Part 3 (1/2)
aNot just now.a Lee slowly finished her coffee. Kateas was going cold. aDonat you love it, a woman with bright red hair wearing that color of red? Only Maggie Smith could pull it off.a aIam jealous of Maggie Smith,a muttered Kate happily.
They never did see the end of the movie.
Murder cases not solved within two or three days tend to drag on into weeks, and this was no exception. The fourth and fifth days pa.s.sed without any startling revelations. Kate and Al Hawkin had agreed that Brother Erasmus was not likely to run, so after Thursdayas fruitless question-and-statement session he was handed back his staff and allowed to walk back out into the city of Saint Francis. Kate, rather to her surprise, found herself making a detour from a Sunday morning shopping trip to drive slowly through Golden Gate Park, where eventually she came across Erasmus, dressed like a tramp and walking along the road in the midst of a group of street people. The raggle-taggle congregation might have been from another world compared to the group of his admirers in Berkeley, except for one thing: on these faces was an identical look, a blend of pleasure, awe, and love.
Hawkin saw him once, too, although his sighting was accidental, when he pa.s.sed Erasmus on his way home from work one afternoon. Erasmus was not wearing his ca.s.sock then, either, but a pair of jeans and a multicolored wool jacket. He was sitting in the winter sun on a low brick wall, reading a small green book and eating an ice cream cone.
The millstones of justice continued to grind. Their John Doeas lab work showed no signs of alcohol, drugs, or even nicotine and indicated that his last meal had been a large piece of beefsteak, green beans, and baked potatoes at least six hours before his death. Death had been due to a blow with a blunt object to the right side of the skull, which, judging from the angle, had been delivered by a right-handed person standing behind the victim as he sat on the stump a few feet from where Harry and Luis had found his body. Death had been by no means instantaneous, although unconsciousness would have been.
John had bled slowly, both internally and onto the ground, for as much as an hour before his heart stopped.
There was one other piece of possible evidence, which Hawkin interpreted as sinister, though Kate privately reserved judgment,- twenty feet from the body, at the foot of a tree, had been found a lone cigarette stub that had been pinched off, not ground out. Oddly, though, the-drift of ashes on the ground around the tree was considerably more than could be made from one cigarette. The crime scene investigator estimated that five to eight cigarettes could have produced that quant.i.ty of ash. There was another, smaller pile of ash just in front of the stump. In three places at the site were found boot prints, none of them complete, but together an indication that a pair of size nine menas heeled boots, not cowboy boots but similar, had been there within a day of the time John had died.
When the lab results were in, Al had Kate drive him across town to the park. He stood within the fluttering yellow tapes marking the crime scene and stared at the ground.
He said deliberately, aI think a man wearing a pair of those expensive menas boots that make you two inches taller stood here and talked with John, smoked a cigarette, walked around, picked up somethinga”baseball bat, tree branch, nightsticka” and hit John with it as hard as he could. John collapsed but didnat die, and the man dragged him away from the stump and under the bush so he was invisible. He then stood behind that tree over there, smoking cigarettesa”which he pinched off and put in his pocket, except the one he droppeda”and watching John die. Cold-blooded, deliberate, smoking and watching.a aI canat see this as a pleasure killing,a objected Kate.
aNo. Too casual, no ritual. And he didnat come in close to watch,- it was more just waiting. He wanted John dead, didnat mind if he suffered, but didnat want to be too close. Could have been simply cautiona”he could get away more easily from over there if someone came down the road, couldnat he?a aYou think he had a car along one of the streets outside the park?a aLetas get some posters up, see if anyone noticed something. Funny, though, about the cigarettes.a aWhat about them?a aWhy did he pinch them all and take them?a aTo leave nothing behind. He watches too much television, thinks we can find him from a fingerprint on paper. Or just didnat want us to know he was here.a aWhy not knock the ashes out into the cellophane wrapper, then? Iave done that myself, smoking on a tidy front porch. And why didnat he worry about his footprints? Theyare at least as distinctive as his smoking habit.a aMaybe the TV programs he watches only deal with fingerprints. That could also be why he waited for the man to die instead of bas.h.i.+ng him againa”he wasnat necessarily coldblooded, just afraid of getting blood on his clothing. With the single hit, he was probably clean, but multiple blows would increase the risk of contamination.a aYou have an answer for everything, Martinelli. How about this one: What kind of man habitually pinches his cigarettes out rather than smas.h.i.+ng them?a aYouare the smoker, AI. You were, anyway. J donat know. Someone showing macho? Like striking a match with your thumbnail to show how tough you are. Someone about to put the b.u.t.t in his pocket and wanting to make sure it didnat light his pocket on fire?a aYouare probably right,a he said absently.
