“I know, but tell the cops I’ll meet em at Biddle’s, and I’ll take em out there, but I’m not staying here by myself.” He ended the call before his father could argue with him.
15
The meeting with Marcy was set for eight o’clock that night at the Maitland home. Ralph got the green-light call from Howie Gold, who told him Alec Pelley would also be there. Ralph asked if he could bring Yune Sablo, if Yune was available.
“Under no circumstances,” Howie replied. “Bring Lieutenant Sablo or anyone else, even your lovely wife, and the meeting’s off.”
Ralph agreed. There was nothing else he could do. He puttered around in the cellar for awhile, mostly just shifting boxes from one side to the other and back again. Then he picked at his supper. With two hours still stretching before him, he pushed away from the table. “I’m going to the hospital to visit Fred Peterson.”
“Why?”
“I just feel like I should.”
“I’ll come with you, if you want.”
Ralph shook his head. “I’ll go directly to Barnum Court from there.”
“You’re wearing yourself out. Running your guts to water, my grandmother would have said.”
“I’m okay.”
She gave him a smile that said she knew better, then stood on her toes to kiss him. “Call me. Whatever happens, call me.”
He smiled. “Nuts to that. I’ll come back and tell you in person.”
16
As he was entering the hospital’s lobby, Ralph met the department’s missing detective on his way out. Jack Hoskins was a slight man, prematurely gray, with bags under his eyes and a red-veined nose. He was still wearing his fishing outfit—khaki shirt and khaki pants, both with many pockets—but his badge was clipped to his belt.
“What are you doing here, Jack? I thought you were on vacation.”
“Called back three days early,” he said. “Drove into town not an hour ago. My net, gumrubbers, poles, and tackle box are still in my truck. Chief thought he might like to have at least one detective on active duty. Betsy Riggins is upstairs on five, having the baby. Her labor started late this afternoon. I talked to her husband, who says she’s got a long way to go. Like he’d have any idea. As for you . . .” He paused for effect. “You’re in a hell of a mess, Ralph.”
Jack Hoskins made no effort to hide his satisfaction. A year previous, Ralph and Betsy Riggins had been asked to fill out routine evaluation forms for Jack, when he became eligible for a pay bump. Betsy, the detective with the least seniority, had said all the right things. Ralph had turned his in to Chief Geller with only two words written in the space provided: No opinion. It hadn’t kept Hoskins from getting his bump, but it was an opinion, all the same. Hoskins wasn’t supposed to see the eval sheets, and maybe hadn’t, but word of what had been on Ralph’s had of course gotten back to him.
“Did you look in on Fred Peterson?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.” Jack pursed his lower lip and blew scant hair off his forehead. “Lot of monitors in his room, and low lines on all of them. I don’t think he’s coming back.”
“Well, welcome home.”
“Fuck that, Ralph, I had three more days, the bass were running, and I’m not even going to get a chance to change my shirt, which stinks of fish guts. Got calls from both Geller and Sheriff Doolin. Have to go all the way out to that useless dustbowl known as Canning Township. I understand your buddy Sablo is already there. I probably won’t actually make it home until ten or eleven.”
Ralph could have said, Don’t blame me, but who else was this mostly useless time-server going to blame? Betsy, for getting pregnant last November? “What’s in Canning?”
“Jeans, underpants, and sneakers. Kid found them in a shed or a barn while he was hunting out milk cans for his father. Also a belt with a horse’s head buckle. Of course the Mobile Crime Lab will already be there, I’ll be about as useful as tits on a bull, but the chief—”
“There’ll be fingerprints on the buckle,” Ralph interrupted. “And there may be tire tracks from the van, or the Subaru, or both.”
“Don’t try teaching your daddy how to suck eggs,” Jack said. “I was carrying a detective’s shield while you were still in uniform.” The subtext Ralph heard was And I’ll still be carrying it when you’re working as a mall guard at Southgate.
He left. Ralph was glad to see him go. He only wished he could go out there himself. Fresh evidence at this point could be precious. The silver lining was that Sablo had already gotten there, and would be supervising the Forensics Unit. They’d finish most of their work before Jack could arrive and maybe screw something up, as he had on at least two previous occasions that Ralph knew about.