Stranglehold (10 page)

“Wow,” he said when I finished. “None of this makes any sense yet, does it?”

“Not to me. Susan obviously knows the Flahertys somehow.”

“And yesterday morning she told you that everything is all right now?”

“That's what she said. But I've learned that she can suck it up and play it real happy even when it's all going to hell. That's what makes her such a good candidate.”

“I want to talk to Gwen. See what she'll tell me.”

The knock came. I yanked out my wallet. He saw a one peeking up and plucked it free. “This'll do.” The grin again.

Detective Kapoor came back in and said, “I can take you back to where Mr. Flaherty is, if you'd like, Jim. And you don't have to worry about him having said anything damaging. He won't say anything at all.”

She stood aside while I walked out into the hallway. When Shapiro walked out I said, “You have my cell phone number. Call me right away when you're finished.”

The detective's dark eyes gleamed with amused suspicion. “Oh, yes, Mr. Conrad here is very interested in this case even though he can't explain why exactly.”

Shapiro patted me on the back. “A good Samaritan if I've ever seen one.”

Her eyes rested on me briefly. Then she turned back to the lawyer and they began walking to the far end of the hall. I walked to the lobby, hoping that Gwen was back.

The married couple was gone. Gwen, appearing to be younger and frailer than ever, sat with her hands clutched tight together staring at the opposite wall. Today she wore a faded brown maternity top that looked as if she'd bought it used. She didn't quit staring at the wall even when I sat down next to her. Her nose and eyes were a furious red. I took one of her hands and placed it in mine.

“I noticed a coffee shop about half a block from here. Why don't I buy you something to eat?”

“I'd just throw it up.” Despite her appearance, her voice was strong, steady. “But I could use some tea.”

I hoped the autumn day soothed her as we walked. The temperature was in the high fifties and the sun made the painted colors of the trees bright as copper. She eased along with her burden: young, sweet, lost. More than once I'd wondered if my interest in her was a form of repentance for being such an absent father to my own daughter while she was growing up. The siren call of elections had kept me on the road, and not until the last few years with my daughter back East in college had I gotten to know her.

The coffee shop was small and of another era with its chrome-bottomed counter stools and its hand-painted pine booths. I noticed photos of the previous owners—faded black-and-white pictures of a deceptively simpler time.

When my Danish came I sawed off a third of it, placed the slice on a napkin, and pushed it over to her side of the booth. “Give it a try.”

“I don't know if I can hold it down.”

“Up to you. It's there if you get the urge.”

She sipped her tea. “This is what I need. It's just been—we weren't even awake when they came. The police, I mean. We were down to our last few dollars, so we were in this real dive of a motel. It was a lot worse than the one we were in yesterday even. Bobby registered under our real name. That's how they found us.”

“Why did they come after Bobby?”

“The drawing they made.”

“A police composite?”

“Yeah, I guess that's what they call it. It was only on TV for a short time. The night clerk at the motel recognized Bobby and called the police.” Her shoulders slumped and she was bound up in her misery. “He won't tell me anything about it. No matter how hard I beg him. He just keeps saying that he'll explain it to me someday. I'm having such a hard time with my pregnancy, and I'm so sick all the time that I haven't really paid much attention.”

“Why was he at Monica Davies's hotel room?”

She looked exasperated. “I already told you. He wouldn't tell me anything.”

“Monica Davies had a partner. Does the name Greg Larson mean anything to you?”

“Oh, yes. That's the man who got into it with Bobby yesterday. The bloody towel you found.”

Circles within circles within circles. Larson and Bobby Flaherty.

“He really scared me. Bobby made me go for a walk when Larson came. When I got back I heard them fighting. I was afraid Bobby might be hurt, so I rushed into the room. They were wrestling. Larson looked over at me when I came in, and Bobby shoved him. Larson hit his head against the edge of the bathroom door. He started to faint, I think, but then he managed to stagger over to the desk. That was when he fell down against the chair. The back of his head bled on the desk. I was screaming for them to stop. Bobby was scared then, too. He ran into the bathroom and soaked a towel under the shower and brought it out to Larson. He made Larson sit down and see if he was all right. I could see Larson was real mad, but he was worried about his head, so he had to concentrate on that. Bobby even offered to drive him to the ER. That's why it's so crazy to say that Bobby killed anybody. He really freaked out when he saw that he'd hurt Larson.”

