that.’ His shoulders shook, but he managed to get a grip on himself and looked at the two detectives.
‘And after?’
Harper hesitated, but Jake already knew some of the answer. The two-day-old shirt told its own tale.
‘You didn’t spend last night with your wife?’ he prodded gently.
Harper looked at his feet. When he answered his voice was small.
‘No, I didn’t.’ He looked down for a moment, and when he looked up he didn’t meet the investigators’ eyes. He went on in a low voice: ‘I had to go out around ten, to meet a campaign sponsor. I had a few beers with him, so I decided not to drive home. I slept in my office. The campaign headquarters office, not the City Hallone. I have a little pull-out bed there. I often sleep over when I’m working late. Election year and all.’
It was a lie. Harper had volunteered too much detail. But Jake still had to go through the motions. In any case, it was not a crime to lie about your whereabouts.
‘We’ll need the details of the man you met,’ said Jake. He would be able to confirm what time Harper had been out, but that still left a full night with no supported alibi. Quite convenient.
‘That’s not a problem,’ said Harper. ‘But I’ll have to call him first, to square it with him.’ He fixed the detectives with a stern, patronizing stare as he explained: ‘I know this is a murder investigation, but these guys donate big sums, and they expect a certain amount of discretion.’
Unbelievable. Your wife has been murdered, and you’re playing politics
. But Jake said nothing.
Harper was sniffling again, the tears never far from the surface. He took a linen hanky out of his suit pocket and dabbed his face. It was all very affecting.
A bit too affecting
, thought Jake. He had sympathy for the man, but somehow he felt the emotion was being displayed. Harper was genuinely grieving, but at the same time he was
aware
of his pain and playing it to the hilt. He and Belinda had been the perfect power couple, and now Mitch would be the perfect widower. Jake felt it was all a bit impersonal. Political grief. But he had to admit the guy was good.
The cameras would love it.
‘At your earliest convenience,’ said Jake. He wasbeginning to tire of the bullshit, but what could he do? Some day Harper might be his boss.
The councilman was sobbing now. He held his head in his hands, and the tears flowed freely.
‘If only I had gone home,’ he railed, clenched fist raised like he was going to pound the desk. Then he stopped and let it slowly ease down on to the wood. Every gesture calculated, almost practised. That he was able to be so deliberate mid-sob was nothing short of impressive. Jake wondered if it could also be classed as sinister. ‘I wasn’t drunk. I could have driven. Then she might still be with me.’
Jake had no answer to that. He was saved by the sudden arrival of Sara. The bubbly receptionist was smiling as she looked into the office.
‘There’s a visitor for you, Detective Austin,’ she said.
She looked at the sobbing Harper, and a look of maternal concern crossed her face.
‘Excuse me, Councilman.’ Jake got up and went out of the door. Mills followed.
Jake closed it behind him so that Harper could be alone.
Sara looked up at Jake, and a miniature smile was still hovering over her eyes. She whispered, trying to keep it for Jake alone. ‘He says he’s here to confess.’ She giggled.
Jake could feel his blood pressure rising. And that ulcer, the one whose ass he thought he’d kicked, released its acidy sensation into his stomach.
26
Wednesday, 12.40 p.m.
Jake tightened his jaw and ground his teeth. He followed Sara down the corridor to where Johnny Cooper was waiting for him at the front desk, looking as dishevelled as on the previous day. He had a hangdog face, and he was fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes.
‘Detective Austin,’ he began, ‘I need to speak to you in private.’
‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment,
‘And after?’
Harper hesitated, but Jake already knew some of the answer. The two-day-old shirt told its own tale.
‘You didn’t spend last night with your wife?’ he prodded gently.
Harper looked at his feet. When he answered his voice was small.
‘No, I didn’t.’ He looked down for a moment, and when he looked up he didn’t meet the investigators’ eyes. He went on in a low voice: ‘I had to go out around ten, to meet a campaign sponsor. I had a few beers with him, so I decided not to drive home. I slept in my office. The campaign headquarters office, not the City Hallone. I have a little pull-out bed there. I often sleep over when I’m working late. Election year and all.’
It was a lie. Harper had volunteered too much detail. But Jake still had to go through the motions. In any case, it was not a crime to lie about your whereabouts.
‘We’ll need the details of the man you met,’ said Jake. He would be able to confirm what time Harper had been out, but that still left a full night with no supported alibi. Quite convenient.
‘That’s not a problem,’ said Harper. ‘But I’ll have to call him first, to square it with him.’ He fixed the detectives with a stern, patronizing stare as he explained: ‘I know this is a murder investigation, but these guys donate big sums, and they expect a certain amount of discretion.’
Unbelievable. Your wife has been murdered, and you’re playing politics
. But Jake said nothing.
Harper was sniffling again, the tears never far from the surface. He took a linen hanky out of his suit pocket and dabbed his face. It was all very affecting.
A bit too affecting
, thought Jake. He had sympathy for the man, but somehow he felt the emotion was being displayed. Harper was genuinely grieving, but at the same time he was
aware
of his pain and playing it to the hilt. He and Belinda had been the perfect power couple, and now Mitch would be the perfect widower. Jake felt it was all a bit impersonal. Political grief. But he had to admit the guy was good.
The cameras would love it.
‘At your earliest convenience,’ said Jake. He wasbeginning to tire of the bullshit, but what could he do? Some day Harper might be his boss.
The councilman was sobbing now. He held his head in his hands, and the tears flowed freely.
‘If only I had gone home,’ he railed, clenched fist raised like he was going to pound the desk. Then he stopped and let it slowly ease down on to the wood. Every gesture calculated, almost practised. That he was able to be so deliberate mid-sob was nothing short of impressive. Jake wondered if it could also be classed as sinister. ‘I wasn’t drunk. I could have driven. Then she might still be with me.’
Jake had no answer to that. He was saved by the sudden arrival of Sara. The bubbly receptionist was smiling as she looked into the office.
‘There’s a visitor for you, Detective Austin,’ she said.
She looked at the sobbing Harper, and a look of maternal concern crossed her face.
‘Excuse me, Councilman.’ Jake got up and went out of the door. Mills followed.
Jake closed it behind him so that Harper could be alone.
Sara looked up at Jake, and a miniature smile was still hovering over her eyes. She whispered, trying to keep it for Jake alone. ‘He says he’s here to confess.’ She giggled.
Jake could feel his blood pressure rising. And that ulcer, the one whose ass he thought he’d kicked, released its acidy sensation into his stomach.
26
Wednesday, 12.40 p.m.
Jake tightened his jaw and ground his teeth. He followed Sara down the corridor to where Johnny Cooper was waiting for him at the front desk, looking as dishevelled as on the previous day. He had a hangdog face, and he was fidgeting with a pack of cigarettes.
‘Detective Austin,’ he began, ‘I need to speak to you in private.’
‘I’m a bit tied up at the moment,
Similar Books
