The Mole in His Bed novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Strike That

Cora names Paula under oath and the judge strikes it, then Paula takes her arm in the corridor and says she knew her voice.

The judge cleared the jury and told Neil to sit down.

He sat. He wrote in his notebook, and his pen did not shake.

The jury filed back in.

The prosecutor, Judith Ames, walked to the stand with her glasses pushed up in her gray hair.

She was the only person in the building who had known I was alive for the last five months.

"Detective Tallant," she said. "Where did you work for the past five years?"

"At Crane Harbor Freight, as the bookkeeper."

"Who sent you there?"

"My captain. He ran the operation alone." I kept my eyes on the back wall. "He died at Pier Nine."

"Can anyone else confirm that?"

"No."

Judith let the word sit in the room for the jury to look at.

Then she handed up a thumb drive and told them what was on it.

Five years of the company's real books, photographed one page at a time, on nights when the building was empty.

Crane's lawyer objected twice and was overruled twice.

Judith sat down.

The defense lawyer stood and buttoned his jacket, and I saw that he was looking forward to this.

"Detective, you've been declared dead by this city," he said.

"Yes."

"And a hundred and twelve officers died while you were dead. Isn't that right?"

"Yes."

"Convenient timing."

"It wasn't convenient for them."

A man on the left made a low sound, and I made myself keep going.

"Two million dollars of my client's money was found in an account under your name."

"The account was opened twenty-three days after I died."

"By you."

"By someone with my signature on file."

"A dead woman's signature." He smiled at the jury. "Detective, why would the department lie about you?"

"The department isn't lying. It was fed."

"By whom?"

I had been waiting five years for that question.

I looked at the back wall, at one spot above the door, and said it as plainly as I could.

"Paula Garrick."

The courtroom went loud.

The judge struck my answer and told the jury to disregard it.

The lawyer asked for a mistrial before I had closed my mouth.

In the third row on the left, the chief of police rose to his feet. "Your Honor, the department objects to this slander of a wounded officer."

"Sit, Chief," the judge said. "Detective, you will answer only what's asked."

Paula didn't stand. She put her free hand over her mouth and shook her head slowly.

A widow behind her put an arm around her shoulders.

Neil wrote a line in his notebook, and it was a long one.

The judge called a recess, and the marshals took me out through the side door.

They gave me a bottle of water in a room with no windows.

My hands wouldn't hold it, so I set it down.

I had said the name in front of the whole city, and the only thing it had cost anyone was me.

The door opened again.

It was Paula, and she was alone.

She was thinner than she used to be, and she walked with a limp I didn't know.

She closed the door behind her, and the marshal outside let her.

She crossed the room and took my arm in both her hands.

Her thumb found the scar through my sleeve. It ran from my wrist almost to my elbow, and I had gotten it climbing out of that car.

She had never seen it before. She pressed it once, to see if I would flinch, and I didn't.

"Hello, Cora," she said. "I knew your voice the second I opened the door."

I said nothing at all.

"I let you walk in anyway. Did you notice?" She smiled, and her eyes were wet. "I'm so glad you're alive. I want you to know that. Every word of it is true."

"Take your hand off me."

She did, and patted my sleeve flat as she let go.

"Neil's a stubborn man," she said. "He gets one idea and he lives in it. It would be a shame to take away the only thing he's had to hold on to."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a kindness. I'm trying to be kind." She reached the door and looked back at me. "Your mother doesn't know yet, does she?"

I had not seen my mother in five years, and she was forty minutes away.

"Winnie's apartment is small," Paula said. "She doesn't have cable. The six o'clock news will tell her you're back."

The door clicked shut behind her.

I was already looking for my coat.

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