Keep Them Close(34)

“Sure.”

Well, that was easy.

“Guess I’ll start with this,” says Louise. “When was the last time you saw Finley Brice?”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “Maybe…a month ago?”

“Was that at the Brices’ condo downtown?”

“No, it was at Trinity’s house. Trinity Casto’s townhouse. She was interviewing him for her documentary.”

“Sure. I’ll want to come back to that documentary. When was the last time you were at the Brices’ condo downtown?”

“Oh, wow. The last time…” His eyes trail to the ceiling. “Years? Years.”

“All right. Mr. Rankin, do you know anyone who’d want to harm Finley?”

He makes a face, lifts a shoulder. “You’d have to ask Allison.”

“We did. She won’t talk to us.”

His head tilts a fraction. “Allison won’t answer questions? Why not?”

Also interesting. “That’s news to you, Mr. Rankin? Have you spoken to her recently?”

Louise knows for a fact that he has. She saw him at Allison’s house last Sunday.

“Well, I mean, sure, after the news hit. I spent pretty much all of Easter at her house. But I didn’t know she was refusing to talk to you guys.”

“Okay, well, how was your relationship with Finley Brice?”

“Eh…” He angles his head. “Didn’t really have one anymore. We were close growing up. But I think as the marriage got bad, he kind of turned off from me, too. We didn’t hang around together or anything. I’d see him when I went over to my sister’s. That’s about it.”

“What about your relationship with your sister?”

“We don’t…have one anymore, either,” he says.

“No? Why not?”

He shrugs off the question. “Brother-sister shit.”

“Would that have anything to do with your arrest?”

“Wow.” Luke sits back in his chair. “That didn’t take long.”

“What didn’t take long?”

“I’m still charged for that crime,” says Luke. “And I didn’t come here to talk about that. I came here to answer questions about Finley.”

“We think they might be related, Mr. Rank—”

“I lost my job over that case,” he says, his anger rising, drilling a finger into the table. “I’ll fight that charge. But I won’t be tricked into answering questions about it.”

“No, no, no.” Louise puts out her hands. “That wasn’t my intention.”

Luke pauses, rolling his tongue against his cheek. “How is my case related to Finley’s?”

“That’s not—we’re not at liberty to share that with you,” says Louise.

“Oh, you’re not at liberty.” He smiles, then drops his head. “Then I guess I’m not at liberty to share with you.” He pushes himself out of his chair.

“You can’t leave,” says Louise, but Luke has already walked out.

Louise looks at her partner. “What the hell just happened?”

“Whatever it was, it was exactly what he had planned,” says Cutty. “That was an acting job, Lou, if I’ve ever seen one. He was never gonna talk to us.”



* * *





That night just before eight, a gray sky overhead, Louise and Cutty ring the Brices’ doorbell. Allison answers quickly but shows no sign of opening up her house to them. “Hello, Mrs. Brice,” says Louise. “We were wondering if you still refuse to answer our questions.”

“Yes,” she says simply, with an expression that would make a poker player proud.

Louise shakes her head. “Mind telling me why?”

“I just told you I won’t answer questions, Detective. And then you ask me one?”

Cutty jumps in, sensing Louise’s anger. “May we inspect your phone?”

“No,” says Allison.

Louise plants a smile on her face, an old trick to contain her emotions. “I don’t understand what you’re doing here, Mrs. Brice.”

“Bruce Ghadiali will,” she says. “Tell him hi for me.” She shuts the door.

Louise stands, flat-footed, trying to form a word with her lips.

“You live long enough, you see everything,” Cutty whispers.

Louise turns and walks down the brick walkway, Cutty following.

“We can get her phone, at least,” says Cutty. “Maybe we don’t have probable cause yet, but we will. Then we’ll get a warrant.”

“I know that,” says Louise. “You know who else knows that? Allison Brice. She knows it’s just a matter of time and she’s pissing us off. Why, Cutty? What does she gain by a delay?”





Four Weeks Before April Fools’ Day





26


Luke

The wind bites my face as Trinity and I walk along the sidewalk, snow crunching under our boots. The houses in this neighborhood sit back from the street behind low stone walls and hedges: broad Prairie-style spreads with exaggerated overhangs, brick colonials with careful symmetry, arts-and-crafts with deep porches and square pillars.