Chapter 16

 

Harvey drove his Explorer, following Chief Bowden toward the university campus, and turning off on a side street. They parked across from the Jolly Roger Tavern. It was a plain concrete-block building with few windows and a lurid sign—a leering pirate tipping a jug on his shoulder. A placard prominently displayed on the door read We ID.

Bowden waited for him outside the entrance. “Okay, Larson, you want to show me your stuff? I had DMV fax me this.” He handed Harvey a printout of Brett Rainey’s driver’s license photo.

Harvey clipped his badge to the front of his suit coat, feeling he was under inspection. “That’s generous of you, sir.” He pushed open the door and walked in.

He looked around quickly. Two girls in short uniform dresses were setting up for the supper shift. Three tables were occupied. Harvey approached the bar.

“Hi, I’m Captain Larson. Is the manager in?”

The bartender eyed him malevolently. “In the back.” He nodded toward a doorway. Harvey walked briskly toward it, sensing Bowden a pace behind him.

He pushed open the door the man had indicated and entered a short hallway. To the left was a small, cluttered office, and a middle-aged man was seated at the desk with a pile of receipts, punching numbers into a calculator.

He looked up as Harvey entered. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, sir. Are you the manager?”

“Owner and manager. Stephen Walker.” He stood up. “Cops. I told the trooper, we were very busy last night. If the hit-and-run driver was here, I don’t know it. My waitresses are coming in, and you can ask them if you want, but I don’t think anybody saw anything. We didn’t hear about it ’til after.”

“The victim had been in here?”

“Well, yeah. One of my girls remembered serving him. We pulled the slip for the trooper. He had a couple of drinks, is all. I guess he left and got run down before he got to his car. They said he parked down the street, not in our parking lot. I don’t know. You know more than I do.”

“You get a lot of students in here?” Harvey asked.

“Hey, we always card.”

“Do you?” Harvey took the picture of Brett Rainer from his pocket. “Do you recognize this young man?”

“What’s this?” Walker adjusted his glasses and scrutinized the photo. “Can’t say as I do.”

“But you were here, say between ten and midnight?”

“Oh, yes, but I’m in and out of the tavern. I spend a lot of time in here.”

“Which waitresses were working last night?”

“Let’s see, I’ve got the schedule here.” Walker lifted a clipboard from a nail in the wall above his desk. “Melissa, Jackie, Miranda, Ruby, and Colleen.”

“Five waitresses.”

“Right. Jackie served the victim.”

“And the bartender who’s out there now was here?”

“Right. And a cook and a dishwasher. But they hardly ever go out front.”

“And are all these waitresses working tonight?”

The manager frowned and flipped a page on the clipboard. “Not Jackie, but Pat will be here instead.”

“Okay, I’ll just hang around and show this picture to the employees and see if it jogs any memories.”

“Suit yourself.”

Harvey turned and walked past Bowden into the main room. Bowden didn’t look impressed yet. He went to the bartender first.

“Excuse me, your boss says it’s okay for you to talk to me. Do you recognize this young man?”

The bartender paused in setting up a row of glasses and peered at the paper, then shook his head.

“Was he in here last night?” Harvey persisted.

“Might of been.”

One of the waitresses approached the bar. “Pitcher of beer, Larry.” She tore a slip from her order pad and went through another doorway, which Harvey could see led to the kitchen. He leaned back against the bar and surveyed the customers she was waiting on. Bowden caught his eye, raised his eyebrows, then sat down on a barstool.

“Get you something, Chief?” the bartender asked, setting a full pitcher on the bar.

“No, thanks.”

When the waitress came out of the kitchen and came to the bar for the beer, Harvey smiled and said, “Excuse me, miss, I’m Captain Larson. I’d like you to look at a picture and tell me if you’ve seen this young man in here, specifically last night.”

“Can you wait a sec? I’ve got customers.”

“Well, I think it may be in your interest to think about this before you serve them.”

Her eyes closed to slits, between heavily mascaraed lashes.

Harvey smiled at her. “This pitcher is for that table, am I correct?”

She glanced to where he was pointing and nodded.

“Did you card your customers?”

