False Mermaid

Cormac looked down to the corner where Róisín sat waiting for her father to return, fingering the next tune on the neck of her fiddle. “You’ve taught her well.”

Devaney tried to downplay the compliment. “Ah, she’s coming along. You know as well as I do, teaching’s got very little to do with it.”

Cormac tapped the edge of the beer mat in a parting salute, then tucked it into his pocket as he headed for the door.

10

Karin Bledsoe sat on the edge of the table and addressed Truman Stark. “Okay, let’s go over it once more. We’ve got your prints on a car that crashed because someone jammed the brakes. And you’re telling us you don’t know anything about it?”

“That’s right.”

“Come on, Truman, just tell us what happened. We can’t work with you if you won’t work with us.”

They’d been talking to Stark for three hours. So far all he’d done was deny everything. Frank looked down at a sketch he’d made in his notebook, an oval filled with interlocking hexagons. Karin had been batting the kid around like a puma playing with a turtle. And Truman Stark did what any creature would do in that situation—he withdrew. His eyes had that watchful look of a person who’d been struck too often to trust anyone. But if he knew somebody had tampered with Nora’s brakes, why wouldn’t he tell them? Who was he trying to protect?

“We found the pictures, Truman—the ones of Tríona Hallett up in your bedroom. Did you enjoy making up little scenarios for the two of you to play out? What happened—did things not go quite the way you’d planned?”

Truman sat, hands in his pockets, staring at the tabletop. He hadn’t asked for a lawyer , and Frank couldn’t shake the notion that he wanted to give them something—but what?

Karin tried again. “What do you do with all that gear we found in your room?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. I think you go out on patrol. Almost like a real cop. You think you’re Superman and Batman and Spiderman all rolled into one, don’t you? With your radio and your handcuffs, and your big nightstick. What happened—did you wash out of law enforcement at community college? Maybe you never made it that far.”

Stark’s breathing grew shallower, more agitated. “You don’t know anything.”

“I know it’s illegal, impersonating an officer.”

“I never told anybody I was a cop.”

“No, just went out on patrol every night in your spiffy uniform and your shiny fake badge. That wouldn’t be anything like impersonation, hell no.”

“Somebody’s got to—”

Karin set her face only inches from Stark’s. When she spoke, her voice was deadly quiet. “What? What were you going to say? ‘Somebody’s got to do it?’ Don’t make me laugh. If we have to let you go, and I find out down the road that you’ve just been jerking us around, that you really did smash those women’s faces in, you are going to need serious reconstructive surgery yourself, my friend. Do you get me?”

At that moment, Stark’s defiance seemed to mask something else—was it shock? For a split second, Frank imagined that Truman Stark had never known exactly how Tríona Hallett died—or that she wasn’t the only victim. Unless he was mistaken, Karin’s tiny slip was the exact moment Truman Stark had found out. But they were still getting nowhere. He cut in: “Detective Bledsoe, can I talk to you for a minute?”

They stepped out into the corridor, and Frank kept his voice low. “Karin, this isn’t working. He’s not going to give us anything at this rate.”

“Are you dissing my interview technique?”

“No—I just think we need to switch gears, try a different approach.”

“Be my guest. You haven’t exactly been keeping up in there so far—”

“Look, if you’re upset with me for some reason—”

“What reason could I possibly have for being upset with you, Frank? Let’s see—ignoring my phone calls? No, couldn’t be that. Going off on your own, checking leads on cases we’re supposed to be working together—that’s not really it. Oh yeah—maybe it’s the fact that your brother died, and I had to find out you even had a brother from Don Padgett in patrol. We’re supposed to be partners, Frank. Does that mean anything to you? You’ve cut me off. You’ve been dancing around, trying like hell to avoid me ever since you got that fucking phone call from Dublin. You know it’s true.”

It was true. But he suddenly felt so weary of it all—of Karin, Nora, everything. “Look, do we have to talk about this right now? We’re in the middle of something here—”

“No—you’re in the middle of something, Frank. And I’m out in left field. I’m fucking miles away.” She studied him for a few seconds. “Okay—you deal with Stark. Be my guest. I’m going upstairs to start filling out paperwork for a transfer.”

“Karin—” He could hear the note of resignation in his own voice, which meant she could hear it too.

“Cheer up, Frank. I know it’s a relief for you. And let’s face it: I’ve never exactly been the sentimental type. We’ve both seen this coming for a while.” She turned on her heel and walked away.