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XXIV
The Last Monday
[Confession is] an obligatory act of speech which, under some imperious compulsion, breaks the bond of discretion or forgetfulness.
Michel Foucault
Charlie had little interest in his seminar that Monday. He was thinking about the case and especially his and Kate's situation. That morning, as he was leaving the house, a patrol car had cruised slowly by and the officer in the passenger seat had nodded at Charlie. Not the best way to start the day, given the circumstances.
Over coffee and pastry in his office Charlie ran through everything yet again and there was little room for Foucault in his mind. And as Murphy's Law would have it, he had numerous voice-mail and email messages waiting. He made notes to return the more important calls and worked his way through the emails, ignoring those from students who were asking all the sorts of questions he had several times announced he would not deal with by email. In the end, only one was important: an invitation to do a review of a new book he'd been wanting to read. Charlie quickly answered he'd be pleased to do the review. Now he'd have to read the book without further delay plus it'd be sent to him for free. But he had to get his head in order and his class put together. After a bit he got into his notes and the morning slipped by.
Lunch wasn't as pleasant as he'd hoped. The special was liver, which he hated, so he had to settle for a beef-dip sandwich that he knew had too much sodium and would put his weight up. The worst part was the presence of an engineer who tried to make up for his total lack of a sense of humor by telling long, tedious jokes the punch-lines of which you could see coming a mile off. Charlie finished his sandwich and left after only one cup of coffee.
By two-thirty he felt he could cope and went to class determined to do his best. But he would cheat a bit to cover his distraction. Charlie walked into the class, put his books down, and told the students that today he'd back off a bit from the reading and before having them read their comment-sheets he'd speak to them in more general terms, justifying this by telling them that the time was right for a broader look at what they were learning.
"A lot of people try to peg Foucault as a social historian or philosopher or political activist. He was all of those, but above all he was very conscious of himself as an intellectual, and he recognized that as an intellectual he had certain obligations. There are many places where he puts those obligations ahead of strictly disciplinary ones. Some critics see that as a fault; others see it as Foucault being provocative. But I think that's when he's most honest, most himself."
Charlie was struck again at how this sort of lecture caught students' attention. It was like they felt they were being let in on a secret. He noticed that even the few who would usually be fiddling with something were actually leaning forward and listening to him.
"In an interview that was published as 'Truth, Power, Self,' Foucault said that the role of the intellectual is 'To change something in the minds of people.' That was his most important goal: to initiate new ways of thinking."
Charlie spoke a little longer and having set the scene, invited someone to read a comment-sheet. The discussion then went better than he had hoped. He strolled back to his office, feeling cheerier than that morning but still apprehensive. He felt guilty for not having called Kate to check on her. He'd been too wrapped up in his own worries and the seminar.
Back in his office Charlie packed up his laptop and went home. He couldn't find a place to park on the block where he usually left the car. The side-street off Slater was bumper-to-bumper on the side that allowed overnight parking. He ended up having to walk three blocks.
"Charlie?"
"I'm home. I meant to call you but got distracted by my seminar."
"That's okay, but it's the phone I'm concerned about. I got two calls this afternoon. The caller I.D. just read 'Private Number' and no one spoke when I answered. The first time I thought it was one of those telemarketing things where a computer has to recognize the phone's been answered and hung up. On the second call I waited longer but still nothing. I'm wondering if it was someone wanting to have you pick up the phone rather than me. Could it be another threat?"
"Did you get the number?"
"Yes; it's here."
"I don't recognize it, and it's not the one I got before. All we can do is wait and see if it rings again. Let's sit down and have a glass of wine; I'm frazzled and need to relax."
Charlie opened a bottle of Riesling the phone rang in perfect synch with their first sips of wine. Charlie got up to answer it. Caller I.D. was again no help and he braced himself.
"Hello?"
"Charlie? This is Dave; Dave Shwayder."
Charlie didn't quite drop the phone, but he came close to doing so.
"This is a surprise. Was it you who called earlier?"