She looked at him, then at the bartender. “We always card.”

“Good, good. So, those customers are all over twenty-one.”

She hesitated.

Harvey smiled again. “Could I just show you this picture now?”

She reached for it and looked hard at it. “Yeah, I think I saw him. Ask Melissa. It was her table.”

She picked up the pitcher of beer and went to her waiting customers. “Hey, we got cops in here. Show me your ID.”

Bowden snickered.

Harvey sat down beside him. “Not exactly humorous, Chief.”

“I’m not laughing at her. I’m laughing at you, hotshot. You don’t think she’s going to serve minors under your nose?”

“She almost did.”

The waitress came back to the bar, throwing him a grimace. “Two Diet Cokes and a root beer, Larry.” She turned to Harvey. “The guy paying for the beer is twenty-two.”

Harvey smiled. “Heavy drinker. You think he’s going to drink that all by himself?”

“Yes, I do.” She picked up the tray with three glasses and went back to the table.

Bowden stifled a laugh. “Go get ’em, Captain.”

“No, you go get ’em, Chief. How many bars are there in Orono? Do your men patrol them regularly?”

Bowden scowled at him. “You see me telling you how to do your job? You’re lucky I’m letting you wear your badge in here.”

Harvey held up one hand in deprecation. “You’re right. Sorry. But what do you bet, the minute we’re out of here, those Diet Coke glasses are full of beer?”

“I’ll make a note of it. I’ll have my guys clamp down on this place.”

A pretty waitress with her hair in a bouncy ponytail approached them, a tray under her arm. She didn’t look of age herself.

“Excuse me, Colleen said I should talk to you. I’m Melissa.”

Harvey smiled and stood up. “Thank you. I’m Captain Larson, and we’re hoping you’ll recognize this young man. He may have been in here last night, and Colleen thought you might have served him.”

“Yeah, I think so. Let’s see …” She looked out over the room, frowning. “Table three, with a bunch of other kids.”

“Could I see the charge slip?”

“I’d have to ask my boss.”

“And what time was he in here?”

“Oh, I don’t know. They stayed an hour or two. It was pretty wild and noisy last night. Football game, you know? But … well, I think he was here around ten or so.”

“And left what time?”

“Hm. That’s a toughie. But you might be able to tell from the cash register slip. It would give the time when he cashed out.”

“What was he drinking, do you remember?”

She smiled. “Coors.”

Harvey nodded. “I’ll ask the manager for the slip.”

“Yeah, he can get it for you, I’m sure.”

“So, Melissa, you’re a student yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-one, sir.”

“Mm. You know this kid.” He indicated the picture.

She hesitated. “Not really, but he’s been in here fairly often lately. Always with other students.”

“He’s a freshman,” Harvey said.

“Really?” She smiled, but it slowly faded from her lips. “We always card,” she said woodenly.

“So, he’s twenty-one,” Harvey said, smiling.

“I—apparently so.”

“He’s nineteen.”

Melissa swore softly. “Am I in trouble?”

“I’ll leave that up to Chief Bowden, here, but I strongly suggest you heed the management’s slogan and card, card, card. This place could have its liquor license yanked for trafficking to minors.”

She grimaced. “Does this have anything to do with the accident last night?”

“You’re a smart girl.” Harvey smiled at her and went back to the manager’s office.

“You still here?” Walker asked, looking up.

“Yes, our suspect was here last night. Drank a lot of Coors between ten and midnight. Table three, waited on by Melissa. Can you locate the order slip?”

Walker sighed. “Hold on.” He pulled open a drawer and plunked a stack of bar slips onto the desk. “See, I had a feeling I should keep these handy for a while. Man, I should make you get a warrant.”

“We’ll be out of here a whole lot faster if you cooperate.”

“Yeah, yeah. Table three?”

“That’s right.”

Harvey looked around and sent up a prayer of thanksgiving. He might have ended up in a life like this.

“Maybe this one?” Walker asked, holding up a slip. “Eight Coors.”

“Could be.” Harvey took the slip from one of the waitresses’ order pads and squinted at it. He took his glasses from his inside pocket and put them on.

