chair in an open, confiding posture. “I figured someone would discover it even if I didn’t phone it in. And Cliff did, within forty-eight hours, before I had a chance to call.”
Which part was lies and which truth? Even I can’t tell anymore. But it all sounded like it could have happened, and he appeared to believe me. Or he was mentally putting me on the list of suspects. Either way, he gave a slow nod.
“I was wrong, I know,” I said. “Really bad call, but you can’t say I obstructed an investigation as much as postponed it for a day. I’ll think about anything else I might have seen in that area and write up a report for you if you want.”
Max seemed to relax a little, which made me relax. He said, “With all this rain the wash is a river. Our crime scene techs don’t have much experience with aquatic environments. They say they figure the physical evidence has been flushed somewhere downstream, so even if they found something they couldn’t guarantee it was connected to the primary scene. If the place where the van was found is actually the primary scene.”
“You’re right, just because the ME said it was the primary scene, all he could know is that the killing occurred inside the van. The van could have been moved from some distance away, the wash a secondary scene.” Now that I appeared to be off the hook I wanted to be so helpful. “Jesus, where’s Gary Sinise when you need him? If you’re right about the guy being a derelict how hard are you going to press?”
“Oh I’ll press, all right. Accident or murder, I’m thinking he’s either a transient or there’s more, maybe some connection with that meth lab that blew up in your neighborhood last week. Maybe this is drug or gang related.”
“Yeah, this guy may have been one of those homicides who had it coming for years.” I nodded just vigorously enough to imply I hadn’t thought that myself, but that it was Max’s idea. I wasn’t necessarily in the clear; Max could be withholding all kinds of knowledge, testing me to see what else I knew. He was smart, and I respected him. But besides getting the focus off me, and showing a professional interest, maybe I could steer him onto the right track, Peasil as perp rather than victim.
“I’ve got the address his vehicle is registered to, and we’ll send people up there to see if we can find anything else,” Max said. “And I’ll stop by the houses up the hill from the wash, see if they saw anything out of the ordinary that day.”
He stopped and looked at me. I looked back. I’ve dealt with much scarier people in more dangerous circumstances.
“Are you done with me now?” I asked, going for the patient but slightly bored tone of voice.
He smiled. I noted it because I couldn’t remember seeing Max smile before. “You’ll be around in case we need you, right? Not going anywhere?”
Now that chilled me a little. I’d used those words too often myself on “persons of interest.” His appearing to relax was a ruse. I nodded, saving my gulp for when my chin was down so he wouldn’t notice.
“You see, I may need to talk to you again once the techs have finished going over the van. They’re having a field day in there.”
“How’s that?”
“They’ve found lots of trace, sand with copper, a substantial number of unique prints, some hair. You’d think all the blood was his but you never know. Could be his assailant. Kind of a mess with the decomposition.”
“So are you done with me at this point?” I asked again.
“Nearly. One more thing.” He reached toward the desk and took one of the little cardboard boxes that held a DNA swab. He pulled out the swab, which looked like a long Q-tip with cotton at only one end. “We’ve got your fingerprints on file through the Bureau but not your DNA. Want to open up for me?”
“Oh Max.” That’s what this whole conversation had been leading to, and why he brought me into this office. He probably had made sure in advance that there was a swab on the desk. “You got a warrant for this?”
“I was intending to keep it between us for now, but if you want me to go to the judge, give him your name, probable cause, and get paper, sure, I can do that.”
What else could I do?