Page 42 of Two Kinds of Stranger (Eddie Flynn #9)

Eddie

He had started snoring before we cleared the Midtown tunnel.

The rain made it slow going at first. The roads were washed out and the traffic heavy for this time of night. The expressway, headed east, was quieter and as soon as we passed through Queens the rain and the traffic eased.

Harry sat forward with a jolt, the back of his head coming off the head-rest.

‘Wha—? Where are we?’

‘We’ve got another forty-five minutes before we get there.’

‘Shouldn’t Lake or Bloch be here with us?’

‘If we find something, we take a photo, then I’ll get Bloch out here with Raymond in the morning.’

He looked at me.

I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel his look.

‘What’s up?’ I asked.

‘Everyone has been asking about Amy, Christine and Kevin. How are you holding up?’

‘I’m worried as all hell, Harry.’

‘We’ll make sure we deal with whatever comes up. Kate’s the best.’

‘Christine and Kevin are in great hands. And at least I’m not worried about that creep, Cross, coming after them any more. But this feels a lot worse, you know?’

‘Because it’s Castro coming after them?’

‘That asshole doesn’t play it straight. He’ll do whatever he can to win, doesn’t matter if he’s got the right suspect or not.’

‘You’ve got to ignore him. He’s Kate’s problem. We can take him. All we need is reasonable doubt.’

‘That’s getting harder and harder to come by, these days.’

In our world, we dealt in doubt and uncertainty.

Those were the defense attorney’s sacred hills.

If a jury has reasonable doubt, they cannot return a guilty verdict.

That was the system, but it had cracks that seemed to get wider with every passing year.

In today’s world, where there was so much division, people carried their beliefs high on their shoulders.

The truth was relative. There was your truth, and their truth.

Facts and alternative facts. People distrusted the media, especially the news channels.

They all had their own point of view, certainly, but only a couple peddled total lies masquerading as the truth.

It wasn’t news, it was entertainment. The trouble was nobody had told the rest of the country.

Not that many of them would care. Most of the country had decided to live in their own world of facts with their own truth, as it suited them.

We dealt in reasonable doubt.

And we lived in a time of unreasonable certainty.

‘We know Kevin’s gun was found at the crime scene.

Somebody stole Kevin’s gun, went to Cross’s house in Queens, shot him then dumped the weapon at the scene to make sure the police found it.

The gun is kept in a lockbox in the kitchen.

I asked Kevin when was the last time he, or Christine, had handled the gun.

He told me a couple of days ago, when I was at the house.

Someone knew about the gun and where it was kept, and somehow they got it out of the house in the last few days without Kevin, Christine or Amy noticing,’ I said.

Harry nodded. He said nothing for a few miles.

Every now and again he would rub the top of his head.

As an old con artist, I couldn’t help spotting people’s tells, even those who were closest to me.

Harry had something he wanted to say, but was trying to figure out if he should say anything and, if he did, how to do it.

‘Proving someone broke in and stole the gun without them noticing is a big ask. It’s a leap. Castro has a more convincing story to tell right now. Amy was threatened, Cross got beaten up and was fearful of them, the parents decided they had to do what was necessary to protect their family.’

‘That’s not the truth. That’s not what happened,’ I said.

‘How long have I been trying to teach you this? The truth doesn’t matter in a courtroom. This is all about who tells the jury the most convincing story. Right now, Castro’s got the edge.’

‘I know that. Come on, Harry, spit it out. Just ask the question. I know it’s on your mind.’

‘Christine would do anything to protect Amy, but she would never take the law into her own hands. I don’t know Kevin . . . ’ said Harry.

‘How long have you been waiting to ask me this?’

‘Since I heard they got arrested for Cross’s murder.’

‘The answer is no. And, even if he was the type of guy, Christine wouldn’t cover for him.

But there’s nothing to worry about on that front, Kevin is not built that way.

He’s the opposite of me. Christine had that life with me, and she didn’t want her new man to be anything like the last one.

Kevin wears slippers in the house, for God’s sake . . . ’

‘Nothing wrong with a pair of comfortable slippers,’ said Harry.

‘Now I know what to get you for Christmas. You want a pipe too, Grandpa?’

‘Oh yeah, a real big pipe – like the one Sherlock Holmes has. With a huge funnel and a long stem, so I can ram it straight up your assh—’

‘Are you two fighting?’ asked Amy, cutting Harry off.

‘No, no, sweetheart. Your dad and I are just talking. You go back to sleep.’

We drove on in hushed conversation the rest of the way, until I pulled up outside Christine’s house as the rain eased off.

I didn’t park in the driveway, just kept the car on the street.

I wanted to check something. We got out, and as soon as I stepped on the flagstone path to the house the security lights kicked in.

Two beams from either corner of the house, blinding us.

‘We can rule out entry through the front door,’ said Harry.

I asked Amy for her set of keys. We went inside, and the alarm system began to beep. Amy ran to the panel on the wall, entered a code and the alarm system beeped loudly once, then fell silent. I checked the corners of the ceiling in the hallway and the kitchen.

Motion sensors.

Amy went upstairs to grab some of her stuff. I’d told her not to bring too much. Just the essentials for a few days, tops, at my place.

I picked up a chair from the kitchen, put it in the corner and stood on it, so I could take a good look at the sensor. There was no wiring behind it, leading into the wall or the doorframe. I noticed sensors on the windows too. I got down off the chair, checked them.

‘The sensors must be on batteries. How do they connect to the central security panel?’ I asked.

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Harry. ‘You need Bloch for that.’

