The Taking of Libbie, SD (Mac McKenzie #7)

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Church said. He lunged for Paulie, but the chief kept him back.

“It was all Church,” Paulie said. “I just watched.”

“You lying bastard,” Church said. “You threw the bomb.” He held his hand up, the one covered with a cast. “I lit it, but he threw it.”

“I don’t know how things work in South Dakota,” I said. “In Minnesota, that is what prosecuting attorneys refer to as an excited utterance, and according to the U.S. Supreme Court, it’s admissible as evidence.”

“You bastard,” Church screamed.

This time it was me he charged. The chief intercepted him again, grabbing him by the shoulders, spinning him down to the gravel, and slapping the cuffs over his wrists behind his back as quickly and efficiently as ever I’ve seen.

Don’t you just love it when a plan comes together? my inner voice said.

There were six full-time deputies, two part-time deputies, and an administrative assistant working for the Perkins County Sheriff’s Department, and Big Joe Balk called them all in. Mostly it was a matter of crowd control. Balk had Church in one holding cell, Paulie in a second, Wayne in the third, Chief Gustafson dozing in the interrogation room, and eleven other witnesses scattered throughout the county courthouse in Mercer. The county attorney, who ran for the office unopposed, and his assistant, neither of whom had ever prosecuted a felony in their lives, were desperate to keep everyone separate until they took their statements.

Personally, I didn’t think prosecution was going to be much of an issue. Starting from the moment Chief Gustafson called the sheriff for assistance, Paulie talked. He talked about how Church smashed a Molotov cocktail against the Dannes’ house the night before and how he planned to do the same to my fancy car—that was his word, “fancy.” He spoke of seven other fires as well, including the bombing of Christopher Kramme’s plane shortly after he returned to Libbie with Tracie. He said how this was all Church’s doing, that it was Church’s standard mode of revenge against all who wronged him in one manner or another, and how he didn’t want to help but Church made him. Later, after the county attorney set up a tape recorder and video camera in a small office and read him his rights for a third time, Paulie said it all over again. Meanwhile, Church kept his mouth shut, demanded his rights, demanded an attorney. That was until he learned that Paulie was spilling his guts in front of a camera, and then he couldn’t help himself; he started talking, too.

“Sounds like a slam dunk to me,” I said.

Big Joe Balk leaned back in his chair and regarded me carefully from the far side of his desk.

“Do you realize, there hadn’t been a single murder, rape, armed robbery, or aggravated assault committed in Perkins County in three years before you came along?” he said.

“I’m sure that’s because this is such a law-abiding community.”

“Tell me something, McKenzie—when I investigate the fires in Church’s home, in his car, and I will investigate the fires, what do you think I’ll find?”

“I think you’ll find that a confessed serial arsonist, who has been linked to at least eight fires in the past few years, yet had always managed to evade arrest despite the best efforts of the Perkins Country Sheriff’s Department, accidentally burned down his own property because he improperly handled the materials he was using to build his firebombs.”

“Is that what you think?”

“That’s what I hope.”

“Paulie said that you wanted Church to meet you at the Tall Moon Tavern at nine o’clock last night. Why would you want that?”

“I’m sure Paulie is mistaken. I had no reason for wanting to see Church.”

“Why were you there?”

“To get a Ringneck Ale. I like it.”

“You can get that anywhere.”

“I didn’t know that. I’m new here.”

“Uh-huh. So you weren’t attempting to lure Church to the Tall Moon so you could burn down his house?”

“Certainly not. Why would I do such a thing?”

“To get a little vigilante justice for all the fires Church set.”

“Why would I do that? He never burned anything I owned. ’Course, if you disagree, you should consider that charging me with arson might compromise the county attorney’s case against both Church and Paulie. I’ve been told that confusion is a criminal defense attorney’s best friend, and additional arson arrests might cause plenty of confusion. Instead of copping a plea, Church and Paulie could even try their luck at a trial, and who knows what an energetic defense lawyer might do to the amateur prosecutors you have working for you. What do you think?”

“I think I should throw your ass in jail.”

“A lot of people say that.” I got up from the chair and headed for the door just in case he was serious. “I’ll see you around.”

“Wait a minute.”

I held my breath while I did.