The Killing Edge (20 page)

“Why not?” he asked flatly. “This is crazy as hell. Nobody but a small town cop would be so dumb as to be parked next to the house of one of the most powerful men in town, seriously considering knocking on his door to ask where he buried his father.”

“Why don't you get a search warrant?”

“The judge would laugh me out of his chambers. You don't seem to realize, L.C., we don't really have much to go on.” He picked up the file on the Bridger murder investigation and shook it. “There's not a shred of hard evidence here. Even if I could find a judge in his cups to sign the warrant, you don't really think they'd keep the body in the house?”

“No.”

“Although I have to admit that if I found that Herb Strickland had been pouring concrete recently, I'd be a mite suspicious.”

“I don't believe they'd be that obvious.”

“Neither do I.”

They sat silently as the day turned to dusk and the light began to fade across the water.

“Then why are we sitting here?” L.C. finally asked.

“For Herb Strickland to come home from the bank. We'll go over as soon as his car pulls in.”

“That's when we go in for cocktails and accusations of murder.”

“This is all your idea, L.C. I'm only doing what has to be done.”

“Which is?”

“Applying pressure. I'm not going to come right out and accuse them of anything. We can only hope that the innuendoes will be strong enough to force them into some sort of action. After we leave and I take you home, I'll return and watch them all night.”

“Hoping they'll make an error.”

“Right. And tomorrow, after I get additional information, I apply more pressure.”

“What will we know tomorrow that we don't tonight?”

Will took a magic marker from over the sun visor and began to write on the outside of the investigation folder in clear bold letters:

“1. Obtain photograph of Wadsworth Strickland from the newspaper and Teletype it to Florida for identification by doctor, mortician, and others at Olive Bay Condominiums.'

2. Put out APB for the derelict, Louis. Derelicts always have some sort of record for D and D or breach of peace, pull his file, get prints and pictures and send for ID same as above.

3. Have Strickland condo dusted for prints—see if any match Louis'.”

L.C. looked over Will's arm at what he had written. “I see what you mean. A positive answer on those items and …”

“More pressure on the Stricklands.”

A large car passed on the road behind them and pulled in the Strickland drive.

“Well,” Will said. “Here we go.” He left the car, slammed the door behind him, and stood by a snow bank waiting for L.C. “You sure you want to be present for this?”

“Like you said, it's my crazy scheme. I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Toby Strickland, with an incongruous frilly apron tied to her waist, opened the front door after they rang. “Chief Barnes, L.C., do come in. Herb's in the sunroom having his cocktail.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Strickland,” Will said. “I wonder if I might talk to both of you?”

“Oh, then you're here on official business? You want to send your men swimming off the pier again?”

Will laughed. “Not until the spring thaw, thank you. It's about a homicide in Florida. Perhaps you might have some information since you were down there at the time.”

They sat on a sectional sofa in the living room. Herb smiled benignly at them. “Now, what's this about another killing?”

“Hal Warren was found murdered on his boat. Mrs. Strickland, did you have an opportunity to see Mr. Warren while you were in Florida?”

“I don't think so. At least I don't think I did. He could have come by the house to talk to Dad. Dad and Mr. Warren were both boating enthusiasts, you know. Of course I never approved of Mr. Warren as he had a rather unsavory reputation with women.”

“Did he or didn't he come by?”

“I'm just not sure, and of course I wasn't always at the house. I had to do the marketing, obtain Dad's medicine … he could have come by, it's not clear in my mind.”

An excellent evasive answer, Will thought. In the event they found witnesses to place Hal Warren at the Strickland condominium, Toby was protected. “I see. Did you know that Hal Warren went by the crematorium to view your father's remains before their disposal?” Was it his imagination, or did they both give an almost imperceptible start.

“No, I didn't know that,” Toby replied. “We hadn't invited anyone since the memorial service was held here in Lantern City.”

