by Mike Knowles
When Lisa was able to look at Dennis again, he said, “Tell me about how you found her.”
Lisa tucked her hair behind her ear and sniffed loudly. “I opened my door and I saw Julie’s door was open. I walked across the hall and called inside. She didn’t answer me, and I thought, for a second, that maybe she had rushed to the hospital and I’d see her baby girl tomorrow. She wasn’t due till early next month.”
“It was going to be a girl?”
Lisa nodded.
“So you walk in because the door is open, and you call her name.”
“Yes.”
Lisa went on to describe what she saw. Dennis listened to her recount. Other than Mrs. Chang, there was nothing that didn’t fit with what he already knew about the crime scene. She was sobbing into her folded arms when Dennis’s phone went off. He stood up, pulled out his phone, and said, “Hamlet.”
“Need to know if Julie was having a girl or a boy. You need to track down someone who knew her and find out.”
Who the hell did Os think he was? Dennis wasn’t some uniform he could just order around. He was the cop they called when they needed things done.
“Girl,” he said.
Os hung up on him without saying thank you. Dennis walked back into the dining room and saw that Lisa had her head up. Her cheeks were streaked with tears. Dennis saw a box of Kleenex on an end table beside the couch.
“Let me get you a tissue,” he said.
“No, no, it’s okay. I’m fine. Really.”
Dennis knew how important it was to make Lisa feel comfortable with him. He wanted to get inside her head, and she wouldn’t let him in if he didn’t form some kind of relationship with her. He walked into the living room and stopped three steps away from the box of Kleenex.
“You have a baby?” he said.
“What? No.”
“You have a playpen set up in here and a bunch of baby toys.”
“They were for Julie. I was throwing her a baby shower next week. I’d been keeping her out of my apartment so she wouldn’t see anything.”
Lisa started to cry again in loud sobs. A cat entered the room and gracefully leapt to the top of the couch. The grey and black cat walked across the top of the pillows and touched its nose to Lisa’s ear. Lisa made a wet snort and reached out to cradle the cat. Dennis ignored her and the cat and walked to the playpen. He picked up a stuffed animal, a furry lion, and ran his hand over its soft plush head.
“On second thought, I could really use that Kleenex,” Lisa said from the table.
Dennis put down the lion and stepped back so that he could see Lisa again. “No problem.”
He brought the box back to the table, and Lisa put the cat down. She pulled three sheets free and dabbed at her eyes before blowing her nose. “I don’t think I’m up for this right now. Could we do it another time?”
The cat circled Dennis, keeping a distance. The animal evaluated Dennis and then retreated down the hall. Dennis pointed to the wall. “Are those Japanese?”
Lisa followed his finger with her eyes. She sniffed loudly and said, “Yes. Julie gave them to me. They mean light and dark.”
Dennis rubbed his chin. “Why light and dark?” He wanted to get Lisa talking about something other than the murder. He needed her to forget that she just asked to be left alone.
“I’d rather not talk about it,” she said.
Shit. Dennis stepped closer to the picture. He sucked his upper lip into his mouth and chewed on it. His lower lip felt the stubble above its counterpart. The pictures were from Julie, and Lisa didn’t want to talk about them. That sounded like a secret, and secrets were the most valuable kind of information. Cops like Woody would make some bullshit claim that everything is in the details, but that wasn’t true. Inside the secrets was where answers lie. You want to find someone, figure out what they tried to keep everyone else from knowing.
Dennis loved a good secret. He immediately turned up the bullshit. “I need to know everything I can about Julie. Every little bit of information helps. Even if you think it’s nothing, it might mean everything to the investigation. So please, for Julie’s sake, tell me about the pictures.”
It was a little dramatic, but it got Lisa to look at the pictures again. She shook her head and Dennis got impatient.
“Your neighbour is dead. I don’t think she would mind if you told me about some pictures she gave you.”
“It’s not how she should be remembered.”
“You’re right. She should be remembered as a dead body that was cut to pieces.” The words came out before he could stop them. So much for building a relationship.
Lisa started to cry into her arms again. Dennis let her. Crying women didn’t bother him.
