The Chill of Night by James Hayman Read Free Book Online Page A

solid days none of them called it in. Either to us or to a towing service. I asked Hester why. He said people on the waterfront don’t like to pry into other people’s business.’
    McCabe nodded. A familiar scenario. Citizens not wanting to get involved. Too polite. Too fearful. Too lazy. It was a problem for police departments across the country. It bugged the hell out of McCabe, but it was tough to figure out what to do about it.
    ‘He said the car wasn’t bothering him,’ Maggie continued. ‘Didn’t seem to be bothering anyone else. So he, quote, didn’t pay it no never mind, unquote. Also he says it’s not that unusual for the wife of one of the captains to leave a car for her husband for when his boat gets in.’
    ‘So what made him change his mind?’
    ‘He started thinking how none of the fishing families he knows is likely to have a brand-new BMW convertible. Not with the business in the dumper the way it is now. And, even if they did, they sure as hell wouldn’t leave it sitting at the end of the pier for two days. So, at long last, he walks over and takes a closer look. Sees the keys in the ignition. Tries the door. It’s not locked.’
    ‘Getting his prints all over everything?’
    ‘Probably. Though he says just the door. Anyway, he gets suspicious and finally decides to call.’
    ‘Okay, so the car wasn’t here when Hester left work Wednesday night, but it was here when he arrived Thursday morning. So sometime during that twelve-hour window somebody, presumably the killer, but possibly the victim, drives it in and parks it in the most prominent position on the pier.’
    ‘Looks that way.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘We don’t know.’
    ‘Hester pop the trunk?’ asked McCabe.
    ‘No. That was the responding officer. Uniform named Joe Vodnick. He popped the trunk and found the body. Little over an hour ago.’
    ‘Was there probable cause for opening the trunk?’
    ‘I think there may be some question about that.’
    McCabe thought about it. Opening the trunk was no big deal if the car belonged to the victim. Elaine Goff or whoever it was wasn’t going to complain about illegal search or seizure, dead as she was and stuffed inside. On the other hand, if the dead woman wasn’t Goff, if Goff was the killer or somehow connected to the killer, the investigation could be compromised even before it began. ‘Which one’s Vodnick?’
    ‘The big guy over there on the right.’
    Vodnick was big alright. Six foot six. Built like a linebacker. Probably weighed 260, maybe more. He was busy bullshitting with a couple of the other cops. ‘Did you ask him about probable cause?’
    ‘He said the car roused his suspicions.’
    ‘Roused his suspicions? That’s nice. Anything a little more substantive?’
    ‘Nope. He just said here was this expensive car, parked in a place it shouldn’t have been for two days. Doors unlocked. Key in the ignition. He checked with Dispatch, and the car wasn’t reported stolen. So he looked in the trunk. Listen, Mike, I don’t know what a judge would say about probable cause, but I do know we probably wouldn’t have found her otherwise. Hell, she could have been sitting in a tow yard until she thawed and somebody noticed the smell. I say he made a good call.’
    ‘Assuming some slick-ass lawyer doesn’t have the whole case thrown out on a technicality. I assume Vodnick’s prints are on the car as well?’
    ‘He says just the outside door handle and trunk release button, which is under the dash to the left of the wheel. Claims he was careful. Tried not to smear other possible prints.’
    McCabe stood silently for a long minute, breathing in cold, damp air that smelled like seaweed and rotting fish, scanning the scene, burning its details into the hard drive he carried in his brain. A brand-new Beemer, unlocked, keys in the ignition, sitting there for two days. Amazing nobody tried to steal it. In New York it would’ve been gone in the blink of an eye. Maybe that was the bad