Spencer felt himself getting hot. ‘What results do you want, chief?’ he asked.
‘I want the suspect apprehended.’
‘Well, I can certainly apprehend a suspect, sir. Immediately, if you want. Apprehending the actual killer will require more time.’
Chief Gallagher shot up from the table. Spencer stood unmoving in front of him. Gallagher said nothing, Spencer did not look away. After a few seconds, Spencer bowed his head, gave a perfunctory smile and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, chief, I have to go and interview a witness.’
‘They’ll be here soon, O’Malley. And then you won’t have to interview anyone.’
Spencer took that as a threat.
‘Should I talk to Franklin Absalom or not?’ he said, turning around. ‘Or are you taking me off the case, chief?’
‘I’m not taking you off the case, O’Malley.’
Will had come in and was standing quietly next to the open door. ‘Spencer, Peterson just called. He’s apparently got some new information. He wants you to wait to question Frankie till Silas and Artell get here.’
‘Why?’
‘We’re not moving quickly enough, apparently.’
‘So waiting till they get here is moving faster?’
‘We’re not moving quickly enough,’ Will repeated stubbornly.
‘For who?’ Spencer was exasperated. ‘It’s Monday morning and she was found Thursday afternoon.’
‘For the school,’ Gallagher said. ‘For Dartmouth. The dean of students and the president are getting a lot of pressure from the alumni and from the parents. A dead girl on campus, and the coroner’s report clearly states it was murder. The papers have been carrying nothing but this story since Friday. Everyone’s afraid it’s an insane rapist.’
‘Did you explain to them she wasn’t raped?’
‘That’s immaterial. They know she had had sex sometime in the last seventy-two hours of her life. In many frightened minds it’s the same thing.’
‘Well, that’s sick,’ Spencer said. ‘And it’s not my fault.’
‘No one is saying it’s your fault.’
‘How did the papers know about the sex, anyway?’
Will shrugged. ‘Someone in the coroner’s office must have seen the autopsy report.’
‘Great. Just great,’ Spencer exclaimed. ‘Listen, I’m going to go and talk to Frankie. The AD As can question him again if they want.’
Will shook his head. Spencer walked past him, and then took five minutes to calm down near the soda machines in the adjacent fire department.
Spencer closed the door to the little white room behind him and stretched his hand across the round table to Frankie Absalom.
‘I’m sorry you’ve been waiting for me so long, Frank. Or is it Frankie?’
‘It’s Frankie. But whatever you’re comfortable with, man. I’m very relaxed about the whole thing.’
Spencer sat down.
Frankie was quiet. ‘They kept me here overnight because I refused to talk to them. They think I did it, don’t they?’
‘Did you do it?’
‘Of course not! Why did they have to keep me here, anyway?’
‘My partner, Will, was suspicious. You should have just talked to him. He would have let you go then.’
‘Yeah, I guess,’ Frankie drew out and then fell quiet again. ‘You’ve got a cool name,’ he said. ‘Not after Spencer Tracy by any chance?’
‘One and the same,’ said Spencer. ‘If I had been a girl, my mother was all set to name me Katharine.’
Frankie laughed mildly. ‘Yeah, and my mom named me Frankie after “Frankie and Johnny."’
Spencer smiled. ‘In “Frankie and Johnny,” Frankie was the girl.’
‘Isn’t that just so ironic?’ said Frankie.
Spencer couldn’t help but laugh. Frankie had his legs on the table and was dressed in perfectly ironed loose plaid pants, a black-and-white-striped jersey, and a black cap worn backward. He looked like a bum, but a well-ironed bum.
‘Frankie, could you get your feet off the table? So we can be semiserious about this.’
Frankie moved his feet.
‘So talk to me,’ said Spencer, taking a sip of hot black coffee. ‘Tell me.’
‘Just once. For you,’ Frankie said. ‘Right?’
‘Frankie, you’re going to have to tell your story another six times before we’re done with you, and then you’ll go to court, where you’ll tell it once to the grand jury, once to the prosecution, and once to the defense. As a material witness, you’re going to be taped, and if there are inconsistencies in your story, the defense is going to crucify you in court. So be careful, be accurate, and be honest. Tell me what happened.’
