Chapter 5 #2
“Barring a major attempt on our part to pin the blame on someone else, our best hope does lie with establishing reasonable doubt. We have plenty of character witnesses, including your police chief. I’ll go over my notes and decide which of the people I’ve met will be the strongest witnesses.
I’m driving down to Portland tomorrow morning to meet with Hummel.
Since he’s the U.S. Attorney who’ll prosecute the case, he has certain information I want—at least, he should have it.
His is the burden of proof. One of the things he’ll try to suggest—” Peter eyed Cooper “—is that you’ve been involved in things like this before.
That means he’ll be back-checking your bank records to try to find evidence of past large, unexplained deposits. ”
“There are none,” Cooper said. He swiveled Peter’s ever-present pad his way, took up a pencil and wrote down the names of the three banks at which he had accounts, plus the rough profit he made each week. “Deposits are always in this amount. Interest speaks for itself.”
Peter nodded. “Okay. When Hummel sees this, he’ll go looking farther. He’ll put an investigator on the computer looking for other accounts. Are there any?”
“No.”
“What about investments—stocks, bonds, real estate deals. Anything I should know about?”
“No.”
“No plane reservations for a trip to South America?”
Cooper’s look told him what he thought of that idea.
“So,” Peter concluded, “his case will consist solely of the discovery of those diamonds in your cabin in a laundry bag with your name stenciled on it. We’ve definitely got a set-up here.”
“By whom?” I asked. I’d wondered about that a lot. “Who would have put the diamonds there? Is there a ring of gem thieves that the authorities have been watching? Who were the diamonds originally stolen from? And who tipped off the Customs people to check out Cooper’s boat?”
Peter gave me one of those looks that was at the same time professional yet oddly intimate. “Those are just a few of the questions I intend to put to Hummel tomorrow.”
So Tuesday morning he drove to Portland.
I offered to go with him, but when he told me it wasn’t necessary, I didn’t push.
Clearly he felt there were some things he could do better without me, which was just fine by me.
I was actually relieved. I needed a break from those devil eyes of his. And I needed to work.
I spent the day at it, and a productive one it was.
The tall vase that I threw had a particularly interesting twist to its lines; the pieces I glazed and fired were similarly inspired.
Moreover there was a normalcy to working in my attic studio.
It was reassuringly familiar and right in ways that Peter wasn’t.
I was pleased to be alone with my work and my thoughts.
Not that my heart didn’t do its little catch thing when the time approached for Peter’s return, or that the little catch thing didn’t magnify into a wallop when I heard him come in. But that was all physical, I told myself, and physical I could overcome.
It helped that we spent the evening with Cooper, though I doubt Cooper saw things that way.
He was having a difficult time with Benjie, who had returned from New York and didn’t want any part of Peter, or me, or Cooper, for that matter.
He said hello, then goodbye and headed for the back door.
He wanted to be in Bangor visiting with his latest girl.
Cooper had other ideas for him. “It can wait,” he said finally. “I want you to have dinner with us.”
Peter and I were in the living room. Cooper and Benjie in the kitchen. The house was small enough so that we could hear every word.
“Come on, Coop,” Benjie complained. His voice was that of a man, though his whine was nowhere near. “She’s waited six days. If I ask her to wait any more, she’s goin’ to bolt.”
“You should’ve thought of that when you stayed longer in New York. I want you here, Benj. You can do what you want tomorrow, but I want you here tonight.”
“I don’t have anythin’ to say to that guy.”
“Then you can sit and listen to us talk.”
“Give me two hours. Two hours, and I’ll be back.”
“You’re staying here.”
“One hour.”
“You can see her tomorrow.”
“You can’t do this to me, Cooper. I’m old enough—”
“Damned right, you’re old enough, and that means you have certain responsibilities …”
His voice grew more distant, until we could no longer hear the words. I assumed he and Benjie had moved into the back hall, and I felt immeasurably relieved.
“Nothing like being forced into eavesdropping,” I whispered to Peter, who looked as though he knew what I meant.
“Do they always fight?”
“Usually. I don’t understand Benjie. Cooper’s been so good to him over the years without asking a thing in return. You’d think Benjie would want to do something. You’d think he’d be concerned about what’s going on. But he couldn’t care less.”