‘Must be by radio signal or Wi-Fi,’ I said.

I checked the shelf in the kitchen and saw the lockbox for the gun.

It was still there. Untouched. The police had raided the house this afternoon, and they had impounded both cars, taken the clothes in the closet, the laundry baskets and their contents.

Everything would be checked for gunshot residue, and any blood, hair or fibers that could be traced to the victim.

But they hadn’t taken the lockbox for the gun.

They had the weapon already. I guessed there was not much evidential value in taking the lockbox from where it was normally kept.

I checked in the kitchen cupboards and found a box of disposable gloves and plastic freezer bags, put the gloves on, reached down the lockbox and put it in the plastic bag and sealed it.

‘If he didn’t come in through the front, where is the point of entry?’ I asked.

‘Here,’ said Harry.

He was standing at a window in the hallway that led from the kitchen through to a dining room at the back of the house. There was a window large enough to crawl through, and a sensor beside it. Kneeling down, Harry examined the floor.

‘They’re not footprints, exactly. But there’s some soil and scuff marks. Like someone was wearing swim shoes,’ he said, then stood, unlocked and threw open the window. Placing his hands on the sill, he leaned out.

‘There,’ said Harry.

I took photographs of the floor with my phone, then went out through the front door and walked around the side of the house along the gravel.

A strip of lawn, punctuated with some small shrubs and flowers, separated the gravel path from the house itself.

I saw Harry leaning out of the window. He was pointing down at the lawn.

There were impressions in the lawn. No tread, not that I could see. But the shape of a pair of feet.

‘Barefoot?’ I asked.

‘No, some kind of moccasin with no tread and no grip. The kind that some special forces use. Because there’s no heel and no tread, it’s much harder to track.’

I took photos of the lawn and the foot impressions.

A man, certainly. About my height maybe, judging by the size of the prints.

No point in taking impressions, they were so flat there was no way to discern the print.

Looking toward the rear of the property, I set off that way and found a large, well-tended backyard – lawns and shrubbery.

Tall hedges set out the boundary edge of the property along with high fences on each side, to separate them from the neighbors.

The hedges were thick, but there were gaps in certain places low down near the ground.

Certainly big enough to squeeze through.

I brought out my phone, opened the maps app and tapped to bring up my location.

A two-lane highway stretched behind the suburban development, probably why the construction firm planted all of these thick high hedges – to drown out the noise from the traffic.

The map didn’t show anything on that highway, apart from a gas station.

I crouched down, crawled through a gap in the tree line and when I stood up, my knees were soaked and caked in mud, as were my hands and jacket, which had picked up all the rainwater left on the lower branches.

An area of patchy grass, mud and scrubland separating the trees from the road.

The gas station was visible further on up the highway.

I looked around, saw some tire tracks about fifty feet away on the grass.

Took out my phone, snapped some pictures and sent them to Bloch and Lake, then crawled back through the trees to the yard and made my way back to front of the house.

Harry was waiting on the front porch.

‘What the hell happened to you?’

‘I was checking round back. I think I found where the killer parked, on the other side of the treeline by the highway. Then he squeezed through the trees and came up on the house from the rear so he could steal the gun. I got some pictures of tire treads, but I don’t think it will do much good.

Nothing special about the tread pattern, probably widely available.

But it might help me explain to a jury what really happened. ’

‘You mean it might help Kate explain it to the jury.’

I shook my head, said, ‘Sorry, I’m just too close to this one. The more I think about it, the more I think I should represent Christine and Kevin.’

‘It’s exactly because you’re too close that you shouldn’t represent them. We’ve got this.’

‘But you and Kate do things differently than I do.’

Harry stepped forward, put his hand on my shoulder and said, ‘We’ll do the right thing. Kate told me about Elly getting hauled off to solitary after she assaulted an inmate. Did you tell Kate to do that?’

I said, ‘I didn’t tell her to do anything.

It was her choice, and she stepped up to protect her client.

I know she’s been feeling bad about it since.

I just can’t let Christine go to prison for the rest of her life for a crime she didn’t commit.

Nor Kevin, for that matter. A couple of years ago, I wouldn’t have minded Kevin being out of the picture, but not like this.

And not now. I see he’s good for Christine, Amy too. ’

‘You’ve got to trust Kate and me.’

‘I’ve never doubted your abilities. That’s not what I mean.’

‘She’s not like you, Eddie.’

‘I know. She’s better. That’s the problem. Look, I’m sorry. I can’t—’

‘I’ll do whatever it takes to protect them. I swear to you. Remember, you gave me your word you would step back on this one. Take my word that I will do everything to win.’

He held out his hand.

I took it, and he pulled me into an embrace.

‘We won’t let you down, kid,’ said Harry.

I put my brow on his shoulder. Harry smelled of damp tweed and hard liquor. It was a familiar odor. One I’d grown to love.

‘I know,’ I said.

We stepped back, Harry punched my shoulder, said, ‘Let’s get out of here. We have work to do.’

I called out for Amy.

‘Just another few minutes,’ she said.

Harry said he’d take the lockbox and wait in the car.

I went upstairs, expecting to see Amy lying in her bed. In tears.

She was in her room, her bag packed and on the floor beside her. She sat at her desk, on her laptop.

‘What are you doing, sweetheart?’ I asked.

‘I . . . I was going to watch that show. Your favorite. The “just one more thing” guy, Palumbo?’

‘Columbo.’

‘Yeah, I started downloading it last night. Thought we could watch it at the weekend. But something happened. Look, the router says the Wi-Fi went out last night. It hasn’t downloaded . . . ’