Hell (26 page)

He felt Martinez's hand touch his right arm, restraining, remembered Alvarez's warnings.

‘I'm sorry,' he said to the attorney.

‘I should think so,' Singer said.

‘Detective Samuel Becket has a temper,' Cooper said to the lawyer. ‘He kicked me one time in the street outside his house, pushed me right over.'

‘Gee,' Martinez said.

‘One more thing,' Cooper said to Sam, ‘before we finish—'

‘This guy thinks he's Hannibal-fucking-Lecter holding court,' Martinez said.

‘Maybe you'd like to remind your client – ' Sam's tone was measured now – ‘that he's here to answer our questions.'

‘I was only being polite,' Cooper said. ‘And I just realized I've forgotten to ask how Grace's dad is doing?' He smiled again. ‘Is the old bastard still alive?'

‘Mr Cooper,' Albert Singer admonished his client.

Sam got to his feet.

‘Interview terminated,' he said, and added the time.

The rest of the day went downhill after that for Sam.

It had started out OK, all things considered, with Grace telling him at six a.m. that she was taking Joshua and a picnic to the beach, and Claudia was coming along, so Sam didn't have to worry, but no one else was invited, Grace said, because they all deserved a break from her.

‘No one wants a break from you,' Sam told her.

‘If they don't,' she said, ‘they're crazy.'

‘If I wasn't working,' Sam asked, ‘would I be invited?'

‘If you weren't working,' Grace said, ‘I'd probably dump our kid and run away with you to Hawaii.'

‘I never knew you wanted to go to Hawaii.'

‘I don't especially,' she said.

‘You doing OK, Gracie?' Sam asked.

‘So long as you don't ask me that,' she said.

Downhill all the way after that.

First the interview, then a virtual slap-down by the lieutenant.

With the contents of the
New Epistles
logged as evidence, Sam had hoped to convince Alvarez to allow him to swear an affidavit for a warrant to examine any computers used by the late Richard Bianchi in the hope that they would further prove the connection between Bianchi and Cooper. Probable cause for the warrant being the relationship between Cooper and the late Bernice van Heusen of Savannah, Georgia, whose Volkswagen car had been driven by Bianchi up until his death.

‘It's a no go,' Alvarez told him. ‘No one would cheer louder than me if you could prove that the material found on the
Aggie
was downloaded by Bianchi. But there's insufficient probable cause for the search, and you know it.'

‘I'd bet a year's pay the proof is there,' Sam said, tense to his fingertips.

‘And you might win,' Alvarez said. ‘But we both know that the Internet material could have been downloaded by Cooper or anyone else via any computer any
where
, and so far as the Beetle goes, there isn't a shred of conclusive evidence that the car was ever connected with any crime committed by Cooper.'

‘Not to mention,' Sam said to Martinez back in their office, ‘the affidavit would go down a whole lot better if it weren't being sworn by the husband of the woman accused of running Bianchi down.'

‘I'm sorry, man,' Martinez said.

‘Yeah,' Sam said. ‘Me too.'

Martinez had more bad news.

Searches for any bank accounts in the names of Jerome Cooper or Tom O'Hagen, along with the broader search undertaken courtesy of the Financial Crimes Enforcement Network, had been fruitless. Cash presumably being the killer's method of payment for the
Aggie
and most daily requirements. No credit cards had been found on the houseboat and, aside from three hundred and forty-eight dollars and some cents, no cash stash had been located to date.

It could, of course, be anywhere, and even if they did ever gain access to Bianchi's home, it wouldn't mean two beans if nothing was found there either.

Didn't stop Sam wanting to get in there.

Meantime, no warrant and no help from FinCEN.

And a quiet desperation was grinding its way through the man whose wife's arraignment was happening next morning.

‘I'm heading out,' Sam told Martinez just after two. ‘I won't blame you if you don't want to join me.'

Martinez picked up his jacket and asked no questions until they were in his Chevy, motor running.

‘So?' he said.

‘Shrinkwrap Publications,' Sam said, checking for the zip code.

The outfit that had employed Bianchi as a freelance copy editor.