“I don’t see any other likely candidates,” Walker said. “There’s a couple of others with Coors, but just a drink or two.”

“So how do you know the time he cashed out?” Harvey asked.

Walker sighed. “I’ll have to go into the cash register for that. Thank goodness I got the computerized one in June. Come on.”

They went out to the main room, and Walker went behind the bar and began working at the cash register. Bowden sat morosely sipping coffee at the bar.

“Find what you need?”

“I think so,” Harvey replied. He scanned the room. It was filling up with young people.

Melissa came to the bar and called, “Two draft and a club soda.” She smiled at Harvey. “Card, card, card.”

“You got it.”

“Here you go,” Walker said. “He paid at 11:40.” He handed Harvey a slip of paper, and Harvey squinted at it in the dimness to make sure the date and time were legible.

“Thanks. Now, a copy of the bar slip, with this stapled to it, please, and a statement from you that this is the one from the customer at table three, and one from Melissa that the customer in question was Brett Rainer.” He smiled as winsomely as he could.

Walker shook his head. “I had a feeling. Anything else?”

“Nope, that’s it. Then we’re out of here.”

“Hang on. I’ll get it for you.”

Bowden shook his head.

“What’s the matter, Chief?” Harvey asked.

“All this documentation. Takes forever.”

“This is what is going to make this case stand up in court,” Harvey reminded him. “You get the paint match from the truck, and I get the waitress to swear he was here guzzling the beer, and Travis Wainthrop lines up his friends who saw him at the library and the dorm. Next, we find the kids who were with Rainer and get their statements. He wasn’t alone when he hit that guy, Chief.”

 

*****

It was almost eleven when Harvey pulled in at the Wainthrops’ farmhouse that night. George met him at the door.

“Everything all right, Harvey?”

“Yes, it’s fine.” He smiled. “Documentation, George. It takes forever.”

“You want some coffee?”

“No, thanks, I’ve been drinking coffee all day. I could use something solid, though. I’m a little shaky.”

“Whoopie pies?”

“Great.”

They sat down at the kitchen table with a Tupperware box of whoopie pies between them, and George poured coffee for himself and milk for his son-in-law.

“Thanks for all you’re doing, Harvey. I wouldn’t have known where to start.”

Harvey shrugged. “Glad I could help. But I’m sorry it happened in the first place.”

“Yeah.” George sat down opposite him and opened the box. “Marilyn and I ... we’ve been trying to pray for the boy, but I’m not sure I know what I’m doing there, either.”

“Just talk to God like you would me,” Harvey said. “I know this is tough, but you can trust him.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to believe that.”

Harvey was halfway through his first whoopie pie when Travis appeared in the dining room doorway in gray sweat pants and a T-shirt.

“Hey, Travis,” Harvey said. “You an insomniac?”

“Not usually.”

“Sit down,” George grunted.

“The cops believe me, don’t they?” Travis asked, reaching for a whoopie pie.

“Oh, yeah, they believe you,” Harvey said. “You’ll probably get your truck back Monday or Tuesday. You called the insurance company, right?”

“I called them,” George said. “As soon as the cops are done with it, we gotta get an estimate.”

“Did they—” Travis swallowed.

“Yeah, they picked him up this evening.”

“At the dorm?”

“No, at another bar. He bummed a ride with a friend of his.”

George shook his head. “Travis, I hope this is a lesson to you.”

Travis said quietly, “Dad this is a whole lot of lessons to me.”

George stirred sugar into his coffee.

“He had two other guys in the truck with him when he hit the victim,” Harvey said. “The crime lab guys found quite a bit of evidence, actually.”

“Like what?” Travis asked.

Harvey shrugged. “Fingerprints that aren’t yours on your tapes and on the passenger side surfaces, for instance. Hairs, a gum wrapper, a burnt match. They did a more thorough job than I expected.”

“So, do they know who else was with him?”

“Yeah, they questioned them all. The other two bailed out, but they sent Brett to the Penobscot County jail overnight. His parents are supposed to be there in the morning.”

“What are the charges?” George asked.

“Well, with Brett they can go all the way from a minor consuming liquor, auto theft and driving after suspension, to leaving the scene of an accident, failing to make a report, and, last but not least, manslaughter.”

