by Rick Polad
“He sure was. Bought several rounds.”
“And he drinks a lot?”
“He likes his beer and tequila. I will say that he seems to hold it well; maybe because he’s so big. Most guys would be under the table.”
“Do you remember what time he left?”
“That’s not hard. I always have to kick him out. We close at two. But you know, sometimes he leaves early and then comes back.”
“Did you tell the cops that?”
“Nope. Didn’t think of it.”
“Did Charles say anything unusual, like if he was going somewhere besides home?”
Mike scrunched his face, looked again up at the ceiling, and shook his head. “Nope. Nothing that stands out.”
“He was arrested here a few years back. Do you remember anything about that?”
“I do. He hit a woman outside the bar. He was yelling something about a whore and had her pinned against the wall. Took four of us to pull him off. Sent her to the hospital and him to jail.”
“Any other trouble?”
“Nope, always a gentleman. That thing was a real surprise.”
Spencer put a ten on the table. “Add that to the tips. Thanks for your time, Mike.”
“Sure. Help any?”
“Not much. Gives him an alibi until two. We could use later than that.”
Mike nodded. “Wish I could do more. I like Charlie. Good luck.”
Spencer got up and they shook hands. “Thanks.”
* * *
Driving home, Spencer thought about Charlie. Seemed like a pretty lonely guy. Buying rounds bought you friends for a night, but the next time you walked in the door you had to buy them back again. He also sounded like a nice guy, and Spencer hoped he would find something that would help. He would go see the maid in the morning and Mrs. Lamb Thursday night. A light drizzle started as he drove. From what Ben had said, he was not looking forward to interviewing Mrs. Lamb, but he had several interesting questions. He figured her answers would be just as interesting. Most of all, he wondered why she would stay married to someone she didn’t like as much as her daggers.
He hadn’t heard from Stretch.
Chapter 79
Roll call Thursday morning. The usual pep talk about keeping the streets safe for humanity and a pat on the back to two teams who had done exactly that. Rosie and Steele were asked to see Lt. Powolski before leaving.
Stosh was on the phone when they walked in. He waved them to chairs and finished his conversation. Jan Brent from the D.A.’s office was sitting on the far side of the desk.
Stosh hung up. “I’ve asked Miss Brent to join us to let us know where this might go. The floor is yours, ma’am.”
Jan Brent turned to Rosie. “Based on your interview, Detective, Mrs. Rivera has no good reason for accusing Mr. Lamb, just a feeling. She says she knows he did it. That’s not worth much in court. We have the cash in a baggie with only his prints on it, the fact that only he and Margaret had keys to the house, the missing dagger, and he has no alibi. With those and his arrest record we have enough for suspicion. But if any are explained away, we’re not left with much. We need a murder weapon. I assume you’re looking, so I won’t ask.”
“Any questions?” asked Stosh of his detectives. There were none.
“Then I have some background on Mr. Lamb.” He opened a folder and handed each of them a data sheet. “Not a pretty family picture. Charles’ father, Samuel, was charged with the murder of a prostitute. He was sent to Cook County where he hung himself before the trial. Charles was ten at the time. Mother was an alcoholic—disappeared after the father died. Charles was raised by an aunt and uncle and his older brother, Steven, now a successful businessman. Owns his own metals company.”
Rosie sat back in her chair and let out a long exhale. “Well, that explains it.”
Stosh just raised his eyebrows.
Rosie explained. “When Ben told Charles he was going to be transferred to County, Charles went nuts—flipped over a table. Said he couldn’t go there and would hang himself. Ben asked if we could keep him here for a few days while he got a psych eval. The preliminary is on Friday.”
Stosh closed the folder. “This job never gets any easier. I agree. It would be good to keep him here a bit, but he has to be transferred at some point—we’re talking murder here. Definitely has to be transferred after his hearing. And I’m going to have a chat with Andrews and Spanell. Despite the change in m.o., this makes him look good for the Friday murders. The battery arrest was for accusing a woman of being a prostitute and attacking her. I also got a report on neighborhood crime. Nothing matches. Anybody get to the bar?”
Rosie answered. “Yeah. Bartender confirms he’s always there on Friday nights and many Saturdays. Drinks a lot. They close at two and he has to kick Charles out. So no alibi there.”
Stosh nodded. “What’s on your plate for the day?”
Rosie set the sheet on the desk. “Paperwork and then more paperwork.”
Stosh nodded. “Steele, you awake?”
“Father killed a prostitute, took a stretch, alchy mother took a powder, suspect following in dad’s footsteps. Got it.”
“Get him outta here, Rosie.”
Steele was a pain in the ass, but had been at this a long time and was a good detective. Several cases had been closed due to his diligence. But Stosh felt sorry for Rosie. When she transferred in, the other detectives were thrilled to see her. The newbie got Steele.
Chapter 80
Spencer was awakened at about six by the steady drumming of rain on the roof, a sound he found very comforting—even more comforting, knowing he could go back to sleep. A lifestyle that didn’t involve an alarm clock was wonderful. He had set a goal of letting as little as possible interfere with that lifestyle. He did remember that he was going to see the maid, but there was no timetable.
