The Headsman Page 7

  “Karen?”

  Startled, she looked up, feeling as if she’d been abruptly roused from sleep, jolted out of a strange dream. Charley Boggs was looking down at her.

  He smiled, the same oily stretching of his mouth. “Here are those orders, honey. All signed. Let me have the other stuff when you get to it, okay?” She nodded dumbly, and he turned and strode toward the showroom, greeting a customer with his hand extended.

  Karen looked at the newspaper again, staring at the story of the missing boy. After a moment she swept it into the wastebasket. She felt like crying, like getting up and running away from here. But the truth was, she couldn’t run away. Not ever. Because this thing, this vision—whatever it was—would always be with her. Wherever she ran, it would be there. She could run away from here, but she couldn’t run away from it.

  Now the question was, what should she do next?

  In her heart of hearts she knew the answer, and she dreaded facing it.

  2

  The kid looked as if he expected to be hanged. His thin face was pale and drawn, and he was chewing nervously on his lower lip. He had on washed-out jeans and a zippered jacket over a chambray shirt, with grease stains here and there. There were traces of grease on his hands as well, and his fingernails were edged with black. So it’s true that he’s a car nut, Jud thought, just like I was at that age. Kramer had brought him to the chief’s office, and was standing behind him.

  Jud leaned back in his chair. “Come on in, Buddy. Have a seat.” To Kramer he said, “Thanks, Bob. We’re gonna have a talk. You can leave us in here and shut the door.”

  The cop did as instructed, and the boy sank down onto one of the chairs opposite Jud’s desk. He had brown hair that hung down on his forehead, and every now and then he’d toss his head a little to get the hair out of his eyes.

  Jud stretched. It was only mid-afternoon, but he was tired and hungry and he knew he had many hours to go before he’d get out of here. What a bitch of a day this had turned out to be. He picked up his phone and told the cop on the desk not to put through any calls until Jud told him otherwise. He hung up and looked at the boy. “You want a Coke or something?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Don’t think we’ve ever met, have we?”

  Buddy chewed his lip. “No.”

  “But I know your dad,” Jud said. “I guess everybody in town does.”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s had that drugstore a long time, hasn’t he?”

  “It was my grandfather’s first. He started it.”

  “Any others in the family? Brothers or sisters?”

  “Sister’s ten,” Buddy said.

  So much for getting him to relax. But he’d keep trying. “Just the two of you?”

  “That’s right.”

  There was a bulletin board on the wall beside Jud’s desk. Tacked to it, along with departmental notices and the tour assignments and a list of often-used phone numbers, were several Wanted posters. The boy’s gaze flicked over the board and then fixed on the posters. When he realized Jud was looking at him he dropped his eyes.

  “Pretty tough news today,” Jud said.

  Buddy didn’t reply.

  “You must be plenty shook up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “You two were good friends, right? You and Marcy?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You took her to the game last night, and the dance?”

  “Yes. I already told the other officer all about it. Inspector Pearson?”

  “I know you did. I’m sorry you have to go over the same ground with me, but this investigation is important. I’m sure you understand that.”

  The kid mumbled that he did.

  “So you took her to the dance, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Buddy shrugged. “We went in my car, and then after I took her home.”

  “Straight home?”

  He hesitated. “No. We went up by Powell’s farm and parked for a while.”

  “How long were you there?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe half an hour, an hour.”

  Jud wondered if Pearson had picked that up. “And then you took her home?”

  “Yes.”

  “What time was that, when you got to her house?”

  “Around one o’clock.”

  “Anybody up, could you tell?”

  “I don’t think so. House was pretty dark.”

  “You go inside with her?”

  “No. She went in by herself.”

  “You sure about that, Buddy? Maybe you went in too, and then the both of you sneaked up to her bedroom, huh?”

  “No, I swear to God.”

  “But you did that sometimes, didn’t you? Went up to her room?”

  He shook his head emphatically. “No. Honest. Marcy was afraid to do anything like that. If her father ever caught her he’d—”

  “Yes?”

  “She was afraid.”

  “You notice anybody around the neighborhood? Maybe on foot, or any strange cars?”

  “No. I didn’t see anything.”

  Jud got to his feet and came around from behind his desk, taking a straight-backed chair beside the one Buddy was sitting in. He knew kids had a strong built-in reluctance to speak freely with any adult, let alone a cop. So Jud would have to push him a little. He kept his tone mild, his manner offhand. “How long were you and Marcy going together?”

  The boy shifted in his seat. “Six months or so.”

  “Since the start of the school year?”

  “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “How’d you get along?”

  “Okay. Fine.”

  “Ever fight or argue?”

  “Once in a while, I guess. But never anything serious.”

  Jud put one foot up against the edge of his desk. “Sure you don’t want a Coke or something?”

  “No, no thanks.”

  “Who are some of the others in your crowd?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your other friends. People you see a lot of. Jeff Peterson’s a pal of yours, isn’t he? And Billy Swanson?”

