Goldman, Matt - The Shallows: A Nils Shapiro Novel by Goldman Matt

Author:Goldman, Matt [Goldman, Matt]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

22

“Hello, Nils. This is Detective Norton with the Greater Lake Minnetonka Police Department.”

“You sound chipper, Detective.”

The Minnesota Twins had a 7:05 P.M. start, and I had an hour to kill before meeting the Good Samaritan who spotted Ernesto Cuellar stealing my car. I was scouting outside Target Field for a ticket when Detective Norton called.

“We’re closing the Rabinowitz murders.”

“Why would you do that?”

“There is nothing to indicate any possibility other than Arndt Kjellgren killed Todd first and then Robin before taking his own life.”

“Based on what motive?”

“Our internal investigation is firming up the details. I’m just calling to inform you both cases are closed, and we’re no longer interested in your services.”

“I declined your offer of employment this afternoon. So why exactly are you calling?”

“To confirm that we’ll no longer be interested in your services and because of your uh, uh … romantic association with the victim. I thought you should hear it from us rather than on the news.”

“I didn’t have a romantic association with the victim, and your department has nothing to do other than arrest drunk drivers and boaters. Why are you closing the case so fast? It’s been less than a day since Robin was killed.”

An African-American man swung a stiff left leg forward while fanning a dozen or so tickets in his right hand and yelling, “Tickets! Who needs tickets?” I let him pass. There’s always an upcharge for splitting one off a group.

Detective Norton said, “Closing the case now frees up resources for other ongoing investigations. And they don’t all have to do with operating a vehicle under the influence. We have the same problems every other municipality has.”

“Bullshit you do.”

“You really don’t need to—”

“You’re bad at your job, Norton. It’s amateurville over there.” I wanted to bring up the milfoil in Todd Rabinowitz’s lungs, but that may have caused trouble for Dr. Melzer.

“Maybe you’re a little too close to this one, Shapiro. Let it go. The D.A. and commission agree with the GLMPD. This is our turf. We know it better than anyone else. And based on what we know we’ve made a decision.”

“I don’t care if you know every goddamn twig and ladybug on your turf. It has nothing to do with what motivates one person to take another person’s life. There’s no upside to closing this case now. And if you’re wrong, there’s a huge downside.”

A heavyset man on a mobility scooter rolled in my direction holding a single ticket in the air. A plastic tube delivered oxygen under his nose, a hamburger and fries sat half-eaten in the scooter’s front basket, and an orange flag stood tall to alert cars and ticket buyers to his presence.

“Our decision is final, Shapiro. I’m sorry you don’t like it. Thank you for your help. And good-bye.” He hung up.

I waved down the scooter and bought the ticket, which was for a field-level seat between home and first. My baseball team was having another mediocre year, hovering around .500. But, with six weeks to go, they were only a few games out of first place.

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