‘You sure about this?' Martinez asked.

‘Not sure of anything,' Sam said.

The young man at the reception desk was friendly at the outset, but as soon as Sam asked if he knew whether Richard Bianchi had ever used a computer in their offices, the guy, whose name tag identified him as Mark Curtiz, became wary.

‘I'm going to have to ask my manager.'

‘No problem,' Sam said.

The woman who showed up three minutes later was middle-aged, sharply dressed and patently hostile.

She introduced herself as Ana Garcia, double-checked their IDs, then turned to the receptionist.

‘I guess you don't know who this detective is.' She was frosty. ‘His name is Samuel Becket. His wife is the person who killed Richard Bianchi.'

‘Oh, my God,' Mark Curtiz said.

‘We're Miami Beach Police Department detectives, ma'am.' Martinez stepped in. ‘Working on a homicide investigation.'

‘That's as may be.' Ana Garcia was crisp. ‘But Mr Bianchi was a friend, and his parents, who are understandably grieving, have asked us to be cautious about who we speak to about their son.'

‘And we're very sorry for their loss,' Sam said.

Feeling awkward as hell.

Ms Garcia's dark eyes were cold. ‘Mr Curtiz tells me you believe Mr Bianchi might have used computer equipment at these offices.'

‘We asked Mr Curtiz if that was the case,' Martinez said.

‘Mr Curtiz wouldn't know if it was,' the manager said. ‘But whether Mr Bianchi did or did not use computers here, I can't imagine it's appropriate for Detective Becket to be here asking these questions.'

‘Are you refusing to answer our questions, ma'am?' Martinez asked.

‘I'm refusing to answer your questions because you're here with this man.'

Sam caught Martinez's eye, then looked back at Ana Garcia. ‘I understand your position, ma'am.'

‘I'm sure you do,' she said.

Not a good day for Sam.

Alvarez called him back into his office at around five, did not invite him to sit.

‘There's been a complaint made against you. I doubt that's a surprise.'

‘Ms Garcia,' Sam said. ‘Shrinkwrap Publications.'

‘And I guess you're going to assure me that your visit was in the course of the homicide investigation.'

‘Yes, it was.'

‘Ms Garcia says she felt it inappropriate for you to be questioning Mr Bianchi's colleagues.'

‘Last time I looked, I was lead investigator on the case, and
Mr
Bianchi –' Sam could not keep the edge out of his voice – ‘is a person of interest in that case, as I thought you agreed.'

‘Sit down, Sam.'

‘I'm good, Lieutenant,' Sam said.

‘Sit down.' The tone was sharp for Alvarez. ‘The Captain is concerned, as is Sergeant Riley, and so am I. You're working to your own agenda, Sam, and God knows I can understand why you might be tempted to do that, but it is not acceptable and you know it. It isn't fair to the victims.'

That stung like hell.

‘Finding out what happened to the victims is what I'm trying to do here, Lieutenant. Richard Bianchi is a part of the investigation.'

‘Maybe.' Alvarez stuck to his guns. ‘But Bianchi is dead, and Jerome Cooper is in custody, and what you need to be doing,
all
you need to be doing as a detective in this unit, is helping to build the case against him.'

‘Yes, sir,' Sam said.

‘The Captain doesn't want any more complaints, Sam.' Alvarez paused. ‘You're much too close to this one, we all know that. I don't want to even consider taking you off the case, but I will if I have to.'

‘Is that what the Captain wants?'

Sam was unaccustomed to feeling hostility toward this good man, but the anger that he'd been managing to keep damped down because he had a job to do, and because Grace and Joshua needed him to stay in control, was burning a little more fiercely again.

‘Do you think it might be better for you?' Alvarez asked.

Sam took a second. ‘In no way would it be better, Lieutenant,' he said.

‘Then you need to be very careful,' Alvarez said.

‘I will,' Sam said.

‘I mean it, Sam,' Alvarez said.

A warning.

Bad day for Sam.

Worse day for Grace.

Jerry Wagner had come to see her.

