The Bitter Season (Kovac and Liska, #5)(79)
He looked down at the floor and mumbled, “The VA hospital.”
“When was that?”
“Years ago.”
“You haven’t had any contact with him at all?”
“No.”
Nikki stared at him for a long moment, wondering what could ever make her cut ties with one of her boys the way Donald Nilsen had with his. She couldn’t think of anything. They were a part of her and she was a part of them, no matter what.
She wondered if Donald Nilsen’s wife felt the same way, wherever she was. Maybe they were together someplace, mother and son, living in paradise without the man who had undoubtedly made their lives miserable. But Nikki didn’t really believe that. In her experience, most stories like this one didn’t have a happy ending. Damage didn’t get undone.
Donald Nilsen had gotten a good look by previous investigators. None had considered him a strong suspect. At the time of Ted Duffy’s murder, Nilsen’s wife was around to give him an alibi. Later, no one believed he had sufficient motive. But he’d felt he had sufficient motive just now to haul off and clock a police detective for punching his buttons. He’d felt sufficient motive to threaten the neighbor’s dog with a rifle for taking a crap on his grass. How much motive did a man like this need?
“Barbie Duffy told me you took a little too much notice of the two foster girls living with them, and that Ted had a talk with you about it. What do you have to say about that?”
Nilsen glared at her. “Nothing.”
“If I go digging back into your history, am I going to find anyone who accused you of messing with young girls?”
“I never did!” he protested.
He didn’t say no one had ever accused him. He denied the charge.
“Do you own a .243 deer rifle?”
“No.”
“Have you ever?”
“No.”
“You’re lying. I just saw five photographs of you holding that gun. You threatened to kill your neighbors’ dog with it.”
He couldn’t argue that. He chewed on his frustration like he was chewing on a dirty rag, his mouth twisting at the taste.
“Would you mind showing me the guns you have?” Nikki asked, knowing he would say no. She knew once she was out the door she wasn’t getting back inside this house without a warrant.
“Get out of my house,” he said, coldly calm now. “I’m calling my attorney.”
Damn. Mascherino was going to kill her.
“You can call him from downtown,” she said, mentally kissing dinner with the boys good-bye. “You’re under arrest for attempting to assault a police officer.
“You know the rest of the song,” she said, pulling out her handcuffs, “but let’s sing it anyway. You have the right to remain silent . . .”
23
Lieutenant Mascherino stared at her across the desk. “Is it possible for you to go one day without offending someone to the point that they threaten legal action?”
“Apparently not,” Nikki said. She felt like she was thirteen again and sweating it out in front of the principal for filling the Home Ec teacher’s car with packing peanuts. Only the Home Ec teacher couldn’t get her fired from her job.
“Mr. Nilsen’s attorney has already called to inform us he will be suing for false arrest.”
“Yeah, he’s got that guy on speed dial,” Nikki said. “The ink’s barely dry on his paperwork.”
Not equipped for transporting a suspect, she had called from her car for backup, and had turned Nilsen over to a pair of uniforms who had taken him to be booked and put in a holding cell. He could rot in there for all she cared. He had invoked his right to an attorney. She couldn’t speak with him at any rate, being the victim of the charge against him. She had beat it back to the office and written up her report and the affidavit for the search warrant as fast as was humanly possible without forgetting to dot all the i’s and cross all the t’s.
“Anyway, it wasn’t a false arrest,” Nikki argued. “If I hadn’t drawn my weapon, he would have punched a hole through my face. I’d probably be stored in his basement now with his missing wife and son.”
“He’s seventy years old.”
“So? He’s had a long time to perfect being an * and a bully. Ask Seley. He was aggressive and antagonistic the first time we saw him. Ask his neighbors. He has a history of bad behavior.”
“The press is going to portray you as the bully, Nikki.”
“The press?” She dismissed the idea. “Nilsen likes to make noise, but I don’t think he’s going to want to talk to the media now. He’s a suspect in a murder investigation. Feed that to the newsies.”
“Is he?” Mascherino asked. “Really?”
“He is until I’m convinced otherwise.” Nikki ticked the reasons off on her fingers. “He had a beef with Ted Duffy, he’s a red zone rageaholic, he owned a rifle of the same caliber as the one that killed Duffy, and his alibi for the time of the murder hasn’t been seen or heard from in twenty-five years. I want a warrant to find that rifle.”
“Nobody is going to give you a warrant based on your speculation.”
“I have photographs of him holding a rifle. He attempted to assault me while I was questioning him with regard to the homicide. He was subsequently put under arrest. I don’t get a warrant off that? Are you kidding me?”