know you’re interested in Steve and Valerie Palmer’s deaths around the time that Alex was attacked.”
“And they were the ones who discovered Alex after she was raped.”
Guillaume held up four fingers. “Steve and Valerie Palmer, and Earl and Bertie Palmer. All dead. Fire, a hit-and-run, and lastly a hanging.”
“You did the autopsies on Steve and Valerie.”
“I did. And they died of smoke inhalation. That was as far as the postmortem went.”
“Meaning what?”
“Like with Earl, I did not do blood and tox screens.”
“Because it was believed to be an accident?” said Devine.
She rose and stood in front of the fire. Her tall, trim figure seemed right now to hold all sharp angles, Devine noted.
“Because I was encouraged to do the test for smoke inhalation and that was all.”
Devine rose and stood next to her, letting the heat from the fire warm his chilled bones. And he wanted to be right next to the woman when he asked his next, obvious question.
“Who encouraged you to stop at the smoke inhalation test?”
“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”
“Senator Silkwell? Why? Why would he care?”
She didn’t respond so Devine filled in the answer. “Because you’re saying he killed the Palmers? What would be his motive?”
She gave him a patronizing look. “Like I just said, Agent Devine, fifteen years ago he was running for the Senate for the first time. Any hint of scandal would have derailed his campaign. Such things as adultery still counted with voters back then.”
“So someone threatened to expose his secret? Who? I suppose the Palmers, if you think he had them killed and then encouraged you to do short shrift with the postmortem. But that would have been a scandal for the Palmers too. I can’t believe Steve Palmer would have wanted his wife’s adultery known to the world. So where’s the motive for the Palmers to spill the truth to such an extent that Silkwell would feel he needed to kill them?”
“Money. Steve Palmer was a lousy businessman and a gambler to boot. He’d lose more money than he had at the Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun casinos in Connecticut.”
“So he was blackmailing Silkwell? But by then the family didn’t have any money.”
“Oh, they had some. How else could they keep paying the taxes on Jocelyn Point and keep it running? It’s not cheap. And Curt Silkwell had invested what money he did have well. Indeed, he invested in some of the industries he oversaw as a member of certain congressional committees. As luck would have it his timing was amazing in getting into investments and then out of them in the nick of time before the bottom fell out.”
“So he was trading on insider information?”
“Apparently many of them do, to this day.”
“And how did you come to know all of this?”
“I made it my business to know. And I had firsthand knowledge of part of it.”
“Right. You let someone encourage you not to do your job.”
“I’m not proud of that. But I was just starting out and these were people I looked up to. I was afraid not to do as I was asked.”
“And of course Senator Silkwell is in no position to defend himself against these accusations,” he replied.
She took the poker and nudged some embers until they flamed up. “I’m not surprised you don’t believe me. No one wants to think a war hero, a great man, could do bad things. But if I am telling the truth, does that qualify as a motive for murder, to your thinking?”
“You also mentioned Earl and Bertie Palmer?”
“Bertie spent a lot of time with Alex after she was attacked.”
“So?”
“Bertie and Earl both knew about the affair.”
“Bertie started spending time with Alex after she was attacked fifteen years ago. But Bertie was killed a few weeks ago, and Earl just days ago,” pointed out Devine. “So why wait that long? And Curt Silkwell couldn’t have been involved in either of their deaths. He’s been in a hospital for a long time.”
“But Clare hasn’t, has she? And I understand she married a very wealthy man. A man who might be able to hire certain people to do a certain job.”
“You’re very well informed.”
“I find that’s far better than being ignorant,” she retorted.
“But I’m not sure how much sense it all makes. Why would Clare, after all these years, care about an affair of her husband’s from nearly thirty years ago coming out? Particularly if he had other such trysts and now she’s remarried and put all that behind her?”
“Curt being Annie’s biological father may not be the only secret the Silkwells are covering up.”
“What else?”
She retook her seat while Devine continued to stand. “People around here have long wondered where Dak got the capital to invest in all these local businesses.”
Devine leaned against the mantel, his mind racing ahead.
Dak’s smuggling might come out after all. “You have any theories?” he asked.
“Bertie was over at Jocelyn Point a lot over the years. What if she stumbled onto his source of capital?”
“So Dak ran her over? And then killed Earl in case she had told him?”