I had to weigh her words here against the words Bobby had been flinging at me as we fought yesterday. He had a temper for sure, but the way he took care of Larson made me wonder if he had any killer instinct. Or maybe he was just worried about his own fate. It's easy to be naive about criminality.

“Why was Larson there?”

“I don't know. Bobby wouldn't tell me.”

“Had you ever seen him before?”

“Twice. He came at night and Bobby left with him. Bobby was pretty drunk when he got back, but he still wouldn't tell me anything.” Her
gaze had fallen on the piece of Danish I'd cut for her. “I guess I'm getting hungry.”

“Why don't you eat that and I'll order you anything else you want.”

“I don't like being a mooch.”

“I'm treating you. That's not being a mooch.”

Those deep green eyes watched me for a few seconds. “I can't pay you back.”

“I don't expect you to.”

“I don't mean just with money. I mean I can't even tell you anything about what's going on. Because I don't know myself.”

“Maybe we'll find out together.”

The moods were fast as light, shifting in texture and color. The lower lip trembled and the eyes filled. “Our poor baby. Not even born yet and his father is in jail. That's what I'm worried about.”

The waitress was nearby. She came over when I waved at her. “Why don't you bring Gwen here her own Danish?”

“Sure.” She finished writing on her ticket pad and said, “Be right back.”

“I don't know if I can eat that.”

“You'll be surprised. My ex-wife always said that, too. Then she'd clean out the refrigerator.”

Gwen smiled and some of the sadness left her eyes and mouth. “Yeah, I was thinking it's sort of like those models do. They have that—what do you call it?—where they eat and then throw up?”

“Bulimia.”

“Yeah. But even with that I've managed to put on a lot of weight.”

I couldn't help it. I laughed. “You've put on weight? What did you weigh before? Ninety pounds?”

“No. I weighed a hundred and now I'm a hundred and ten. All the women in my family are small. Actually, so are the men; for men they're small, I mean.”

The Danish came. She ate shamelessly while I sat and watched her. She wiped out the Danish in a few bites and then sat back, sated. “Boy, I guess I was hungrier than I thought.” A sigh. “But I feel guilty. Bobby's in jail and here I am stuffing my face.”

“I'm told Jim Shapiro is a very good defense attorney.”

“Bobby didn't kill that woman.”

“Did he ever mention her—Monica Davies?”

“No. Never.”

“How long have you been in town here?”

“Ten days. I always count them.”

“You've never told me what brought you here.”

“I'm not sure. We've never had much money. Bobby told me that maybe he could get some kind of steady gig here. You know, with a band that played five or six nights a week. You can make pretty good money when you do that. I pretty much believed that when Bobby started talking about it. But the more I thought about it, the more I started thinking that maybe that was just an excuse. That maybe there was something else going on that Bobby didn't want me to know about. And then when Larson started coming around, I knew I was right. But I still didn't have any idea what was going on. That's one thing Bobby and I have always argued about—he just kind of sneaks off and does stuff and never explains himself. The funny thing is that I trust him—you know, where other girls are concerned. I really don't think he cheats on me. But I wish he'd tell me where he goes when he takes off like that.” Talking that much seemed to have tired her. She placed her hands reverently over her belly and closed her eyes briefly. “I'm just so worried about him.”

I wanted to ask her about Susan Cooper again. But right now she didn't need any more grief.

“Why don't we head back to the police station and find out what's going on?”

She sat up straight, eyes open, and said, “God, I don't know what I'd
do if you hadn't come along.” Then she started her awkward slide out of the booth. I was thinking how good it would be when my own daughter was pregnant. I had so much to make up for. I wanted to do it right this time.

