Page 88 of The Devil's Advocate

‘I came here because we need you to help Francis get to where we want him to be. I never said anything about trying to persuade you. I know you can’t be persuaded. Francis just needs a nudge. Something to tip him over the edge. Your help will be invaluable …’

The Pastor’s right fist shot out, and up, and rammed into the left side of Esther’s neck, causing a loudslapas it hit home. Her mouth opened, her fingers clawed at her neck as her knees gave way. The blow wasn’t hard enough to crush her windpipe, but her throat had spasmed and she began to cough and panic and scramble around on her knees trying desperately to draw air into her body.

From his messenger bag, the Pastor took a pair of leather gloves, slipped them on quickly, and then took a length of rope from the bag. One end was already tied in a noose. He moved around behind Esther, slipped the noose over her head and cinched it tight around her throat.

He placed his left knee between her shoulder blades, forcing her down flat on the ground, and pulled on the rope. Her throat closed completely. He watched her neck turn bright red. She began to make a sound. It was the sound of a human being trying to gasp air when none could enter their windpipe. The noise sounded somewhere between a choke and a deep swallow.

Her fingers clawed at her throat, and the Pastor gritted his teeth as he pulled. He wanted those sounds to stop. He found them uncomfortable to hear. To drown out the sound he recited the Lord’s Prayer. It remained a comfort to him. He had said it thousands of times. As a boy, in the dark, hot box in the back yard. Sweating, and losing consciousness in the heat. The words of that prayer always made him feel better.

By the time he’d finished, Esther had stopped struggling. The sound ceased, and her body went limp. The Pastor relaxed his grip on the rope as he felt something wet on his left knee, which was on the floor. He stood up, a wet patch on that knee, and saw that Esther’s bladder had released.

Moving around the body, he picked her up at the waist, turning her on her side. He grabbed one arm. Kneeling, he hauled her body onto his shoulder and stepped carefully into the hallway. Setting her down at the foot of the stairs, he took one end of the rope and walked up to the first floor. Looping the rope over the rail of the banister, and then through one of the posts, he began to take up the slack.

Then, he pulled. This was a test of his strength, and one that he met easily. The rope sawed into the wooden rail as he hauled it up, hand over hand, until Esther was suspended three feet from the ground. At which point he tied off the rope and descended the stairs.

The rail above him creaked as Esther’s body swayed gently from side to side. Her neck was horribly distended, and her face and eyes were filled with blood. The Pastor retrieved his messenger bag from the kitchen and left the house quickly.

Gruber had been informed he should stick around after he dropped Francis home. He would need to be there when the police came, to comfort Francis, and make sure he didn’t do anything stupid like put a gun in his mouth.

The sight of his wife, having hung herself, would be exactly what Francis needed. The last of his inhibitions would be thrown off. He would be a man with nothing to live for. A man whose only option was to join his family in their graves.

Perfect,thought the Pastor.

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

EDDIE

I sat on the bed in The Chanterelle, listening to Bloch. She talked a little while she messed with the police scanner, which she’d brought out from her travel case. Kate was listening and looking at the photos I’d gotten from Farnesworth. Harry lay down on the bed, his eyes closed.

‘What was the name of the lady you met from the Darius Robinson innocence campaign?’ I asked.

‘Jane? No. She hasn’t told anyone about the conversation in the candy store. I called her and checked,’ said Bloch.

‘Then it was the candy-store lady, Dorothy Majors,’ said Harry, from the bed.

‘No, I checked with her too,’ said Bloch.

‘Well, somebody tipped off Korn that we had the juice to flip Lomax. It wasn’t anyone in this room, so it had to be Dorothy or Jane,’ I said.

‘I think it was the letter,’ said Kate.

Bloch nodded.

Kate had bought a printer in the electrical store on Main Street and hooked it up to her laptop, which allowed Bloch to print the photos of the letter to Lomax from his deceased wife.

‘I think that kind of a letter changes someone,’ said Kate. ‘Think about it. Lomax loved his wife, she finally succumbs to the cancer, he’s been nursing her for years and years and then she drops a bomb on him from beyond the grave. It fits.’

‘It might,’ I said, as I skim-read the letter again. There was something about this letter I knew was important, but I didn’t know what quite yet.

‘Okay, so let’s say he has a change of heart. He tells Korn he’s going to rat him out? Confess to everything and bring Korn down with him? Why would he tell him?’

‘I think Lomax underestimated the lengths that the DA is willing to go,’ said Kate.

We talked it over some more, and then fell into quiet as Bloch found the Sunville County Sheriff’s Department radio frequency. She hadn’t called in Lomax’s death, seeing as how she’d trespassed on his property and looked over the crime scene. It was too risky to alert the police, but she felt bad about not letting officials know. She was sure someone in the department would call out and see him, even just to pay their respects, and she wanted to know the instant that happened.

I sat on the bed beside Harry, with my fist on my chin, squinting at Kate’s picture of Ryan Hogg’s ring. Harry snored beside me while Kate paced the room.

As well as listening to the scanner, Bloch was trying to listen to Kate and I muttering about the picture of the ring on Hogg’s hand.