“Manslaughter?” Travis croaked.

“Afraid so. They’ll probably concentrate on that one.”

“Not OUI?” George asked.

“Well, they didn’t get him until almost twenty-four hours later. It’s pretty hard to prove he was driving drunk after the fact.”

“These kids.” George sighed. He got up and opened the lid to the wood-burning range. “Guess I’d better get some wood.” He took his old green jacket from a hook by the back door and went into the woodshed beyond.

“Harvey, thanks for everything,” Travis said earnestly. “Is Jennifer going to be worried?”

“I called her and told her I’ll sleep here and be home in time for church in the morning.”

“Well, thanks.”

“Travis, I asked her if she was serious this morning. About you coming to stay with us, I mean.”

He could tell the boy was trying not to let his eagerness show.

“I’d really like that. Can you give me a chance, Harvey?”

“You know what I’d do if you drank?”

Travis dropped his gaze. “I’ve got an idea.”

Harvey nodded. “I won’t expose Connor to that. Zero tolerance. See, I know what it’s like. I learned to drink in college, too. It was an easy class.”

Travis swallowed. “I only did it that one time, and I didn’t like it.”

“Yeah, but you can learn to like it. It just takes practice. You start out with half a can, and if you can keep that down, you go to a whole one, then two. You just repeat, every weekend. You get to where you can drink a six pack without losing it. And somewhere along the way, you realize you like it.”

George came in from the shed with an armload of wood. “Cold tonight. Gonna be an early winter.”

Travis exchanged looks with Harvey.

“How did you get through school, if it was that bad?”

Harvey grunted. “Confined my extracurricular activities to weekends, for one thing. Didn’t mix it with driving. Much.” He shook his head, realizing George was watching him closely. He smiled. “Think how smart I’d be if I hadn’t destroyed a few billion brain cells back then.”

“How’d you quit?” George asked.

Harvey shrugged. “If I hadn’t had to stay sober five days a week, I probably would never have quit. But after a while, when I stopped hurting so bad inside, I sort of grew out of the need, to where it was only once in while, if I got really depressed. I was really proud of myself.” He grimaced. “Then I met Jennifer. She was a shock to my system. She never drank, so I didn’t either. I didn’t want her to think less of me. And when we got saved, I just knew it was something I would never do again.”

George nodded. “You can’t drink and honor God, I can see that.”

“You never drank, Dad,” Travis said.

“What do you know about it, puppy?” George asked.

Harvey smiled at him. “The past isn’t what matters. It’s what you do now.”

George nodded. “I’ve been thinking about this dorm business. Marilyn and I are going to make a formal complaint to the university president.”

“I’ll support you in that,” Harvey said.

George dropped two sticks into the stove and closed the lid. “When I was talking to the dean, he said Travis could transfer to this other dorm, men only. But the boy says—”

“They’d think I was gay, Dad, if I asked for that,” Travis said in alarm. “You think the gays don’t drink in the dorm, or what?”

“It’s supposed to be for serious students, who don’t want the co-ed distractions.”

“Well, that’s not a problem,” Travis said adamantly. “I’m not living in the men-only dorm, Dad. No way. I’ll drop out first.”

“Easy, Trav,” Harvey said quietly. He tipped up his milk glass and drained it. “Jenny and I are hoping you can come stay with us a while. If you can transfer your classes, that’ll be great. If not, well, you commute from here until Christmas, and maybe we can do something then.”

Travis looked anxiously toward his father.

“Don’t know why you kids all want to leave home so fast,” George said sadly.

“It’s not that,” Travis assured him. “It’s just too far, Dad. In the winter—well, Abby used to say the same thing. It’s just too far when the roads are bad.”

“He’s right,” Harvey said. “Even for an experienced driver, there’s a pretty big risk.”

“You made Leeanne live in the dorm at Farmington because of it,” Travis pointed out.

“Well, she’s a girl. Boys don’t usually mind as much. And she never complained about drinking there.”

“She never complained,” Travis agreed. “She knew if she told you, you’d have fits and maybe make her commute, just like you are me.”