  Buddy’s face took on an expression of wariness. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  “Also Pat Campbell, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” It was obvious he was wondering who’d been talking about him to the chief of police, but he didn’t ask.

  Jud took his foot off the desk and looked at the boy for a few seconds before he said, “Understand you and your friends like to smoke a little pot, now and then.”

  Buddy’s face reddened, but he kept silent.

  “Probably buy the stuff from one of those characters that hang around the school, right?”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “You don’t? I think you do. But let me explain something to you, okay? You’re here because your girlfriend was murdered last night. That’s what I had you brought in here to talk about. I don’t know whether you had anything to do with it or not, but you can be sure I’m going to find out.”

  Buddy swallowed. “I told you, I don’t know anything about it. I dropped her off and then I went home.”

  “Maybe so. But even if that’s true, there’s a lot you could tell me that could be helpful. So I’ll make you a little deal. You tell me anything I want to know, straight out, no bullshit, and I won’t give you any grief on what you or your friends smoke, or stick up your nose, or whatever.”

  Buddy chewed his lip.

  “You have my word on that,” Jud said. “But if you don’t buy it, if you decide you don’t want to help me find out who killed Marcy, then I’m going to give you a very hard time. Starting with an investigation into drug involvement.”

  The kid looked up, his eyes suddenly wide and frightened. “I don’t—”

  Jud cut him off. “Buddy, I’ve already got some other people who’d be willing to talk about it.” Which was crap, but the boy wouldn’t know that. “So you make
the decision. Now, how about it?”

  Buddy cleared his throat. “Could I have that Coke?”

  “Sure. You sit tight while I go get us a couple.” Jud got up and left his office, closing the door behind him.

  The Coke machine was at the end of the hall. Jud took his time going down to it, and when he got there he stopped to chat with a cop who’d just come off his tour. The guy’s name was Dennis Delury. He was one of the younger officers, with about three years on the force.

  Jud fed quarters into the machine. “Buy you a Coke, Dennis?”

  “Sure, Chief. Thanks.”

  When a can rumbled out of the chute Jud handed it to him and put more change into the slot. “How’s it going?”

  Delury popped the top of the can. “Okay. Some guy in a truck ran a woman off the road out on Route Five. Car went into a tree.”

  “Yeah,” Jud said. “I heard it come over the radio. She all right?”

  “Split her forehead open when she hit the windshield. But she’ll be okay. We took her to the emergency room and called her husband. She’s gonna stay in the hospital overnight, though.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jud collected the two cans of Coke he’d come for and turned away. One busted head on a Saturday was something he’d settle for anytime. But it was still daylight. Later on there would be plenty more activity.

  “Say, Chief?”

  He turned back. “Yeah?”

  Delury seemed a little uncomfortable. He glanced over his shoulder, and then lowered his voice. “That state detective, Pearson?”

  “What about him?”

  “Just now when I was going to my locker, he said he wanted to talk to me.”

  Jud waited.

  “He asked me if I wanted to work on the Dickens case.”

  “And what’d you tell him?”

  “I told him sure, but it had to come from you.”

  “No problem,” Jud said. “They’re gonna need some help, and I said I’d work something out. I’ll tell you when we get a plan together. Okay?”

  “Yeah, okay. I just thought you should know.”

  “Fine. See you later.”

  Jud made his way back down the hall to his office, passing several more cops as he went. They ran double shifts on Saturdays, and the place was busy. Jud nodded and said a word or two to each of the people he passed.

  Goddamn it. This thing was hardly getting started and already he was being sandbagged. Pearson had not only come in here and shoved him aside, but the inspector was now in the process of fucking up the department’s morale. Which was only one of the problems Jud was facing. The mayor had made it very clear who would be held responsible for breaking this case, no matter what the state cops said or did. Melcher had climbed all over him. Was anything ever easy?

  He entered his office and nudged the door shut, then handed Buddy a Coke.

  The boy opened the can and took a long swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks.”

  Jud sat down at his desk and drank some of his own Coke. When he put the can down he said, “So what’d you decide?”

  The boy was still hesitant, but Jud could see he was also scared.

  “You know, there’s another way of looking at this,” Jud said. “You liked Marcy a lot, didn’t you?”

  His voice was barely audible. “Yeah, I did.”

  “So you want to see whoever did it get what’s coming to him, right?”

  “Yes. Sure.” There was anguish now on his features. He leaned forward, and the words came tumbling out. “But I swear I don’t have any idea who did that to her. I don’t know anything about it. All I did was take her to the game and the dance. Afterward I took her home. And that’s all. When I heard about it this morning, I—” His voice broke, and his eyes filled with tears. He clenched his fist and shoved the knuckles against his mouth. “Oh, Jesus—”

  Jud waited for a minute or so while the boy got himself together. “I understand. All I’m asking is for you to help find out who did it. Now what about it—will you help me?”