“Yes,” Will continued. “The mortician said he was quite agitated.”

“For whatever reason?”

“He seemed to feel there was some sort of mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“He couldn't recognize your father.”

“I'm not surprised,” Herb interjected. “Dad went downhill very quickly, lost weight, drank … a terrible shame, but it sometimes happens to men when they retire and lose all purpose in life.”

“And height?” L.C. asked.

Herb glanced at her. “What does that mean?”

“I think I should tell you that we're Teletyping photographs and fingerprints of your father and Louis O'Shaugnasy to Florida,” Will said.

“What for?”

“Identification. Perhaps some error has been made, Mr. Strickland.”

Herb stood quickly. “I think you've made the error, Chief Barnes. A grave error.”

Will wondered if he hadn't. Although he felt more assured of L.C.'s conjectures than he had before, knowing and proving in a court of law were two distinct questions. “I don't believe so, Herb.”

“My lawyer will be made aware of your innuendoes. This will ruin you, Chief. You are a finished man in Lantern City.”

“Exactly what is your implication?” Toby asked.

“That one or both of you killed Wadsworth Strickland,” L.C. said.

“That is patently ridiculous,” the other woman replied. “I have never in my life heard anything so absurd. And what are we supposed to have done with the body?”

“Tied it under the dock,” L.C. said.

“Now wait a minute,” Herb said. “Is that why your man was diving off the pier?”

“Yes it was,” Will replied.

“And you found nothing.”

“I saw it down there,” L.C. said.

“There's nothing there,” the Stricklands said almost in unison.

“Would you mind if I looked through the house?” Will asked. He realized that they had gone far further than he had intended, and might as well go the rest of the way.

“I most certainly would,” Toby said.

“If you prefer, I can get a search warrant.”

“Let him look,” Herb said. “Let him carry this idiocy as far as he wants. In the morning, my lawyers will deal with this whole question of slander.”

“Thaank you.” Will left the room.

They stared at each other with hostility for long moments until Toby spoke slowly and deliberately. “I blame you for this, Laura Converse. Everyone in town knows that you and that man are carrying on a flagrant affair. Somehow or other your dirty machinations have gone to your head. For some reason, you've got it in for Herbert, and this is the result.”

L.C. shook her head. “That's not it, Toby. I know I saw something under that dock.”

“No one else has.”

“I know.” She walked to the end of the room and stood looking out the rear window. In the distance the pier loomed into the darkness, and she could barely make out the pole with the light on top. A wide path had been plowed to the dock with snow banked high on either side of the walk.

“You certainly must know, L.C., that without a body, this whole speculation is useless,” Herb said.

“That's true,” she replied and continued staring into the quiet night. She thought of the man behind her. Herb Strickland, a banker like his father, a collector of piggy banks, a compulsive man. A man who once his initial plan was formulated would stick by it. Putting the body under the pier was at best a temporary measure. When spring arrived the estuary would be swarming with boaters, swimmers and fishermen … the body would have to be moved before then and taken out to sea where it could be concealed forever in the depths.

What had Bennie and Wally said.…

“The house is clean,” Will said from behind her. “I think we should go.”

“Before the snow melts,” L.C. said.

“Exactly. Like right now.”

“Immediately is not soon enough for me,” Herb grunted.

L.C. turned to face them. Will stood dejectedly at the doorway while the Stricklands sat primly on the couch. “Before the snow melts,” she said again. “Herb wanted the boat back from Florida as soon as possible. He couldn't get it back fast enough.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means that I did see the body under the pier, and when I left to get help, it was moved. You and Toby were in the house, not at the restaurant, and you watched me. You knew I had seen the body and that it had to be immediately disposed of in a safe place.”

“Just like that.”

“Yes. You had twenty minutes or half an hour in which to do it. Hardly time enough to dig a grave … in the ground.”

“Under the snow,” Will said.

