Holy Ghost (Virgil Flowers #11)(102)

“Don’t run off the highway and kill yourself,” Virgil said. “We’ll need your testimony.”

“From your lips to God’s ears,” Scorese said.

Virgil had been looking past Scorese’s head, and he saw the curtain between the store and the back room twitch. To Scorese he said, “Listen, one more question. Suppose somebody made a recording of a person speaking but nobody knew whether it was an actual person speaking or another recording. Could a guy like you tell which it was? A recording or a natural voice?”

Scorese said, “Maybe. If the original voice recording was good enough and there wasn’t much ambient noise between the second recorder and the first one . . . and if the acoustics were good.”

“What if none of that was good? Bad acoustics, recordings done with iPhones, people screaming?”

“Not a chance,” Scorese said.



* * *



—

Holland stuck his head through the curtain, and said, “We were out here working on inventory, but I couldn’t help overhearing some of that.”

“There’s a surprise,” Jenkins said.

“So, what are we doing?” Skinner edged through the drapes, behind Holland, and Fischer poked her head out behind Skinner.

“Who are these people?” Scorese asked.

“Store owners. All three of them. Potpie pushers,” Jenkins said.

“At the very most, you’re going to spectate,” Virgil said to Holland, Skinner, and Fischer. “We’ll get some deputies down here to help with the arrests. I don’t want you around before we actually go into the house and grab them. When we’ve got them, you could stand out on the lawn and watch.”

“How’d you figure this out?” Skinner asked.

“Jenkins kept saying the circumstantial evidence against them was too good, and he was right,” Virgil said.

“Of course I was,” Jenkins said.

“There was a case in California last year that failed because there were two possible suspects, both claimed to be innocent, both blamed the other guy, and the juries couldn’t manage to convict either one. Once they were acquitted, they couldn’t be tried again. This one felt like that. I bet they read that story when they were working this out. Anyway, if both the Apels had separate alibis and they did it, then it had to be both of them. When you look at their alibis, they never both had an alibi for the same shooting. One was always available to shoot.”

“That’s one of the coolest things I ever heard,” Holland said. “Let’s call the cops.”



* * *



—

Zimmer was in bed but said he’d be in Wheatfield in half an hour. “Hot dog! It’s about time. How many deputies do you want? I got five on the road right now.”

“Five would be good,” Virgil said.



* * *



—

The group sat around and told one another a few truths, but mostly exaggerations and lies, about other crimes they’d heard of, while waiting for Zimmer. The deputies began rolling in fifteen minutes after Virgil called the sheriff. They included Lucy Banning, who went into conference with Fischer about her injuries, and Darren Bakker, the deputy who’d been with Virgil on his visit with the Nazis. Bakker came in carrying a combat pump twelve-gauge and a box of shells and started loading up, which made Virgil and Jenkins nervous.

“This will be smooth. Smooth, uncomplicated arrests,” Virgil said.

“Of course it will be,” Bakker said. He jacked a shell into the chamber and clicked on the safety. To Holland: “I didn’t have a chance to eat tonight; you got any of them potpies?”

So they cranked up the microwave, and when Zimmer arrived, Virgil had propped open the back door to disperse the odor of hot chicken and turkey. “You can smell that all the way down the block,” Zimmer said. “Smells good.”

“If I ever see another potpie, I’m gonna kill myself,” Jenkins said. “Or maybe Skinner.”

Virgil laid out the plan. One group of deputies, led by Jenkins, would drive over to Osborne’s house and park on the street, then walk around Osborne’s and spread out in the Apels’ backyard “in case one of the Apels is a runner.”

The other group, led by Zimmer and Virgil, would arrive in front of the Apels’ house and cover the front and side lawns, while Virgil, Zimmer, and Banning would go to the front door and ring the bell and pound until they got an answer, and, if they didn’t, they’d kick in the door.

“Best to have a woman with us because we’re arresting a woman,” Virgil said.

“And we need to have a sheriff there so he can claim credit for the arrest the next time he runs for reelection,” Zimmer said.

“No shooting,” Virgil said. “It’s better that they get away than we get in a shoot-out. We can always pick them up later.”

“They killed four people,” one of the deputies said. “They hurt a cop and two more people. I don’t have any sympathy for them.”

Zimmer said, “Ronnie, if you shoot somebody, I’ll fire your ass.”

Virgil said, “Yeah, and most of the time, when somebody gets shot, it’s because they think another deputy is the runner and they shoot him. Or her. We know the Apels have access to a gun, and some other weapons, and that makes me unhappy. If you see somebody with a gun or a bow, you get on your stomach and yell for help and point them out to us. Now, everybody have a flashlight that works?”