Part 31 (2/2)

”Gives him mobility while he's there,” I said. ”And it eliminates the risk that someone on a commercial flight might remember him.”

”If he flashes his badge at Carolyn, that might explain why she'd get into his car so willingly.”

”It would also explain how the killer got into Fontaine's house and Underwood's apartment without breaking anything and without a struggle.” Scott nodded, went inside, and emerged with a gla.s.s of iced tea and another bagel. To the west I noticed the afternoon clouds thickening. Thunderstorms were certain.

”So how are things with you and the math professor?” Scott asked.

”Not so good,” I said. I told him about Finn's disclosure of my manslaughter arrest to Jayne. I also told him about Finn's relations.h.i.+p with Amanda and how I'd handled Finn the previous morning.

”You let him off easy,” Scott said. I shrugged. Thinking about my problems with Jayne was bringing me down and Scott could see it.

”What are you doing this weekend?” he asked.

”No plans,” I said.

”I'm thinking of going camping. Bobbi bought me some night-vision goggles for my birthday, if you can believe that, and I'm dying to try 'em out.”

”That sounds like a plan,” I said. ”I could use a little rest and relaxation.”

”We can leave tonight if you want.”

”No, I want to talk with Jayne. Let's leave tomorrow.”

Jayne wasn't home, so I parked the truck and sat on the cement slab leading to her front door. I stared at the Russian olive trees beside the creek and wondered what idiot had brought them to the United States in the first place. My cell phone rang. It was Tom Hammond.

”It's a dummy plate,” he said. ”The car belongs to the Denver office of the FBI.”

”I guess that's no surprise,” I said, ”but thanks for your efforts.”

”Sure thing,” he said. I almost hung up, but decided to ask one more question.

”Hey, Tom?”

”Yeah.”

”If a law enforcement agency in Nebraska had asked the Colorado DMV to provide a listing of all vehicles meeting that description with an A-M-K prefix, would the DMV have given out the information about the car registered to the bureau?”

”Not right away,” he said. ”The DMV gets these requests all the time. The clerks who handle them don't even have access to that information, so the decision on disclosure has to be made at a higher level.”

”Okay,” I said. ”Thanks again.” I couldn't blame Amanda for sloppy police work. She'd had no reason to believe the FBI might own the mystery vehicle.

It was three-thirty P.M. My b.u.t.t was sore from sitting on the concrete. Jayne showed up around five. She wore tan slacks and a white sleeveless s.h.i.+rt. She wasn't happy to see me.

”h.e.l.lo,” she said. I stood. She walked past me and unlocked the door, but I didn't follow her in and she didn't invite me. I saw her set her briefcase and purse down on the kitchen table.

”Let's take a walk,” I said from the entrance. ”I'll tell you about it.” She removed a pitcher of water from the refrigerator and poured herself a gla.s.s. When she had finished drinking it, she walked toward me and pulled the door shut behind her.

We started walking east on Pearl Street. ”I thought I'd bring you up to date on a few things,” I said. She didn't respond, but she continued walking with me, so I summarized the latest developments in the case. She listened patiently and, despite her anger toward me, I sensed a certain satisfaction. We hadn't pieced it all together yet, but we had effectively established that the three deaths were related. I told her we'd have to turn it over to the bureau sooner or later.

”You've done a good job,” she said. ”Do I owe you any more money?”

”No.” We turned right on Ninth Street and walked south to Boulder Creek. A pedestrian path follows the creek, and some high school kids were tubing in the clear water. I knew they'd have to call it a day soon because of the approaching storm.

”You remember my dog Wheat?” I asked.

”Yes.” She didn't look at me.

”I adopted him a few years ago,” I said. ”He'd been abused and I read about him in the paper.” I pulled a photocopy of the article from my s.h.i.+rt pocket and handed it to her. She stopped to read it.

Denver-A Denver man was arrested on charges of cruelty to animals when his roommates reported him to the police after they found his puppy whimpering and unable to walk.

Blackie, a three-month-old schipperkee, was found in its owner's, Melvin D. Dawson's, rented room with limp front paws, unable to walk and in obvious pain.

The puppy was taken to a local veterinary hospital by Denver police officer Wayne Simmons and found to have a swollen brain and concussion. The veterinarian confirmed the animal had been abused.

Dawson's roommates, who claim they had witnessed him throw, kick, and hit Blackie daily, decided they had seen enough and reported the problem to police. The two roommates also claim Dawson kicked their dog down some stairs on another occasion.

Simmons was told that the roommates had to break into Dawson's room to get to the dog since his doors were locked. Also, despite Dawson being at work, music was turned up in the room, apparently to mask the puppy's cries.

It was explained by Dawson that the dog had been biting on an electric cord a few days earlier so he hit it with his hand to discipline the animal. He said he did not take the dog to a vet because he felt it would be all right.

Dawson said he only hit the puppy with his hand and never kicked it. Dawson also explained that he disciplined the dog when it defecated on the floor.

Simmons arrested Dawson so there would not be any problem with retaliation against the roommates. Both Dawson and the roommates who reported him have been evicted, as no animals were allowed in the house. Subsequent investigation revealed Dawson had several outstanding warrants on various other misdemeanor charges.

She folded the article, handed it back to me, and said nothing. As we pa.s.sed beneath the bridge over Broadway, I continued the story. ”I adopted the dog,” I said. ”Later I learned Dawson had skipped town and that a warrant for his arrest had been issued, but cruelty to animals is a misdemeanor, so the cops weren't making any effort to track him down.

”A couple of months went by and I forgot about it. The dog seemed to be doing well and I considered myself lucky to have him. Then one day I was in line in a grocery store down near my brother's gym. The guy in front of me was a scruffy-looking doper and I noticed the name on his check-Melvin D. Dawson. I figured there couldn't be that many Melvin D. Dawsons in Denver and this guy just looked like the type of sick loser who would abuse a puppy. So I followed him out to his motorcycle and yelled, 'Melvin.'

”He just looked at me and climbed on his motorcycle. 'Hey, Melvin,' I say, 'c'mere, I want to talk to you.' 'f.u.c.k you,' he says. I keep walking toward him. 'You've got some outstanding warrants, Melvin, so why don't you climb down off the bike and we'll go take care of them.' He gives me the finger and starts his motorcycle. I don't want him to get away so I run to him and yank him off the bike, but his jacket's slick and I lose my grip. The bike falls over and he comes up with a big spring-loaded knife.

”I've had some self-defense training, so I manage to avoid the knife, but that's just making him angry and he keeps circling me, trying to cut me. The cops still aren't anywhere to be seen. Finally he corners me between two cars and comes at me. I sidestep him and redirect his arm downward, and the knife slides into his belly. It severs an artery and he bleeds to death before they can save him.” I heard the first crack of thunder. We continued walking.

When she finally said something, it was, ”Why didn't you just walk away?”

”I've thought about that a lot,” I said. ”I don't have a good answer.” I felt a light raindrop on my arm.

”You don't sound very remorseful,” she said. Her anger was slowly diminis.h.i.+ng.

”I could've walked away,” I said, ”and maybe I should have, but once I started it, I did what I had to do.” I paused. ”And the world's probably a better place for it,” I added. ”I know that sounds cold, but there are evil people in this world.”

”I think I know that better than most people,” she said. A reference to the deaths of her parents.

”I suppose you do,” I said. A loud crack of thunder stopped us in our tracks for a moment. More raindrops began to fall. We turned around and began walking back toward the mountains in silence.

<script>