Play Dead

Marcus shows up right on time, and I explain the ground rules to him. “I just want to talk to the guy. If he wants to do anything other than talk, you should stop him. As hard as you want.”

Marcus and I drive to the same area of the park where we had our encounter with Windshield Man. It is on the lower level near the baseball fields, and to get there we drive down a road that we referred to as Dead Man’s Curve when we were kids. While it’s a fairly steep hill as it wraps around, the nickname we gave it shows that a child’s perspective can be a little warped.

Marcus and I are there at a minute before eleven, and we get out of the car together. There’s plenty of moonlight, and I walk a few yards to where I can see the curve, since that is the way Hamadi will be entering. There is no sign of him, but it’s not that easy to find this place, so I’m willing to give him a grace period.

“Let’s give him a few minutes,” I say to Marcus, but he doesn’t answer, which is no great surprise. What is a surprise is that when I turn to look at Marcus, I discover that he is gone.

“Marcus?”

No answer. I’m going to take it on faith that Marcus is still here but has decided that protecting me is more easily accomplished by staying out of sight.

With nothing better to do, I look back toward the curve. At about ten after the hour I see a car up above, beginning to make its way down. It’s traveling slowly, as if the driver is unsure where he is going. That’s a good sign.

The car moves silently along until it is about halfway down the curve, wrapping around and descending toward me, though still at least two hundred yards away. Suddenly I hear a deafening noise and see a sight so amazing I have to do a double take to make sure it’s real.

The car is now completely engulfed in a ball of flames, yet it continues to roll down the curve. In the darkness it looks surreal; it’s momentarily hard to realize that someone has undoubtedly just burned to death in it.

Before I even have time to react, I feel a smashing blow in my gut, and I find myself off my feet, up in the air. In an instant I am literally flying, and I’ve flown maybe twenty yards before I realize that I have been lifted off the ground by Marcus, and that I am draped over his shoulder.

He is carrying me away from my car, probably thinking that it might be the next target. We travel like this across the field and to the pavilion, which houses the snack bar and restrooms but which is, of course, closed at this hour. Once we’re there he puts me down, and we watch the burning car complete its descent and crash into a tree.

Actually, I’m the only one watching it. Marcus has his eyes focused on the top level, since that is where the shooter must have been. What he used to shoot, I can’t even imagine.

With Hamadi dead, I also can’t imagine how the hell I’m ever going to find out the truth.

* * * * *

“THIS, AS I told you in my opening statement, is a very easy case.”

That is how Hawpe starts his talk to the jury, who are paying rapt attention. I only wish they had been in Eastside Park with me until three in the morning; then they would be as groggy and unfocused as I am.

I spent the hours after the explosion playing a balancing act with Pete Stanton and his detectives. I gave them Hamadi’s identity and told them that he was coming to give me information about a case, but I revealed little else. Not knowing whether there are any federal law enforcement agencies I can trust with this, I decide to hold back for now.

I did take the opportunity to tell Pete Stanton about the money smuggling at the port, and Chaney’s involvement in it. He’ll go to the feds, and they’ll start an investigation. Hopefully Chaney will go down, but Petrone will emerge unscathed, having been alerted by me as part of our deal. I’m not thrilled by my role in this, but it’s the best I could do.

“And that is exactly what it has proven to be,” Hawpe continues. “Richard Evans went out on a boat one night with his fiancée, and he killed her and threw her body overboard. He then tried to kill himself, an effort that was thwarted only by the Coast Guard.

“Witnesses have placed them alone on the boat together, and there has been no evidence to the contrary. The defense has suggested everything from murderous stowaways to marauding pirates but has offered not the slightest facts to back up their theories.

“We don’t know why this crime was committed. Ms. Harriman told her neighbor that she and Richard Evans were having problems in their relationship, and she feared his temper. So perhaps he just flipped out in a momentary rage, then tried to kill himself when he realized what he had done.

“Or maybe he was depressed, and planned an evening that would provide a bizarre form of escape. Or it’s possible that she told him she was leaving the relationship, and he couldn’t handle the rejection.

“I can’t stand here and tell you the answer, but I can tell you that it doesn’t matter. We do not allow cold-blooded murder, no matter what the motivation.