Snowjob Read online

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “I told you. We don’t search your shack.”

  “I got nothin’ here.” He roared now and took his hand down from the doorjamb to wave in protest. Hinton acted immediately, shoving him back into the room and stepping in after him. I followed and shut the door. I was right about the shotgun, I noticed. It was a Winchester pump, sawed off to a barely legal length. The place stank of stale marijuana smoke.

  “Get the hell out,” Kelly shouted. “You can’t just come in here ’less I invite you.”

  “You just did,” Hinton said easily. “This officer heard you.”

  I was still looking around. There was a home-rolled cigarette in the ashtray. “Just having breakfast, were you?” I asked, and picked up the ashtray.

  “Gimme that.” Kelly was tough enough to snatch the ashtray from me but he sat down in his chair, a tired old wingback that needed re-covering. “Look. I don’t know nothing about no coke,” he said wearily. “Grass, yeah. I know where to score. Coke, no.”

  He looked up at Hinton who extended his hands toward him and curled his fingers a couple of times, a “come on” gesture.

  “Y’ask me it was one o’ the skiers brought it in,” Kelly said. “Hell, they come from Chicago, Boston, all over. Plenny of coke in places like that.”

  New Jersey, and New York too, I thought. Maybe young Grant had been talking to the guys who had grabbed Doug’s daughter. Maybe the coke had been his payoff for trying to hammer me.

  Hinton sneered, a professional noise; he wasn’t a sneerer in private. “You mean to tell me a guy with a hungry nose has to go all the way to New York to score?”

  “That’s the God’s honest truth,” Kelly said and I believed him. He set the ashtray on the table and folded his arms. “You can bust me if you want. Shit. I don’ mind. It’s warmer in the joint than it is in here. But I can’t tell you what I don’ know.”

  “Thank you for your help,” Pat said. He looked at me. “I think that’s enough for now, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” I nodded to Kelly. “Thanks for the help.”

  He sat there sullenly as we let ourselves out. As we walked back to the car Hinton said, “I think he’s on the level. He’s a pain in the ass but he made sense about coke coming in from outside. This is a hick town. If a guy had a habit he’d have to drive someplace else to get his supply. It makes sense to me that if a user came skiing, he’d bring some if he needed it.”

  “The guys who snatched Doug’s kid were city people,” I said. “Maybe he got his bindle from them.”

  Hinton got into the car and started it up, thoughtfully. “You know, you’re gonna get me believing this conspiracy theory of yours if this goes on.”

  “I think young Huckmeyer is involved,” I said. “Like for instance, why would they dump the body on Cat’s Cradle? How did they get the key to get in and start up the chair lift? They could have dropped Grant in a ditch a lot easier. If they wanted to get rid of the body they could have taken him out and shoved him under the ice somewhere. You wouldn’t have found him till the spring thaw.”

  “I’ll bring this up at the conference. There’ll be one, sometime today,” he said.

  “Somebody’s going to have to check the lift and all the cars. We have to find if there’s any bloodstains in one of them.”

  “Great,” Hinton said soberly. “You can imagine the roar they’ll make at Cat’s Cradle if we close down their big lift for three, four hours in the middle of their busy day.”

  “That’s all the more reason to do it. Check on Huckmeyer’s reaction. If s starting to look to me as if the out-of-town guys are anxious to make him worry.”

  We pulled into the station and checked the offices. The chief was out at the ski slopes, the deskman told us. He and Lieutenant Cassidy were checking the scene of the crime.

  “Fine,” Hinton said and led the way upstairs to the detective office. He went through the door and then stopped in his tracks.

  I was following and did the same thing. Sitting at one of the desks was a guy I hadn’t expected to see there for some time yet, Doug Ford.

  NINE

  Hinton stuck out his hand. He looked happy, for the first time since I’d met him. “Doug. You’re out. Great. What happened?”

  Doug shook his hand formally. “Thanks, Pat. The chief came over and told me about Grant being offed. Then he said he was going to see the DA and get my bail reduced. They came back and let me out without bond.”

