Alex Cross, Run (Alex Cross 20)
I waited until five, then clocked out and headed over to Creem’s house.
CHAPTER
74
DR. CREEM LIVED IN AN IMPRESSIVE TUDOR ON A LITTLE CUL-DE-SAC IN Wesley Heights. The whole property butted up against Glover-Archbold Park, with plenty of privacy all around. From what little I knew of Creem’s situation, I assumed his next address was going to be something a bit more downscale, with guards and a roommate.
Then again, money like his has been known to buy justice—and freedom—every once in a while. I hadn’t been planning on following the trial, but now that he was back on my radar, maybe I would.
There was no answer at the front door when I rang, but the garage was open, with a midnight-blue Escalade parked inside. I let myself around through the side gate, toward the wooded back half of the property.
That’s where I found him. He was standing with a cigar clenched in his teeth, bent over a putter on a big kidney-shaped green that had been worked into the patio at the back of the house. A small yellow flag stuck up from each of the three cups sunk into the fake turf.
“Dr. Creem?”
He didn’t seem to recognize me at first. I’m pretty sure all he saw was some black guy in a suit, standing there on his property.
“Don’t you believe in ringing the bell?” he said.
“I did,” I told him, and showed my badge. “I’m Detective Cross from MPD. We’ve actually met before.”
A flash of recognition showed on his face then. I wondered if he remembered trying to bribe me, too.
Either way, he played it off. He took a ball from the pocket of his sweats, dropped it on the green, and put both hands back on the putter. The guy just oozed arrogance. I tried not to take too much pleasure from the fact that I was here with bad news.
“What exactly can I do for you?” he said.
“We had a call from Palm Beach,” I said. “The police department’s been trying to reach you.”
“Yeah? What did I do now?” he sa
id and executed a smooth, twenty-foot putt that just missed its mark.
“Apparently there was a robbery at your house the other night. Your place and the one next door. Unfortunately your neighbors were both killed by the intruder.”
“You don’t say.” Creem dropped another ball onto the ground. “Are we talking about the Wettigs or the Andersons?”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”
“Jesus, I hope it’s the Wettigs,” he said. “No disrespect, but that guy’s an ass, and he plays his TV way too loud.”
No disrespect? It was a little late for that. I knew I couldn’t stand this guy for a reason.
I interviewed Creem a little bit and got his story. He’d been home the night of the Florida murders and said I could check it out with his friend, Josh Bergman, if necessary. I told him I’d pass it all on to the Palm Beach Police Department.
“Now, if that’s all, I need to keep moving, detective. I’ve got a social engagement.” He stopped and looked me in the eye, with a familiar grin. “Believe it or not, there are still some people in this town who will associate with me.”
In a strange way, it made me think of Ava, the way Creem deflected any and all sense of real emotion—about himself, or anyone else for that matter. In his own way, the man was shut up tight against the world. Just like Ava.
The difference being that I wished Ava well.
CHAPTER
75
CREEM HAD BEEN EXPECTING SOME KIND OF NOTIFICATION FROM PALM BEACH PD. He just hadn’t expected it to come from someone like Detective Cross. It was more disarming than actually alarming. A nasty little coincidence that he chose not to share that evening.
Supposedly, this was make-it-up-to-Josh night, for the imagined little infraction of running off to Florida without him. Whatever big surprise Josh had planned—and Creem was fairly sure he knew what it was—there was no sense in muddying the waters with paranoia. At least not beforehand.