Read Online From Potter's Field by Patricia Cornwell - Free Book Online Page B

'Gault is killing himself.'

    'That can't be all of it.'

    'No, but it is part of it.'

    'It's a sport to him,' I said.

    'That, too, is true.'

    'What about his family? Do we know anything more?'

    'No.' He did not turn around. 'Mother and father are healthy and in Beaufort, South Carolina.'

    'They moved from Albany?'

    'Remember the flood.'

    'Oh yes. The storm.'

    'South Georgia was almost washed away. Apparently the Gaults left and are in Beaufort now. I think they're also looking for privacy.'

    'I can only imagine.'

    'Right. Tour buses were rolling past their house in Georgia. Reporters were knocking on their door. They will not cooperate with the authorities. As you know, I have repeatedly requested interviews and have been denied.'

    'I wish we knew more about his childhood,' I said.

    'He grew up on the family plantation, which was basically a big white frame house set on hundreds of acres of pecan trees. Nearby was the factory that made nut logs and other candies you see in truck stops and restaurants, mostly in the South. As for what went on inside that house while Gault lived there, we don't know.'

    'And his sister?'

    'Still on the West Coast somewhere, I guess. We can't find her to talk to her. She probably wouldn't anyway.'

    'What is the likelihood that Gault would contact her?'

    'Hard to say. But we've not learned anything that would indicate the two of them have ever been close. It doesn't appear that Gault has been close - in the normal sense - to anyone his entire life.'

    'Where have you been today?' My voice was gentler and I felt more relaxed.

    'I talked to several detectives and did a lot of walking.'

    'Walking for exercise or work?'

    'Mostly the latter, but both. By the way, Snow White is gone. The driver just left with an empty carriage. And he didn't hit her.'

    I opened my eyes. 'Please tell me more about your walk.'

    'I walked through the area where Gault was seen in the subway station with the victim at Central Park West and Eighty-first. Depending on the weather and what route you take, that particular subway entrance is maybe a five-, ten-minute walk from the Ramble.'

    'But we don't know that they went in there.'

    'We don't know a damn thing,' he said, letting out a long, weary breath. 'Certainly, we have recovered footwear impressions. But there are so many other footprints, hoof prints, dog prints and God knows what. Or at least there were.' He paused as snow streaked past the glass.

    'You're thinking he's been living around there.'

    'That subway station's not a transfer station. It's a destination station. People who get off there either live on the Upper West Side or are going to one of the restaurants, the museum or events in the park.'

    'Which is why I don't think Gault has been living in that neighborhood,' I said. 'In a station like the one at Eighty-first or others nearby, you probably see the same people over and over again. It seems that the transit officer who gave Gault a ticket would have recognized him if Gault was local and used the subway a lot.'

    'That's a good point,' Wesley said. 'It appears Gault was familiar with the area where he chose to commit the crime. Yet there's no indication he ever spent time in that area. So how could he be familiar with it?' He turned around to face me.

    The lights were off in the room, and he was in the shadows before a marbled background of gray sky and snow. Wesley looked thin, dark trousers hanging from his hips, a belt pulled to a new notch.

    'You've lost weight,' I said.

    'I'm flattered you would notice,' he wryly said.

    'I know your body well only when you have no clothes on,' I said matter-of-factly. 'And then you are beautiful.'

    'Then is the only time it matters, I guess.'

    'No it isn't. How much have you lost and why?'

    'I don't know how much. I never weigh myself. Sometimes I forget to eat.'

    'Have you eaten today?' I asked as if I were his primary care physician.

    'No.'

    'Get your coat on,' I said.

    We walked