Chapter 49
Retired Detective Doug Howe sat in a wicker chair on his front porch, smoking a cigarette.
He was fat with unruly gray hair. A wide nose, heavily lined face.
Pockmarked skin, a telltale sign of long-term alcohol abuse.
The man was a weathered detective if Vaughn had ever seen one.
Beside the ashtray overflowing with cigarettes was a half-empty bottle of vodka.
The man said nothing as they approached, just butted out his smoke and sipped from a glass of clear liquid and ice. Howe’s flowing movements suggested that this wasn’t his first drink of the day. As did his flushed complexion.
“Doug? Doug Howe?” Vaughn said as he and Darnell approached.
“What do you want, officers?”
Doug’s voice matched his appearance: gruff.
“Detectives—Ryan and Sacker.”
Doug had no reaction to this. He lit another smoke, took another sip.
“If you want to talk about Neely and Reeves, I can get you a glass. You’re going to need one.” Doug tilted his drink in their direction.
“No thanks.”
Vaughn was surprised with how fast Darnell responded. Probably didn’t want to let this sit, give Howe an opportunity to convince him. Wouldn’t have taken much.
“Suit yourself.”
“How did you know we were here about the fire?” Vaughn asked as Howe refilled his glass with a healthy pour.
“It’s coming up on the third anniversary.” Howe shrugged. “And it’s always on my mind. You know how they say that when you retire, there’s that one case that just messes with you? That you can’t get out of your head?”
Vaughn nodded just to humor the man. It wasn’t the claim he disagreed with, it was the use of the word ‘one.’ Vaughn wasn’t close to retiring, not by a long shot, but already several cases nagged him daily.
“That was my case. And before you ask, yes, I think that Eugene Reeves started the fire.”
Vaughn didn’t think that this was anywhere close to what Darnell was going to ask, but it didn’t seem to faze his partner.
“What makes you say that?” Darnell said.
Another shrug.
“Experience.”
“I read the report—we both did,” Vaughn said. He knew that not everything made it into these reports. Still . . . “Fire was consistent with a faulty circuit—”
“Due to the lack of material witnesses and the origin of the fire being consistent with a faulty circuit breaker, the case is officially marked as suspicious,” Howe said, citing the words from the report verbatim.
“The captain made me write that. I know Dr. Reeves started the fire, just couldn’t prove it.
I read the text messages. The two professors were in a fight, something to do with their work.
And don’t ask me what the hell they were working on.
Spent weeks trying to understand it, but didn’t come close to figuring it out.
” Howe took a heavy pull on his drink. Licked his lips.
“The two are fighting and Reeves heads over to Neely’s house.
Reeves starts the fire, plunks Neely on the head.
Don’t know for sure with what, but if I had to guess, it was this giant paperweight shaped like a chess piece.
ME said that it wasn’t ‘inconsistent’ with a fall from lack of consciousness. ”
Vaughn thought about Dr. Button, how he spoke exactly like that. Not inconsistent. Likely. Probably. Nothing definitive. MEs always created a loophole for themselves to avoid contradicting an expert witness in court.
“But you still signed off on it.” Vaughn was trying not to come off as defensive, but was doing a piss-poor job.
“No choice. No witnesses, no hard evidence. I tried to keep the case open, but the university got involved.”
“The university?” Vaughn was taken aback.
“You surprised? Princeton’s operating budget is almost three billion dollars annually.
So, yeah, when two of their biggest stars get into a fight and one of them dies in a fire?
The other in a coma? They want that mess cleaned up real quick.
No loose ends. They pressured the captain, and he made me close the case. ”
“Who was the captain back then?”
“Daniels.”
Vaughn glanced over at his partner.
That explained why Daniels had been so adamant about not wanting Ivy involved.
Her father a walking vegetable, his partner dead, and the daughter a special consultant on a case involving a series of mass murders?
That was the epitome of ‘messy.’ Daniels didn’t like being left out of the loop, the press, and definitely didn’t like ‘messy.’
“The real question is, why the hell are you guys here asking about the professors? I know Daniels is still in charge, and he sure as shit ain’t letting you reopen the case.”
Vaughn hesitated, not sure how much he wanted to share with the retired detective. Darnell had no such qualms.
“There’s been a series of murders—all part of these weird math games.”
“Hmm.” Doug took a drag of his cigarette . “And you think that Dr. Reeves might have something to do with them?”
“Or his daughter,” Darnell said sharply.
Howe’s eyebrows rose.
“Ivy?”
“You remember her?” Vaughn asked a little too quickly.
“Of course. Interviewed her a couple of times about the fire—she was first on the scene. Dr. Reeves called her from inside the house. Call lasted almost a minute, but when I asked her, she said that she couldn’t remember exactly what her father said.
A lot of yelling, panic. Always felt that something was a little off about her. ”
“You think she was lying?”
“I don’t know.”
“Let’s back up a second. If your theory is correct,” Vaughn said, “what happened to Dr. Reeves? He brains his partner and then doesn’t leave the burning house? Why didn’t he just run out?”
“Don’t know that either. Maybe he wanted to make sure the fire destroyed the evidence, which it did. Maybe he just tripped and fell. He was a math professor, after all. A real mathlete.”
“How did Ivy seem?”
Vaughn wished Darnell would stop asking about her. It felt . . . dirty, somehow.
“How did she seem? Devastated. She and her mother stayed by her father’s side the entire time he was in the hospital. Stayed even after he woke up and her mother left.”
Now it was Vaughn’s turn to lift his brow. This was the first mention of Ivy’s mother.
“Her mother?”
“Yep—Wendy Reeves. Couldn’t handle the idea of looking after her vegetable of a husband for the rest of her—or his—life. Don’t blame her.”
“How long—”
Darnell interrupted Vaughn.
“Is he a vegetable?”
For a long time, Howe said nothing. He just smoked and drank.
And then, “You know what? That’s something I’ve asked myself a thousand times. I honestly have no idea.”