  He still hadn’t spoken to me and I guessed he was angry at my breach of his trust even though I’d referred everybody to him for facts and had told them nothing secret. I broke the ice with “Are you glad about this, or mad?”

  Doug sat down again and swung his feet up on the desk, something he must have done a hundred times when he worked here every day.

  “To tell the truth, I’m still not sure. You know what I told you, the thing I was working on, now it’s all going to be out in the open.”

  “It had to come out, Doug. You were keeping it to yourself and the mob was out to get you killed. You wouldn’t have lasted five minutes in the open population of a prison. They’d have murdered you the way they murdered Cindy Laver.”

  Doug looked at me bleakly. “Just because you’re right doesn’t make me any happier, Reid. I’ve got some heavy guys want me gone. They’ll kill me or hurt my family to shut me up.”

  “You couldn’t stop them doing it from jail,” I said. “Maybe they’ll pull out of their operation here, but even if they do, it’s too late. There’s enough gone on already that they’re dirty. Once it’s proved, they’re charged and you’re golden.”

  “That’s pretty much what the chief said to me,” Doug admitted. “Okay, I know you didn’t tell him the whole story but he was anxious to know what I was following up. I explained it to him and he said he could see why I was keeping it quiet. He can see we don’t have a case. All we’ve got is that somebody’s being dumb, discounting credit card slips. It’s not enough.”

  “It was enough for him to know you’re innocent and get you out of that hole downtown. Now we can work on the rest of it.”

  Doug smiled at last, a peace offering. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m a stubborn SOB. You’re right.”

  Hinton had listened to us attentively. Now he asked, “Well, if it’s all out in the open, this thing you were following up, why don’t you fill me in?”

  Doug looked at him for a long time before speaking. “Why not?” he said at last. “Okay, Pat, this doesn’t go outside this office, right?”

  “Right.” Hinton put down his evidence bags on the table and sat down, slipping out of his topcoat. “Shoot.”

  “Cat’s Cradle is laundering mob money,” Doug said. “Period, end of speech.”

  “An’ that’s why you and Cindy Laver were close? You weren’t balling her?”

  “I don’t fool around,” Doug said. “Yeah. Cindy was my informant. We decided to make it look like a thing, so people wouldn’t wonder why we were spending so much time together.”

  “Are you gonna tell Melody now?” Hinton asked eagerly. “Hell, she can come home now you’re out.”

  “She and the kids are safer where they are,” Doug said. “I’m still on bail, kind of house arrest. I wouldn’t be able to guard the kids once they were out of the house and those scumbags could come back and snatch one of ’em anytime they want to.”

  “So what happens now?” I asked. “Do you have to wait for the chief to get back or can you go home?”

  “He’s going to take me home when he gets back from Cat’s Cradle. Meantime he asked me to wait here,” Doug said. He took his feet down. “Jesus, I hope this thing can be untangled. I’ve been in that cell four nights and it felt like forever. I couldn’t face going inside for years.”

  “You’re not going back.” Hinton beat me to it. I let him talk. But he didn’t say a lot more. He just sat and looked at Doug and slapped the table. “You’re not going back,
” he repeated and clamped his mouth shut. He was close to tears. Then he composed himself and asked, “Are you back on the case?”

  “No.” Doug shook his head. “The chief and the DA said the same thing about that. I’m still suspended, still charged with Cindy Laver’s killing. They’re waiting for a break in the Grant case, then they’ll drop the charge.”

  “They’re making sense,” Hinton said. “If you charged somebody, or even assisted in the investigation, a defense attorney’d have a field day. Your word’s tainted until this is wound up.”

  “Yeah,” Doug said. He sat with his shoulders hunched, his arms folded, weary.

  He needed some space so I took the hint. “I’ll get some coffee. Who wants some?”

  They both nodded, glad of the diversion, and I wandered downstairs and got three cups. By the time I got back, Hinton was discussing Grant’s murder and the emotional temperature was back to normal. Doug was listening but I could tell that he felt outside of himself, like a heart patient listening to the story of somebody else’s treatment. He was knotted up tight. All he wanted was freedom, for somebody to come in and tell him he was out of danger, that the case against him had been dropped.

