The Fractal Murders Part 21

I sat down on one of two plastic chairs beside a st.u.r.dy wooden table that had seen a mult.i.tude of messages carved into it over the years. Denzel left the door slightly ajar. Like the others, it was made of steel. The walls were concrete but had been painted with semigloss b.u.t.tercup. There was one window, a rectangular sheet of thick Plexiglas, but the only view was of the hallway and guard station.

Twenty minutes later another guard, white and wiry, escorted a young black man to the room. He wore a tan jumpsuit that was unb.u.t.toned down to his navel. Shaved head. Big scar on his left biceps, like he'd been branded with an iron. Solid build. Washboard stomach. About five-nine and a hundred sixty-five pounds. "This fool ain't my lawyer," he said.

"Just appointed by the court," I told the guard as I rose from my chair. "He probably hasn't received the papers yet." I offered Delbert my hand. He refused it, but he entered the room. We remained silent until the guard had locked the door and disappeared from view.

"The f.u.c.k are you?" Delbert asked. "d.a.m.n sure ain't my lawyer."

"I'm not anyone's lawyer," I said, "but that's another story." I sat down, opened my wallet, and placed a crisp hundred on the table. "I'm going to ask a few questions," I said. "Give the right answers and that money is yours."

"You a cop?"

"If I were a cop," I said, "I wouldn't lie my way in here and offer you a hundred bucks."

"You a sherlock, I got nothin' to say."

"I'm a private investigator," I said. He sat down.

"Ain't gonna rat on my homies," he said.

"Don't worry," I said, "the guy I'm looking for only kills math professors. I doubt he spends much time in the 'hood."

"What you want?" he asked, surly.

"You bought a thirty-eight-caliber pistol at Saul's p.a.w.nshop a few months before the feds busted you. I want to know where that gun is."

"The f.u.c.k you talkin' 'bout?"

"You signed an ATF four-four-seven-three when you bought the gun," I said. "One of the questions on that form is whether you've ever been convicted of a felony." He broke eye contact. "You lied," I said, "and that's a felony." I hadn't seen the form, but I knew what had happened because I'd seen it so many times. "The feds don't know about it," I said. "So the question is, do you want to do another five years for making a false statement in the purchase of a firearm or do you want to earn a quick hundred bucks?" He looked at me and laced his fingers together on the table.

"What you want to know 'bout that gun fo'?"

"Someone used it to kill a man up in Washington," I said. "I'm looking for the killer."

"Don't know nothin' 'bout that," he said.

"I believe you," I said. "Just tell me about the gun."

He looked at me for several seconds. "I sold that f.u.c.kin' gun to my cousin," he said. "Don't know what he did with it."

"What's his name?"

"Bailey."

"His first name?"

"That's his first name. Bailey Green."

"Where does he live?" I asked.

"He in jail."

"Where?"

"Denver somewhere," he said. "They holdin' him for armed robbery or some s.h.i.t."

"Did he use the gun in the robbery?"

"Don't know, I wasn't there."

"Did he say why he wanted the gun?"

"Protection." Stupid question.

"When did you sell him the gun?" I asked.

"Right before I got busted," he said. "July, I think."

"How long has he been in jail?"

"He been in since August, man. Trial's next month. Can't plead because he lookin' at a b.i.t.c.h." Another conviction would qualify Delbert's cousin as a habitual offender.

"You're sure he's been in since August? It couldn't have been September or October?"

"Pretty sho," he said. "Don't know 'zactly 'cuz I been locked up."

I slid the hundred across the table. "You can take it," I said, "or I can deposit it in your account when I leave." He picked it up, folded it in half, and tucked it into his breast pocket. I rapped my knuckles on the door a few times to let the guards know we were done. "You be quiet about my visit," I said. Denzel came and unlocked the door. "He doesn't want my help," I told the guard, "so I guess I won't be seeing you anymore."

22.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I'VE LIVED here this long and never been up here," said Jayne. "This view is fantastic." Boulder was almost directly below us and a good chunk of eastern Colorado, including Denver, was visible to the east.

"I discovered it in law school," I said. "I used to run up here."

"I'll bet that was fun," she said.

"Going up was a bear, but coming down was a natural high." It was two o'clock on a gorgeous Sunday afternoon and we were standing on top of one of the flatirons, large formations of red rock that rise out of the mountains overlooking the city. Our hike had taken more than an hour; the vertical rise is several thousand feet. "Ready to eat?" I asked.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "I'm famished." We found a level spot and sat down on the hard rock. From my nylon knapsack I removed the hoagies I'd made, then poured white zinfandel into two clear plastic cups. I shifted my weight in an attempt to get comfortable.