“I’m not saying it’s true, but you have to admit, it’s a plausible theory.”
“So who shot Jenny? And then Dak? The polymer casing links them. If it was in retaliation somehow for him killing Bertie and Earl, how does Jenny tie in?”
Devine had an advantage here. He knew about the satellite images that Jenny had found showing that the Palmers had seen what Devine believed to be a cop car racing past right before they found Alex. But for that, Guillaume’s line of reasoning would be far more compelling.
“I guess it’s your job to find that out,” she replied curtly.
“Assuming there is a connection.”
“Do you have a theory tying them all together?”
Devine had known that query was coming and it confirmed for him what this whole dinner invitation was partly about. The first part had been shifting potential guilt onto the Silkwells. And the second?
A fishing expedition. Ironic in a coastal town that makes its living off lobster. And eels.
“I’ve got lots of theories, but I need proof.”
“Like you said before, I’m listening. And I can give you my expert opinion.”
I bet you can, and then you’ll run off and tell your uncle, wherever he’s hiding, which might be right here.
The front door opened and closed and Fred Bing walked in, his hair and coat wet.
She looked at him. “Why didn’t you pull into the garage, Fred?”
“My damn remote didn’t work again.” He looked at Devine. “Hey, sorry I’m late for dinner. I hope you two went ahead and ate.”
“No, we waited for you,” said Guillaume. “And I’ve been having an interesting discussion with Mr. Devine.”
Fred took a long sniff. “Well, your beef stew is calling me.”
They all went in to eat.
Guillaume only had eyes for Devine. And for his part, he was surreptitiously watching her every step of the way at the same time he was on the lookout for the hulking Benjamin Bing to jump out with a gun.
CHAPTER
75
THE STEW WAS EXCELLENT, AND Devine watched in some amusement as Bing sopped up every drop of it with his bread before pushing back from the table. The tall man was as thin as a rail but had eaten three helpings.
The burial business must burn lots of calories.
But then he recalled that the man was also an outdoor enthusiast.
Guillaume rose and started clearing dishes, brushing off both men’s offers to help. “You two just sit here and chat. I’ll make some coffee.” She disappeared into the kitchen.
A couple of minutes of silence ensued. Bing finished his water and wiped his mouth with his napkin before running his own amused gaze around the dining room table that could easily have sat twenty.
“A little much?” offered up Devine after watching him.
“There are plenty of rooms in this house I’ve never actually been in,” replied Bing.
Devine grinned. “I’m sure.” His expression turned serious. “Hey, what else can you tell me about your uncle Ben?”
“Like what?” asked Bing.
“Just your overall impression.”
Bing sat back and played with his napkin. “Well, for starters, my grandfather was a brute. Ruthless and greedy. There, I said it and I’m not ashamed.” He smiled briefly. “The three sons were the recipients of all that. My father, Ted, and my uncle, John, were all about doing what my grandfather wanted. He wanted them to follow him into the business, so they did.”
“And Ben?”
“Wanted no part of the funeral home world or my grandfather for that matter. He joined the Army and then came back here and became a policeman. And he loved to throw that in his father’s and brothers’ faces.”
“Do you remember Wilbur Kingman’s funeral?”
“Sure. The whole town came out for it.”
“I watched a video of the service. Earl had a DVD.”
“Yes, we film the service if the family requests it and then make copies available to whoever wants one.”
“Doesn’t it make people uncomfortable having a camera at a funeral? And I’m surprised a church would allow it.”
“No, the service was at our chapel, not a church. I believe Pat was raised Catholic, but the Kingmans weren’t churchgoers. And folks never see the camera equipment, it’s built into the wall of the chapel. It was my father’s idea. He actually charged for it. But we give them out for free now. Not a video or DVD, of course. Now it’s just a downloadable copy.”
“Anyway, in the video I saw your uncle Ben talking to Earl.”
“What about?”
“I couldn’t hear. But whatever your uncle was saying to him, Earl looked like he wanted no part of it. After the service they left together. Do you know where they went?”
Bing shook his head. “No. My duties would have involved organizing the coffin into the hearse, arranging the procession, and getting the family and attendees to the cemetery. That was my focus. You take your eye off the ball and things can get out of hand quickly.”
