Reasonable doubt, p.41
Reasonable Doubt, page 41
part #5 of Hazard and Somerset Series
“Somewhere besides trying to kill us,” Hazard said.
“I believe that we can help each other, Detectives.”
“Help each other? Help each other? I damn near suffocated in that basement. I damn near cut my own hand off. That’s the kind of help I need?”
“What do you want?” Somers said
“Somers, you’re listening to this old bastard?”
“What do you want?”
“I want exactly what I told the chief: I want you to keep me alive.”
“Pass,” Hazard said.
“Who’s trying to kill you?” Somers asked.
Newton folded his wrinkled, spotted hands, and he shifted in his seat. Hazard noticed a mild scent on the air, and it reminded him of his grandfather. Lectric Shave, that’s what it was, and Hazard could see it in his mind, fluorescent green on the Formica countertop in the prefabricated home where his grandparents had lived. And underneath the astringent smell came something else, something fouler, the smell of an unwashed, aging body. And now Hazard noticed the tic in Newton’s right eye, and the way his liver-spotted hands trembled, and the way he sat, as though he might slide out of the chair just so he could sleep for a minute.
“Ted Kjar.”
“Tell us about him,” Somers said.
“He’s the guy with the book,” Hazard said.
For the first time since Somers had spoken, Newton’s frozen-fish eyes swam towards Hazard.
“What book?” Somers said.
“He’s an aspiring author,” Newton said. “He was an aspiring author. Before he lost his mind.”
“It’s a local history book. It’s not finished yet, but what he has is good.” Hazard frowned, trying to remember. “He gave a presentation on it at the county library in January, I think. He was working on a chapter about—God. World War II, I think. Wahredua’s involvement in the war. Wartime life. Give me a minute. I’ll think of it.”
“This guy doesn’t sound like a killer,” Somers said.
“The book might kill you,” Newton said, “but you’d only die of boredom. Six months ago, I would have agreed with you: there’s nothing about Ted Kjar that makes him a killer. He’s been a model employee for almost six years. I brought his records with me if you’d like to look.” He opened a briefcase on his lap and withdrew a file; as he did, something heavy shifted and clunked inside the case.
“Sounds like you’ve already taken steps to protect yourself,” Hazard said, nodding at the briefcase as he took the file. Clipped to the first page was a four by six photograph, obviously a blown up copy of a corporate ID, with Theodore Kjar printed along the bottom. The man it showed looked like any other corporate drone Hazard could imagine: thinning, mousey hair; droopy, hangdog eyes; and a paunch developed from long hours of sitting. He had a mole on his chin, but other than that, there wasn’t much to make him stand out.
The mayor was still talking, saying, “I have a concealed carry permit, Detective, and I will defend myself if necessary.”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure you won’t hesitate an instant to pull the trigger. You never have in the past.”
The briefcase snapped shut hard.
“Ted Kjar is one of your employees,” Somers said, shifting in his seat, his tropical-water eyes fixed on Newton. “And now he wants to kill you.”
“Ted is an accountant. Was an accountant. He worked in-house for InnovateMidwest, and as I said, he did an excellent job. You’ll see in the file that he had commendable evaluations from his supervisor year after year, and two years ago he received a professional recognition from the local CPA association.” Newton sighed; his head was shaking more severely than before, and he rested it now on tented fingers. “He has a wife, Jo. Josephine. And he has a daughter. She’s at Drury, in Springfield. Karen, I believe. You can understand how hard this has been for them.”
“What?” Hazard asked, glancing up from the file. “What has been hard for them?”
“Ted lost his mind. I’m sure there’s a more polite way to say it. He had a psychotic break. That sounds very TV to me, though, and you’ll forgive me if I’m just too old for that kind of thing. He’s out of his mind, and he’s dangerous. From conversations I’ve had with a friend who is also a psychiatrist, I believe that Ted is suffering from schizophrenia.”
“Now you’re a shrink as well as a mayor.” Hazard turned a page in the file and made a disgusted noise.