  While we were finishing our coffee the phone rang. Hinton answered it and said, “Yessir, he’s here with Mr. Bennett and me.” He nodded. “Right, Chief. I’ll bring him down.” He stood up. “The chief’s back. He wants you to go down and see him, then he’s taking you home.”

  Doug stood up. “Good.”

  “One thing I was thinking,” I said carefully. “If you’re going to let Melody know what’s happening, don’t phone direct. Phone a cutout and ask them to pass the message. And tell her not to phone home.”

  Doug looked at me out of troubled eyes. “Christ,” he said softly. “I hadn’t thought of that. Thanks, Reid.”

  I sat and waited for about five minutes until Hinton came back on his own. “The chief wants us to check the guys who were with Grant last night,” he said. “Let’s get to it.”

  We went first to Lord’s house. It was small and neat. There were two cars in the driveway. Hinton knocked and a woman came to the door, a pretty blonde with a harried look. Hinton nodded. “Hello, Marcie, is Will in, please?”

  “What’s this about?” she demanded.

  “Won’t take a minute. We just want to talk to him,” Hinton said, still smiling his official smile.

  “He was here with me all last night,” she said.

  “Fine. Can we come in, please, or would you rather he stood out here and talked to us where the neighbors can see?”

  “Come in,” she said angrily.

  We stepped inside and Hinton stamped his feet on the mat and stood there. I followed his lead and kept my boots on. This wasn’t a social call.

  I could hear the TV playing in the living room and Lord’s wife went and brought her husband out. He was walking stiffly with his head held a little to one side, the result of my bang on the back of his neck, I guessed.

  He didn’t say anything and Hinton moved in. “I guess you’ve heard about young Grant.”

  “It was on the radio,” his wife said.

  “Marcie, please.” Hinton sounded like an uncle. “This is going to take a lot longer if you keep answering for him.”

  “I heard,” Lord said. He pointed to me. “Why’s he here? He’s not a cop.”

  “Mr. Bennett has kindly offered to assist the department,” Hinton said. “He’s a homicide specialist from Canada. Now, tell me, where did you go with Grant after you left the precinct?”

  “We went over to the Glauwein,” Lord said. “Mr. Garfield and Jack and Fred and me.”

  “And what happened?” Hinton’s voice was quiet, setting Lord up for a sudden change of tone.

  “Mr. Garfield bought us a drink and he said he was going to get this guy here charged and arrested. Then I went home. The others were still there.”

  “Who served you your drinks?”

  “Millie. You know, the dark girl with the big—” He glanced at his wife who was watching him coldly. “You know who I mean.”

  “And what did you order?”

  “I had a beer. The other guys had scotch.”

  “What time did you leave?”

  “’Bout quarter to ten. It’s like a ten-minute walk and I got home and Marcie was watching the news. It’d just started.”

  “And he never went out after that,” Marcie said. Her voice sounded like fingernails on a blackboard.

  “When did you go and pick your car up from wherever it was?” Hinton was still calm. There was no need for anything else here. Lord was worried but he sounded as if he was telling the truth.

  “It was here all night. Fred picked me up earlier in the evening and then we switched to Jack’s car. That’s the one we were in at Brewskis.”

  “Okay then. One last question? Did you see what Jack Grant did with his gun?”

  “No.” Lord shook his head and then regretted it as the stiffness struck him. He put one hand on his neck and glanced at me. “No,” he said again. “I saw him put it back in his pocket when you gave it to him but he din’ say anything about it.”

  “Okay. Thanks for your time,” Hinton said. “I may be back to talk to you again. Don’t take any trips.”

  We went out and Hinton said, “He’s telling the truth. His wife wouldn’t let him do anything else. She’s a ballbreaker, that one, always has been. She’s the daughter of a neighbor of mine.”

  “If she’s that hard, how come she let him loose to howl on a Saturday night? You think he was paid to come after me?”

  Hinton was getting into the car and he paused and looked at me over the roof. “Why didn’t I think of that? Makes a lot of sense. I’ll ask the next guy.”