"Yes, I suppose it is. And yes, I did call earlier. Apologize to your wife. Frankly it was difficult to call and I wanted to get you on the line."
"What is it?"
"Ah, I guess I need a favor. I was in today, but didn't talk to you at the department because I wasn't quite ready to approach you. The thing is, I'd like for you to arrange a meeting with the detectives you've been speaking to, and I'd like you to be there whenever I meet with them. I'm not sure of their names and in any case thought that if you're going to be there, it'd be best if you arranged it."
"Will you be free when it's convenient for them?"
"As long as I don't have a class, I'll be there."
"Give me your cell number and I'll get back to you."
Charlie hung up after getting the number and expressed his surprise to Kate.
"Charlie, do you think he wants to confess?"
"No idea, nor why he wants me there. I hate doing anything for that guy, but this goes beyond intriguing so I'll call DeVries."
Charlie checked the time; it was a little past five-thirty. DeVries might still be at work. He called and for a change she answered right away. He explained Shwayder's call and the request that he, Charlie, attend.
"Dan and I were just going to call it a day but this is too important. Call him back right now and tell him we'll be at his place as close to six as we can make it. We'll pick you up in ten minutes."
With that DeVries hung up. She hadn't objected to Charlie's participation nor asked if he was willing. He explained to Kate and got out his cell.
"Dave? DeVries is on her way to pick me up. We'll be at your place as close to six as we can make it. She was fairly insistent, so I don't think there's an option."
"That's fine; I'll be here."
Charlie hung up, took a last sip of his wine, and got his coat.
"I know this screws up dinner, but it might mean we can go out without worrying about it, so it's worth my going along. You hang in and be careful."
DeVries was as good as her word and Charlie was soon in the back of their car heading to Shwayder's. He noticed that neither Bolster nor DeVries had needed to ask him for Shwayder's address.
"Why do you think he wants you there?"
"Well, given our history it's not for moral support. I assume it's because something he's going to tell you has to do with me."
It was just past six o'clock when they arrived at Shwayder's apartment. He let them in and asked them to sit. Charlie made the introductions. Shwayder offered nothing by way of coffee or drinks and sat down on a straight-back chair facing the three of them.
"I'm going to keep this short. I asked Charlie be here because some of what I have to tell you involves him and think he should be aware of it. I've been going out with Laurel Hamilton and I've come to have serious doubts about what she's up to. I began wondering - and worrying - when she started asking me all sorts of questions about Charlie, mainly whether I knew what he was up to and what he'd learned about the murders. This was about a week ago. Then, last night she told me something that may or may not be true but that I don't think she should know if it is true. It brought my doubts to a head. I spent a lot
of today wondering what to do and finally decided to call you."
"What did Ms. Hamilton tell you?"
"She said Chet McKay shot Barrett Wilson. She bowled me over with it while she was telling me about Charlie's exploit with those books found in the storage area. That also bothered me because I don't know how she learned about it. I was told about it by Amanda Rankin and I don't think it's common knowledge, at least not yet. As for McKay, I met him only once, when he was in the department with Barrett. I also heard from one or another student that he was always at the parties Barrett had for students. Laurel told me what she did as part of an angry account of how she'd been questioned by the police - I take it that you two spoke to her yesterday or the day before. She said she'd cooperated but had resented being grilled and that it should be obvious that McKay killed Barrett. That was the second time she said that. She's also very irritated with Charlie's snooping around and with the police's lack of progress."
"Did she say why it was obvious Mr. McKay shot Dr. Wilson?"
"Only that McKay must have wanted all the proceeds. Then she sort of caught herself, tried to laugh it off, and changed the subject. What most bothers me is that she seems to know far more about what was going on than I would have thought. She always made it sound like her attendance at Barrett's parties and her occasional lunch or evening with him and McKay were more a matter of duty than pleasure. She'd sold Barrett a house and I think she wanted to sell McKay a condo. I know she was miffed when Janet Milford went to another realtor, even though the two of them had barely spoken to one another at Barrett's parties. Look, the bottom line is that I don't want to get sucked into something I'm well out of. I went out with Laurel after she showed me a very pricey condo. I thought we'd hit it off. I also found her very attractive, but hardly enough to get myself roped into a murder investigation."
