Winter Prey

“And you and me, we’ve got to go talk to Phil Bergen again.”

    Bergen was waiting for them. Like Carr, he’d changed. But Bergen looked rested, clear-faced. Sober.
    “I know what you’re here for,” he said when he let them in to the rectory. “Bob Dell called me. I didn’t know he was homosexual until he called.”
    “You’ve never . . .” Lucas began.
    “Never.” Bergen turned to Carr. “Shelly, I never would have believed that’d you’d think . . .”
    “He didn’t believe it,” Lucas said. “I brought it up. I looked at a plat map of the lake road, saw Dell’s house, made some inquiries, and maybe jumped to the wrong conclusion.”
    “You did.”
    Lucas shrugged. “I was trying to figure out why you might claim that you were at the LaCourts’ when you weren’t, and why you couldn’t tell us.” They were standing in the entry, coats, gloves, and hats still on. Bergen faced them on his feet, didn’t invite them to sit.
    “I was at the LaCourts’. I was there,” Bergen said.
    Lucas looked him over, then nodded. “Then we’ve still got a problem,” he said. “The time.”
    “Forget the time,” Bergen said. “I swear: I was there and they were alive. I believe the killer came just as I left—maybe even was there before I left, and waited until I’d gone—and killed them and spread the gas around, but accidently set it off too soon. If the firemen are wrong by a few minutes, then the times work out and you’re barking up the wrong tree. And you’ve managed to severely . . . damage me in the process.”
    Carr looked at Lucas. Lucas looked at Bergen for a long beat, nodded, and said, “Maybe.”
    Bergen looked from Lucas to Carr, waiting, and Carr finally said, “Let’s go.” To Bergen: “Phil, I’m sorry about this. You know I am.”
    Bergen nodded, tight-mouthed, unforgiving.
    Outside, Carr asked, “Do you believe him now?”
    “I believe he’s not gay.”
    “That’s a start.” They walked to the car in silence, then Carr said wearily, “And thanks for taking the rap on Bob Dell. Maybe when this is over, Phil and I can patch things up.”
    “I’m going to get Gene and take Harper. Why don’t you catch a nap for a couple of hours?”
    “Can’t. My wife’d be cleaning,” Carr said. “That’s pretty noisy. I can’t sleep worth a damn when she’s working.”
    Lucas called Climpt on the radio, got him headed back toward the courthouse. While Carr returned to his office, Lucas found Henry Lacey talking to a deputy.
    “I need to talk to you for a minute,” he said.
    Lacey nodded, said, “Check you later, Carl.” And to Lucas, “What’s going on?”
    “There’re rumors that Shelly’s having an affair with a lady at the church. I think I met her the other night.”
    “So . . . ?” Lacey was defensive.
    “Is she married or what?”
    “Widowed,” Lacey said reluctantly.
    “You think you could get Shelly over to her house? On the sly? Get him a nap, get her to stroke him a little? The guy’s on the edge of something bad.”
    Lacey showed the shadow of a smile and nodded. “I’ll do it. I should have thought of it.”

    Lucas, Climpt, and the young deputy Dusty, who’d first talked to John Mueller at the school, took Harper out of his gas station at 4:30, just before full dark.
    Lucas and Climpt ate a long lunch, reviewed the newest information coming out of the Madison laboratory crew at the LaCourt house, stalled around until the county judge left the courthouse, then picked up Dusty and headed out to Knuckle Lake. When they pulled into the station in Climpt’s Suburban, they could see Harper through the gas station window, counting change into a cash register. He came out snarling.
    “If you ain’t got a warrant I want you off my property,” he said.
    “You’re under arrest,” Climpt said.
    Harper stopped so quickly he almost skidded. “Say what?”
    “You’re under arrest for the promotion of child pornography. Put your hands on the car.”
    Harper, dumbfounded, took the position on the truck. Dusty shook him down, then cuffed his hands. A kid who’d been working in the repair bay came out to watch, nervously wiping his hands with an oily rag. “You want him to stay open or you want to close down?” Climpt asked.
    “You stay open until the regular quitting time, and there better be every last dime in the register,” Harper shouted at the kid. He turned and looked at Lucas. “You motherfucker.” And then back at