Frankie lowered his voice, and his easy manner disappeared. ‘Well, this is the thing. I don’t want to feel like a squealer here.’
‘Is this why you didn’t come back to Dartmouth?’ Spencer asked.
‘Didn’t come back? Oh, no, man.’ Nodding, he said, ‘Well, actually, yeah, I kind of … I was feeling real funny about the whole thing. I thought I’d stay home and get some perspective.’
‘Did you? Get some perspective?’
‘Not much. Still feels like ratting on my friends. You know, the Mafia would garrote me for disloyalty.’
‘Frankie, this is not the Mafia, and your friends are not crime lords. There will be no garroting, I promise.’
‘Yeah, but I’m ratting on my friends.’
‘Frankie, we want to live in a universe where we are the first cog in the wheel of justice. So let’s start dispensing some. Talk to me.’
Frankie took his cap off, reconsidered, and then put it back on.
‘You’re not going to start lecturing me about good men keeping quiet while evil lives on, are you?’ he asked.
‘Certainly not,’ said Spencer. ‘Though I would not keep quiet.’
Frankie slowly nodded. ‘No, I don’t think you would, Detective O’Malley.’
Spencer kept his eyes on Frankie. ‘Don’t tell me you didn’t tell me everything when we spoke on the phone,’ he said.
Frankie shook his head. ‘I didn’t, man.’
‘Frankie.’ Spencer got up. ‘God! This looks bad for you. And bad for me.’
‘I’m sorry, I was extremely upset. You caught me off guard, calling like that. I didn’t know what to do. I’m sorry, man, okay?’
Spencer sat back down. ‘How do I know you’re going to tell me everything now?’
‘Because I am. You’ll see.’ Frankie bowed his head so far his hat nearly fell off, and he adjusted it. ‘Feels like ratting.’
‘You’re doing the right thing. It’s the right thing to do.’
‘You say that. Detective Baker said that. But it sure doesn’t feel like the right thing.’
‘Frankie, did you kill Kristina Kim?’
‘No, man, of course I didn’t. What are you, kidding? I can’t kill a cockroach, I’m, like, disturbed that way. Please. No.’
‘What happened? Did you see someone else on the bridge?’
Frankie lifted his eyes in surprise. ‘Yes. How did you know?’
Spencer didn’t smile and got no satisfaction from knowing he was right. He was down on himself. ‘Was it Conni?’
‘God! Yes. How did you know?’
‘I suspected all along that Conni went out to find Kristina,’ said Spencer. ‘She was very vague about where she’d been, and she was gone from her room a long time. Go on, talk to me.’
‘Well, it’s like this. When I came back from the bathroom and put my coat on to go back to my room, I looked out the window again.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘I wanted to see if Krissy was coming back. Or if she was walking the wall again. Or something. I just looked out the window.’
‘What time was that?’
‘Maybe one twenty-five.’ Frankie lowered his head again. ‘I saw Conni,’ he said quietly. ‘I saw Conni walking very quickly down the bridge back
to Hinman.’
Leaning back and calming down, Spencer asked, ‘Was she alone?’
‘Yes, alone.’
‘How was she walking?’
‘Quickly.’
‘I mean, was she staring straight ahead, was she looking around? Was she close to running?’
‘No, not any of those things. Maybe close to running.’
‘She wasn’t staring straight ahead and she wasn’t looking around?’
‘I didn’t notice. It didn’t strike me as unusual – her head orientation. I suppose she was staring straight ahead.’
‘I see. Is that all you saw?’
‘All. I swear.’ He crossed himself for emphasis.
Spencer leaned back. ‘My, my,’ he said. ‘We have an eyewitness.’
‘I didn’t see her do anything, man. Nothing! That’s the truth.’
Spencer narrowed his eyes at Frankie. ‘I didn’t say you did.’
‘Well, I didn’t, no.’
‘Frankie, we don’t have much time. The ADAs are a lot tougher than I am, and they’re coming here to garrote you.’
‘I thought you promised no garroting, man?’
‘Only if you tell me everything.’