“I’m sure. Look, when I asked you about your uncle and Alex you seemed… flustered.”
“No, I mean, I just didn’t have anything to say. I don’t know anything… about… that, not that there was anything.”
“Stop talking, Fred, you’re making a fool of yourself.”
Devine turned to see Guillaume standing in the doorway of the dining room holding a tray with coffee and cups.
Bing glanced at his sister and then looked down at his lap.
Guillaume sat down across from Devine and handed out the coffees. “Mr. Devine, I leave you for a few minutes and I find you in here making allegations against our family.”
“I don’t remember making any allegations,” replied Devine as he took the offered cup.
“Latent, not patent, to use a forensic term.”
“Alex was attacked and raped. And I believe Jenny knew who had done it. And that’s why she was killed.”
“How could Jenny have known?” said Guillaume. “A stranger attacked Alex.”
“No, I think it was someone she knew. Maybe knew very well.”
Guillaume seemed taken aback. “What proof do you have of that?”
“I didn’t say I had proof. Yet. And don’t go cremating Hal Brockman’s remains without checking with me first.”
Guillaume’s face twisted for a moment in anger. She shot her brother a glance and then put her palms on the table, as though to steady herself. “I’ll ignore that remark, because it was spoken in ignorance.”
“No, I really mean it, Dr. Guillaume,” said Devine.
“What exactly are you suggesting? That I would do something improperly?”
“Everyone in this town is close to what happened, both years ago and today. I just think we need more objectivity inserted into the process.”
“That’s not unreasonable, sis,” interjected Bing.
“Particularly in light of your admission that in the past you might not have carried out your professional duties to the fullest,” noted Devine.
“I’ll take your request under advisement,” she said coldly while her brother stared at her in bewilderment.
“It’s actually not a request. I’ll make the formal ask to the OCME.”
Guillaume barked, “And what would Jenny know about anything? She wasn’t there when Alex was attacked. And it’s been fifteen years. I don’t see how it’s possible.”
“Jenny could figure complex things out on behalf of her country. So why not this?”
Guillaume shook her head. “I think you’re sniffing up the wrong tree.”
“Don’t you want that?” said Devine. “The truth to come out?”
“I provided you with what I believe to be the truth. A very detailed account,” she added.
Bing again glanced sharply at his sister.
“And I listened,” said Devine. “And I’ll follow the evidence where it takes me.”
Guillaume simply glowered at him.
“Anything for dessert?” asked Bing with a hopeful expression.
“No!” said his sister.
Bing rose and said, “Well, I’ve got some work to do.”
He eyed Guillaume and Devine glaring at one another and fled the room.
CHAPTER
76
AFTER FINISHING UP AT THE Bing mansion, and after once more instructing Guillaume to do nothing with Brockman’s remains, Devine drove to Jocelyn Point. Or tried to. Halfway there the truck sputtered once, twice, and then died. He tried to restart it, but it wouldn’t catch. He looked at the fuel level. It was below empty.
“Shit.”
He had checked the fuel earlier. It was half full. He leaped out and ran to the rear of the truck.
The smell of gas was intense and the underside of the truck was coated in fuel. He used his flashlight to check. A hole had been punched in the tank. He looked back toward the Bing mansion.
Benjamin Bing?
He grabbed his bag and set out at a steady jog to Jocelyn Point.
He phoned Alex on the way over but she didn’t answer. He looked at his watch. She might be asleep.
He finally reached Jocelyn Point and knocked on the front door. Alex didn’t answer. Slightly worried now, he phoned her again. Again she did not pick up. He pounded on the front door, to no avail. He tried to open it, but it was locked.
He stepped back and looked up at her bedroom window. He tossed some loose gravel up there, where it clattered against the panes of glass. He waited, but the light didn’t come on and Alex did not appear at the window.
He hustled back to the front door and used his pick gun to get inside. He dropped his bag and, Glock out, ran up the stairs calling her name. He reached her bedroom and opened the door, dreading what he might find. The room was empty. Her bed was unmade, and it appeared as though it hadn’t been slept in recently. He searched every room in the house and the widow’s walk and came up empty.
He raced outside to the studio. The door was not locked. Devine stepped in, turned on the lights, and looked around. Just like the house, it was empty. Just like the house, there were no signs of a struggle. No blood, thank God. But still nothing.
