Last Song Sung. David A. Poulsen
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Sorry.”
I nodded, and Cobb moved off his arm. Kennedy flexed it a couple of times and smiled. “I forgot how tough cops are — even former cops.”
“When are you leaving?” I asked him.
“As soon as I can get packed and gone. Later tonight. There’s a twelve-thirty flight.”
I looked at Cobb. “I know you want to stay on the Foster case. I can do some work on the research side from Marlon’s place while I’m tending video cameras and checking film.”
“I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” Kennedy said. “Might be a week; might be longer. I’ll check in with you once I’m out there and I know more.”
I nodded.
“I know I’m asking a lot here and —”
I held up my hand. “We’ll make it work.”
“I appreciate it.”
For a few minutes we turned our attention back to our breakfast. After a few minutes, Kennedy laid down his fork and looked again at me.
“I hope you don’t mind my asking, but your wife … what —”
“She died in a fire,” I said. “The fire was deliberately set.”
He looked at me for a time, then nodded slowly. “You’re that guy. I remember now. You finally got the bitch who did it. I read about it.”
“Yeah.” I looked down at the breakfast I was losing interest in. “Yeah, I’m that guy.”
“Jesus, man. I’m sorry I was such an asshole before.” He held out his hand across the table.
I shook it. “No apology needed.”
“Yeah, there is.” He turned to Cobb. “To you, too.”
Cobb nodded as the waitress came by and topped up coffee cups one more time.
We ate in silence for a while. Kennedy looked up again and spoke in an even more hushed tone than before. “Something I want to say … or maybe ask is a better way of putting it.”
Cobb finished spreading jam on a slice of toast, set it down and turned to face Kennedy. “Yeah?”
“Does this thing seem, I don’t know … off to you? I’ve read the homicide file probably a hundred times. We should have nailed this bastard in no time. It should never have been this hard. Don’t you think that’s weird?”
“I don’t know if weird is the word I’d use,” Cobb said. “Frustrating, for damn sure.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the thing I’ve been wondering — and maybe it’s that frustration you mentioned, or maybe it’s the obsession I have with this case that cost me my family — but lately I’ve been thinking, what if it was a cop? I mean, I get that it’s out of left field, but sometimes I think, why didn’t this piece of evidence happen? Or, why didn’t that turn out to be a match? Stuff like that. An investigation that should have been a twenty-four-hour slam dunk is a twenty-four-year-old cold case. And I’ve been asking myself if it was maybe possible that somebody was on the inside making things a lot more difficult than they should have been.”
“You think it could have been Hansel or Gretel?”
Cobb had told me earlier that one of the lead investigators was a guy named Hansel, which meant that his partners tended to get saddled with Gretel. This Gretel was actually Tony Gaspari.
Kennedy shook his head. “Not them. At least, I don’t think so.… I knew those guys. So did you. Looked to me like they busted their asses on this. Look, I know this sounds like I’m even crazier than you already think I am, but Christ, just think about it, Mike.”
Cobb waited a long moment before answering. “All right, I’ll think about it. I doubt like hell that there’s anything there, but I’ll take a look. And I want you to write down anything you think might be a little off with the investigation.”
“Fair enough. I’ve already jotted down a few notes. When I get back from the island, I’ll put some thoughts together and send them along.”
“Sure. I’ll look at them, but it might not be for a while. We’re working on something right now that’s going to keep us busy.”
“I’m okay with that. It’s not like this thing is going to get any colder if we don’t get right at it. But listen, if you guys are tied up with something, maybe you don’t have time to take over the surveillance at my place right now. I’ll totally understand if —”
I held up a hand to stop him. “The things I’m doing on this other case I can work around helping you out. It’s fine.”
He looked at Cobb, then back at me. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. When do I start?”
“When can you start?”
I shrugged. “Right away, I guess.”
“Why don’t you come by around ten tonight? I can show you the setup before I have to leave to catch my flight.”
“I’ll be there.”
He stood up as if to leave, then put his hands on the table and bent down.
“I’m not expecting you to do this for nothing.”
I held up a hand and shook my head. “Why don’t we talk about that later? For now, let’s just get it done.”
He straightened, looked like he wanted to argue, then changed his mind.
“See you later tonight,” I said.
“I got breakfast,” Kennedy said.
“Not necessary,” Cobb said.
“Actually, it is.” Kennedy turned and headed for the counter.
Our server came by and collected plates and cutlery from our table, giving Cobb and me time to think a little about the points Kennedy had raised during breakfast.
When she’d gone, I sipped coffee and said, “Well?”
“Interesting,” Cobb said.
“The thing that I come away with from that meeting is that the guy is not a crazy person.”
Cobb took some time before answering. “I think you’re right. He was pretty lucid today. But let’s not forget this is the same guy who’s been living in a house staring out at a crime scene for twenty-four years, and when he’s not staring at it he’s videoing the area. And this is also the same guy who took you down, and we don’t know how close he was to taking you out.”
“Yeah, you’re right. So do you think I was stupid to offer to watch over things while he’s away?”
“No, I can’t say that. But one thing I want to make really clear: You see something or you spot something on a tape that seems a little off, you don’t go jumping in your car and racing off after somebody. You call me.”
“I’m totally onside with that. The life of the swashbuckling crime fighter is not for me.”
“Swashbuckling?”
“Think Errol Flynn.”
“Right.”
“What did you think about his idea that we should be looking at the cops for this?”
“Like I told him, I have to think about that.”
“Interesting premise, though. Might explain why the investigation went sideways.”
“That would be one possible explanation.” Cobb nodded slowly. “I’m not sure it’s the most logical one. Anyway, let’s talk about things more current — the Ellie Foster case.” Cobb tapped the Brill file folder.
“Right.”