George sighed and reached for another whoopie pie. “It’s really that widespread? There must be good kids out there who behave themselves.”

“There are,” Harvey agreed. “But it’s hard when they leave home for the first time and have so much freedom. The temptation is strong at these schools. There’s a very small percentage who don’t fall into it to some degree.”

“When I was in the Navy,” George began, but he glanced at Travis, and, seeing something in his face, shifted gears. “Well, never mind. I guess if it’s not too much for you and Jennifer, we can see about him coming down there after Christmas. But this watchdogging teenagers is no picnic, young man.”

Harvey smiled ruefully. If things had been different, he might have teenagers of his own now. But he was glad his life was the way it was that instant.

“George, if I put in enough time with your kids, maybe I’ll be good at it by the time Connor hits his teens. No complaints about our short stints with Abby and Leeanne, are there?”

“No, no. Well, I guess Leeanne’s come around after all. Did I tell you she called?”

“No, sir.”

“Oh, yes, she and Eddie. They want to get married Thanksgiving Day.”

Harvey smiled. “That’s good news.”

“Well, I hope so. If she doesn’t call it off again.”

“I don’t think she will.” Harvey pulled at the knot in his necktie. “Jennifer and I usually pray together before we go to bed, sir. Could we pray together, for the family?”

“I’d like that.” George threw an anxious glance at Travis.

Travis meekly closed his eyes and stayed put.

 

*****

Harvey spent Sunday afternoon in front of the fireplace, poring over the paperwork he’d brought home. Rain pelted the windows. Jennifer sat quietly in the rocking chair, working on a cross stitch sampler, smiling at Harvey whenever he looked up from his reading. When Connor woke from his nap, she carried him to the sofa and settled down next to Harvey to feed the baby.

“When’s the last time we had a quiet Sunday afternoon?” Harvey asked.

“I think it was before we met,” she mused.

“This is nice. We’re usually mobbed Sundays, and I usually love it, but today …”

“You’ve had enough excitement for one weekend,” she said. “I spread a rumor at Sunday school that the Larson kitchen is closed today.”

“Well, I have a feeling it won’t last, but while it does…” He leaned toward her and kissed her.

“I missed you so much last night,” she confessed. “I actually thought about taking Connor over to Beth’s and pajama partying with her and Leeanne.”

“Our first night apart, except for the hospital,” he said. “I admit I was so tired I didn’t have any trouble falling asleep.” He let a folder slide gently to the floor and put his arms around her. “We need to make some major decisions about Travis and let your folks know.”

“Are you willing to have him come?” Her eyes were somber gray that day. “I love him, Harvey, and I’d do anything to protect him from temptation.”

Harvey sighed. “I know. But we can’t control all of it. I want what’s best for him, but I’m not sure I’m the best mentor for him.”

She watched him silently, and he thought she was tracing his past and comparing it with Travis’s present.

“Your father is growing spiritually.” He leaned back and tried to look at the situation objectively. “If Travis can get along with his parents, he probably ought to stay there. And if he can’t, do we really want a rebellious eighteen-year-old living in our house during our son’s formative years?”

“You said he seemed contrite last night.”

“He did. But when this is over, will he still toe the line?”

“It’s not like he did something horrible.”

“I know. It might be easier if he had. If he could clearly see himself as a sinner.”

“You think he would defy you if you set rules for him?” Jennifer asked. “I can’t believe he would. He respects you.”

“He also knows I used to drink, and he doesn’t seem to think I’m any the worse for that. I’d hate to have him thinking he can mess around now and walk away from it later, because I was able to. He has no idea the misery I went through in between.”

She shifted the baby to her shoulder and began to pat his back. “He doesn’t seem to realize that it was God who changed you.”

Harvey nodded. “But I can’t hold out faith as a criterion for his living here. That might make him try to conform just because he knows we want him to. It’s got to be genuine.”

“Don’t you think he has a better chance of reaching that point here?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to be a drill sergeant or a baby-sitter. And I sure don’t want to end up sending him back to your father because I failed.”

Jennifer nodded. “I can see your point. I think he needs to live at home for the rest of the semester, at least. I suspect they’ll tell him he can’t transfer until then, anyway. And we could make his coming here contingent on good behavior between now and January.”