Somers shot him a glance.
“Mayor Newton has conveniently provided a history of Ted’s mental health.” Hazard displayed a clipped bundle of documents. “Ted’s been institutionalized twice.”
“For depression,” the mayor said. “And anxiety. And yes, Detective Hazard, you’re correct: I did pay an investigator to find those documents, and I am providing them to you for the same reason I showed them to Chief Cravens. I believe they are relevant to my situation. They show a history of mental illness—”
“Depression isn’t the same thing as schizophrenia. It’s not even in the same ballpark.”
“—a history of mental illness, as I was saying, and reason to believe that the two are linked. You’ll notice that Ted’s first time being institutionalized came at the request of his parents, when he was in his early twenties. Still in college, I believe. They sought a court order because he was legally an adult at that point.” The mayor clucked and shook his head. “It’s tragic, but the peak onset for both depression and schizophrenia is the early twenties, and there’s a significant link between the two illnesses. We’re not doing enough in this country for—”
“Save it for the campaign trail,” Hazard said, snapping the folder against his leg. “What do you want?”
“If possible, I’d like to do whatever we can to help Ted, but I’ll be blunt: what’s most important to me is saving my own life.”
“Unsurprising.”
“I don’t think that’s something to be embarrassed about, Detective. I’d like to live a few more years. I’m human just like everyone else.”
“That’s debatable.”
“Detective Hazard—”
Turning to Somers, Hazard spoke over the mayor. “He’s got the second hospitalization documented here too. No sign that Kjar was ever diagnosed with schizophrenia, that he ever took medication for schizophrenia, or that anyone ever thought he had schizophrenia.”
“That’s exactly my point, Detective. He was untreated. He might have managed to hide the symptoms—”
“Why don’t you tell us the rest of it?” Somers said. “Walk me through the events. That’s the most helpful thing you can do right now.”
Newton watched them each in turn, his posture chilly. The old man smell had grown stronger, and it was cloying now, making Hazard wish for an open window, an air freshener, even the stink from one of Miranda Carmichael’s tomato-cucumber-and-onion sandwiches. From the bullpen outside the office came the low buzz of activity at the edge of hearing, and that noise got under Hazard’s skin and itched.
“Very well. In late February, Ted came to my office. It was late.”
“The mayor’s office?” Hazard asked. “Or your position at InnovateMidwest?”
“InnovateMidwest. I’ve already explained that he was my employee there; why would he come to the mayor’s office?”
“That’s convenient. There are security cameras all over City Hall. I don’t suppose you have security footage that shows this meeting with Kjar?”
“No. My office is private. I can’t prove that this meeting took place. What, exactly, do you suspect me of doing, Detective? What am I supposed to prove?”
“That you’re not a lying—”
Somers squeezed his arm again, and to Newton said, “Go on.”
“Ted was . . . upset, I suppose I thought. Erratic. He wasn’t making sense, but he was talking about people watching him, listening to him, following him. I’d known Ted distantly, professionally, for years, and his behavior was unusual. I listened to him. I didn’t really know what to think, but I promised I’d look into the matter, and he seemed satisfied. He left.”
“That was it?”
“For the time. A few weeks later, Ted came back. He was angry. Furious. And almost incoherent. Bits and phrases made sense—the watching, the listening, the following—but most of it was rambling accusations. Some of them were directed at me. At first I was worried for Ted, but then he started to throw things, and he grabbed me.” Newton gathered a fistful of his suit coat to demonstrate. “I panicked. I dialed security, and they came and removed Ted. I called HR and asked them to terminate Ted’s employment.” A faint hint of red dusted Newton’s sagging cheeks. “I didn’t even think that he might be ill. I acted rashly, I know, but I was frightened and angry. I had someone from security remove Ted’s belongings and deliver them to his home. I assumed that would be the end of it.” Newton paused. The dusting of red thickened, and he said, “Detectives, if I had know he was ill, I wouldn’t have done those things. I would have made sure he got help. By the time I realized what was happening, too much had already gone wrong.”