aOkay, AI. What kind of man would you say habitually pinches off his smokes? And why do you think itas habitual?a aBecause he went through at least six or eight of them without once forgetting and putting it out against the tree or under his foot. Pretty calculating for a guy standing there smoking nervously, waiting for a friend to die.a aFriend?a aAcquaintance at least. And you may be right about the reason for the habit. Or it could be heas a man who doesnat mind a bit of ash but doesnat want to toss a burning b.u.t.t onto the ground. Someone who works around flammable things, maybe. Or someone concerned with the litter. Groundskeepers rarely toss away their cigarettes, knowing theyall have to clean them up.a aSo, we have a short, vain groundskeeper in expensive boots who is friends with a homeless man who doesnat smoke, drink, or do drugs, bashes him on the head, and stands around being tidy until the homeless man dies.a aYep, thatas about it,a said Hawkin.
aI like it.a Kate nodded and followed Hawkin to the car. aSure, that is a doable theory. Letas give it to the DA and just arrest every gardener in the city, starting with the park workers. Get a bus and shovel them in.a aYouall take care of it, wonat you?a asked Hawkin. aI have a date with Jani tonight.a aNo problem. Drag aem in, beat aem up, get a confession, be home for dinner.a aI knew I could count on you, Martinelli.a
NINE.
The way to build a church is to build it.
Six days, seven days. Lee came up with some references and sent Jon in several directions to pick them up and request more from the universityas interlibrary loan service. She began to read and digest, in between physical therapy, a trip to the doctoras, the lengthy preparation for and exhaustion following an appointment with one of her two clients, and sleep. Dean Gardner phoned Kate every day, even though Erasmus had been released, until finally, to get rid of him, Kate gave him the same research a.s.signment shead given Lee: Find me someone who knows what a Fool is.
Kate didnat quite know why she was interested, though she did know that it had more to do with the enigma that was Erasmus than with the investigation into Johnas murder. She mentioned her by-proxy academic investigations to Hawkin only in a pa.s.sing way, he, in turn, nodded and told her to let him know if anything came up.
Nine days after the murder, eight days after the cremation, the first faint hairline crack appeared in the case, although Kate did not at first recognize it as such. She was mostly annoyed.
aDean Gardner, I do not have any news for you. I havenat even seen Erasmus sincea”oh, he is? Of course, itas Thursday.a Erasmus had been told not to leave San Francisco, but somehow she wasnat surprised that he was following his usual rounds. aIs everything all right?a aOh yes, he seems in good spirits. The reason I called is that I have some suggestions for that question you put to me. Do you have a pencil?a aGo ahead.a aThe first name is Danny Yamaguchi. Danny is a woman, a professor of Religious Studies at Stanford. Her specialty is cults, she should know if there is a Foolas movement. Second is Rabbi Shlomo Bauer. Heas a GTU visiting professor this semester, his field is Jewish/Christian relations in Russia from the seventeenth century to the present. And third is a Dr. Whitlaw, who teaches at one of the redbrick universities in England and is over here on a sabbatical. I donat know her, but I was told that sheas something of an expert on modern religious movements.a He then gave Kate telephone numbers for Yamaguchi and Bauer, explaining, aDr. Whitlaw is staying with friends in San Francisco, but I couldnat come up with her number. The only one I have at the moment seems to be an answering machine.
Iam sure Iall have a number for you in a few days, and I know sheas coming to lecture here the end of next week, but do you want the machineas number?a aMight as well.a She wrote it down, thanked him, and prepared to hang up, when he interrupted her.
