inject the shit into him myself. Next question.”
Frank smiled. “Okay, I deserved that. I think you and I need to talk.
Some things about this case don’t add up.
Maybe it helps or hurts your guy, I don’t know. You willing to listen?”
“Okay, but don’t think this flow of information is going to be a two-way
street.”
“I know a place where you can actually cut the meatloaf with a butter
knife and the coffee’s passable.”
“Is it an out-of-the-way place? I don’t think you’d look good in a
deputy’s uniform.”
Frank looked over at him, grinning. “Next question.”
Jack managed a smile and then drove home to change.
JACK ORDERED ANOTHER CUP OF COFFEE WHILE FRANK PLAYED with his first.
The meatloaf had been terrific and the place was so isolated, Jack
wasn’t even sure where they were.
Rural, southern Maryland he thought. He looked around at the few
occupants of the rustic dining room. No one was paying them any undue
attention. He turned back to his companion.
Frank looked at him in an amused fashion. “I understand you and Kate
Whitney had a thing going a while back “Did she tell you that?”
“Hell no, She came down to the station a few minutes after you left
today. Her father wouldn’t see her. I talked with her for a while. Told
her I was sorry about how things had gone down.”
Frank’s eyes glistened for a moment and then he continued. “I shouldn’t
have done what I did, Jack. Using her to get to her old man. Nobody
deserves that.”
“It worked. Some people would say don’t argue with success.”
“Right. Well anyway the subject got around to you. I’m not so old yet
that I can’t see a gleam in a woman’s eyes.”
The waitress brought Jack’s coffee. He sipped it. Both men looked out
the window where the snow had finally stopped and the whole earth seemed
to be covered with a soft, white blanket.
“Look, Jack, I know the case against Luther is just about all
circumstantial. But that’s sent plenty of people to jail.”
“I’m not arguing with that.”
“The truth is, Jack, there’s an awful lot of shit that doesn’t make any
sense.”
Jack put down his coffee and leaned forward.
“I’m listening.”
Frank looked around the room and then back at Jack. ‘I know I’m taking a
chance doing this, but I didn’t become a cop to send people to jail for
crimes they didn’t commit.
Plenty enough guilty people out there.”
“So what doesn’t add up?”
“You’ll see some of it for yourself in the reports you’ll get in your
discovery, but the fact is I’m convinced Luther Whitney burgled that
house and I’m also convinced that he didn’t kill Christine Sullivan.
But—@”
“But you think he saw who did.”
Frank sat back in his chair and stared wide-eyed at Jack.
“How long have you thought that?”
“Not long. Any ideas on the matter?”
“I’m thinking your guy almost got caught with his hand in the cookie jar
and then had to actually hide in that cookie jar. @5 Jack looked
puzzled. Frank took a few minutes to explain about the vault, the
incongruity of the physical evidence and his own questions.
“So Luther’s in the vault all this time watching whoever gets it on with
Mrs. Sullivan. Then something happens and she gets popped. Then Luther
watches whoever wipe away all traces.”
“That’s how I got it figured, Jack.”
“So he doesn’t go to the cops because he can’t without incriminating
himself.”
“that explains a lot.”
“Except who did it.”
“The only obvious suspect is the husband, and I don’t believe it was
him.”
Jack thought back to Walter Sullivan. “Agreed. So who’s not so obvious?”
“Whoever she was meeting that night.”
“From what you’ve told me about the deceased’s sex life, that narrows it
down to a couple million.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“Well, my hunch is it’s not some ordinary Joe.”
“Why’s that?”
Jack took a swallow of coffee and looked at his slice of apple pie.
“Look, Lieutenant —2’
“Make it Seth.”
Okay, Seth, I’m walking a fine line here. I hear where you’re coming