The Man Who Wasn't All There by David Handler (book recommendations website TXT) 📕

‘All I said was that she wasn’t here.’

‘Meaning he has every reason to believe that she was just out running an errand. I don’t like it,’ Mitry repeated, glancing pointedly at the governor’s special envoy, who was there but not there. ‘He’s already been harassing a number of residents lately. And now we’ve got celebrity stalking to sift into the mix. This is trouble waiting to happen.’

‘He must be off of his Thorazine again,’ Annabeth McKenna said unhappily. ‘He hates taking it because it makes him fuzzy headed and contributes to his weight gain. I should point out that he’s also missed his last two sessions with me, which I consider mandatory.’

‘Do you think we should pull the ripcord?’ Captain Rundle asked her.

‘Already done,’ Mitry informed him. ‘I pulled it as soon as I got Pete’s call.’

‘The ripcord? Forgive me if I sound a bit testy,’ I said, ‘but I came out here from the city to clear my head. Instead, I’ve run into a nut case with intergalactic B.O. who likes to pretend he’s a state trooper, a special envoy of the governor who’s here but not here, a Yale School of Medicine child psychiatrist who treats exactly one middle-aged patient, and a table full of official people who are speaking in code. Will someone kindly tell me what the hell is going on?’

They exchanged an uncomfortable look.

On Mitry’s nod, Annabeth McKenna said, ‘Austin is something of a special case.’

‘Trust me, that’s already been made abundantly clear. Special as in …?’

She gazed across the table at me, her mouth tightening. ‘He may not look or smell like it, but Austin Talmadge is a billionaire who owns a thirty-one-room riverfront estate on Elys Ferry Road. He’s one of the Talmadges, who were among the original British royal land grant families to settle this state in the 1600s. Unlike the Pecks, Beckwiths and other founding families, the Talmadges worked tirelessly generation after generation to expand upon their original holdings of land and timber into shipping, banking and the construction of New England’s first rail system. As a result, Austin happens to be the second richest man in the entire state of Connecticut. And there are a lot of rich people in the state of Connecticut. The only person in the state who’s richer than Austin is his older brother, Michael, an attorney who is his trustee.’

‘The state police have been under a long-standing, explicit order from one governor after another to treat Austin with kid gloves,’ Deputy Superintendent Mitry explained. ‘Unless he creates a situation. Which, I regret to say, he has begun to do.’

Resident Trooper Conley nodded unhappily. ‘A few weeks ago, he decided to dedicate himself to restoring proper law and order around here, which he feels has become woefully lax under my watch. Purchased a reconditioned Ford Crown Vic, fashioned a uniform of sorts for himself and bought a used Smith and Wesson revolver at Old Tom’s Guns up on the Boston Post Road. Fortunately, Tom alerted me and I made certain that he removed the firing pin without Austin’s knowledge. It’s essentially a toy gun. Doesn’t present a genuine threat. But Austin does. He’s taken to going out on patrol. Last week he broke up a late-night bonfire party on White Sand Beach. Just showed up down there, waving his gun, and confiscated a case of Coors from the Hardy Boys.’

‘Frank and Joe?’ I asked.

‘No, Antoine and Gaston, better known as Tony and Gas. They plow driveways, do odd jobs. They’re actually Austin’s second or third cousins from the non-moneyed side of the family. Their grandmother married a French-Canadian house painter. You run into a lot of haves and have-nots with these old families around here. Tony and Gas are members of the volunteer fire department. Decent, hard-working guys. They were furious. Austin has no authority to do what he did. He for darned sure has no authority to pull drivers over in the wee hours for the purpose of interrogating them. Night before last he stopped a Cornell University graduate student named Donna Willis on Old Shore Road, ordered her out of her car, frisked her in a highly inappropriate fashion and demanded to know if she was currently … menstruating.’

I looked at him in disbelief. ‘And you can’t arrest him?’

‘Ought to be a snap. I’ve got him dead to rights for impersonating a police officer, harassment, breach of peace …’ The resident trooper puffed out his cheeks. ‘But, like the deputy superintendent said, we have to let Austin be Austin unless he presents a credible, legitimate threat to the public’s safety. Believe me, there’s no love lost between Austin and me. I grew up with him. He used to taunt my kid sister, Becca, because she had a weight problem. Taunt her until she’d cry. When we were twelve I punched him in the nose and told him if he bothered her again I’d do a lot worse. He never got the chance. After school that very day Becca threw herself in front of an Amtrak train.’

I shuddered inwardly. ‘How awful …’

‘It wasn’t pretty,’ he said tightly, his mouth barely moving. ‘And now that evil little bastard’s trying to rile me again with that patrol car of his. Make it seem as if I’m not doing my job properly.’

‘Nothing could be further from the truth,’ Rundle spoke up on his behalf. ‘You do a heck of a job, Jim. We all know that. Lowest crime rate in New London County.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ he said quietly.

‘What about his older brother, Michael?’ I asked. ‘What’s his story?’

‘Michael does not exactly enjoy a warm, fuzzy relationship with Austin,’ Annabeth McKenna replied. ‘In fact, he’s had a pathological fear of Austin ever since Austin shot him in the head with a pellet gun back when they were kids, leaving him permanently deaf in his left ear. Michael remains convinced that Austin’s deepest wish in life is to murder him. As a result, he lives in a walled,