aI also have that list of pa.s.sages Erasmus was quoting. Shall I send it to you?a Actually, Kate had forgotten about it. aThat would be helpful. Just send it to the address I left with you.a aThere was just one odd thinga”it struck me when I was thinking about that conversation. One of his pa.s.sages was wrong. Thatas never happened before, not that Iave ever caught. Remember when he was getting so worked up about something and cited Davidas lament over his son Absalom? Before that he said, aDavid made a covenant with Jonathan, because he loved him as his own soul.a Iam sure he said it in that order. In fact, I was aware of it at the time because itas wrong. Itas Jonathan who makes the covenant with David.a aDoes that matter?a aI donat know. I mean, it would in the biblical context, but I donat know if it was only a slip. I just wanted to mention it, because it was unusual.a Kate thanked him, rea.s.sured him yet again that she would phone if there was news, and firmly said good-bye. She dutifully wrote the information down, then went out to pick up Al Hawkin so they could tie up the interviews of the people who lived in houses facing Golden Gate Park, on the slim chance they might have noticed, and remembered, the booted man nine days before. The inquiries had to be made, but she was not too surprised when the slim chance had faded into nothingness by the end of the day.
That night she took out her notebook and phoned the three numbers. At the first, a tremulous voice with limited English informed Kate that her granddaughter was away until Tuesday and then hung up. There was no answer at Rabbi Baueras number. The number for Dr. Whitlaw was indeed an answering machine, which rattled at her in a womanas rushed voice: aYouave reached the Drs. Franklin answering service, please leave your name, number, and a brief description of what you need and weall try to get back to you.a That last qualified offer was none too encouraging, but Kate left her name, without any identifying rank, her home number, and the message that she needed to reach Dr. Whitlaw and would the recipients of the message please phone back, whether or not they were able to pa.s.s the message on to Dr. Whitlaw, thank you.
When she hung up, she found Lee looking at her, forehead wrinkled in thought. aWas that something to do with your fool case?a aA rather thin lead to finding an expert, yes. n.o.body home.a aI just wondered, because a couple of the names sounded familiara”Yamaguchi and Whitlow.a aWhitlaw.a aWas it? It might not be the same person. Those were a couple of the names Iave come up with. Jonas requested a book for me that was edited by a Whitlow or Whitlawa on the Fools movement of the twentieth century.a aYou donat have anything yet?a aDo you want to go up and get the folders and Iall look? Itas on my desk next to the computer, a manila folder labeled aFools.aa It was there. Kate came back downstairs with it and handed it to Lee, who opened it on her lap and started sorting through the pages.
aOh, I meant to mention,a she said without looking up from the file, aJon has a friend whose brother installs those stairway lifts in peoplesa houses,- he said head do it for cost plus labor. The only problem would be that when we want to tear it out, itall leave marks on the woodwork. What do you think?a It was fortunate that Lee was busy with her papers and did not look upa”fortunate, or deliberate. Kate felt her face stiffen in an impossible mixture of shock and relief and despair: This was the first time Lee had admitted that her time in the wheelchair might not be brief. The first time, that is, since the early months of complete paraplegia, when suicide had seemed to Lee a real option. Kate turned and walked out of the room, looked about for an excuse, saw the coffee machine, poured herself a second cup, although she hadnat drunk her first yet, and took it back into the living room.
aAny idea what it would cost?a she said evenly.
aIt would still be a lot, several thousand dollars, but thereas an extended-payment program, and they buy it back when youare finished with it. I donat really mind going up and down on my b.u.t.t. Actually, itas good exercise, but it is slow. I just thought it would save you and Jon a few hundred trips a week up and down, fetching things for me.a Anything that could increase Leeas sense of independence was to be s.n.a.t.c.hed at, and Kateas face was firmly in line when Lee looked up, a paper in her hand.
aAnyway, itas something to think about. Hereas that printout. D. Yamaguchi, Stanford, and E. Whitlawa”youare right, it is Whitlawa”Nottingham, England. You said sheas here?a aDean Gardner thought she was visiting friends in the city.
aThe t.i.tles of her articles and the one book look like what you need. I should have some of them Monday or Tuesday, if you want to look through them before you see her.a aGood idea. If she calls and Iam not here, see if you can get a real phone number or an address from her. Want another coffee?a aNo, this is fine. Could you stick that tape into the machine for me?a Kate obediently fed the indicated videotape into the mouth of the player, turned on the television, and, while she was waiting for the sound to come up, looked at the box: The Pirates of Penzance.
aAnother heavy intellectual evening, I see,a she said, grinned at Leeas embarra.s.sment, and went off to do the dishes. Lee thought Gilbert and Sullivan hilarious,- Kate would have preferred the Sat.u.r.day-morning cartoons.
