Page 72 of Family Affair
The not-so-subtle intimidation chafed at Cade. He could only draw a small satisfaction that his devil-may-care attitude seemed to infuriate Detective Willis.
“Come on, Commander,” Sarcasm laced Willis’s words. “Cooperate with the police. I hope you understand that the vague bullshit you spread around only makes you look like you’ve got something to hide.”
“I understand, Doctor Watson, that I have a right to remain silent. Mirandize me, asshole, before talking to me. And see if I cooperate.”
“That can be arranged.”
“Wait, wait, both of you. Let’s keep it informal and friendly. Cade, would you care for coffee?” Before Cade had a chance to snub the offer, Smirnoff waved his hand at Willis. “Jack, bring us a cup from the cafeteria. Much obliged. Now, please.”
With petulant reluctance, Jack Willis stomped away to carry out what amounted to a direct order from his superior.
“Please forgive Detective Willis’s ardor. He’s a practicing Baptist and he took this murder to heart.” Smirnoff paused and flipped through a file folder on the table. “Here, you can take a look. You have a strong stomach, don’t you?”
The detective pushed over a picture of the body lying on the blood-saturated rug. The right side of the head was badly mangled, with pieces of bone and gore laying on display in the most unappetizing sight.
Cade looked at the half-headed preacher with pretend nonchalance. He’d already seen the body at the morgue. Moreover, he’d seen ugly wounds like that in the field, up close and personal, so the gore didn’t faze him.
Still, looking at the picture, at the body, knowing it was Ward lying in the pool of his own blood, in such terrible,finalstate sent a tremor through his body that he couldn’t control nor conceal from Smirnoff’s sharp eyes.
Steeling himself against the sight, he flicked the picture back toward the folder. “He’s hard to recognize here.”
“Sure. But it’s him.”
“What’s your point?”
“Cade, what do you think should happen to the person who did this to an ordained minister? To someone known and loved by hundreds of people around here?”
“Whatever the law dictates. Your job is to find that person.”
“Oh, we’ll find that person. Plenty of people, police included, reacted to this murder the way Detective Willis did: they’re outraged. It’s deep South, Cade. The Bible Belt. People here take their faith and their preachers seriously.”
Like he needed to be told.
Smirnoff leaned in and looked at Cade with his kind Santa’s eyes inviting him to open up. “Between you and me, there’s a lot of pressure on us to have this case cracked as soon as possible. There’s going to be one hell of an investigation. How do you think the results of this investigation will come out on you?”
“Why should I worry about the results of your investigation?”
“You’re a smart man. You must understand that during this investigation we’ll be interviewing a great number of people. You’re here today because of the complicated past shared by you, your long-deceased brother, and the recently-deceased Preacher Williamson. Not to mention your uncharacteristic visit with him last week. So I must ask, is there any reason you can think of that someone would name you as a suspect?”
“I can’t think of any such reason.”
“You don’t have to answer me right now. Think about it, and let me know if something comes to mind.”
Smirnoff produced a creased business card.
The door opened with a bang revealing Detective Willis with two paper coffee cups and a face carved of stone.
“Your coffee.” He set one cup in front of Smirnoff and plopped the other on the table by Cade, splashing the hot liquid through the hole in the lid.
Cade could swear he saw steam coming out of Willis’ ears.
He looked from one detective to another. “Am I free to go now?”
“Just one more question, if you will. Drink your coffee, it’s really good. Our cafeteria makes it extra strong at our request.”
“Thanks. And such prompt delivery service, too.”
He slurped the hot coffee noisily, smiling at Willis who stood by the door like a marble effigy. Only the blush on his cheekbones gave away the emotions churning inside the good detective.
