Which left criminal, and the closer Griffin drew to him, the more this showed signs of being the likeliest possibility. His eyes burned very bright. There was rage in them, and something approaching agony. Griffin had seen a facsimile of it in the gaze of bereaved parents, and those driven to take revenge on tormentors. If this man were not in possession of a weapon and a grudge, Griffin would have been very surprised to hear it.
‘Evening,’ said Griffin.
‘Evening,’ said the newcomer.
‘Mind if I sit?’
‘Not at all.’
He was smiling slightly, more in resignation than good humor, as though this intrusion upon his evening had been anticipated, even as he might have hoped to avoid it.
‘My name is Evander Griffin. I’m the chief of police here in Cargill.’
‘I know.’
Griffin felt unease keeping pace with curiosity. Were this man’s hands not so visible, Griffin might well have had him under a gun by now.
‘That’s usually the cue for someone to offer his name in return,’ said Griffin, ‘or I could ask you to produce some identification, but I find a plain exchange of appellations to be more civilized.’
‘My name is Parker.’
‘And where are you from, Mr Parker?’
‘New York.’
‘What do you do there?’
‘I’m currently between positions.’
‘Unemployed?’
‘By inclination.’
‘So what was your previous vocation, before you became inclined to divest yourself of it?’
‘I’d prefer not to say.’
Griffin grimaced. The man hadn’t done anything wrong – or not so far as anyone could tell – beyond asking questions that the majority of people in the county would have considered unwelcome. He hadn’t broken any laws, but the chief was used to a degree of cooperation from those who strayed into his orbit, because it contributed to the smooth running of the town. If knowledge was power, ignorance was powerlessness. There were gradations of both, but Griffin preferred to remain firmly in credit with the former.
‘What happened to your hand?’ he said.
The knuckles of Parker’s right hand bore traces of lacerations, now almost healed.
‘The jack slipped while I was changing a tire.’
‘Looks like you were punching the tire, not changing it.’
Parker glanced at the limb and stretched the fingers. The action made him wince, and his eyes assumed fresh traces of pain both actual and remembered.
‘I might have lost my temper,’ he said, almost vacantly.
‘You do that a lot?’
‘I try not to.’
‘That seems wise. What’s your interest in Patricia Hartley?’
‘None.’
‘But you’ve been asking about her.’
‘I have, but I’m done asking now.’
‘And why is that?’
‘Because I thought her death might be relevant, but it isn’t.’
‘Relevant to what?’
‘To another inquiry.’
‘Which inquiry?’
‘A personal one.’
‘Are you a private investigator, Mr Parker?’
‘I told you: I’m between positions.’
‘Yes, you did tell me that. The investigation into Patricia Hartley’s death is ongoing, and therefore it’s of interest to me when someone comes along to check on its progress.’
‘Is it?’
‘Is it what?’ said Griffin.
‘Ongoing? Of interest? Both?’
‘Are you trying to be funny?’
‘Not at all. It just strikes me that if there is an investigation into the girl’s death, it hasn’t made much progress at all, which begs the question: Just how interested are you?’
‘I don’t think I appreciate your tone.’
‘I hear that a lot.’
‘I’ll bet you do. Did you know Patricia Hartley?’
‘No.’
‘Or her family?’
‘No.’
‘This your first time in Burdon County?’
‘First time in Arkansas.’
‘You can prove that, I suppose?’
‘Would I have to?’
‘You might, if you were the suspect in a killing.’
‘What killing would that be?’
‘The killing of Patricia Hartley.’
‘I’m confused.’
‘And why is that?’
‘My understanding is that Patricia Hartley’s death was determined to be accidental, but you’ve just described it as a killing.’
‘Mr Parker, I’m starting not to like you. You appear averse to transparency.’
‘Patricia Hartley’s body was discovered on December tenth of last year. If I have to, I can prove where I was on that date.’
‘And where would that have been?’
‘New York.’
‘Were you in employment at that time?’
‘I was.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Am I under arrest?’
‘No.’
‘Good, because I thought I might have missed part of the conversation.’
‘I know the feeling,’ said Griffin.
‘If I’m under arrest, you’re obliged to Mirandize me.’
‘I’m aware of that.’
‘And offer me access to a lawyer.’
‘I’m aware of that too.’
‘Then you’ll also be aware that I don’t have to answer your questions. I’m going to reach for my wallet now so I can pay the check. I’d prefer if you, or the gentleman by the door, didn’t shoot me. Is he one of your officers?’
‘He is.’
‘I think I’ve seen him around. He has a good eye.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be flattered to hear it. Where’s your wallet?’
‘In the pocket of my jacket.’
The jacket was hanging from a hook beside Parker’s head.
‘If it’s all the same to you,’ said Griffin, ‘I’ll ask my officer to retrieve it for you, just in case.’
He raised his left hand, summoning Naylor.
‘Mr Parker’s wallet is occupying a pocket of his jacket. I’d be obliged if you’d find it for him.’
Before he reached for it, Naylor asked if the pocket held any sharp objects or anything else of which he should be aware. That was how he said it, Griffin noted: ‘of which I should be aware.’ The boy really was wasted in Cargill.
‘No,’ said Parker.
‘Are you armed?’
‘No.’
Which was a pity, Griffin thought, because Boyd’s was a bar, not a restaurant, which made it illegal to carry a firearm on the premises. It would have been sufficient justification for placing Parker in a cell overnight while Griffin tried to figure out the Hartley angle.
Naylor located the wallet and handed it to the chief, not Parker.
‘Don’t mind if I take a look, do you?’ said Griffin.
‘Would it matter if I did?’
‘I’ll take that as permission.’
He didn’t find much: cash, a pair of credit cards, and a New York State driver’s license in the name of Charles Parker. There was also a small photograph of a woman and a young girl, both blond, both beautiful. Griffin held it up so the man could see it.