After a while, she heard Jonas voice above those of the cavorting sailors. A minute later, he came into the kitchen, dressed in his mauve velour dressing gown, and took two gla.s.ses and a squat bottle out of the drinks cupboard.
aWe really must have a crystal decanter,a he complained, pouring out a thick red-brown liquid. aWould you like a gla.s.s?a aWhat is it?a aPort, my dear. I thought it might be fun to reintroduce gout as a fas.h.i.+onable disease.a aNo thanks. Say, Jon? Just now Lee said something about installing a lift on the stairs. Do you know anything about that?a aYes, well, I thought it might not be a bad idea.a aI agree. I suggested it three or four months ago and she nearly bit my head off.a aDid she? Well, times change. I admit I did b.i.t.c.ha”a small b.i.t.c.h, a gentle b.i.t.c.ha”about the state of my knees on those stairs. And, er, I also pointed out that she could probably deduct the depreciated cost of it as a business expense, now sheas working again.a Jon studied his fingernails for a moment and then looked up through his eyelashes at hera”difficult to do, as he was four inches taller than she. Kate began reluctantly to grin, shaking her head.
aBy G.o.d, youare a sly one. And she fell for it. Iad never have believed it.a He laughed and whisked the gla.s.ses off the counter. aJon?a He turned in the doorway. aGood work. Thanks.a He nodded, then went to join Lee in front of the television.
An hour later, Linda Ronstadt was bouncing around a moonlit garden in her nightie, flirting with her pirate, when the phone rang. Kate picked it up in the kitchen, where she had retreated with a stack of unread newspapers.
aMartinelli.a aThis is Professor Eve Whitlaw, returning your call.a The voice was low, calm, and English.
aYes, Dr. Whitlaw, thank you for phoning. I am thea”a aIs that pirates?a aSorry?a aThe music youare listening to. It is, yes. Not perhaps their best, but it has a few delicious moments. You were saying.a aEr, yes. I am Inspector Kate Martinelli of the San Francisco Police Department. We are investigating a murder that occurred recently in Golden Gate Park. The reason I am calling you is that one of the persons involved refers to himself as a afool,a and I was told by the dean of the Church Divinity School of the Pacific over in Berkeley that you might be able to tell me exactly what this man means when he uses that description.a By the time Kate reached the end of this convoluted request, she was feeling something of a fool herself, and the sensation was reinforced by the long and ringing silence on the other end of the line.
aDr. Whita”a aYouave arrested a Fool for murder?a the English voice said incredulously.
aHe is not under arrest. At most, heas a weak suspect. However, heas a problem to us because itas very difficult to understand what heas doing here. The interviews weave held have beena unsatisfactory.a The deep voice chuckled. aI can imagine. He answers your questions, but his answers are, shall we say, ambiguous. Even enigmatic.a aThank G.o.d,a Kate burst out. aYou do understand.a aI wouldnat go so far as to say that, but I may be able to throw a bit of light into your darkness. When may I meet this fool of yours?a aYou want to meet him?a aMy dear young woman, would you ask a paleontologist if she would care to meet a dinosaur? Of course I must meet him. Is he in jail?a aNo, at the moment heas in Berkeley. He will be back in San Francis...o...b.. Sat.u.r.day, I think, and I could put my hands on him by Sunday. Perhaps we could arrange a meeting on Monday?a aNot until then? Ah well, it canat be helped, I suppose. However, my dear, if you lose him, I shall find it very hard.a There was a thread of steel beneath the jovial words, and Kate had a vivid picture of an elderly teacher shead once had, a nun who used to punish tardiness and forgotten homework with an astonis.h.i.+ngly painful rap on the skull with a thimble.
aIall try not to lose him,a she said. aBut I wonder if before then you and I could meet.a aA brief tutorial might well be in order. Tomorrow will be difficult, the entire afternoon is rather solidly booked. Let me look at my diary. Hmm. I do have a s.p.a.ce in the early afternoon. What about onea”no, shall we say twelve-thirty?a Dr. Whitlaw gave Kate an address in Noe Valley and the house telephone number, wished her enjoyment of the remainder of Pirates, and hung up. Kate obediently poured herself a tiny gla.s.s of the syrupy port and went out to sit between Lee and Jon on the sofa, watching the equally syrupy ending of the operetta.
TEN.
When Francis came forth from his cave of vision, he was wearing the same word afoola as a feather in his cap, as a crest or even a crown.