‘I’m telling you everything. Everything,’ Frankie repeated.
‘What did you think of it? Her being on the bridge?’
Frankie looked uncomfortable. There was an edge to his voice when he said, ‘Nothing. Should I have thought something of it?’
‘You’re not asking the questions here, Frankie. I don’t know if you should have. As you know, the bridge leads to nowhere. Why would Conni have been on the bridge in the first place? Did you think of that?’
‘No, I didn’t think of that,’ said Frankie, uneasily shifting in his chair.
Spencer watched him very carefully. ‘Frankie, what?’
‘Nothing.’
‘What else?’
‘Nothing. That’s it, I packed up my books and went home. I just thought you’d want to know I saw Conni there.’
‘You’re right, I would want to know. What else, though?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Frankie, I know you’re hiding something from me.’
‘No.’
‘Okay, you see Conni. This is twenty minutes after you last saw Kristina. Aren’t you wondering where Kristina is?’
‘She could’ve already gone inside.’
‘But she didn’t. And you left for home early on Wednesday morning. You didn’t say good-bye to your house brothers, you didn’t say good-bye to Albert. You didn’t call Kristina to check if she was okay. You went home and didn’t come back after Thanksgiving. When I called you two days ago, you broke down, but I bet you weren’t surprised.’
Frankie played with the crease of his pants but did not look up at Spencer.
‘I bet you weren’t surprised, were you?’ repeated Spencer impatiently.
Frankie moved his head imperceptibly from side to side. ‘No.’
Spencer studied Frankie for a long moment and then said, ‘Were you surprised to see Conni on the bridge?’
Frankie almost looked relieved when he answered. ‘No, I wasn’t.’
As I’m not, thought Spencer. ‘Why not?’
‘You see, Detective O’Malley …’ Frankie broke off, looking extremely uncomfortable again. ‘I’ve seen her there before.’
‘There where?’
‘On the bridge.’
Spencer paused, trying to formulate his next question. ‘You mean, late at night? In the middle of a snowstorm? Coming from the woods? Which one?’
‘Seen her on the bridge before. In the middle of a snowstorm. Late at night.’
‘Also alone?’
Here Frankie hesitated.
‘Not alone?’ Spencer asked. ‘With someone else?’
‘Sort of.’ Frankie sighed. ‘Shit, I don’t want to do this.’
‘Frankie!’ Spencer exclaimed. ‘You’re very close, very close. Don’t stop now.’
‘Is this being taped?’
‘Yes.’
‘Will Conni hear this?’
‘Absolutely. What was she doing on the bridge when you saw her there before?’
‘Look, this is wrong,’ said Frankie uncertainly. ‘This doesn’t feel right at all. This is not making the universe better, man, this is –’
‘Frankie, let me ask you. Did you shove a helpless, hurt girl into the snow? Did you sit on top of her and hold a pillow over her nose and mouth till she suffocated, and then did you leave her dead and go home?’ Spencer paused. ‘Your friend was killed. Someone killed her with his bare hands. It’s a terrible injustice. Isn’t that worth something?’
‘Yes. But it’s too late for Kristina. Nothing is going to right that.’
‘Except justice. The guilty should not go free.’
‘Well, it might make you feel better. But how can I right the wrong of a dead person by ratting on another person, who happens to be alive? Besides, all I saw this time was Conni walking back to Hinman.’
‘This timer Spencer exclaimed.
Frankie went on, his voice lowered, surreptitious even. ‘It was last year in the winter. February, about. Yes, it was just before the winter carnival, which was in the middle of the month.’
‘Yes? Yes?’ said Spencer, nearly shouting.
Frankie lowered his voice another notch and leaned into the table. ‘Conni,’ he whispered, ‘pushed Kristina off the bridge.’
The assistant DAs arrived from Concord. Both wearing dark gray suits, John Artell and Daphne Silas were young, serious, and eager. They were clones of each other, and they came ostensibly to help Spencer with the case, but Spencer knew better.
