Part 17 (1/2)
”Hi, Magpie. Alls well here. Warrior and Emma Lou are both doing just fine,” I said. ”We got the colt on that new vitamin supplement Doc ordered.”
”Thats good. Tell Warrior I miss him, okay?” she said.
”Youve got it,” I said.
”Mom, I think Ive got it figured out. You know that photo you sent me?”
”What did you see?”
”Well, the thing is, the sky changes depending on the time of year,” she explained, very seriously. My daughter talked about someday being a teacher, and I had the distinct impression she was practicing her lecture skills on me. ”Different constellations come into view while others drop away as the earth tilts on its axis.”
”Okay, I understand that,” I said. ”So what did you see in the photo?”
”Well, its not the best picture,” she said. ”Its not all that clear, but . . .”
Twenty-five.
The Big Dipper, it would turn out, was the key. In the winter, this easily recognized constellation hangs low in the East Texas sky. In the photograph, Maggie had no trouble spotting the Dipper, high in the heavens. ”It cant be winter,” she said. ”This photo was taken in the summer.”
”Youre sure?” I asked.
”Yeah,” she said, sounding excited by the challenge. ”Is that all you need? Do you want me to do more investigating?”
”Thats exactly what I need, Magpie,” I said. ”I love you. Alls well here! Tell Gram I love her, too!”
”I love you, too, Mom,” she said. ”Good night.”
”Good night, Magpie,” I said. ”And thank you, again. Great work.”
”Nice getup, Mr. Wagner,” I said to the old man seated across from David and me. We were in his parlor where Id been two days earlier, but this time it was after dark and he wore a flannel bathrobe over thermal pajamas and a knit cap covered his head. ”Drafty in this big old place? You should consider downsizing.”
”Its easier to catch a cold when youre my age,” he said. ”Another thing thats easier is speaking your mind. I thought wed disposed of all this. Why are you back?”
”Agent Garrity and I are following up on the interview I had with you on Billie c.o.xs homicide,” I said. ”Some of your answers, it appears, werent truthful. Like when that photo of you at the Stanhope Field was taken.”
The old guy a.s.sessed me out of the corners of his rheumy eyes and puckered his wrinkled mouth. He would have been a natural for the part of Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. I wondered where the ghost of Christmas past was hiding. David and I could have pa.s.sed for the ghosts of Christmas present, since wed arrived with a large shopping bag, bulging with items wrapped in brown paper. Wagner kept staring at them. I hoped he noticed they werent tied with ribbons and bows.
”Thats not a nice thing to say to an old man, Lieutenant,” he said, surveying my face and then staring yet again at the bag. ”Particularly when its not true. I happen to know that my old partner, d.i.c.kson, told you exactly the same thing I did. You got other information, its wrong.”
”Lets take a look at the photo again,” I suggested. Id put David in charge of my props. The first thing he pulled out was an envelope. He handed it to me, and I slipped out a copy of the photo in question.
”To start, Im going to tell you how I know you lied, Mr. Wagner. First, I talked to your attorney, Jimmy McBride, the third man in this photo,” I said, pointing to the younger man in the picture, the one with his back to the camera. ”And what he told me is that this was taken not eight years ago in December but just this past July, last summer, when you and Mr. d.i.c.kson hired him to represent you on the sale of the oil field.”
”That mans mistaken,” Wagner said with a snarl. ”You know lawyers. They can never keep anything straight.”
Shaking my head as if perplexed, I leaned forward and tried to hand him the photo, but the old man merely sat back in his chair and shot me a look that warned Id better be careful. ”Youve got my word and my partners word against McBrides, so hes outnumbered. That ought to be enough for you.”
”Only thing is, look right here,” I said, taking a pen out of my pocket. Since he refused to hold the photo, I gave it to David who held it up at Wagners eye-level, as I traced the outline of the seven stars that made up the constellation. ”Thats the Big Dipper. Know whats interesting about that?”
”No, but Im bound to have the misfortune of having you explain it to me, I suppose,” he said. ”You know, Lieutenant, Ive already lived a long life. I dont like being manipulated. It wastes my time.”