“Why don't you call your men, Will?” L.C. said. “Get them out here with rods, have them pierce the snow banks, particularly the ones away from the Strickland house, perhaps over at the Bridgers'.”

The room was still. “Of course,” Will said. “The snow would be a perfect preservative until the boat arrived from Florida. Then they'd take it out to sea.” He picked up the phone on the desk in the corner of the room.

“Put that down,” Toby Strickland said. She had taken a small automatic from a table drawer and waved it back and forth from L.C. to Will. “Go on, you idiot,” she said sideways to her husband. “Get the shotgun.”

Herb lumbered from the room and they heard him rummaging frantically through a hall closet. He returned with a .12 gauge shotgun and rammed two shells into the chambers.

Toby gestured with the automatic toward the couch. “Sit together where I can keep an eye on you. See if he has a gun.”

“He never carries one.”

As they sat on the couch, L.C. could feel the muscles tense in Will's legs. She put her hand on his knee. “Don't do anything foolish,” she said softly.

“Good advice,” Toby said.

Herb looked imploringly toward his wife. “What are we going to do with them?”

“Kill them.”

“What about the pictures and fingerprints they're sending to Florida?”

“They haven't sent them yet. All they had were suspicions until she made a lucky guess. I guarantee they haven't told anyone else about this.”

“You're being very foolish,” Will said. “You've killed three people. You can't kill two more and expect to get away with it. Someone else will begin to put things together just like we did.”

“He's right, Toby,” Herb said. “We can't bury them under the snow with Dad. Their movements will be traced when they're missing, there will be a search.…”

“Shut up and let me think,” she snapped.

“Why did you kill your father?” L.C. asked.

“I didn't mean to kill him. It was an accident. It happened in the sunroom on the day he retired. He was sitting in the wicker chair as I worked on the pigs. He was telling me how things were going to be. He had always run my life, made Toby and me live with him, kept me as head teller for twenty years; and he said he intended running our lives in retirement and then from the grave. Raleigh was to be made president of the bank, and all Dad's money was going into an irrevocable trust fund to be doled out monthly. It would be the same as if he were still here. We argued, and he only kept shaking his head until I threw the pig at him. Unfortunately it was a brass one. It hit him on the head, he gave one sigh, and died. I hadn't intended to kill him.”

“You should have come to me then,” Will said. “It would have been a charge of manslaughter. You might have gotten off with a suspended sentence.”

“We would have been ruined,” Toby said. “Herb would have been let go from the bank, and spent the rest of his life polishing his silly pigs. I would have been known all over town as the woman married to the man who threw a brass pig at his father and killed him.”

“And so you tied him under the dock,” L.C. said.

“The boat had already been taken to Florida. As soon as we could get it back we were going to bury him at sea.”

“Then you dug Louis from his alley and convinced him to go to Florida in the place of Wadsworth.”

“Didn't take much convincing, a promise of a warm place and all he could drink,” Toby said. “I took him down to the condominium and kept him locked in the apartment. We gave him all the liquor he wanted, probably more than he wanted.”

“Then Mauve Bridger had to die because she saw the body.”

“She deserved to die,” Toby said vehemently. “That whoring slut. I could watch men go into her house during the day. Sometimes even see her with them in the bedroom if she forgot to pull the blinds. She was an evil woman who flaunted her sex.”

“Toby was in Florida when I saw Mauve fall through the ice. She had to be killed,” Herb said.

“Since her clothes were wet, you put them in the dryer.”

“Yes. It worked out beautifully when you arrested Raleigh.”

“But you had been made president of the bank,” L.C. said.

Toby grimaced. “Which is why that thing with me in Florida couldn't die too soon. It had to be timed perfectly. First we put out word that Wadsworth was ill, failing, unable to attend the board of director's meetings. He would have to make his preference for his successor known by mail. The board was always a rubber stamp for Wadsworth. Once we notified them that Herb should be elected president, the vote was unanimous.”