Too Close to Home

“Fucking pain in the ass,” he said. “Every goddamn school in the city is on this green kick, you know? They make the kids stop bringing plastic bags to school, they think they’ve solved global warming. Then their mommies come pick them up after school in their fucking Hummers.”

Once in a while, Randy actually had an insight that was valid.

He said, “So, who you think did it?”

I had been thinking about Derek and Drew, wondering how their first day working together was shaping up, how Derek’s second day out of jail was going. “Huh?” I said.

“Lance. Who offed Lance?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I’m thinking, jealous husband? Dope dealer? Some pimp he tried to get out of paying? Gambling debts, maybe? Or what about this?” He leaned forward in his seat, all conspiratorial, like there was someone else in the car with us. “Maybe a gay lover.”

“I don’t know,” I said again.

Finley settled back in his seat. “The thing is, despite all the time we spent together, I didn’t really know all that much about him.”

“Why do you think that is?” I asked.

In my rearview mirror, I saw him shrug. “I guess I really didn’t give a shit,” he said. “To be honest with you, Cutter, other people’s lives, they don’t really interest me that much.”

There was a campaign slogan in there somewhere, I thought. My cell rang.

“It’s Barry,” the police detective said. “You want to grab a coffee?”

“I’ve got a bit of a window this afternoon. Mayor doesn’t have to go out till about three to plant a tree.” I’d been thinking about Kelly’s, where Linda said she’d last seen Sherry Underwood. It was close to city hall. I mentioned it to Barry.

“Half an hour,” he said.

By the time I’d dropped Randy off and parked the car in the underground garage, it was time to meet with Barry. He was already in a booth, and there were coffees and slices of cherry pie on both sides of the table. He hadn’t touched his pie yet.

I sat down.

“What’s this?” I said, looking at the pie.

“Peace offering,” Barry said.

“There’s no whipped cream,” I said.

Barry raised his hand, snapped his fingers. The waitress came over and Barry said, “Could you bury this in Cool Whip or something, please?”

She took the plate away and was back in under thirty seconds, the pie now largely obscured by white fluffiness.

“How’s that?” Barry said.

“Better.”

“I’m sorry about your son. It made sense at the time. He was in the house, he lied about being there, and I don’t know what, but there was something funny going on between your boy and Mrs. Langley.”

I said nothing.

“But that earring,” he said. “They never managed to get a DNA trace off it. That, and those guys coming to your place, the gun. The case fell apart. I was doing my job, Jim. But I called it wrong.”

He was looking me square in the eye.

“If it had been me you tossed in jail by mistake,” I said, “I’d forgive you immediately. But it was my son. It’s going to take longer.”

Barry nodded. “I accept that.” He paused. “So you’re back working for Randy. I didn’t see that coming. What, does he want his nose broken again?”

“I never actually broke it,” I said.

“Ha! So, you admit it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I have legal bills to pay, Barry. That’s why I’m working for him.”

Barry had the decency to blush. “Okay.”

“I’ve promised him a month or so. That’s it.”

Barry nodded, and said, “Tell me again, this thing about the book and Conrad.”

I laid it all out for him, slowly. How the guys who’d attacked me and Ellen wanted the copy of the disc Derek had found. So I’d thought it only made sense that they were the ones who’d come to the Langley house, to take away the computer Derek was given by Agnes Stockwell.

Except I’d since learned that the day the Langleys were killed, Albert Langley had given the computer to Conrad Chase. At least, I was thinking, that was what Conrad had told Ellen. Albert knew that what was on its hard drive would be of interest to Conrad, and he should have sole possession of it.

“So maybe the Langleys weren’t killed because of the computer,” Barry said. “It wasn’t there.”

“Well, Ellen and I were nearly killed because of the disc, and we didn’t have it,” I pointed out.

Barry put some pie into his mouth. “So if those guys had it wrong thinking you had the disc, they could have been wrong thinking the Langleys had the computer.”

“Maybe.”

“How do you know Albert Langley gave Conrad the computer?”

“Conrad told Ellen. When she gave him the disc.”

Barry chewed his pie very slowly. “But Conrad could have been lying. Maybe he actually acquired the computer after the Langleys were murdered. Or”-he swallowed his pie-“Ellen is lying when she says Conrad told her he already had the computer.”

“You think Ellen lied to me?”

“I’m not saying I think that, I’m merely raising it as a possibility. Listen, I love your wife. Her French toast is amazing. If I could get my wife to leave, get Ellen to come live with me, I’d be a happy man.”

“I thought you loved your wife.”

“I do. But she can’t make French toast worth shit.”

“Jeez, Barry, I think you’re off base here, about Ellen lying to me.”