Rules for Perfect Murders - Peter Swanson Page 0,42

staying here for spring break. I’m not deluded—she’s interested in some guy at BU. But still, something to look forward to.”

Cindy was Marty’s daughter, the only member of the family with whom he still had regular contact.

“That’s good news, Marty. Look, I actually have a favor to ask from you.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“If it’s something you can’t do, or don’t feel right about, just tell me. It’s not going to be a big deal.”

“You want me to kill someone?” he said and laughed.

“No, but I actually do want some information on someone who was killed. Is that something you can do, as an ex-cop?”

“What kind of information?”

“This has to be just between us,” I said. “You can’t tell anyone.”

“Not a problem. You in trouble?”

“No, no,” I said. During the course of the phone conversation, I’d begun to realize that I would need some sort of reason for what I was asking. I quickly decided on a twisted version of the truth. “The FBI got in contact with me over an old homicide case. A man from New Hampshire who was murdered about four years ago. Norman Chaney. C-H-A-N-E-Y. They didn’t tell me everything but, apparently, he had a lot of books from the store, and they think there might be some connection.”

“What kind of connection?”

“They wouldn’t tell me, exactly. I just … I’m feeling thrown by this whole thing, and I was wondering if you could look into it for me, find out something about this guy. I feel like maybe they’re not telling me the whole story, that it might have something to do with Claire, or something.”

“I can make some calls, sure,” Marty said, sounding a little confused. “It’s probably nothing, Mal. Periodically someone will be handed a cold case, and they find some avenue that wasn’t fully investigated—like where he got his books from—and they decide to check it out. It’s grasping at straws. You said it was the FBI came to see you?”

“Yeah. That’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll make some calls. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“Thanks so much, Marty.”

“What else is going on with you?”

“Not too much. Buying books, selling books.”

“Let’s grab a beer soon. I’ll call you when I get information on this Donald Chaney, and we can meet.”

“Norman Chaney.”

“Right, right. Norman Chaney.”

“Yeah, let’s do that,” I said. “Grab a drink.”

I hung up the phone, realizing only after I’d done so that my shoulders were rigid, and my jaw ached. Norman Chaney had been a name I’d been trying to forget for years. Just saying it out loud had physically changed me. Again, I wondered if I’d made a mistake by bringing Marty into this, but I needed to know who wanted Chaney dead. I rolled my shoulders, loosening them, just as Emily came through the door, unwinding a long scarf from around her neck. It was opening time, and I turned all the lights on in the store, went and put the Open sign in the front door. There was a stack of new arrivals in the back that needed to be shelved, and after Emily had shed all her outerwear, the two of us got to work, mostly in silence. When we did talk, I noticed that her voice was slightly hoarse, as though she were coming down with a cold, or else she’d talked too much the night before. I remembered that she had plans. Still, it was hard to imagine Emily talking too much to anyone. It was hard to imagine Emily having plans.

“What’s new with you these days?” I asked her.

“What do you mean?” she said.

“Nothing, really. I was curious if anything had changed in your life. You still living in Cambridge? You seeing anyone?”

“Uh,” she said, and I waited for more.

“Seen any good movies?” I said, just to give her an out after the silence lasted an uncomfortable level of time.

“I saw Under the Skin,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. Was that the one with Scarlett Johannson as the alien?”

“Exactly.”

“How was it?”

“Really great.”

“Good to know,” I said and decided to not ask her any more questions. I never had children, so I’ll never know what it’s like to have a suddenly silent teenager, but sometimes I felt like that was my relationship with Emily.

We went back to shelving books, and I found myself thinking about my conversation with Marty. Maybe it had been a mistake to ask him to look at Norman Chaney, but it felt like something I had to do. Chaney was my link to Charlie. Well, also Elaine