The Killing Moon: A Novel

Maddox frowned and sat back, inspecting the tender parts of his discolored knuckles.

"You were frustrated," said Cullen. "You thought you had them on the murdered snitch. You wanted them for it. Turns out, the snitch got pushed over by someone else."

"I don't know that for sure."

"Then allow me to convince you. Crime Scene Services got clever working over the witch's house. They figured the killer had spent some time there, so they keyed in on a couple of things. One was the fact that the towel rack in the upstairs bathroom was empty. Maybe the towels were used to wipe up or clean off something, maybe even the assailant himself. Luckily, this was on the side of the house that didn't burn so bad. First thing they scored were footwear impressions from the wet bath mat."

"Size ten and a half sneakers," said Maddox. "Hess already dangled that detail."

"Then they found that the sink—faucet, cabinet, vanity, whole thing—had been wiped down, scrubbed clean. Again—a good spot for cleaning something off, maybe washing up. A defensive wound, perhaps. So they went down into the plumbing. The pipes underneath the sink. Pulled the drain traps, and there was blood."

"Blood?" said Maddox. "Heat from the fire didn't cook it?"

"Not all. Blood type immediately excluded the victim, Frond. While all this was going on, they turned up that safe under a bed upstairs. The letters."

"Right."

"Her husband, the roads guy, admits to knowing about his wife and the witch. Guy's alibi is soft, very uncorroborated. But the critical thing is this gash on his arm."

Maddox looked at him now.

"Yeah," said Cullen. "Snagged it on a fence post, he said, but it fits just fine as a defensive wound. Typical overhelpful type, this guy, Ripsbaugh. Hess asked him for theories about who could have done this, and how. You know that old routine, 'If you didn't do it, tell me how someone else could have.' I saw only five minutes of the tape, but it's pretty pathetic, this guy holding forth with his theories."

"He's a cop buff."

"I know. They found all these true crime paperbacks in his house, and forensics shows on tape. Criminal genius of the armchair variety. Until Hess offered him straight out—'Hey, let me exclude you: volunteer a DNA sample.' That's when the guy started to stumble, started shutting down. Knew enough about DNA to want nothing to do with it, I guess. He refused outright. So Hess went prob cause, subpoenaed a cheek swab—which they got—and now it's a wait for the results."

Maddox rubbed his raw knuckles. "He's locked up?"

"No need. Not until the DNA comes back. Guy's not exactly a flight risk, right? He's being tailed twenty-four/seven, see if he cracks."

"So this is going to go on for a while."

"Actually, not so. A colleague in my office says Hess called in a chit at the lab in Sudbury. He's gotten somebody to cut through the backlog for him, push him to the top of the list. Apparently, Hess doesn't like this Ripsbaugh. Either that or he wants out of Black Falls even faster than you do."

"Hess," said Maddox. A look of disdain.

"'Leo the Lion,' they call him. King of the Jungle."

"There was somebody else from the DA's office at the station."

Cullen shrugged. "Probably a clerk helping to write up affidavits, that's all. No one knows you, or about you. How you want it, right?"

"How it has to be. How it is."

"Fine line, my friend. A dangerous game."

"You want dangerous? With Pinty gone, I'm all alone in town now. Unprotected."

"So go to Hess. Come out to him. What's the harm?"

"Not how it's done."

Cullen dismissed that. "You just don't like him."

Maddox sat forward. "If something does happen to me, anything, an accident, if I die choking on my food, you fall on the town like the U.S. Marines." Maddox waited for Cullen to agree to that, then sat back again. "Ripsbaugh have a lawyer yet?"

"Hess actually advised him to get one after the DNA swab."

"And?"

"Ripsbaugh said only guilty people need lawyers."

Maddox shook his head. "Jesus."

"Comical, how wrong he's going. Getting away with murder looks so easy on TV. Motive and opportunity—sure, that's all circumstantial. But not blood evidence. And this isn't mere DNA, mind you. Actual blood."

"No latents?"

"Guy watches TV, are you kidding? Children pocketing bubble gum at the corner store wear gloves now. CSS found traces of talcum at the witch's house, so they're thinking latex."

Maddox shook his head grimly.

Cullen went on. "As to Hess. You want to 'don't ask, don't tell' him? Maybe that's okay for now. But. You cannot withhold evidentiary material or mislead him in any way. We're already walking the tightrope with this. Don't cost the county money. That's the golden rule."

Maddox nodded. That satisfied both their pro forma obligations.

A pretty nurse with a thin, well-bred nose poked her head in, smiling at Maddox. "You can go back in now."

Cullen thought how they must love Maddox here. Heart-on-his-sleeve moody, devoted to a dying old man, and all nicked and banged up himself. Like a teddy bear tossed from a moving car.