He had been waiting for her on her return from the beach, had seen her face fall as she saw him, had seen how tousled and happy her little son looked after his day out with his mommy and his aunt, and had felt sad for them.

‘We need to prepare for tomorrow,' he said.

‘I know,' Grace said. ‘Just give me five minutes to sort this guy out.'

‘I can do that,' Claudia said.

Her ever-present sister, or that was how it felt, and Grace knew her flash of resentment was wholly unjustifiable, yet there it was, and she knew that Claudia had seen it, but appeared to understand and forgive it, which made it even worse.

‘It seems I don't need five minutes,' Grace said.

They went out on to the terrace, where most significant meetings these days, with lawyer or family, seemed to be held, and she wondered if she would ever feel able to relax out here in this lovely setting again.

Lucky still to be here at all, she reminded herself.

She offered to fetch ice tea.

‘Only if you want some,' Wagner said.

‘Not really.'

His smile was kindly. ‘It won't be so bad,' he said. ‘It's not a trial, and not a time when anyone can present evidence.'

‘I know,' Grace said. ‘Still.'

Wagner reached over and patted her hand like a gentle uncle. ‘The charge will be read to you, and you will be required to enter a plea. Which I will do for you.' He paused. ‘It is vital that you say nothing that could be in any way self-incriminating, Grace. No matter how you feel about it. The arraignment is not the time for explaining your actions, or for apology. The judge will ask if we will waive reading of the full charging document, and then he will ask you to rise, and ask for your plea.'

Grace was silent.

‘Do you understand?' Wagner asked.

‘Yes, I do,' she said. ‘You've been very clear. It's just—' She stopped, looked away, felt abruptly close to tears.

‘Take your time.'

She took a breath, found control again. ‘I guess it's just that this is really going to happen, and of course I knew that, intellectually, but . . .'

‘It's hard,' the attorney said. ‘And I won't insult you by saying that tomorrow is nothing, because for you that must seem impossible to believe. But you will get through it.'

Grace nodded. ‘And what is my plea?'

‘As we discussed.'

She said nothing, needing to hear him say it.

The two words that felt to her like perjury, but which she knew she had to utter for the sake of Joshua and Sam and Cathy.

Wagner understood.

‘Not guilty,' he said, ‘is your plea.'

‘Yes,' Grace said.

‘And then you leave the rest to me,' he said.

‘Thank you,' Grace said.

They made love that night.

It had been a long time. They had lain together each night, had been physically close for comfort, had been loving, been
together
, but since the evening when she had changed everything, full sexual intimacy had seemed impossible.

Tonight, it was unanticipated, spontaneous, starting out with a desperate need for solace, turning swiftly into desire, fueled by fear as well as love.

Afterwards, they both shed tears, then fell asleep still embracing, but all too soon they were awake again, lying sleepless, neither wanting to leave the bed, leave the other.

‘What if they revoke my bail?' Grace said softly, at around three.

‘They won't,' Sam said.

‘But it could happen,' she said.

‘Jerry won't let it happen.'

‘If it does, I think you should all go home.' Grace's mind spun off into an imagined and horrific future of jail cells, purgatory, loveless hell, but then she felt Sam's arms tighten around her, and she stopped the spiral, grabbed back on to that first thought. ‘Better for you all to go on with your lives.'

‘It's not going to happen,' Sam said.

‘But if it does,' she insisted.

‘Not going there, Gracie,' he said. ‘You can't make me.'

‘OK,' she said.

And went on holding on.

THIRTY-FIVE

May 21

T
he arraignment was scheduled for ten a.m.

Magda had called to ask if Grace would mind if she attended, and the others had all, at different times, expressed their own need to come and support her, but Grace had been crystal clear with them all.

No one to attend except Sam.

‘When it comes to the trial, I'm sure I'll be depending on you all.'

‘I don't think it'll come to that,' Claudia had said.

‘Me neither,' Saul had agreed.

Cathy's silence had spoken volumes. She, of all of them, knowing that bad, crazy things sometimes happened in courts of law.

‘I just love you, Grace,' was what she had finally said.

‘Those really are the best words in the world,' Grace said.