The Viper

“Interesting murder weapon. Who investigated it?”

“Albany city police.”

“Were you able to check it out?”

“A little. I know a guy over there from my NYSP days. He told me the investigation went nowhere. Victim was unmarried, no kids, no known employment. Turns out the ‘friends’ mentioned in the news item were a couple of acquaintances in a local bar, plus a stripper who lived with him but claimed to know nothing about him. She didn’t even know his real name. She said he called himself Sally Bones, and that was good enough for her. Same with the ‘friends’ in the bar. Case was technically open for a couple of years, then got dropped into the inactive file. Basically, nobody gave a shit. It happens.”

“Any motive theories at the time?”

“Maybe gambling debts. Maybe he got on the wrong side of some psycho. The guy was a loner. Goddamn loners are the hardest murders to solve.”

“No hint of any connection to Ziko Slade?”

“None.”

“And the weird method of execution didn’t lead anywhere?”

“Nowhere useful. Shit, I don’t even like to think about that. Having the breath crushed out of him. I’ll be having goddamn suffocation dreams. Any other sickening favors I can do for you, Sherlock?”

“Funny you should ask. There’s another name I’m curious about. Bruno Lanka.”

GURNEY GAZED OUT the French doors. The ground was covered in snow. In contrast with the stark white of the pasture, the leafless trees looked black. It was frustrating how little progress he’d made on the question of Slade’s guilt or innocence.

It was time for another call to Emma Martin.

“Good morning, David. What can I do for you?”

“What can you tell me about Ian Valdez?”

“That depends on what aspect of his life you’re asking about.”

“Let’s start with his name. Is it legitimate or an alias?”

“I can’t say. People who come to me can remain as anonymous as they wish. I’m not interested in names, only in who they really are. Why do you ask? Has something happened?”

“While I was at the lodge, someone put a decapitated rabbit in my car. I discovered it shortly after Ian left on some sort of errand.”

“And you’re thinking Ian put it there?”

“It’s possible.”

“That’s not the person I know him to be.”

“And who, exactly, is that?”

“A person, like Ziko, who has learned the value of integrity.”

Gurney sighed impatiently but said nothing.

“I understand your skepticism. Perhaps you should visit Ziko again.”

“Why?”

“The better you know Ziko, the surer you’ll be of his innocence, and the better you’ll understand Ian.”

He suppressed an itch to argue. Instead, he thanked Emma and ended the call. There might, in fact, be some value in meeting with Slade again.

After phoning Attica to arrange a visit later that day, he refilled the watering device in the chicken coop, left a note for Madeleine, and set out on the long drive.

THE VISITING ROOM was busier than on his previous visit. The conversational murmur was louder, and the odors of sweat and disinfectant more pronounced.

Slade entered the room, found his way to the table, and sat across from Gurney. He looked just as untroubled by his circumstances as before.

“Good to see you, Mr. Gurney.”

“How are you doing?”

“The food has room for improvement.” His tone suggested indifference to this fact.

“I drove up to your lodge the other day.”

The tilt of Slade’s head indicated interest. “To view the scene of the crime?”

“Yes.”

“Did you meet Ian?”

“He arrived a little after I did.” Gurney paused. “Interesting young man. How much do you know about him?”

Slade smiled. “Ian is one of Emma’s miracles.”

“Where did he come from?”

“Hell.”

“Did he share any details with you?”

“Some, but there were things he wouldn’t talk about.”

“Can you tell me what he did talk about?”

“One of Emma’s rules is that anything divulged in her home is confidential. But I can tell you that I felt horror at what he told me and sorrow over what it did to him.”

“Ian told me he’d adopted you as his new father.”

“True.”

“What do you make of that?”

“I suspect it has little to do with me. It is about something in him. ‘Desperation’ may be the best word for it. Whatever it is, making me his ‘father’ has had a calming effect on him. Perhaps it helped him to deal with some of his hideous memories of the father who raised him.”

“He needed that kind of help?”

“Very much so. When Ian first came to Emma, he was . . . insane.”

“Do you know if ‘Ian Valdez’ is his birth name?”

He shook his head. “Emma discourages that kind of curiosity.”

“Do you trust him?”

“I believe he’s been truthful with me, to the extent that he knows what the truth is.”

Gurney sat back in his chair and waited for the officer patrolling that part of the room with unusual persistence to pass out of earshot. The man’s shaved head and thick neck brought to mind the driver of the Corrections Department vehicle he spotted tailing him after his last visit.

“Have you given much thought to why you’re here?”

Slade shrugged. “The evidence convinced the jury I was guilty.”