At under five and a half feet with shoes on, Kate was not often given the chance to feel tall, except in a room full of kids. In fact, when the door opened, she thought for a moment that she was faced with a child. It was the impression of an instantas glance, though, because no sooner had the door begun to open than it caught forcibly on the chain and slammed shut in her face. The chain rattled, the door opened again, more fully this time, and the person standing there, colorful and gray-haired and of a height surely not far from dwarfism, was not a child, but a woman of about sixty.
aDoctor Whitlaw?a Kate asked uncertainly.
aProfessor, actually. Youare Inspector Martinelli. Come in.a Kate stepped inside while the woman reached up to fasten the chain.
aI was told that I must always bolt and chain the doors in this city. I live in a village, where a crime wave is the neighboras son stealing a handbag from the backseat of a car. Iam forever forgetting that Iave put the chain on,- I nearly took my nose off the other day. Come in here and sit down, and tell me what I can do for you. Will you take a cup of tea?a She had a lovely voice. On the phone it had sounded gruff, but in person it was only surprisingly deep, and the accent that had sounded English became something other than the posh tones of most actors and the occasional foreign correspondent on the news. Her accent had depth rather than smoothness, flavor rather than sophistication, and made her sound as if she could tell a sly joke, if the opportunity arose. Kate couldnat remember the last time shead drunk tea, but she accepted.
They sat at a round, claw-foot, polished oak table, between a cheerful pine kitchen and a living room bursting with gloriously happy plants, tropical-print fabrics, and African sculpture. Professor Whitlaw brought another cup from the kitchen (using a step stool to reach the cupboard) and poured from a dark brown teapot so new that it still had the price sticker on the handle. She added milk without asking, put a sugar bowl, spoon, and plate of boring-looking cookies in front of Kate, and sat back in her chair, her feet dangling.
aThis is a very pleasant place,a Kate offered.
aDo you think so? It belongs to friends of my niece, two pediatricians who are away for the month, so Iam house-sitting. Actually, I am beginning to find its unremitting cheerfulness oppressive, particularly in the mornings. I come out in my dressing gown and expect to hear parrots and monkeys. Fortunately, I donat have to care for the jungle. They have a sort of indoor gardener who comes twice a week to water and prunea”a good thing, because if I was responsible, they would come back to a desert. You wish to talk about the Fools movement.a aEr, yes. Or about one particular fool, really.a Kate explained at length what she knew about Erasmus, his relations.h.i.+ps with the homeless and the seminary, and his apparent unwillingness or inability to speak other than by way of quotations. She then gave a very general picture of the murder and investigation, ending up with: aSo you see, the man must be treated as a suspect,- he has no alibi, no identification, no past, no nothing. The only thing he has said about himself that sounds in the least bit personal is that he thinks of himself as a fool. Now, he could just be saying that, or he may be referring to this organization or movement or whatever it is. Dean Gardner thought there was a chance he might be, so he referred me to you.a aYou are catching at straws.a aI suppose so.a aAnd even if he is a remnant of the Fools movement, it may have nothing to do with the manas death.a aThatas very possible.a aBut you are hoping nonetheless to understand the differences between the cultivated lunacy of Foolishness and the inadvertent insanity of a murderer.a aWell, I guess. Actually, I was hoping that if he had been a member of thisa movement, there might be records, or someone who might know who Erasmus is.a aThe Fools movement was short-lived, and fairly comprehensively dispersed. It was also never the sort of thing to have any formalized members.h.i.+pa”that would have been seen as oxymoronic. If you will pardon the pun.a She chuckled, and Kate smiled politely, not having the faintest idea what the woman was talking about. aWhat you require,a she continued, sounding every bit the academic, ais background information. However, as I told you over the telephone, my day is fairly full. Iam afraid that Iave loaned out my only copies of the book I edited on the subject, but may I suggest that I give you a couple of papers and you come back and talk with me when youave had a chance to digest them? This evening or tomorrow, or whenever.a Without waiting for Kate to agree, she slid down from her chair and went out of the room and through a doorway on the other side of the hall. When Kate reached the door, she found Professor Whitlaw with her head in a filing cabinet. She laid three manila folders on the desk, opened the first two, and took out some papers, leaving a stapled sheaf of papers in each one. The third one, she hesitated over, then opened it and began to sift through the contents thoughtfully.