Harvey stroked her thick hair. “I’d like to have him come, I think. But we’ll need to pray about it a lot and draw up some kind of ground rules for him. He’s younger than your sisters were when they came, and, well—”

“He’s a boy,” Jennifer said flatly.

He smiled. “I don’t have any experience whatever with boys who can talk back.”

“You did a pretty good job with Eddie.”

“Oh, please. Eddie was older when I got him. He wasn’t mature, but he wasn’t exactly a boy.”

There was a knock at the patio door in the sun room, and they heard a key in the lock.

“Company,” Jennifer said ruefully.

“Let me hold Connor, or Leeanne will steal him.” Harvey reached for the baby as Eddie entered the living room.

“Hi! Where’s Leeanne?” Jennifer asked.
“Still at Beth’s. I was wondering if we ought to watch that other video, Harv? If you want to wait, it’s okay, but we don’t usually have time at the office.”

“That’s right, I’ve still got a tape from one of Brad’s shifts in my briefcase,” Harvey said.

Jennifer stood up. “Connor and I will go next door if you guys insist on working seven days a week.”

“One hour,” Harvey said. “We’ll buzz the slack time. I want you back in an hour.”

She smiled at him and left the room.

 

*****

“What day was this tape made?” Eddie asked as Harvey slipped the cassette from its case.

“The Friday before Labor Day. I wanted a recent one, but before the murder.”

They sat on wicker chairs in the sunroom, facing the small television set that was usually camouflaged in a shelf unit.

“Routine stuff,” Eddie said after ten minutes of silence. “Brad’s away from his desk a lot.”

“Yeah, that’s standard, though, especially at the beginning of the shift. Let’s buzz anything when he’s out of camera range.”

Harvey conscientiously viewed each segment where the sergeant engaged in conversation. “His usual. Some vulgarity. Nothing offensive to a woman’s face, though.”

The hour was nearly up when Eddie reached out suddenly toward Harvey, hitting his forearm forcefully.

“Back up!”

Harvey clicked the remote to rewind, then play. His adrenaline surged as he focused on the officer approaching Brad’s desk.

“Joey,” he breathed.

“His last shift at work,” Eddie agreed.

“No, he was on duty Labor Day, remember?”

Eddie shrugged. “That was volunteer stuff, for the challenge.”

On the tape, Joey waited until Brad Lyons was free, then leaned toward him, both hands tense on the surface of the desk.

“Help you, Bolduc?” Brad asked.

“You can help yourself, Brad. Leave Deborah Higgins alone.”

Brad’s back was to the camera, but his voice rose in surprise. “Debbie? I’ve hardly spoken to her in days. She’s been in and out of here like greased lightning every day.”

“As if she’s avoiding you?” Joey sneered.

“Hey, what’s the matter? She tell you we had a thing once?”

“You just leave Deborah alone. If you ever lay a hand on her again, you’ll be the one who’s sorry.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Of you? Right. Why would I be jealous of someone who’s about to get busted for intimidating a subordinate?”

“What are you talking about, moron?”

“Deborah told me everything.”

“She’s a liar.”

“I told her if you open your mouth around her again, I’ll take it to the chief,” Joey said.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Your buddy Neilsen is gone. Who will help you this time? Browning and Stewart both respect women.”

“Listen, turkey, you tell that little tramp to watch her step.”

“Why should I?”

“Well, let me see.” Brad clapped a hand to his forehead. “Oh, I almost forgot. Officer Higgins is due for an evaluation. Hmm, I could schedule her for Tuesday. Tell her not to wear her hair in that stupid bun if she wants a good report.”

“You pervert.”

“Ha! She’s still in her probation year. She needs to be very careful. If I think her performance isn’t up to snuff, she could be history two weeks from now.”

“Maybe you ought to apply for a job in Massachusetts, if you want to keep working in law enforcement, Lyons. There’s plenty of people around here who are sick of you.”

“Watch yourself, Bolduc. I can have you busted to traffic duty in five minutes flat.”

“Oh, really? I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you. I would trust the chief to give this thing a hard look.” Joey left the area.

