“Grace?”
“Yes. She was exonerated by a foreign government, and I’d have to check the books to make sure, but I don’t think St. Lucia has a law against double jeopardy. So it’s possible that she could be retried for the same crime down there. Plus a new trial for Henry Anderson here in the U.S.”
“Unless it wasn’t her,” Sidney said.
Gus stopped shuffling and looked at her.
Sidney shook her head. “You talked about instinct before. That you sometimes relied on it when you were working. Well, my instincts are telling me that it wasn’t Grace.”
“Then who was it?”
“I don’t know. One of her friends. Ellie Reiser.”
“Where does this theory come from?”
“Something Marshall Sebold told me. I get this feeling he knows more than anyone has given him credit for. I also get the feeling that whole group from Sugar Beach has secrets. That they’re covering for each other. The same group that was in Sugar Beach was also at Whiteface Mountain when Henry Anderson died.”
“Wild theories might make great television,” Gus said. “But police hate them.”
“What if we had more than a theory?” Sidney asked as they rounded the corner and continued along the hallway back toward Gus’s room.
“Such as?”
“Have you made any progress on the shoeprint you found on Julian’s shirt?”
Gus shook his head. “I made some calls today. I’ve got an old friend looking into it for me. Probably hear back in a day or two.”
“If you dig into Julian’s file, which I did for most of the afternoon today, you’ll see that the St. Lucian Police Force took samples of all the shoeprints they found on the bluff. They also confiscated many shoes from the guests at Sugar Beach, including everyone in the wedding party, to see if they matched. When they found a hit on Grace’s shoe, they stopped there. But that document was still in the file. It contained a list of everyone’s shoes. Type of tread, size, and the corresponding make and manufacturer. A detective friend of mine helped me out with one of the early episodes. He brought this document to my attention. What I need to do is get an ID on the type of shoe that caused the print you found on Julian’s shirt and shorts, and then cross-reference it to see if it matches any of the prints logged by the St. Lucian Police Force. If we get a match . . .”
“Then you’ve got some proof and not just a theory. What if it comes back as the Sebold girl’s shoe?”
“Then I owe you that shot of Johnnie Walker. But I’m worried that we’re going to find it belongs to someone else.”
“And if it does match her friend?” Gus asked.
“Then we go to the police. At that point, this thing will have gotten bigger than the biggest documentary in television history.”
They made it back to Gus’s room. He took a few steps without the aid of the walker and sat on the edge of the bed.
“In case I can somehow salvage this thing,” Sidney said. “Are you interested in appearing in my documentary? I’d love to show my audience the letter you sent that started me along this road, and introduce them to the man who for twenty years never let the memory of Henry Anderson fade.”
Gus looked at the television. Dr. Cutty was staring into the camera, as if speaking directly to him, explaining her findings from when she had conducted her experiment weeks before on the cadavers. Slowly Gus nodded.
“I think I’d be okay with that.”
“Excellent. I’ll be in touch. I’ll bring my crew for the interview. When your guy gets back to you about the print, let me know.”
“Thanks,” Gus said. The edges of his lips turned up slightly.
Sidney noticed and lifted her chin. She had never seen the man smile during the hours she had spent with him. “Excited about your television debut?”
“No,” Gus said. “I don’t give a crap about being on television. But it feels good to feel like a cop again.”
CHAPTER 55
Saturday, July 22, 2017
DERRICK STOOD IN CENTRAL PARK WITH HIS EQUIPMENT BAG ON THEground next to him and his backpack strapped over his shoulders. He’d done a lot for this documentary in the last few months: traveling to St. Lucia, late-night shoots with seedy detectives, filming dead bodies being knocked around in a morgue. He was, as the reckless players liked to say at his card games, all in. So when Sidney called him late last night and asked for a favor on Saturday afternoon, he never considered saying no.
