Known Dead_ A Novel - Donald Harstad [41]
I hung up and looked at Hester. ‘‘Well, Marks is among the ‘disappeared.’ ’’
‘‘Yeah, I got that.’’
‘‘How bad we have to talk to him, you think?’’
Not bad enough, it turned out. We had to get through the typed interviews. Not counting lunch and supper, it took us five more hours to get done with those, and we didn’t know a single useful thing more than we had when we started.
We should have looked for Johnny Marks.
On the 9th, Hester had to be in court in Louisa County. Turd’s girlfriend Beth called me about noon, and said that she wanted to meet, urgently, and in secret. We settled on a church that was about three miles from any town, on a gravel road, at 1400 P.M. Since it wasn’t Sunday, it wasn’t likely that anyone would be there.
I got there at about 1345. Nothing. Beth arrived about ten minutes later, in a dilapidated old Chevy four-door driven by a male I didn’t recognize. He dropped her off, and pulled into a field entrance about a quarter mile down the road. She and I sat on the hood of my car, and talked.
‘‘Hi, Beth.’’
‘‘Hi, Mr. Houseman.’’
‘‘Who’s your friend?’’
‘‘Oh, that’s Jake Oberland. You know him.’’
‘‘Yeah.’’ I sure did. A worthless scumbag of a weasel. Turd’s best friend, if I remembered correctly. ‘‘What’re you doin’ with him?’’
‘‘Well, he’s sort of moved in. You know.’’ She couldn’t quite meet my gaze. ‘‘Makes me feel safer.’’
‘‘Safer?’’ I asked. ‘‘You been threatened?’’
‘‘Well, that’s sort of what I wanted to talk to you about.’’
I didn’t say anything.
‘‘I mean,’’ she said, ‘‘I haven’t been threatened. No. But it’s getting, you know, kind of nervous up there.’’ She looked at me now. ‘‘People talk. You know.’’
‘‘What’re they talking about, Beth?’’
We were both facing forward, with our feet on the bumper. She put her head in her hands for a few seconds. When she looked back at me, she was noticeably paler.
‘‘They say that it was the CIA.’’
I looked at her for a second, speechless. ‘‘You’ve gotta be kidding, Beth.’’
‘‘No, that’s who they say did it. Honest.’’
‘‘That’s bullshit, Beth.’’
She looked at me. ‘‘I don’t know. Do you think they’d tell you?’’
Well, she had me there.
‘‘Probably not. But it was likely somebody a lot closer than them. They’d have no reason to shoot Turd.’’
‘‘But what if,’’ she said, softly, ‘‘it wasn’t him they were after?’’
Ah. Now we were getting to the real point.
‘‘You think it was the officers they were after?’’
‘‘I didn’t say that.’’
‘‘That’s what you meant.’’
Silence.
‘‘Look, Beth,’’ I said. ‘‘I just want you to listen to me. Okay?’’
‘‘Yes.’’
‘‘Okay, this is the way it is. If the CIA wanted the cops, why do it in the woods? There’s a million ways to get them, not in the woods. And do you think the CIA would blow it and just get one? And don’t you think they’d use silencers?’’ Points for our side. ‘‘Because the surviving officer was nearly deafened by all the shooting. Really loud.’’
‘‘Well . . .’’
‘‘So don’t worry about the CIA. Or anybody like that.’’
I was wondering if she’d gotten what she wanted. I doubted it. We could have done this on the telephone.
‘‘Can Jake talk to you a second?’’ she asked.
‘‘Sure.’’
She stood, and walked ahead of my car, motioning to Jake. True to form, she wasn’t able to get his attention. That’s my Jake, I thought. I reached in and beeped the horn. Jake’s head came up, and Beth just about jumped out of her shorts.
‘‘Oh, sorry, Beth.’’ I really meant it, she looked like her heart had just about stopped.
‘‘You scared me,’’ she half giggled. She motioned to Jake. It took him almost a minute. Had trouble getting the car started. I used the time to get my two cents’ worth in.
‘‘You can do better than him, Beth.’’ She could. She was pretty bright and was a hard worker. Two things Jake wasn’t.
‘‘No, I can’t, Mr. Houseman.’’
I started to say something, but she held up her hand.
‘‘Maybe before,’’ she said. ‘‘But now? Two kids. Half the town thinks I’m a dope dealer, and the other half thinks I snitched off Howie. And the word’s out that Johnny Marks is waitin’ to get me after the heat’s off.’’ She looked up