"Dr. Shwayder, is there anything else Ms. Hamilton said that you recall, no matter how trivial you may have thought it?"
"No; I've given this a lot of thought. The main thing was her claim about McKay shooting Barrett. I didn't see that coming. After, she made it sound like she was just drawing an obvious conclusion, but the first time she said it she stated it as a fact. What I wanted was to get this on the table, as it were, and to assure you that aside from seeing Laurel for a while now, I have no part in any of this. I would add that her irritation with Charlie's sleuthing really was more than that. I think it was real anger and I thought you and Charlie should know about it."
Bolster and DeVries thanked Shwayder, and headed for the door. Charlie nodded at Shwayder and followed. In the car DeVries spoke first, addressing Charlie.
"What did you think?"
"I didn't want to believe him, but I think I did. I'm not one-hundred-percent convinced it was necessary for me to be there, but I think I was wanted there for two different reasons: first, Hamilton no doubt did talk about me and I think Shwayder did want me to know. Second, he wanted me to know first-hand that he's not involved - or at least think that."
"Do you think Mr. McKay shot Dr. Wilson?"
"That's the question. I can imagine scenarios where whatever connected them was overridden by practicality or just plain greed. McKay struck me, as he did others, as very tough and he's no stranger to killing. If Barrett posed a problem or even looked like he would pose a problem, I can see McKay opting to remove him. Also, meeting in Barrett's office over the break makes more sense if he and McKay went together; perhaps to put the books in the storage area or to get the two missing ones or, more likely, so both could meet with the buyer. They may have agreed on a deal, the buyer left, and McKay eliminated Barrett."
"That sounds plausible. It's unlikely the buyer would have taken the money to that meeting; too risky."
This last came from Bolster, which surprised Charlie a little. Bolster mostly seemed content to listen. Charlie responded.
"Did you believe Shwayder?"
"On balance, I did. What he said was the sort of thing that would look really important to him but doesn't actually come to much. If we faced Ms. Hamilton with what he told us, she'd probably say that it seemed obvious to her, as it should to anybody. It'd be just an expression of opinion. What makes it sound like it was maybe more is the context and the fact that she is, in fact, the first to actually say Mr. McKay was the killer. Shwayder didn't strike me as up to high-level dissimulation; I think I believe him. Trouble is, it doesn't really give us much."
Charlie was dropped off at the house with yet another warning to stay home and be careful. He went in, locked the door, and filled Kate in on what had gone on.
"Okay, though it sounds to me like Bolster was right and it all doesn't come to very much - at least not with respect to the police being able to do anything. They can hardly arrest Hamilton for shooting off her mouth. Now, what about dinner?"
"What about this: we call a cab, take it to Sandoval's, take a cab back here, and be very careful both ways. You game?"
Kate was, so they got ready. Charlie checked the back door and called a cab. When it turned up, he let Kate go ahead while he looked up and down the block, locked the door, and hurried to the car. They got to the restaurant and the cab stopped directly in front of the door. Again Charlie let Kate go ahead and when she was inside he paid the driver and hurried in to the restaurant. Perhaps because of the need for care going home they lingered over their food and had dessert. Kate had a brandy but Charlie, who'd allowed himself only a one glass of wine, settled for a double espresso. They then repeated the routine with the cab, except that at the house Charlie got out first and unlocked the front door while Kate waited in the cab. When she got in the entryway Charlie made her wait again while he checked the house.
"Charlie, I don't like this."
"I hope it's only for a little while. Anyway, I'm going to have my second glass of wine how that we're home. Some for you?"
"No; I've had enough. I'm going to take a long bath. Please don't answer the door unless it's DeVries or Bolster."
That night Charlie dreamt about Barrett gaping in surprise as McKay pulled a gun on him while Hamilton looked on and laughed.