“What then?” Somers asked.
“Two weeks ago, I was working late. Ted found me at my car when I left.” A smile thinned his lips. “There is footage of this, Detective Hazard. The Kum-n-Go has a camera that caught it on tape. Ted was shouting. He accused me of setting the government on him to spy. He said other things, things I didn’t even understand. He hit me.” Newton winced, touched his chest, and shifted in his seat. “Nothing serious, thank God. When he was distracted, I managed to get in my car and drive away.”
“You didn’t tell the police about this?”
“I asked Sheriff Engels to look into it. I asked him to take care of Ted. That’s a poor choice of words, I know.”
“And how did the sheriff take care of him?” Hazard asked.
“He didn’t. Ted had disappeared. No one knew where he was, not even his wife. Until two days ago.”
“Let me guess,” Hazard said. “He showed up again at the office.”
“No, Detective. He followed me into the bathroom at Riverside Burgers. And before you ask, no, I hadn’t seen him. I ordered my burger at the counter and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. He walked right in, and for a moment, I just thought it was my mistake. I didn’t lock the door; I was just scrubbing up before I ate. Then I saw that it was Ted. He came at with a baseball bat. It’s a single-user affair, so there wasn’t much room to maneuver. Ted shattered the mirror. I went for the door Ted came at me again, and he slipped on wet toilet paper.” Newton smiled, and it flickered like a TV trying to catch a station. “I was going to complain about that wet paper. I was going to go back to the counter and ask for the manager. I mean it’s my town, and Riverside Burgers is right on Market. People passing through stop there. People remember things like that.”
“This was Saturday?” Somers said.
“That’s right.”
“What time?”
“Eleven. Eleven ten. Not much past that. I still have the call log on my phone, and you can see I called the chief at eleven-seventeen.”
“The chief of police? Not 911?”
“It wasn’t an emergency, Detective.”
“A man coming at you with a baseball bat isn’t an emergency?” Hazard said. “That’s an interesting evaluation.”
“Chief Cravens and I agreed to meet to discuss the situation. I want what’s best for Ted, but I won’t lie: I’m worried for myself, too.”
“You didn’t call the sheriff again?”
“Sheriff Engels believes this is a city matter. He’s new to the job, and he doesn’t want to step on toes.”
Hazard raised his eyebrows at Somers. Dore County’s last sheriff had never minded stepping on toes, and, what was worse, had been at the mayor’s beck and call. It sounded like Sheriff Engels wasn’t dancing to that tune. At least, not yet.
“Saturday at eleven sounds like a busy time for Riverside Burgers,” Somers said.
“I suppose. I didn’t wait long, of course. They’re basically fast food, and that’s why I decided to stop there. I was on my way to a library event. Storytime for local children. It’s a pleasant way to spend some time.”
“Good God,” Hazard muttered, shaking his head.
“Did anyone else see what happened with Ted Kjar?” Somers asked. “Did you speak to the manager? Did you ask anyone to help?”
“Did you stay long enough to get your burger?” Hazard asked.
“A man had just come at me with a baseball bat. No, Detective Hazard, I didn’t stay and eat my burger. I don’t appreciate the joke. And no, Detective Somerset, I didn’t speak to the manager. I ran to my car and I drove. I called the chief, and she sent Detective Lender over to investigate. He filed a complete report with pictures showing the damage. The broken mirror, I mean. And he has the baseball bat.”
Somers hesitated and then leaned forward again. “He does?”
“Yes. I understand they’ve already taken latent prints from it and compared them to Ted’s.”
“A perfect match,” Hazard said.
“I don’t understand your tone, Detective.”
“Just so I’m clear,” Hazard said, “no one at Riverside Burgers saw Ted Kjar. Nobody heard the glass break. Nobody saw a confrontation between the two of you. You managed to escape—congratulations on that, by the way—thanks to urine on the floor and loose toilet paper.”
