Red Dragon - Thomas Harris [33]
“Who is Mr. Jacobi's executor?”
“Byron Metcalf, firm of Metcalf and Barnes. How long you figure on being out there?”
“I don't know. Until I've finished.”
“You can drop that key in the mail. You don't have to come back by.”
# # #
Graham had the flat feeling of a cold trail as he drove out to the Jacobi house. It was barely within the city limits in an area newly annexed. He stopped beside the highway once to check his map before he found the turnoff onto an asphalt secondary road.
More than a month had passed since they were killed. What had he been doing then? Putting a pair of diesels in a sixtyfive foot Rybovich hull, signaling to Ariaga in the crane to come down an?other halfinch. Molly came over in the late afternoon and he and Molly and Ariaga sat under an awning in the cockpit of the halffinished boat and ate the big prawns Molly brought and drank cold Dos Equis beer. Ariaga explained the best way to clean crayfish, drawing the tail fan in sawdust on the deck, and the sunlight, broken on the water, played on the undersides of the wheeling gulls.
Water from the air conditioner squirted on the front of Graham's shirt and he was in Birmingham now and there were no prawns or gulls. He was driving, and pastures and wooded lots were on his right with goats and horses in them, and on his left was Stonebridge, a longestablished residential area with a few elegant homes and a number of rich people's houses.
He saw the realtor's sign a hundred yards before he reached it. The Jacobi house was the only one on the right side of the road. Sap from the pecan trees beside the drive had made the gravel sticky, and it rattled inside the fenders of the car. A carpenter on a ladder was installing window guards. The workman raised a hand to Graham as he walked around the house.
A flagged patio at the side was shaded by a large oak tree. At night the tree would block out the floodlight in the side yard as well. This was where the Tooth Fairy had entered, through sliding glass doors. The doors had been replaced with new ones, the aluminum frames still bright and bearing the manufacturer's sticker. Covering the slid?ing doors was a new wroughtiron security gate. The basement door was new too -flush steel and secured by deadbolts. The components of a hot tub stood in crates on the flagstones.
Graham went inside. Bare floors and dead air. His footsteps echoed in the empty house.
The new mirrors in the bathrooms had never reflected the Jacobis' faces or the killer's. On each was a fuzzy white spot where the price had been torn off. A folded dropeloth lay in a corner of the master bedroom. Graham sat on it long enough for the sunlight through the bare windows to move one boardwidth across the floor.
There was nothing here. Nothing anymore.
If he had come here immediately after the Jacobis were killed, would the Leedses still be alive? Graham wondered. He tested the weight of that burden.
It did not lift when he was out of the house and under the sky again.
Graham stood in the shade of a pecan tree, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets, and looked down the long drive to the road that passed in front of the Jacobi house.
How had the Tooth Fairy come to the Jacobi house? He had to drive. Where did he park? The gravel driveway was too noisy for a midnight visit, Graham thought. The Birmingham police did not agree.
# # #
He walked down the drive to the roadside. The asphalt road was bordered with ditches as far as he could see. It might be possible to pull across the ditch and hide a vehicle in the brush on the Jacobis' side of the road if the ground were hard and dry.
Facing the Jacobi house across the road was the single entrance to Stonebridge. The sign said that Stonebridge had a private patrol serv?ice. A strange vehicle would be noticed there. So would a man walk?ing late at night. Scratch parking in Stonebridge.
Graham went back into the house and was surprised to find the telephone working. He called the Weather Bureau and learned that three inches of rain fell on the day before the Jacobis