Black House (Page 98)

Teddy Runkleman has been attending to this discussion like a spectator at a tennis final. Perry Brown says, "Let’s handle first things first. What do you intend to do with this man and his friends? Are you going to charge them? The sight of his face is getting on my nerves."

Dale thinks for a moment, then says, "I’m not going to charge them. Get out of here, Runkleman." Teddy moves backward, and Dale says, "Hold it for a second. How did you get here?"

"The back road," Teddy says. "Comes straight down from behind Goltz’s. Thunder Five came the same way. So did that big-shot reporter, Mr. Green."

"Wendell Green is here?"

Teddy points to the side of the ruin. Dale glances over his shoulder, and Jack looks in the same direction and witnesses Beezer St. Pierre ripping film from the back of a camera while Wendell Green watches in dismay.

"One more question," Dale says. "How did you learn that the Fre-neau girl’s body was out here?"

"They was five or six bodies up at Ed’s, is what I heard. My brother Erland called up and told me. He heard it from his girlfriend."

"Go on, get out of here," Dale says, and Teddy Runkleman ambles away as if he has been awarded a medal for good citizenship.

"All right," Perry Brown says. "Chief Gilbertson, you have reached the end of your leash. As of now, this investigation is to be conducted by Lieutenant Black and myself. I’ll want a copy of the 911 tape and copies of all notes and statements taken by you and your officers. Your role is to be entirely subordinate to the state’s investigation, and to cooperate fully when called upon. You will be given updates at the discretion of Lieutenant Black and myself.

"If you ask me, Chief Gilbertson, you are getting far more than you deserve. I have never seen a more disorganized crime scene. You violated the security of this site to an unbelievable degree. How many of you walked into the . . . the structure?"

"Three," Dale says. "Myself, Officer Dulac, and Lieutenant Sawyer."

"Lieutenant Sawyer," Brown says. "Excuse me, has Lieutenant Sawyer rejoined the LAPD? Has he become an official member of your department? And if not, why did you give him access to that structure? In fact, what is Mr. Sawyer doing here in the first place?"

"He’s cleared more homicide cases than you and me ever will, no matter how long we live."

Brown gives Jack an evil glance, and Jeff Black stares straight ahead. Beyond the two state cops, Arnold Hrabowski also glances at Jack Sawyer, though not at all the way Perry Brown did. Arnold’s expression is that of a man who deeply wishes to be invisible, and when he finds Jack’s eye on him, he quickly glances sideways and shifts on his feet.

Oh, Jack thinks. Of course, the Mad Mad Mad Mad Mad Hungarian, there you go.

Perry Brown asks Dale what Mr. St. Pierre and his friends are doing on the scene, and Dale replies that they are assisting with crowd control. Did Dale advise Mr. St. Pierre that in exchange for this service he would be kept up-to-date on the investigation? It was something like that, yes.

Jack steps back and begins to move sideways along a gentle arc that will bring him to Arnold Hrabowski.

"Incredible," says Brown. "Tell me, Chief Gilbertson, did you decide to delay a little bit before passing the news on to Lieutenant Black and myself ?"

"I did everything according to procedure," Dale says. In answer to the next question he says that yes, he has called for the medical examiner and the evidence wagon, which, by the way, he can see coming up the lane right now.

The Mad Hungarian’s efforts at self-control succeed only in making him look as though he urgently needs to urinate. When Jack places a hand on his shoulder, he stiffens like a cigar-store Indian.

"Calm down, Arnold," Jack says, then raises his voice. "Lieutenant Black, if you’re taking over this case, there’s some information you should have."

Brown and Black turn their attention to him.

"The man who made the 911 call used the pay phone at the 7-Eleven store on Highway 35 in French Landing. Dale had the phone taped off, and the owner knows to keep people from handling it. You might get some useful prints from that phone."

Black scribbles something in his notebook, and Brown says, "Gentlemen, I think your role is finished here. Chief, use your people to disperse those individuals at the bottom of the lane. By the time the M.E. and I come out of that structure, I don’t want to see a single person down there, including you and your officers. You’ll get a call later in the week, if I have any new information."

Wordlessly, Dale turns away and points Bobby Dulac down the path, where the crowd has dwindled to a few stubborn souls leaning against their cars. Brown and Black shake hands with the medical examiner and confer with the specialists in charge of the evidence wagon.

"Now, Arnold," Jack says, "you like being a cop, don’t you?"

"Me? I love being a cop." Arnold cannot quite force himself to meet Jack’s eyes. "And I could be a good one, I know I could, but the chief doesn’t have enough faith in me." He thrusts his trembling hands into his pants pockets.

Jack is torn between feeling pity for this pathetic wanna-be and the impulse to kick him all the way down to the end of the lane. A good cop? Arnold couldn’t even be a good scoutmaster. Thanks to him, Dale Gilbertson got a public dressing-down that probably made him feel as though he’d been put in the stocks. "But you didn’t follow orders, did you, Arnold?"

Arnold quivers like a tree struck by lightning. "What? I didn’t do anything."

"You told someone. Maybe you told a couple of people."