We sat in the lobby for half an hour before Jim Shapiro appeared. Gwen made two trips to the bathroom. She got thirsty and I managed to find a 7UP for her. On cue, five minutes after drinking the pop, she went to the bathroom again.

Shapiro appeared in a rush. He didn't look happy. He took us to a corner in a kind of huddle. He put his hand on Gwen's shoulder and said, “Honey, I've arranged for you to see your husband for fifteen minutes. I need you to do me a favor.” He glanced at me before he finished. “I need you to make him understand that this is a very serious charge and that I can't help him if he won't help me.” He took his hand from her shoulder. He frowned in my direction. “He said he doesn't know Larson and that he never met Monica Davies.” Back to her: “He's lying. He also says that he doesn't know Congresswoman Cooper, but if that's true why did Dev here see her go into your motel room yesterday? Do you see what I mean?”

“Yes.” She touched her stomach. I wondered if she was in pain.

“Tell him that for your sake and the sake of your child he has to tell me everything he knows about Larson and Monica and Congresswoman Cooper. They all tie together.”

“Won't Congresswoman Cooper tell you anything?” Then she frowned at me. “I should've told you I knew her, Mr. Conrad.”

“That's all right.”

He looked at me again. “I'll be talking to Dev about that while you're in seeing Bobby. Now, you see that officer over there by the desk?” She nodded. “He's waiting for you. He'll take you back to see your husband.”

“I'm scared, Dev.”

“You'll do fine.”

She walked over to the officer waiting for her.

“Listen, Dev, I'm due in court in half an hour, and I need to swing by my office before I go there. I'm not getting anywhere with Bobby right now, so that means you have to get somewhere with Susan. I don't know what the hell's going on here, but she's involved somehow and that's going to lose her the election. I'll do this pro bono—tell her that—because that's how much I want her to win. But, man, I have to know what I'm dealing with.” Then he caught himself and said: “They'll probably bring Gwen back here. But Priya will grab her if she sees her and start asking questions. I don't want that to happen before I get something from Bobby. Get Gwen out of here as fast as you can and hide her someplace.”

I was back sitting in the lobby again. A pair of wannabe Hell's Angels came in sneering and giggling and giving the woman at the counter grief. They said they were waiting to see a Detective Walker. A female uniform walked by, and one biker nudged the other, then pointed to his groin and ground his hips. The other one laughed with teeth that would have done a caveman proud. Finally a male uniform the size of a beer truck and with the disposition of a crocodile came out and laid a manila folder on the reception desk. He had some business with the receptionist. She nodded to the bikers and rolled her eyes. They were making pistols of their fingers and aiming them at two detectives in a glassed-in office. The officer sidled over to them and said, “Why don't you boys go over there and sit down? Darla here'll call you when Walker's available.” They gave him no problem whatsoever.

They walked over and sat down in chairs facing me. I was wearing a suit, which seemed to make them giddy. They did a lot of communicating with their elbows. A fun couple.

Gwen came slow and gray out into the open area in front of the reception
desk. She didn't seem to quite know where she was. I was out of my chair immediately.

She leaned against me. I wondered if she was going to pass out. I got my arm around her shoulder and we started to leave the station. The bikers said something and giggled again. I'd have to stop back and kill them later. I'd be bringing an Uzi. I hurried her down the steps as soon as possible. I was waiting for Detective Kapoor to shout at our backs that she wanted to question Gwen.

There was a concrete bench half a block down. I helped her over there and we sat down. She put her head against me. I hugged her. I could smell her hot tears. There was nothing to say for now, so I just sat there holding her.

Cars and people came and went. Smoky melancholy autumn was on the breeze briefly and it was jack-o'-lantern time for a moment. I imagined Gwen dressing her little boy or girl up to go trick-or-treating. She'd have a good time taking the little one around all got up in costume with a bag ready for plunder. And all this misery would be forgotten. Or so I hoped.