again and stalking her and ultimately killing her. Dr. Williams was hoping to get a big book contract. One of his nurses even told me he was speculating who'd play him in the TV movie."
"Wow. A modest man."
"But if Rick's found guilty, all that's gone."
"I take it Dr. Williams isn't your favorite guy."
"I don't have much faith in psychiatry. And I feel the same way about the hired guns who work for the state. They mostly play word games and puff themselves up. My understanding is that most of Freud has been discredited anyway."
"So I hear."
She shrugged. "To be fair, we've all got our angles. I was the one who arrested Rick, so I want to see him convicted. So does Sandy's dad, because he knows all the terrible things Rick did to his daughter—even before he killed her. Dr. Williams and Rick's folks don't want to see him convicted because they've convinced themselves he's innocent, and because it will reflect badly on them if he's found guilty. They saw the wild kid he became but they couldn't do anything about it. A lot of people in a town like this always blame the parents."
"You don't see any possibility that it's somebody else?"
"Not really."
"And being a dutiful chief of police, you've considered other possibilities?"
"I know the rap."
"The rap?"
"That we make up our minds who did it and then never investigate anybody else."
"It happens."
"Did Dr. Williams tell you Rick was seen leaving the boathouse where the body was found?"
"No."
"Did he tell you that DNA tests showed Rick had her blood all over his hands?"
"No."
"Did he tell you that her bra—with her blood on it—was found in Rick's car?"
"Wow."
"Wow is right. How'd you like to be the attorney who has to argue against that kind of evidence?"
"Who is his attorney, by the way?"
"Woman named Iris Rutledge. Two blocks down and around the corner. Upstairs. She's young and smart and good. But she's not going to win this one."
"More coffee?" the waitress asked. We both said yes, please. She filled our cups.
She said, "Do you bowl?"
I smiled. "Not so's you'd notice."
"Good. How about going bowling with me tonight?"
"Really?
"I usually go with a friend but she's got a cold. I need somebody to bowl with."
"Boy," I said. "Bowling."
"And afterward we can walk down to the DQ."
"Dairy Queen?"
"Right."
"Life in the fast lane."
"You know you want to go, Payne. You're just trying to be this big-city sophisticate."
"How do you know I want to go?"
"The way you're looking at me."
"Maybe I'm looking at your scar."
"Huh-uh. You're past that point. Now, you're looking at me. And I appreciate it. I guess I've still got some vanity left after all. Pathetic as it is." For the first time, I sensed her self-consciousness about the scar. And maybe a little bit of the pain.
I laughed. "My pleasure. You're still a good-looking woman. So do I pick you up or what?"
"I'll just meet you there. It's on the east edge of town. Night Owl Lanes."
"I don't have a bowling shirt."
"They'll probably let you in anyway."
She stood up. Picked up both checks.
"Hey."
"I'm also on the chamber of commerce board, Payne. I'm supposed to pick up checks like this." Then, "See you about eight o'clock."
I ris Rutledge's office was on the top floor of what had once been a grocery store. In the first-floor windows, you could still see some of the produce stalls and two of the aisles. Dust to dust. Rats roamed the place now. They left their little turds everywhere. Another era come and gone. It was sad somehow, and scary. Someday my era would come and go, too, my whole generation vanished utterly.
I walked up the outside steps to the second floor. They creaked and wobbled. I wondered if she did personal injury law. The stairs seemed on the verge of collapse. She might end up defending her-self someday.
There was a sign that read COURTHOUSE. BACK AT 3 .
I went back down the stairs, and that was when I saw him. He hadn't been there before. Heavyset balding guy in a
"Wow. A modest man."
"But if Rick's found guilty, all that's gone."
"I take it Dr. Williams isn't your favorite guy."
"I don't have much faith in psychiatry. And I feel the same way about the hired guns who work for the state. They mostly play word games and puff themselves up. My understanding is that most of Freud has been discredited anyway."
"So I hear."
She shrugged. "To be fair, we've all got our angles. I was the one who arrested Rick, so I want to see him convicted. So does Sandy's dad, because he knows all the terrible things Rick did to his daughter—even before he killed her. Dr. Williams and Rick's folks don't want to see him convicted because they've convinced themselves he's innocent, and because it will reflect badly on them if he's found guilty. They saw the wild kid he became but they couldn't do anything about it. A lot of people in a town like this always blame the parents."
"You don't see any possibility that it's somebody else?"
"Not really."
"And being a dutiful chief of police, you've considered other possibilities?"
"I know the rap."
"The rap?"
"That we make up our minds who did it and then never investigate anybody else."
"It happens."
"Did Dr. Williams tell you Rick was seen leaving the boathouse where the body was found?"
"No."
"Did he tell you that DNA tests showed Rick had her blood all over his hands?"
"No."
"Did he tell you that her bra—with her blood on it—was found in Rick's car?"
"Wow."
"Wow is right. How'd you like to be the attorney who has to argue against that kind of evidence?"
"Who is his attorney, by the way?"
"Woman named Iris Rutledge. Two blocks down and around the corner. Upstairs. She's young and smart and good. But she's not going to win this one."
"More coffee?" the waitress asked. We both said yes, please. She filled our cups.
She said, "Do you bowl?"
I smiled. "Not so's you'd notice."
"Good. How about going bowling with me tonight?"
"Really?
"I usually go with a friend but she's got a cold. I need somebody to bowl with."
"Boy," I said. "Bowling."
"And afterward we can walk down to the DQ."
"Dairy Queen?"
"Right."
"Life in the fast lane."
"You know you want to go, Payne. You're just trying to be this big-city sophisticate."
"How do you know I want to go?"
"The way you're looking at me."
"Maybe I'm looking at your scar."
"Huh-uh. You're past that point. Now, you're looking at me. And I appreciate it. I guess I've still got some vanity left after all. Pathetic as it is." For the first time, I sensed her self-consciousness about the scar. And maybe a little bit of the pain.
I laughed. "My pleasure. You're still a good-looking woman. So do I pick you up or what?"
"I'll just meet you there. It's on the east edge of town. Night Owl Lanes."
"I don't have a bowling shirt."
"They'll probably let you in anyway."
She stood up. Picked up both checks.
"Hey."
"I'm also on the chamber of commerce board, Payne. I'm supposed to pick up checks like this." Then, "See you about eight o'clock."
I ris Rutledge's office was on the top floor of what had once been a grocery store. In the first-floor windows, you could still see some of the produce stalls and two of the aisles. Dust to dust. Rats roamed the place now. They left their little turds everywhere. Another era come and gone. It was sad somehow, and scary. Someday my era would come and go, too, my whole generation vanished utterly.
I walked up the outside steps to the second floor. They creaked and wobbled. I wondered if she did personal injury law. The stairs seemed on the verge of collapse. She might end up defending her-self someday.
There was a sign that read COURTHOUSE. BACK AT 3 .
I went back down the stairs, and that was when I saw him. He hadn't been there before. Heavyset balding guy in a
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