Deep Freeze (Virgil Flowers #10)(37)

When he finished with the Cheevers, Virgil went out and stood on her porch for a minute and scratched his head. What he really needed to do, he thought, was think. And maybe take a couple of non-blood-thinning painkillers for his nose. Instead, he headed for Long’s greenhouse.

—

Long was a tall, sober man with an engaging smile, but a smile with some distance to it, as though he did it only professionally, which he did. His hand was narrow, bony, and cold, as Virgil imagined an undertaker’s might be.

“I never really had much to do with Gina, not even back in high school,” Long said. “Can’t really tell you why. We didn’t click, I guess. Our politics are different enough that we spent a lot of time being polite to each other. She’s given money to my opponent in every single election.”

“Because she didn’t like you?”

“No, because Washington made her into a Democrat and I’m a Republican, and never the twain shall cross. She was one of Mr. Obama’s few advocates in Trippton.”

After leaving Hemming’s house on Thursday night, Long said he had been working alone at his greenhouse office on issues for the State House of Representatives, which had already convened, although it was temporarily in adjournment. He offered Virgil a raft of emails with time and date stamps on them, indicating that they’d been sent Thursday night between nine o’clock and eleven o’clock, when he’d gone home.

Virgil didn’t know whether or not the time and date stamps on the emails could have been faked. He suspected that a hacker could do it, and Long had that semi-geek attitude and appearance suggesting a familiarity with technology. He’d seen the same geekiness in men who had a problem relating to women. Long wasn’t married, but, as Rhodes had said, neither was he gay. He simply seemed to have one passion and that was politics.

Although he was considered a serious political power in the Republican Party, he didn’t make any effort to impress his authority on Virgil; he was polite, and spoke in complete, well-parsed sentences.

Before Virgil left him, Long said, “I watched you when you were investigating the school board. I found that . . . interesting. Do you think you’ll find Gina’s killer?”

“Yeah, I do,” Virgil said. “I think he or she will be somebody who was either there that night or somebody who’s attached to the people who were there. Who do you think did it?”

Long thought about the question, then said, “I don’t know. I’ve thought about it, but I haven’t come to any conclusion. And I agree with you: it was somebody who was there that night or somebody attached to them. Somebody who knew about the meeting and wanted to speak with Gina. Most likely . . . not an accident, but unintentional. There have been some rumors about the possibility that a vagrant riverman did it, somebody off a barge, but I don’t believe it. No, Gina was killed by somebody who knew her and probably was welcome in her house.”

—

When he left Long, Virgil continued down the street to the offices of Trippton Medical and Surgical, where he caught Ryan Harney as he finished with a patient. There were two more patients waiting, but Harney’s nurse told Harney that Virgil was in the office and Harney had him shown in.

“I don’t have a lot of time, I’ve got people waiting, but you sort of caught me between anuses.”

“Won’t take much of your time,” Virgil said. “I’m here about Gina Hemming . . .”

“I don’t know who killed Gina. Or why they would. I don’t even suspect anyone. If I suspect anything, it’s that somebody snuck in a back door to rob her, maybe some guy off the river, and picked up something handy and hit her with it.”

“Didn’t find that, whatever it was,” Virgil said. “What exactly is your relationship with Gina anyway?”

Harney shrugged. “I don’t have one. We went to high school together; we both belong to Trippton National, we’re somewhat friendly; but she’s a pretty woman, and I’m married. So there’s that. I have a checking account at Second National, but my savings and investments are through the Edward Jones office.”

“Essentially, no regular contact except out at the club? You guys play golf or tennis, or something?”

“I’m golf. I’ve never seen her on the course. I think she might be tennis, but I don’t pay too much attention to those people. Gina and I don’t . . . didn’t . . . hang out with the same people at the club. We’re friendly, but we’re not close.”

“You think that’s how other people in town would characterize your relationship?” Virgil asked.

“Sure. Talk to people at the club, if you want. Tell them I sent you up,” Harney said.

“Did you finance your business through the bank?”

“No, never did. Our partnership borrowed money for the building here—we own it—from a specialist medical financing company twelve years ago. We’ve never needed additional financing. And we’ve got the medical care business here sewn up. There are five partners, we’re all on staff at the clinic when we’re needed there, and there are three more docs down there who aren’t partners. But it’s all . . . sewn up.”

Virgil nodded. “After you left Thursday night?”

“Went home. Our office hours start at eight, I get up at six to exercise, catch the morning news, get cleaned up, help get the kids ready for school. I was one of the first people out of there. I’ll tell you, Virgil, the meeting was really boring—I wouldn’t have gone if I didn’t think I had to. And I’ll tell you this: there was no tension there, at the meeting. Nothing that I could see. Nothing at all.”