Part 19 (1/2)
I'm going to enjoy this, Duggan thought.
”Arthur,” he said and sat down.
Danse nodded. ”You still on duty or would you care for a whiskey?”
”No thanks.”
He poured a gla.s.s for himself. Duggan doubted it was his first one. The hands were far too steady.
”You saw the paper, I guess,” Danse said.
”Nope. Heard you made the records section, though.”
”Here.” He tossed a copy across the table.
Duggan just let it sit there.
”I know what's in it, Arthur. Besides, I'm not really much for the Union Leader. Are you?”
”Is that what you came to talk about?”
”The Union Leader?”
”No. This custody thing.”
”Seems to me it's a good bit more than a custody thing, Art. But no, that's not why I stopped by. You know I was out to see your mom and dad the other day, had a kind of talk with them. Your dad looks awful tired, Art. How come he doesn't just retire?”
”He still likes the work, I suppose. They told me you were by. It's about this thing over on the Wingerter property, right?”
”Right. Pretty bad business, Art. Ugly.”
”I heard.”
”What'd you hear?”
Duggan watched him drink his scotch. Playing for time? Could be.
”That it was a murder. A girl from Plymouth State.”
”That all you heard?”
”I heard she was raped.”
”Oh, she was raped all right. And then some. I'd give you all the details but you know how it goes, we got to hold on to those best we can, eliminate the cranks. Mind if I smoke?”
”Go ahead.”
He lit a Newport Lite. Arthur opened a drawer and took out a clear gla.s.s ashtray and put it in front of him on the clean empty desk.
”Ruth tells me you were over there that night. That you came in pretty late and slept at the house. That correct?”
”Yes.”
”You hear anything? See anything?”
”I was coming from a party here. Opening of that new office building over on Prospect. To tell you the truth, I got a little loaded. I doubt I'd have heard or seen anything if it jumped out and bit me.”
Duggan clicked his tongue. ”Drunk driving, Arthur? Shame on you.”
”I shouldn't have been on the road, I admit.”
”What time'd you arrive?”
”Oh, about one-thirty. Two o'clock.”
”Alone?”
”Of course alone.”
”Listen, Art. Tell me something. How come you went to your folks' place? I don't get it. Why not to your own?” Danse put down the drink.
”It's ... it's actually kind of embarra.s.sing. Since the divorce I get ... well, it gets sort of lonely sometimes.”
”You? Really? That surprises me, Art. With all these people out there? With all these ladies out at the bar? d.a.m.n! I wouldn't think that at all.”
Danse smiled slightly. ”I suppose it would surprise you. But I've found it isn't smart to mix business with pleasure. I don't date the customers.”
”Never?”
”Rarely. Very rarely.”
”Too bad. Must be awful tempting, I mean. All those young pretty college kids. It'd sure tempt me. Listen, do you remember this Laura Banks? She used to come in here pretty often I understand.”
”I don't remember that name at all.”
”Maybe if I showed you her picture.”
He dug in his jacket pocket for the snapshot they'd taken from her apartment. That and the other one. The after photo. He'd had the lab reduce it down to snapshot size. The face only. That was bad enough.
He made a point of not looking at them as he handed them over.
He saw Danse wince.
He didn't look like a guilty man.
He looked like any citizen would. Faced with that.
Could he maybe be wrong about this?
He took the ”after” picture back from him.