When Spencer swung his legs out of bed and headed for a shower, the rain had stopped, but the sky was overcast and the forecast promised off-and-on rain all day. He stopped at Sunnyside Up for breakfast. Pancakes and two eggs over easy with bacon. Good food, but not nearly as homey as Beef’s. As he ate, he thought about his first case and the happiness that had come out of great sadness.
* * *
The ‘65 Mustang was out of place in Mrs. Rivera’s neighborhood. The streets were lined with more conventional cars. But the neighborhood was clean and neat. Lawns were mown and flower beds were weeded. Most of the houses were basically the same, with small personal touches. Mrs. Rivera’s was painted pale yellow with green trim. Spencer parked, walked up the sidewalk in the light drizzle, and rang the bell.
A neat, conservatively dressed, middle-aged woman answered the door.
“Mrs. Rivera?”
“Yes,” she said hesitantly.
“My name is Spencer Manning.” He briefly flashed his license. “I’m a detective and have a few questions about Miss Brock if you have a few minutes.”
Still hesitating, she responded, “I already talked to one of your detectives.”
Spencer smiled and said, “Yes, Detective Lonnigan. I just have a few more questions. You know, sometimes something new needs to be followed up on.”
“There is something new? I thought you had the man who did it.”
He smiled bigger. “Would you mind if I come in? It’s raining.”
“Oh, I am sorry. Okay. May I take your jacket?”
He took off the wet jacket and she hung it on a hook inside a closet.
“Please, come into the kitchen.” She led the way through a very neat house. Not a thing out of place. Very tidy, but not very homey. “I am having some tea, would you like some?”
“That would be nice, thank you.”
While she got out cups, Spencer looked around the room. One thing caught his eye. There was a knife block on the counter next to a wooden cutting board. There were places for six knives. One place was empty.
Mrs. Rivera set a cup of steaming tea in front of Spencer and
explained that it was a special blend from Mexico. He thanked her.
She sat, quietly sipping her tea.
Spencer took a sip. “Delicious.”
She smiled. “I am glad you like it.”
He put the cup back in the saucer. “You have a very nice house. It must take a lot of work to keep a house clean with a family.”
She frowned. “My husband died three years ago and my son who lived with me has moved out to his own place.”
“I’m sorry. Is your son nearby?”
She acted a bit flustered. “What questions do you have, Mr. Manning?”
“Can you give me any more information on why you think Mr. Lamb killed Miss Brock?”
She again acted flustered and picked up her cup. It shook.
“Mrs. Rivera?”
“Yes, I know. I really have nothing to tell you. It is just a feeling. He is such a big man and he did have a key to the house.” She was breathing quickly in short breaths. “And he was a complete stranger.” Her eyes welled up with tears. “I told her not to let a stranger into her house.” She wiped her eyes with a napkin.
“Did he treat you badly?”
“How do you mean, badly?”
“Was he rude or mean to you?”
She looked down. “No, no he wasn’t.”
Everything about her reactions led Spencer to think there was something that she was not telling. “Mrs. Rivera, if Mr. Lamb killed Miss Brock, he belongs in jail, but we want to make sure. It would be horrible to send an innocent man to jail. Don’t you agree?”
She nodded, looking away from Spencer.
After finishing his tea, Spencer said, “I just have one other question. May I ask?”
Another nod.
“Mr. Lamb was doing work on the house, right?”
“Yes.” She again was making eye contact and her hand had stopped shaking.
“Mr. Lamb says some work was started but not finished. Do you know who else was working there?”
Now she completely lost her composure. She stood up, turned her back to Spencer, and carried her cup to the sink and rinsed it out. She shut the water off and said, “I would like to talk again to the lady detective.”
“Detective Lonnigan?”
“Yes.”
She was standing with both hands on the edge of the counter, staring out the window. Spencer knew she was done talking.
“Okay, I’ll have her call you. I’ll let myself out.”
She just kept staring.
Chapter 81
Spencer found a pay phone and made two calls. The first was to Ben’s office.
“Give me some good news,” said Ben.
Spencer told Ben about Margaret’s nervous reaction when he asked both questions.
“Hmm. Strange. Something’s going on there. But that doesn’t solve any problems.”
“Well, then there’s the missing knife,” Spencer explained.
That got a better reaction from Ben. “You know, an empty slot doesn’t mean there was a knife there. Did you ask her about it?”
“No.”
“Seems that would have been the thing to do, Mr. P.I.”
Spencer sighed. “Well, yes, seems so. But I thought it better to tell Rosie and let her ask.”
“What? You all of a sudden shy?”
“No, I’m all of a sudden sorta leading Mrs. Rivera to believe I was with the police.”
Silence. Spencer could see the reaction.
“Please tell me I didn’t hear you right because of a bad connection.”
“Can’t tell you that, but I can tell you I didn’t lie—just let her reach a conclusion that wasn’t necessarily true.”
“And you didn’t bother to correct that conclusion?”
“Obviously not. But I showed her my license and she didn’t ask to see a badge. I would have told her if she had asked.”
“Good, that helps a lot.”
