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meet Casey back at the town house in no more than two hours.
 Don t worry, Doc. I ll see that she doesn t overdo it, Dennis swore.
 So. You and the doc are a couple now, huh? he asked Casey the moment they drove away from her
town house.
 We re dating. Sorta. Uncomfortable talking about her relationship with Mark, she shifted restlessly.
  What does that mean? How do you  sorta date?
Casey shrugged.  Mostly, we attend Jennifer s soft-ball games and go out with the team afterward.
Noth-ing serious.
 Do you want it to be?
 No. Maybe. Oh, I don t know. It just all seems to be happening too fast. I haven t figured it out yet.
 What s to figure out? The doc s a great guy and he s crazy about you. You know what your problem
is?
 No, but I m sure you re going to tell me.
Unfazed by her sarcasm, Dennis went on.  Your love for Tim evolved slowly over time, so you don t
trust what you re feeling now for Mark because it s caught you by surprise. Well, I gotta tell you, Tiger,
out in the real world, most of us get hit by a thunderbolt when we meet that right person. His expression
turned dreamy and a bit sappy.  I remember the first time I saw Mary Kate. Oh, man, I was bowled
over.
 I know. I was there. Look, could we drop this, please? I really don t want to talk about it right now.
 Sure. Just don t fret over this too long, Tiger. Emo-tions can t be analyzed like a case. You can t gather
the evidence and put it all together like the pieces of a puz-zle. You just thank the good Lord you found
someone and enjoy the ride.
Two uniform cops were standing guard over the sus-pect when Casey hobbled into the interrogation
room with Dennis.
Attila laughed when he saw her.  Looks like I hurt you real bad, bitch. I d say I won that fight.
 Oh, I don t know about that. I m not the one shack-led to the table.
His arrogant smirk collapsed.  You can t hold me, he snarled.
 Wanna bet?
Casey sat down in the wooden chair across from the suspect and hooked her cane on the edge of the
table.  Now, then, Mr. Posey. Let s talk. Where were you on the night and through the following dawn
hours of April 1?
At the use of his real name the man s face turned the color of a beet.  Dammit, bitch, my name is
At-tila.
 Really? That s funny. Our records, and I believe your birth certificate also, lists you as Marian Percival
Posey.
 Dammit  He rose halfway out of his chair. Den-nis, who had remained standing, took a step
forward, but the uniformed cops on either side of the suspect put their hands on his shoulders and shoved
him back down onto the chair.
  If you want to be called Attila, then start answering my questions. Where were you on the dates in
question?
 How the hell would I know? You think I keep a so-cial calendar?
 Do you know Madeline St. Martin or Becky Sue Belcamp?
 Never heard of  em.
 We have a witness who says that you were with Selma Hettinger on the night of April 1.
 What if I was? That don t mean I killed her.
 Our witness will testify that on the night of April 1 you and Selma got into a fight at Skinny s Tavern.
That the disagreement turned physical.
 So I slapped her around a little. So what? She knew better than to mouth off at me. I showed her who
was boss, that s all. Anyway, Selma always gave as good as she got.
 My witness also says that the two of you left to-gether. That was the last anyone saw Selma alive.
What happened when you left the bar?
 The stupid cow was still givin me lip, so I slapped her again and got on my bike and drove off. I left
her standin out front of the bar, screaming at me. I could hear her halfway down the block.
 And did she return to your place that night?
 Naw.
 And you weren t concerned?
 Why should I be? I was glad the bitch was gone. Good riddance, I say.
 I see. Where were you the next morning, around daybreak?
 In bed. Sleeping off the beers I d had the night before.
 Really? You didn t take Selma out into the woods and turn her loose, then hunt her down like an
animal? You didn t shoot her in the back?
 No, Attila snarled.
 I should warn you, we obtained a search warrant for your home, and in it we found a Remington
hunting rifle chambered for the .300 Winchester Mag cartridge. The same type of ammo that killed Selma
and the two other victims. We recovered the bullets that killed Ms. Bel-camp. We re going to run
ballistics test on your gun. If we get a match, you will be charged with three counts of first-degree
murder.
 Go ahead and run your test . There won t be no match,  cause I didn t kill those women. Then you re
gonna have to let me go.
  Oh, I wouldn t count on that if I were you.
Picking up her cane, Casey stood up and hobbled to-ward the door.
 Hey! You can t pin those murders on me. You don t have no evidence,  cause I didn t kill nobody.
Casey stopped at the door and looked back at him.  Maybe. Maybe not. We ll see. Regardless, there
are plenty of charges I can file against you, starting with as-saulting a police officer, assault with a deadly
weapon and attempted murder. You, Mr. Posey, are going to jail. I guarantee it.
Casey and Dennis left the interrogation room and headed for the squad room to write up a report.
 What do you think? he asked.
 He s right. So far we don t have enough to charge him with murder. But at least he won t be able to
skip town while we re looking for more.
 Do you think we ll find any?
Casey grimaced.  Truthfully? No. I hate to say it, but I don t think he s our man. Not that he isn t
capable of murder. I can see him killing Selma, but not the other women. Neither one of them was his
type. Plus, he s about as far off Helen Moran s profile as you can get. Casey leaned back in her chair
and sighed.  Anyway, it would be too easy if the perp turned out to be Mr. Posey.
By the time she arrived home, Casey was dragging. Mark took one look at her and ordered,  Okay, off
to bed with you.
 I can t. I still have to clean the house and do my weekly grocery shopping. Plus I have a few errands to
run.
 Too bad. You re going to rest. I saw your grocery list in the kitchen. Just tell me what else you need
and I ll do your shopping while Jennifer cleans the house.
 Oh, Mark, I can t ask either of you to do my chores, she said, but they both knew it was only a token
protest.
Mark put Casey on the bed and covered her with the colorful afghan her mother had crocheted for her.
She was so exhausted she was almost asleep before he left the room.
After a couple of hours of dreamless slumber she awoke feeling refreshed and hungry and found her
house spotless and all her shopping and errands done.
Jennifer, who seemed to have gotten over her fear, made cobb salads and tomato soup for lunch.
After-ward, with Casey s leg propped up on a footstool, the three of them played Scrabble around the
dining room table while a baseball game played on the television in the adjoining living room.
It occurred to Casey as they laughed and teased one another that she hadn t had that much fun in years.
She hadn t realized how much she d missed having some-one with whom she could feel at ease, [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]