  Finally the boy nodded, still fighting the tears. “Yeah, I will. I mean, I’ll do anything I can.”

  “Good. So anything I ask you about what went on with Marcy and her friends—your friends—you tell me. Even if you don’t know it directly. No matter what I ask you about, no holding back. If you know, you tell me. Agreed?”

  The kid nodded. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Jud opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a box of Kleenex. He shoved the box across the desk and Buddy pulled out one of the tissues and blew his nose into it.

  “Just one thing,” Buddy said.

  “Yes?”

  “Could all of this be—you know, private?”

  “Absolutely. Anything you tell me I keep strictly confidential. Like I said, you have my word.” He stood up, and leaning across his desk extended his hand. Buddy shook it.

  Jud sat down. “You said you went with Marcy about six months, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Were you making it?”

  Buddy chewed his lip.

  If he keeps it up, Jud thought, he’ll have it bleeding.

  “Yeah,” Buddy said.

  “Were you her first?”

  “I—no.”

  “Were there many other guys before you?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “How many, do you know?”

  “I think just one.”

  “Who was that?”

  Buddy seemed more nervous than ever, tossing the hair out of his eyes and twisting in his chair. But he got his answer out. “Ron Carpenter.”

  “Basketball player at the high school?”

  “He was. He’s in college now. Freshman at Hamilton.”

  “Yeah, I know who he is.” A tall, gawky kid, father was an accountant. Jud could picture him in his mind. “She tell you that?”

  “No, but I knew. They went together last year, when he was still at Braddock.”

  “Did she keep in touch with him?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure.”

  “Last night,” Jud said. “When you and Marcy went parking?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Did you make it then?”

  The color came up in the kid’s face. “We—yes.”

  “Tell me something. She ever worry about getting pregnant?”

  “No.”

  “Ever tell you she might be?”

  “No. She was on the pill.”

  “Did her parents know that?”

  “Her mother did.”

  “How’d she seem to you last night—was anything bothering her?”

  He thought about it. “Uh, yeah. One thing, kind of.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like—well, this may sound nuts, but she was worried about the headsman.”

  “She what?”

  “Well, not him exactly. See, it came up in English class yesterday morning. Mr. Hathaway wanted us to write a paper on it over the weekend. Marcy was p.o.’d about it. She said the story gave her the creeps.”

  Jud was flabbergasted. “You mean the whole class was discussing it?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what was said about it?”

  Buddy shook the hair out of his eyes. “A lot of kids said they thought the story was a crock.”

  And a lot of their parents think the exact opposite, Jud thought. “Go on.”

  “So Mr. Hathaway didn’t like them making fun of it. That’s why he said we had to write the paper.”

  Jud’s tone was dry. “I don’t think anybody will be writing one now.”

  “I know I won’t,” Buddy said.

  Jud’s thoughts were racing. If the story of the headsman was in the front of a lot of kids’ minds, could somebody have gotten carried away with it? Or maybe something had started out as a joke, and then got out of hand? The power of suggestion was very strong, especially with teenagers. And despite what Buddy had said about kids not believing
the legend, there was the almost hypnotic attraction it could have for them.

  He looked at the boy intently. “Was anybody talking about it after the class? Either about the headsman or the paper you were supposed to write?”

  “Yeah, a lot of us were. Mostly like, you know—joking.”

  “Anybody in particular?”

  “No, we all were. Everybody thought Hathaway was a shit for giving us the assignment.”

  “Yeah.” Hathaway was the paraplegic Vietnam vet who used a motorized wheelchair. Drove a Chevy sedan with a handicapped permit attached to the sun visor. Jud occasionally saw him around town and had spoken to him a few times.

  The chief drained his Coke and put the can aside. “How many kids in that class?”

  “Twenty-five or so.”

  There was a yellow pad and a ballpoint among the papers on Jud’s desk. He passed them to Buddy. “I want you to write down the names of everybody who’s in it. Take your time, and don’t leave anybody out.”

  While Buddy worked on it, Jud opened a desk drawer and took out a notepad and another pen, then made notes on what he’d been told. It would be tough to run all this down with a small department that already had a heavy workload, let alone one that had been further depleted by having to lend some of its people to the state police. Maybe he should just tell Pearson to stick it up his ass, use his own troops. But that didn’t make much sense either. With the mayor and the rest of the town expecting progress fast, their chief of police could hardly fail to cooperate with the state investigation team.

  It took the boy several minutes to finish making his list. When he put the pen down he returned the pad to Jud.

  “This everybody?”

  “I think so.”

  Jud glanced down the scrawled list of names. Many of them were familiar to him; they included a number of families who’d been in Braddock long before the chief was born. He placed the pad on his desk and looked at Buddy. “Okay, that’s fine. There anything else you want to tell me—anything at all?”

  The boy tossed the hair out of his eyes. “Nothing I can think of.”

  Jud stood up. “All right, Buddy. You can go now. But remember, we made a deal.”