Newton straightened in his seat. His liver-spotted hands clenched in his lap. “I asked for you two because you’re the best. Whatever our issues—”
“You tried to kill us.”
“That’s enough. That’s enough, Detective Hazard. I’ve told you what happened. You have orders from the chief.”
“We haven’t actually received those orders yet,” Somers said. “Not completely. Just the basics, that we’re going to be doing protective duty for you. In rotation, I assume, since we won’t be much good if we work round the clock.”
“That’s correct. The chief has promised a rotation of uniformed officers, but the two of you will be taking control of the operation. I assume that you’ll want to work out the specifics of the shifts and the other details.” Another of those TV-tuner smiles flickered on his face. “Detective Hazard, you’re getting what you’ve wanted for some time now: my life is in your hands.”
“Great,” Hazard said. “So if anything happens to you, it comes right back on us.”
“I’m sure you don’t mean that the way it sounded, but yes, you’ve got the right idea.”
“This is a trap,” Hazard said, and Somers began shaking his head. Hazard ignored him. “I know you think I’m stupid. I know you think you’re three moves ahead. But I know it’s a trap. And I want you to know.”
“You sound like you think this is a game, Detective, but I assure you, this is my life. And I don’t play games with my life. I hope you won’t either.”
Hazard met those watery, fish-stick eyes, and then he got to his feet and said, “This is a fucking joke.”
“Let’s get the first shift scheduled,” Somers said. “If you’ll give us a few minutes, Mr. Mayor, we’ll pair you with the first uniformed officers and let you get about your day.”
Newton left them alone in Cravens’s office, and when the door had shut behind him, sealing out the smell of old man and Lectric Shave, Hazard jabbed a finger into Somers’s chest. “This is a trap. He’s giving us the rope, and we’re tying it around our own necks.”
“For God’s sake, Ree.”
“Don’t tell me you believe that cock-and-bull.”
Somers shot him a withering glare.
“Then what are you saying?” Hazard asked. “You’re saying we go along with this?”
“I’m saying what choice do we have. If you could keep your mouth shut for five seconds, instead of letting out every damn thought you’ve ever had, we could have kept an edge.”
“I’m not going to kiss his ass—”
“I’m not asking you to kiss his ass. I’m saying if you think it’s a trap, dummy, you shouldn’t tip your hand. That’s about the only goddamn advantage we had.”
“I’m not going to let that bastard sit there, smirking at us—”
“Why, Ree? Why does it matter?”
“I—”
“I’ll tell you why: you always have to push. You can’t stand it, you can’t stand feeling like anybody has one over on you, and so you push every goddamn minute.” Somers dropped his chin to his chest and took a deep breath. Scarlet highlighted his cheeks, and he looked far more tired than he had an hour before. From the bullpen, the faint shriek of the fax machine penetrated the thick glass of Cravens’s office.
“I don’t always have to push,” Hazard said.
“Lord,” Somers said under his breath, “have mercy.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re doing it right now.”
“I—” Hazard crossed his arms. “All right. I guess I am.”
“You’re lucky I think you’re pretty.”
Hazard narrowed his eyes.
With a soft smile, Somers said, “Can we go figure out which lucky bastards get to spend their shifts with the mayor?”
“Simple: we just give Foley twenty-four hours. Every day.”
With a laugh, Somers tipped his head at the door, and Hazard preceded his partner out of the office.
But it wasn’t as easy as Hazard had hoped, and within twenty minutes, his blood pressure had shot through the roof again. He stood with Cravens, Newton, and Somers in the bullpen. With them now were Jonny Moraes, the dark-skinned beat cop usually partnered with Foley, and Miranda Carmichael. Carmichael’s hair, cut short after an ugly encounter with an older citizen, had grown into a cap of short curls, and her compact, gymnast’s body betrayed tension as the waited. Moraes never looked tense; his mother, a Brazilian who had come to Wroxall College and decided to stay when she finished, had passed along some of that infamous Latin tranquility.