"Hard rock cafe," I said. She smiled and bit into her sandwich. French bread, lettuce, onion, tomato, thin slices of provolone, all topped with Italian dressing and a dash of salt.

"These are delicious," she said. "Are you a vegetarian?"

"More or less," I said.

"You don't look like one," she said. I wasn't sure if she was referring to my build or my haircut.

"A few years ago," I said as I finished chewing a bite, "I represented a meatpacking corporation that got into some trouble with the government over allegations of unsanitary conditions. In order to do my job, I needed to understand the process from start to finish, so I toured a slaughterhouse and-"

"It's an animal rights thing?"

"I don't know," I said. "It's just something I've been struggling with."

"My grandparents were ranchers," she said. "To them, there wasn't much difference between a vegetarian and a communist."

I laughed. "I don't have it all figured out," I said. "I don't have any problem with killing an animal to survive, but I'm not sure it's right to breed animals for the sole purpose of killing them."

"I never thought of that," she said.

We continued eating and enjoyed the Colorado sunshine. She looked great in olive shorts and a white sleeveless top.

"What are you thinking?" she asked. She poured more wine for each of us. I was thinking she had great legs, but couldn't say that.

"Still thinking about the case," I said. I'd brought her up to date during the drive from her home to the trailhead. "I want to call Gilbert tomorrow and see if he can get some information on Bailey Green."

"What kind of information?"

"What was he arrested for? Did it involve a gun? When was he busted?" I could probably get all that myself, but Gaffney didn't even know what agency had arrested his cousin; all he knew was that Bailey was in jail in "Denver somewhere." It would be quicker to let Gilbert do it.

"Anything I can do?" she asked.

"Come to think of it," I said, "there might be. Do you know anyone who teaches linguistics?"

"Sure, why?"

"I'm convinced Carolyn Chang helped Hawkins write that article, but it would be nice to have an expert compare their writing styles."

"There's a woman in the English department, Maggie McGuire. I'll call her first thing in the morning."

"That would be great," I said. "I've got the articles in my truck. I'll leave them with you tonight."

"Oh, look," she said. I followed her index finger and saw a brave soul piloting a hang glider several thousand feet above us. Hang gliding is popular in Boulder because of the thermals that rise from the base of the mountains and provide constant lift so a glider can remain aloft for hours.

"He's up there," I said. We watched as the pilot circled higher and higher.

"I went parasailing once," she said. "Have you ever done anything like that?"

"My brother and I used to skydive a lot," I said, "but his parachute malfunctioned one time and we took that as a sign it was time to find new hobbies."

"My G.o.d, was he hurt?"

"No," I said. "He slammed into a wet corn field at thirty-five miles an hour, but walked away without any major damage." With that image in mind, I poured the rest of the wine into my nearly empty cup, then removed a second bottle from my knapsack. "He's also been struck by lightning and bitten by a rattlesnake, so we figure he's got six lives left."

She laughed. "Is that true?" she asked.

"Swear to G.o.d," I said. She sipped her wine.

"So what's your new hobby?" she asked.

"Going on hikes with good-looking women and getting them drunk."

She smiled. "Well," she said, "you're doing pretty well on the drunk part. This is good wine."

"I think I'm doing pretty well on the good-looking part too." She blushed and we settled into a comfortable silence as blue jays darted from tree to tree and chipmunks scurried about. "Ask you a question?" I finally said.

"Sure."

"I'm curious about that poster in your office."

"Poster?"

"'A woman without a man is like a-'"

"I should take that down," she said, embarra.s.sed. "I put it up in anger. A man I thought I loved turned out to be married, and that launched my all-men-are-sc.u.m period."

"When was that?"

"About five years ago." She pulled her knees in and wrapped her arms around them. This had the salutary effect of revealing a good deal of thigh. "You're sure you're not married?" she joked.

"Never married, never engaged," I said. "We covered that at the bookstore, remember?"

"Thought I might trip you up by asking again." She gave me a playful pat on the arm.

"I lived with a woman once," I said, "but she died before we ever got around to talking about marriage."

"I'm sorry."

"It was a long time ago," I said. "She was one of my law school cla.s.smates."

"Did you love her?"

"Yes," I said. "As much as I could at that age."

"How did she die?"

"Car accident. She went dancing with some cla.s.smates on a night when I had to work. A few of the guys got really drunk, so she drove them home. When she stopped for a red light, one of them accidentally spilled beer in her lap. She inadvertently hit the accelerator and another car broadsided her."

"That's horrible," she said. "Was anyone else killed?"

"No, everyone else walked away from it."

"What happened to the man?"