Harvey clicked the tape off.

“Unbelievable,” Eddie said. “How can they carry on like that in front of a camera?”

“Easy. The techs have two dozen cameras to monitor. They probably rarely listen to the audio. And how often does anyone actually go back and look at those tapes?”

“Rarely, I guess.”

“Almost never. The ones in the booking room and the lockup are archived until the cases are closed, but the ones in the public areas and stairways, even the duty room, are recycled after two weeks. They’re just there in case something really unusual happens. Brad and Joey both knew that. Chances were that, even if a technician was monitoring them at that moment, he wasn’t listening to what they said. And two weeks later, poof. It’s taped over.”

“Except that you grabbed it because of the harassment allegations.”

“Right. Mike told me to pick a couple of recent tapes from the sergeant’s area at random, and I did.”

“You picked the right one,” Eddie said.

“Who knows? Maybe there are lots of incriminating things on others, too. But this one should be enough.”

“What are you going to do?”

Harvey pushed REWIND. “Take it to Mike.”

“Tomorrow?”

Harvey frowned. “I’d better call him now. I hate to even have Brad come in tomorrow morning. I want him off the desk, and I don’t want to have to confront him and break the news at work.”

He stretched toward the coffee table and picked up his phone.

“Mike? It’s Harvey. Where are you?”

“Just leaving Churchill. Why? You got something?”

“Could be. Stop by my house tonight?”

“Okay, it will probably be nine o’clock.”

“That’s all right. I’ll brief you when you get here. How’s the renovation coming?”

“Great. We’re all set up for Rick to come up here tomorrow. Next time you visit Browning’s Lodge, you’ll have a real bedroom and a private bath. That is, if you hold off a few weeks.”

Harvey chuckled. “I think I’ll be pretty busy for the next few weeks. Through Thanksgiving, anyway. Eddie’s getting married then.”

“Fantastic. Are we invited?”

 

*****

Mike sat scowling at the screen after Harvey had shut off the video player. “You hate to see me enjoy a weekend, don’t you, Harvey?”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bring this to you at the office tomorrow and deal with it in the middle of a shift.”

Mike nodded. “It’s better if I confront him in private, which means tonight.”

“You’ll move that fast?” Eddie asked.

“Got to,” Mike said. “I can’t let him carry on, with proof he threatened officers like that. I’ll tell him he’s suspended with pay until the investigation ends.”

“You want me to go with you?” Harvey asked.

Mike scratched his chin. “I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of uniforms with me, no offense. No way anyone can say management covered it up that way. And besides, I don’t want you and Brad mixing it up.”

Harvey took a deep breath. “Thanks, Mike, I appreciate that. I really didn’t want to be the one to confront him.”

Mike looked at Harvey, then Eddie. “Listen, there’s something else. I didn’t have a chance to tell you before I left Friday, but I would have told you tomorrow morning.”

Harvey’s interest was piqued. He waited, aware that Mike was troubled.

“Last Friday, I was looking back in my appointment book. I’d had a conversation with Jill Weymouth, and I couldn’t remember if it was before or after the murder. Judith was out on her break, so I looked in the book on her desk to see what day Jill came to my office last. I was pretty sure Judith would log it in my appointment book. She’s very methodical. I looked back as far as Labor Day week, and what do you think?”

Eddie shrugged, and Harvey said, “No idea.”

“Detective Bolduc was written on my calendar for 9 a.m. September fifth, but it was crossed out.”

“Joey was killed the fourth,” Eddie said immediately.

“That’s right. So, of course I asked Judith about it when she came back. She said Joey had called the Friday before Labor Day, asking for an appointment with me as soon as possible. I’d left early that day, and she knew I didn’t plan to be in the office Monday. For the holiday, you know? So, she gave him a morning appointment for Tuesday.”

“She didn’t tell you, though?” Harvey asked.

“No, when she came in Tuesday morning, she’d heard about Joey’s death, so she crossed out the appointment. Very neat and precise. No need to bother the boss. And she had no inkling what he wanted to see me about.”

“It had to be about this,” Harvey said, retrieving the tape and putting it carefully into the case.

Mike nodded. “That seems likely.”