Monument to Murder - Margaret Truman [75]
“Knock off the ‘Bobby’ stuff, Wayne. If you’re trying to get under my skin, you’re succeeding. As for who told me about Felker, it doesn’t matter.”
“Your call, Robert. But you’re going to have to come down to Metro and give a statement.”
“Why? It happened just like I told you.”
“Why did you want to meet with Felker?” St. Pierre asked. “You said it had to do with the Watkins case you’re working on. What possible connection could Felker have with that?”
“He worked for Ward Cardell.”
“And?”
“I wanted to see if there was any connection between Cardell’s daughter, Mitzi, and what happened to Louise Watkins.”
“Really, Robert, what possible connection could there be?”
“Maybe there isn’t, but I want to follow up on every possible lead. I owe it to Louise’s mother.”
“I still don’t understand how—”
Brixton was about to tell St. Pierre about the photograph of Mitzi with Louise at the retreat at the Christian Vision Academy, and the folded file folder in his pocket, but decided against it. “Forget about it, Wayne. You want a statement from me? Fine. I’m available anytime.”
“We’ll leave from here,” St. Pierre said.
“By the way,” Brixton said as St. Pierre was about to return inside, “take a look at Felker’s study. It’s a mess. Whoever killed him was looking for something.”
“‘Killed him?’ What leads you to that conclusion?”
“The mess in his study. Pretty obvious to me.”
“The ME will determine cause of death, Robert.”
CHAPTER 26
“You know, Robert, you could be charged with criminal trespass and breaking and entering,” St. Pierre said after Brixton had provided a written statement. They sat in St. Pierre’s office at Metro.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brixton said. “Do I look like the breaking-and-entering type?”
St. Pierre laughed. “I think the ridiculous one is you, Robert. Frankly, I’m concerned about you.”
“Why?”
“Ah get the feeling that you’ve gone off the deep end with this Watkins matter.”
“If you mean I’m working it as hard as I can, you’re right.”
“Working it too hard is the way I see it. It’s a solid brick wall you’re going up against.”
“Really?”
“All this about the Watkins girl havin’ been paid off to take the rap for a stabbing just doesn’t make sense, at least not to this humble southern boy.”
“Southern maybe, but I’d hardly call you humble.”
“Be that as it may. What you said earlier this evening about the Cardell family has me worried. You do realize that they are very powerful people here in Savannah and in Washington, D.C.”
“So?”
“How cavalier we can be,” said St. Pierre. “You obviously believe that what happened twenty years ago to a doomed black hooker and drug addict is more important than how good, decent people are treated.” Brixton started to respond but St. Pierre cut him off. “You’re flailing about, Robert, chasing ghosts from twenty years ago, and not the sort of ghosts we all love and admire here in Ghost Town USA—and I might add who provide a nice bit of change to our economy.”
“Know what, Wayne?” Brixton said as he stood to ease the pain in his back, “that doomed black hooker and addict named Louise Watkins was a human being, just like Mr. Ward Cardell and his family. The kid spent four years in the pen for something she didn’t do, and got herself gunned down on the street when she was released. She came out of prison with her GED and a shot at putting together a decent, productive life. She’s got a mother who loves her and a brother who does, too. They want her name cleared and that’s what I’m trying to do.”
“A noble undertaking to be sure, Robert, but a fool’s errand. Want mah advice? Of course you don’t, but I intend to give it anyway. You’re not getting any younger, my friend. Time’s afleeting. Go back home to Brooklyn or wherever it is that you’re from up there in New York. Take that lovely lady of yours with you. She’s from up north, too, isn’t she? Get yourself a cushy job in security with a bank or with the TSA at one a’ your airports up there.