Peter’s voice stayed as low as mine. “Maybe he doesn’t know what’s at stake.”
“He knows. He was here with us right after the arraignment. He knows Cooper could end up in jail.”
“Does he think Cooper’s guilty?”
“He says Cooper was framed, but the way he says it is incredible. Pure fact. He knows the answer—a frame—that’s all there is to it.
And when he’s done saying that, it’s like he has nothing more to say.
The discussion’s over. He washes his hands of the whole thing.
” I gave a low grunt. “Much as I love Cooper, Benjie isn’t one of my favorite people. ”
“I get the impression you’re not alone,” Peter said.
“To a man, the people we’ve spoken with have had good things to say about Cooper, but what about Benjie?
No one ever grouped them together. No one ever volunteered information about Benjie.
When you stop to think of it, they were very happy to skip over him as though he didn’t exist.”
“That was generous of them,” I decided. “Benjie’s been in and out of trouble for years. More than one of those people have been at the butt of his pranks. Forget pranks—he’s been known to shoplift. Can you believe that? In a town this size, where everyone knows everyone else, he shoplifts.”
“Maybe that’s why he does it, because he knows his victims. He knows they like Cooper. He counts on Cooper getting him off the hook.”
“Which is exactly what Cooper does. The two of them disagree on most everything, but Cooper’s nearly always the one to give in.”
“I’m surprised they work together.”
“Cooper insists on it.”
“I’d think Benjie would object.”
“Are you kidding? He may be just this side of juvenile delinquency, but he’s not dumb. He knows a good thing when he sees it.”
“Does he work?”
“In his fashion. I’d say he’s with the boat on maybe seven out of ten trips, and even then I doubt he works as hard as the rest of the crew. What other job could he have where he’s paid well and can do most anything without risk of being fired?”
“Cooper has his hands full.”
“I’ll say. Benjie is gorgeous, and he knows it. He can also be a charmer when he sets his mind to it. It’s a dangerous combination.” As always when I thought about Benjie, my heart went out to Cooper. I was angry on his behalf, angry at Benjie.
Being able to sound off like this was a luxury.
“He has a mean side, Benjie does.” I sent Peter a reproachful look.
“He’s the type to feed fire-crackers to a duck.
He’s the type to take joy in eating bacon from a pet pig.
If he were a little older, a little smarter, a little more traveled, I’d be looking closely at his bank account.
He’d be just the type to stash diamonds in his brother’s cabin and then keep his mouth shut when the trouble started.
In any case, you can bet he’s not sorry the Free Reign is impounded. That means Cooper can’t make him work.”
“If he doesn’t work, he doesn’t make money. So how does he support trips to New York and cute little numbers from Bangor—or shouldn’t I ask?”
“You shouldn’t ask.”
Peter looked mildly dismayed. “Cooper seems like such a down-to-earth, straight-thinking sort. Doesn’t he know that he’s not doing the kid any favors by covering for him that way?”
“I’m not sure whether he does or doesn’t.
You have to understand Cooper. When he feels strongly about something—one way or another—he feels strongly about it.
He doesn’t do things in half measures. His loyalty to me is a prime example.
So’s his indulgence of Benjie. The kid is his little brother.
He adores him. He can be firm, but only to a point. When push comes to shove, he gives in.”
“It didn’t sound like Cooper was giving in just now.”
“Just wait. He’ll be back without Benjie.”
Sure enough, several minutes later, Cooper returned alone. “He’s gone to Bangor,” he said tightly. He ran a hand through his hair, and for a minute I thought he was going to say more on the subject of Benjie. But he simply dropped his hand, turned toward the door and said, “Let’s go.”
We drove several towns over to a restaurant that was owned and run by friends of mine, a pair of displaced Baltimorians who offered the closest thing to nouvelle cuisine to be found in these parts.
Cooper hated the menu, I could tell. He was a meat-and-potatoes man, and though I was usually partial to similar simplicity, I found the variety of offerings welcome.
So did Peter, which surprised me. I would have guessed he had nouvelle cuisine coming out of his ears, but he claimed that the regional specialties made this menu different. We had fun running through the choices, had fun teasing Cooper when he couldn’t make up his mind.