Dead Wood

“Ellen,” I said. My throat felt like 60-grit sandpaper.

“Yeah?”

“Shut up,” I managed.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “I let you saw logs all night. I know how much you need your beauty sleep, but it’s time to make your statement.”

“I already did. I said shut up. That’s my statement.”

She sighed, and I heard the scrape of a chair across the floor. Now the voice was next to me. I opened my eyes, and she was handing me a glass with orange juice in it.

“Drink up, Gilligan,” she said.

I took a drink and tried to sit up. My ribs ached, and I had a few thousand sore spots on my body. I took another drink and turned a small corner toward feeling human again.

“Start with when you left the scene of Molly’s murder,” she said.

It took me the better part of a half hour, with plenty of breaks, to describe the shootout with Erma and Freda, the co

When I got to the part about Teddy and his hired killer showing up, I said, “It was him, Ellen.”

“Who?”

“The guy with Teddy. It was him. The guy who killed Benjamin Collins.”

“Come again?” she said.

“I haven’t lost my mind, Ellen.”

“You need to rest,” she said.

“No, I don’t. It was him, Ellen. The guy I turned Benjamin Collins over to. The guy who cut him up and tossed him in the lake.”

She held up her hands. “Okay, okay, let’s finish talking about this later.”

“But—”

“Sha

“And Teddy?”

She shook her head. “Gone.”

That made sense to me. If he was co

Ellen left then, and I retreated into my favorite hobby.

Sleeping.

Chapter Forty-Seven

People from across the border in Canada, people from Ohio, Indiana, and as far away as Chicago, began to show up as early as eight hours before the concert. Everyone was talking about the event on the radio. “Sha

Coupled with the media attention the murders had created, Sha

The show was being put on in the middle of the village. There were cop cars everywhere, roads had been blocked off, and the village was swarming with people.

I took A

One of Sha

“Is this what your shows were like?” I asked Clarence.

“Yeah,” he said. “I gave a lot of free shows too, but only because no one would pay me.”

I had never really seen a happy Clarence before. Not that I would call him “happy,” per se, but it did seem that a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He’d taken the news well when I told him that a songwriter, Memphis Bornais, had arranged to have Jesse killed. And that, ultimately, Sha

He shook his head. It upset him that Jesse hadn’t told him she was begi

“Gosh, they’re beautiful,” he said, gesturing toward my daughters. Isabel and Nina now had their arms around each other and were doing some kind of chorus line. Christ, what a couple of hams. Took after their mother obviously.

A

“I’m glad John could help you,” she said. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I can guess that it feels good to have it resolved.”

He nodded, his big, silvery mane flowing like expensive silk. Damn, Ke

A local disc jockey appeared on stage and did the usual big introduction for Sha

Sha

A

Sha

It was a beautiful instrument, handmade by Jesse Barre. The cops eventually found it at Memphis Bornais’ farmhouse, in her music room. On public display. The cops actually gave it to Clarence, but he felt that it was intended all along for Sha

Sha

“I’d like to dedicate this concert to a very special person,” Sha

I stole a glance at Clarence. He was already starting to cry.

“She made this guitar,” Sha

“She also had just begun to write songs, before her life was tragically taken from her.”

Clarence stood, and Sha

“I’m going to record her songs and put out a CD next year,” Sha

The crowd applauded. I admired Sha

“Here’s a little something she wrote. I don’t know for sure if she had her father in mind when she wrote it, but I have a feeling she did.”

Sha

I hugged A

I hugged the girls

And I even hugged Clarence.

Sha

Jesse Barre created beauty.

I was seeing it right now.

Chapter Forty-Eight

Ellen was in a meeting with a task force from Wayne County, which was formed to track down a prostitution ring believed to be bringing in teenage girls against their will from cities like Chicago and Cleveland.

I sat in Ellen’s office, listening to the cop chatter in the hallways, the traffic out on Mack Avenue.

For the first time in my life, I felt hope. Hope that one day I might catch the man who killed Benjamin Collins. They say that you never know what life will bring you. That what initially appears to be great misfortune can often turn into great opportunities.

When Teddy Armbruster showed up on my boat, I thought it was all over.

Now, I realized, it was a new begi

•

“Haven’t you given me enough paperwork to deal with?” Ellen said, breezing into her office, the leather of her gun belt creaking like an old saddle.