”This wont be a waste of time, I give you my word,” I said with a smile. Had to admit, I was enjoying every minute of this conversation, so much more than our first. ”Whats interesting is that in winter the Big Dipper is low over this part of Texas. The earth has s.h.i.+fted on its axis, and the Dippers close to the horizon. The only time its this high is summer, like in July, which just happens to be when Mr. McBride told us the three of you were there. Which proves, as I mentioned, that you lied to me, Mr. Wagner.”
He thought about that a bit, and then smiled. ”Well, maybe it was last summer. Im an old man and Im forgetful. Maybe Ive got some of that dementia stuff my friends are all coming down with. Cant see any other explanation. Why would I lie about something like that?” he asked, with an exaggerated scowl. ”Seems pretty silly.”
”I wondered about that, too,” I said. ”Then I realized that admitting the photo was just months-old made it too easy to figure out that you were involved in the sale. And since yall falsified that report and lied about there being oil in the field, you had a reason not to want me to learn the truth.”
”Is telling a lie a jail-able offense? I dont think so,” he challenged, his wispy white eyebrows knotted together, giving him a disheveled look. ”Leave me alone. This is baloney. Youve got no crime here.”
”Ah, but I do. You know as well as I do that a lie told to bilk folks out of cash is fraud. Bet you also know that the punishment is up to ten years behind bars,” I said, with a self-satisfied grin. ”Still, at your age, you probably would have gotten off pretty easy, as little as a year or even probation. Mr. Wagner, you should have let it ride, come clean and settled your losses. It would have been the smarter move, even for an old wildcatter like you.”
With that, Wagner dismissively shook his head. ”I dont know what youre talking about,” he scoffed. ”I havent heard any convincing evidence of anything, nothing to be of any concern.”
”Ah, but Mr. Wagner, you should be very concerned,” I said, with a wink. ”Theres more.”
David pulled my second prop out of the bag, something rolled up in a brown paper cylinder. On the side, it read: c.o.x MURDER: EVIDENCE NUMBER 327. BEDROOM RUG.
”Whats that?” Wagner asked, looking just a speck unsettled.
”Thats the Oriental rug out of Ms. c.o.xs bedroom, the one to the left of the bed,” David explained. ”I a.s.sume youd like to know what the Lieutenant and I have discovered about this particular item?”
”Spill it,” the old man said. ”Then get the h.e.l.l out of here. Its late. Im old and tired, and Ive had enough. So say what you will, and then leave.”
”Whats interesting about this particular piece of evidence is whats not on a section of it,” David said. ”Billie c.o.xs blood.”
Wagner snorted dismissively, as if he saw no importance.
”You see, in a suicide, blood spatter exits the wound covering everything around the person in an uninterrupted pattern,” I explained. ”But on this rug, which was on the floor directly next to the body, on the side of the entrance wound, theres blood on the sides but not the center. Why? Because someone else was in the room when the shot was fired, and instead of hitting the rug, that section of blood spatter landed on the murderer.”
”What does this have to do with me?” Wagner challenged.
”Im getting to that,” I said. ”Whats important for you to understand is that the murderer got blood on his clothes, and if we find the clothes, especially the shoes, which very few killers remember to throw out, a speck or two of blood will undoubtedly still be on them. The guys in our lab are really good at this.”
”Whats that?” Wagner said with a scowl. ”s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up?”
”Not usually,” I said. ”Usually they dont have much trouble pulling out DNA. We already have Billies processed and ready to compare. Once we find a match, we just have to trace the clothes to their owner and weve found her murderer.”
”You think that scares me? You have my permission. Search this d.a.m.n house. Search to your hearts content,” the old man said with a smile. ”Take every piece of clothing I own to those Neanderthals who staff that lab youre so proud of. I promise that you wont find Billies blood. Not even a speck. I didnt kill that woman.”
”Oh, but you misunderstand, Mr. Wagner. I dont think you pulled the trigger,” I said. ”But before we get to my theory about the role you played, Ive got just a few more things to show you.”
”This is starting to feel like show-and-tell in kindergarten,” he said, with a tight laugh. ”Have at it, Lieutenant. This isnt getting you anywhere. As far as Im concerned, Billie committed suicide. If you can prove she didnt, you should be chasing the SOB who murdered her, not bothering an old man at bedtime.”
”Ah, but we are chasing the SOB,” I said. Then I whispered, ”Mr. Wagner, thats why were here.”