“We in trouble here? Cuz I got something Rosie missed, and there is something she isn’t talking about yet but is willing to talk about to Rosie.”
“Hopefully I won’t have to deal with a formal complaint. But you’re going to catch hell from a certain Lieutenant.”
“Yup. Won’t be the first time.”
“Good, that makes me feel better. Listen, I haven’t turned in any expense sheets yet. Are you willing to work for nothing?”
“What you pay is pretty close to that. Why?”
“Because your looking into some things on your own is different than if you’re hired by the P.D. office.”
“Will that make it easier on me?”
“No idea. But maybe I won’t lose my job.”
Spencer laughed. “Sure. Where does this get us with Charles?”
“It gets us suspicion in another direction—someone with a key to the house who may have a missing knife. You talk to Rosie. I’ll go see the D.A. Maybe we can get this dismissed, or at least get the bond lowered.”
“Would you wait on that? I’d like Rosie to discover the missing knife.”
“Okay, but make it quick. Hearing is tomorrow morning.”
Spencer hesitated. “Hey, Ben. Remember the table-flip guy? It’s possible we’re trying to get a murderer out of jail.”
“Can’t help you there, Spencer. We’re looking for the truth and my crystal ball is broken. Until we get more, I do my job and that is to defend Mr. Lamb.”
They hung up and Spencer made his second call—to Rosie. He asked her if she wanted to get some lunch. She accepted.
Chapter 82
Rosie was waiting in a booth at a diner a block from the station. She pushed out the opposite chair with her foot and folded her arms across her chest.
Spencer gave her his best hurt look. “Don’t give me that—I come bearing gifts.” He sat.
She didn’t laugh. “I too have gifts. First is a warrant—for impersonating a police officer.”
Spencer’s mouth opened and then closed.
Rosie uncrossed her arms. “I was hoping for a bit more than that.”
“And I was hoping to break it to you gently.”
She looked skeptical. “Or not at all?”
He squirmed. “Well, that would have been preferable. I assume you talked to Margaret?”
“No wonder you make all the big bucks. Yes, called her with a question and she tells me one of our detectives was just there. Who, I ask? Manning, she replies. Said you were going to tell me to call her.”
“Yup, that’s on the agenda. So, she doesn’t know?”
“No. But we need to have a chat with Stosh.”
Spencer grimaced. “If she doesn’t know—”
“She figures it out and he finds out I know, it won’t be pretty for Yours Truly.”
“What about this Yours Truly?”
“You mean the one who impersonated a police officer?”
“Well, not exactly,” he said. “And I do have gifts.”
She sighed. “Okay, let’s hear it.”
The waitress arrived. Spencer ordered a burger, Rosie a turkey club.
“First, there’s a knife block in the kitchen. A knife is missing. Second...”
Her right hand went up. “Back up to first. Are you saying I missed that?”
“Or it appeared, or disappeared, after you were there.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“Nope, figured you might want to do that.”
“Well, thanks for that. Have you told anyone else?”
“Just Ben.”
“You know, an empty slot doesn’t mean there’s a missing knife.”
“Right. But should be asked.”
“Agreed. What’s second?”
Spencer told her about how strange Margaret acted when he asked her about accusing Charles, and how nervous she was when he asked her about the partial work.
“She knows something she isn’t telling us, Rosie.”
“Isn’t telling you. Said she wants to talk to me. And what’s with this us c
rap? You join the force recently?”
“No, but we’re both on the same team.”
The food arrived and she took a bite. “What team would that be? Seems to me we’re on opposite sides here.”
“Justice. We both want to get the guy who did it.”
She nodded. “Okay, I’ll buy that. But from now on, how ‘bout you clear up that little P.I. ID thing.”
“Does the knife buy me anything with Stosh?”
She shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t predict anything there. You’re on your own. But I’ll beat around the bush as much as I can.”
“Thanks.”
Rosie was fidgeting with her spoon. “Can we chat about Saturday night?”
“Sure, what about it?”
She looked up at Spencer. “I had hoped that was the start of something more than friends. And I haven’t heard from you since.” She shrugged.
Spencer didn’t know how to respond. He had thought about her a lot. She was indeed a wonderful woman, and a part of him also wanted more. But he cherished her friendship, and a bigger part of him felt safe and comfortable with that.
“That was a wonderful night, Rosie. And you are wonderful.” He looked away. “I’m just not sure what I want. I don’t want to lose a friend.”
She wanted to reach out and take his hand, but didn’t. With a forlorn look, she said, “I don’t either. But it’s possible to have both.”
He sighed. “I’m not so sure.”
Rosie felt sad, like she had just lost something, but at least it was out on the table.
“And you’re right. We are on different sides. I’ve wondered if that would happen. We’ve always worked so well together.”
She nodded. “Yes, we have.”
“Still friends?”
“Sure.” But she wasn’t entirely sure.
Taking the last bite of his burger, Spencer said, “So, what’s the other gift?”
Rosie wiped her mouth and sipped her Coke. “Like you deserve another gift?”
“Well, I wasn’t too thrilled about the warrant.”
She laughed. “Guess who is sole beneficiary.”