What was it that bothered Spencer about the assistant district attorneys? It wasn’t that they became involved. They always became involved in a capital case; after all, they represented the people, and the people had to send the guilty to prison. So the AD As had to get involved. Their investigative teams were formidable, they had a large budget, and Spencer relied on their experts all the time to seek out assaulters and thieves.
But not killers.
This time, Spencer took it personally that they were here, because they were here not to help him, but to supplant him. They were here because Gallagher and they didn’t trust him. It was murder in the first degree, and their moral fires were stoked. Murder meant a high-profile case, murder was a political ace in a reelection. They were here to win.
They all sat in the large conference room. Spencer held the tape recording of his conversation with Frankie in his hands. He was thinking of a way to tell these people about his talk with Kristina’s mother.
However, Daphne had a plan. In a very businesslike tone she said, ‘We’re going to thoroughly question the two men the victim knew –’
‘What two men? She must have known more than two men,’ said Spencer, looking at John Artell. He raised his eyebrows. ‘Unless you mean biblically.’
‘O’Malley!’ thundered the chief. Daphne and John did not laugh.
‘Listen,’ said Spencer, gentler, trying to smile. ‘Before we listen to Frankie Absalom’s interview, I want to tell you about Katherine Sinclair.’
‘Who?’ said Daphne.
Will shook his head, mouthing, no, no.
‘The dead girl’s mother –’
‘I thought her last name was Kim?’ said John.
‘It was. By marriage. She was Sinclair at birth. Her mother told me –’
‘Well, I’m sure it is very interesting, detective,’ Daphne interrupted, ‘but we would just as soon talk to Howard Kim–’
‘Howard Kim? Her ex-husband?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, you can find him at the funeral home. He’s arranging for his exwife’s burial. You can find him there till tomorrow,’ Spencer said caustically. ‘After that he’ll be at the Pine Knoll Cemetery, burying her.’
Daphne Silas had no sense of humor. Or if she did, she didn’t show it. ‘What ab
out this Frankie Absalom? Does he have an alibi?’
‘Yes,’ Will interjected. ‘Someone saw him studying and then leaving the building around one-thirty or so.’
Spencer said, ‘Why don’t you guys question the Crimson women’s basketball team? I hear they hated Kristina.’
‘Really?’ Daphne livened up.
‘Oh, please.’
Gallagher coughed into his hand to get Spencer’s attention, and then hissed quietly. Spencer shut up.
Then he said, ‘Why don’t we listen to the tape, then? You might find it of interest. We have some time before Landers and Innis call. Or would you rather wait for the pathology and the fingerprints and have a look at those first?’
‘I thought we could look at them together,’ said Daphne. If Daphne Silas hadn’t been so proper and dry, Spencer could’ve sworn she was coming on to him. He looked at her carefully as she stretched her lips in a slight smile.
Spencer hated the look on the chief’s face when the Frankie tape was played. Gallagher looked like a man who had just heard he’d won four million dollars, or was getting a promotion and a raise. Even subdued Will became animated. Daphne and John remained calm, but their eyes sparkled.
‘This is pretty incredible stuff, Tracy,’ said Gallagher.
‘Well, I’m glad you think so, sir,’ replied Spencer. Gallagher’s smile dulled a notch.
Daphne stood up. ‘John, call Dr Innis. Tell him we need the results of the blood work immediately.’ She turned to Spencer. ‘Nice work, detective-sergeant.’
Spencer swore under his breath.
Ed Landers called first, with the fingerprints. There had been numerous prints everywhere in Kristina’s room, belonging to at least three people besides Kristina. All of them matched prints taken from Conni Tobias, James Shaw, or Albert Maplethorpe. The only prints on the bottle of Southern Comfort were Kristina’s – and Conni’s.
For some reason that seemed to excite Will. ‘She never liked to walk that bridge unless she was drunk,’ he said to Spencer. ‘Right, Trace? Conni could’ve given her that bottle to get her drunk, get her out there, you know?’
‘Oh, Will,’ said Spencer tiredly. ‘That’s a lot of conclusions from a little information. No one saw Conni bring that bottle to Kristina.’
‘Yes, but Frankie saw Kristina on the bridge. And he saw Conni on the bridge,’ said Gallagher.