  He did ask Phillips, the second man we went to see. But he denied it angrily, swearing at Hinton for the suggestion. He was single and with no wife to censor his comments he was more forceful than Lord had been. “I don’ have to tell you nothin’,” he said indignantly. “’Specially with this guy here,” indicating me.

  Hinton shut him up right away. “You realize you’re the prime suspect, Fred. You were the last guy seen with Grant.”

  Phillips looked at him, registering the thought for a moment. Then he said, “No I wasn’t. He was still there, at the Glauwein, talking to the lawyer when I left.”

  “And where did you go?” Hinton was sneering now. “You’re telling me you walked all the way back here, two miles? You know what I say to that, Fred. I say bullshit.”

  Phillips shook his head, anxious to disagree. “No, that’s not how it happened. How it happened was a buddy of mine, Bill Freeman, he was there. An’ when he left he said ‘Hi’ to me, you know. An’ Garfield said, ‘I still have to talk to my client, Fred. Will your friend drop you at your car?’”

  “How did he know you had a car somewhere? Did you tell him ahead of this?”

  Phillips frowned stupidly. “Guess I must’ve. Anyways, that’s what he said, so Bill said ‘Sure’ an’ him and me left the two of ’em there talking.”

  “Where’s your phone?” Hinton demanded.

  “In the kitchen. Why?” Phillips blustered.

  “What’s this guy’s number. This good buddy of yours?”

  “You gonna call him?” Phillips was shocked, but recovered. “Yeah, well, okay. His number’s 555-2122.”

  Hinton dialed. “Is this Bill Freeman? Good. Detective Pat Hinton, Chambers PD. Listen, Bill, can you tell me if you gave anybody rides last night?”

  He listened and said, “And you’re sure the car was there?” He waited again and said, “Thank you. ’Preciate the assistance.”

  He hung up and turned to Phillips. “How come you had your car out at Cat’s Cradle?”

  “That’s where we met Jack Grant. He was out there, skiing, I guess. Anyways. He called and said to meet him there so I picked up Will and we went to Cat’s Cradle to meet Jack.”

  Hinton had the obvious question. “What wa
s Grant doing at Cat’s Cradle? He doesn’t work there.”

  “I din’ ask him. He called me, told me he’d be there so that’s where I went.”

  “You met him in the lot, or inside, in the snack bar?”

  “Inside. He was havin’ a coffee, talkin’ to a guy.”

  Hinton didn’t let his excitement show. “Did you know the guy?”

  “Never seen him before.” Phillips shrugged. “Hell, there’s people skiing at Cat’s Cradle from all over. You know how it is.”

  “Describe him.”

  Phillips had to think about it. Like most people he was unobservant and embarrassed when questioned. “Well, you know. Nothing special. He was sitting down so I can’t be sure but he didn’t look big. He had dark hair.”

  “How was he dressed? Like a skier?”

  Phillips blinked. “Could’ve been a skier, I guess. But he wasn’t wearin’ ski clothes, not right then. Had a suit on, gray suit, kind of shiny. Good suit.”

  “Any topcoat, next to him on a chair maybe?” Hinton persisted.

  “Yeah, come to think of it. Black topcoat an’ a fedora hat. Don’t see many guys in fedoras, do you?”

  Hinton kept on at him, getting the best description he could, and the more we learned, toe more the guy sounded like the man who’d spoken to me toe night Angie Ford was kidnapped. I said nothing, and Hinton got all the information he could. Then he told Phillips not to leave town or talk to anybody and to telephone if he saw the man in town.

  “You think he done it?” Phillips asked in amazement.

  “Let’s say we’d like to talk to him,” Hinton said. “Right now you’re as much a suspect as anybody so keep your nose clean, Fred. We’ll be back to you.”

  When we got to Hinton’s car I told him about the resemblance to the hood I’d seen and he nodded grimly. “Everything we hear makes it sound like Doug’s right on this one. That guy sounds like a city hood. You don’t see nine-hundred-dollar suits in Chambers. The locals don’t dress that well, and even the rich skiers dress casual while they’re here.”

  “I’d say he was the likeliest guy to have killed Grant. I spoke to him. He was a mob soldier; he’d do whatever he was told, no questions asked.”