Now and then - By Robert B. Parker Page 0,19
none,” Hawk said.
“You mean he hired someone to kill her?”
“People do.”
“Not him,” I said. “Not his style. He might have shot her in a rage and then put the gun in his mouth. But he wouldn’t hire some guy with no ID to do it, and then drown himself later.”
“Okay,” Hawk said. “Maybe Alderson don’t want people to know he been fooling around with Jordan.”
“Killing two people to cover it up seems extreme,” I said.
“Maybe he don’t want people knowing other things,” Hawk said.
“If he does and he stole the tape he’ll be disappointed,” I said. “I edited it down to just the lovey-dovey stuff.”
“But you still got the original.”
“Yes, I do,” I said.
“Anybody know that?” Hawk said.
“Not yet,” I said.
“So maybe they think they got all there is,” Hawk said.
“Maybe.”
“On the other hand,” Hawk said, “they know somebody made the tape.”
“Yep.”
“So they ain’t free and clear yet,” Hawk said.
“Nope.”
“Unless Jordan told them ’bout you.”
“My guess is that she didn’t,” I said. “She was pretty desperate to get them back, more than she should have been, since her husband had already heard them.”
“She worried about Alderson,” Hawk said.
“Maybe.”
“So maybe she don’t tell him,” Hawk said.
“Maybe.”
“Doherty could have told them ’bout you before he died?”
“He was FBI,” I said. “They may have thought he did it himself.”
Hawk finished up with an elegant flurry of punches, and stepped away from the jeeter bag and looked at me. He nodded.
“They don’t know,” Hawk said.
“That’s my guess.”
“They knew,” Hawk said, “they would have made a run at you already.”
I nodded.
“So we’re probably under their radar,” I said.
“There you go with that we again,” Hawk said.
“I leave you out and you get sullen,” I said.
“I always sullen,” Hawk said. “You thinking about letting them know you got the tape.”
“It’s an option,” I said. “Let’s see what develops.”
“You could just give the tape to Epstein,” Hawk said. “Then there’d be no reason for them to come after you.”
“And there’d be no way to smoke them out,” I said.
“You won’t give Epstein the tape,” Hawk said.
I shrugged.
“It’s our only hole card. Otherwise these people have no reason to show themselves.”
“They might get Alderson arrested,” Hawk said.
“You heard them,” I said. “Did he ever say anything that would get him jail time?”
“No.”
“But as long as there’s a tape and he wants it,” I said.
“If he wants it,” I said.
“Mr. and Mrs. Doherty died for a reason,” I said. “And the tape’s missing.”
“’Less you buy it’s suicide,” Hawk said.
“You?” I said.
“No,” Hawk said.
“So it’s a working hypothesis,” I said.
“I got another one,” Hawk said.
“Which is?”
“They killed these people on your time,” Hawk said.
“You could think of it that way.”
“You could and you do,” Hawk said. “I know you a long time.”
“I’ve tried to be a good role model,” I said.
“So you want the one gets them be you,” Hawk said. “Not Epstein.”
“At least I want fi rst position,” I said.
Hawk smiled widely.
“’Course you do,” he said.
23.
Epstein stopped by my office in the late morning and gave me a big brown envelope.
“Copy of Alderson’s fi le,” he said.
“What makes you think I’m interested,” I said.
“I know about you,” he said.
“Anything classifi ed?” I said.
“I work for a very large government bureaucracy,” he said.
“My fucking dick is probably classifi ed.”
“And should be,” I said. “You got anything new on Doherty or his wife?”
“Water in his lungs. He was alive when he went in.”
“And conscious?” I said.
“No way to know,” Epstein said. “No bullets in him, no discernible wounds on the body. But it’s been banged around on the rocks and chewed on by sea creatures. Nothing is certain.”
“Time of death?”
“Approximate with his wife, give or take twelve hours,”
Epstein said.
“Tidal analysis?” I said.
Epstein smiled.
“Body could have gone in most places north of the Cape,” he said.
“It was saltwater in his lungs,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Wearing his gun?” I said.
“Nope.”
“Holster?”
Epstein smiled again.
“Nope,” he said. “Nobody appears to have disarmed him. Gun and holster were in the top drawer of a bureau in his bedroom.”
“Did it appear to be her bedroom, too?” I said.
“Yes.”
“How was he dressed?” I said.
“Shirt, pants, shoes,” Epstein said. “Wallet in his hip pocket. He wasn’t wearing his suit coat or tie.”
“Sounds like they took him at home.”
“Which,” Epstein said, “leads me to wonder where she was.”
I nodded.
“You got any idea?”
“No,” I said.
“I was married once, twice actually, and I remember some of it, and one of our female agents went through the house too, and we agreed that there wasn’t enough makeup in the bathroom. Like she packed some and left.”
“After