Lisa’s sobs trailed off and Dennis took his gaze away from the pictures. He tried again to be nice. “Explain them to me please.”
Lisa shook her head. Dennis frowned. This girl didn’t know who she was screwing with. He wasn’t some pushover; he was a badass detective. Dennis got ready to unload on the woman when he heard a noise come from down the hall.
Lisa saw Dennis looking down the hall.
“It’s my cat. I have two. Posie isn’t getting along with Ash right now, so I keep them separated. Problem is, she gets nuts being cooped up if I’m not in the room with her.” She ran her hands through her hair and sniffed loudly. “Julie bought Posie for me. She thought it would be good for me to have something to take care of. You know what? You’re right. I need to help you find whoever killed Julie. I need to take care of her. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Dennis sat down and waited for Lisa to work up the courage to continue.
“I knew Julie before I moved in here. We met in group.”
Dennis turned around and sat down. “Group what?”
“Therapy. It was a group for women suffering from bipolar disorder.”
Dennis nodded as though he understood. It was important to help coax secrets out. Too many questions would shut her down—better to let her tell it her way at her own speed.
“Our doctor, her name’s Dr. Kelsey, ran the sessions twice a week. I was lost when I got there. Really lost. I’d seen so many doctors and no one could help me understand my mind. Julie had been like me once. She used to be confused. I wanted to be like her so bad. She looked like she had everything under control. I started talking to her, and we became friends. Good friends. When a place opened up here, she told me about it and I moved in.”
“The pictures,” Dennis said.
“They were a housewarming gift. Light and dark—it’s in us all. Julie wanted me to remember that both were always there—even when it didn’t feel like it. Like when you’re high and you feel indestructible, you need to remember that you won’t always feel that way. And when you’re down low, I mean way down, you need to remember that the light is still there even if you can’t see it.”
Dennis nodded again.
“If you two were so close, why did you think she went to the hospital when you saw the door open? Wouldn’t she have told you so you could help her get there?”
Lisa sniffed and looked out the window. “We had a fight the other day. Julie said some things. We weren’t talking.”
“What did she say?”
“Just things. She didn’t mean them.”
Dennis knew how hard feelings could be hurt, but he didn’t change his face. This was about her, not him.
Lisa went on. “She was off her meds and sometimes she’d lose it. Forget about the light and dark.”
“Why was she off her meds?”
“She didn’t want to hurt the baby. The medication for bipolar disorder is strong. Makes Tylenol look like Tic Tacs, y’know? She didn’t want her baby exposed to it. But without the meds, she was up and down all the time. We got in a fight and she was mean. I know it wasn’t he
r talking, but it still really hurt.”
“When does this group of yours meet?”
Lisa’s head snapped towards Dennis. “Why?”
“I need to talk to the doctor and the other patients.”
“No, you can’t. If they find out I talked about the group, I might get kicked out. I need to be there. I can’t get kicked out.”
Dennis held a hand up. “I’m going. No discussion. I know the doctor’s name; it won’t take me much time to find her office, or you could tell me now. If you make it easy on me, I won’t tell the doctor anything you said.”
“What will you tell her?”
Dennis smiled. “I’ll make something up. I’m a hell of a liar.”
Lisa snivelled and then gave up the doctor’s office address.
12
Crack of dawn was busy—even at 6 a.m. Woody sat at a table set for four that was really only meant for two. The tabletop was battered and numerous diners had carved their initials into the surface with fork tines. The coffee was weak, and the first cup had already started to give Woody heartburn. Everything that could have been done at the scene the night before had been done by 1 a.m. Woody convinced Os and Dennis to get some sleep before meeting at the restaurant to start again.
Os didn’t want to listen, but Dennis was all for it. The vote was two to one. Woody hated siding with Dennis, but there was nothing that could have been done at one in the morning. The sun had to rise before any more questions could be answered.
Woody hadn’t slept. He’d overdone it with the Adderall and he was too low on heroin to level himself out. It was some kind of cruel joke being played by the gods. He used drugs to forget about Natasha, but, this time, he ended up wide awake all night with nothing to do but remember her. Woody had tried to stay busy, but the case was all he could think about, and thinking about that led to thinking about his wife. He came down off the Adderall around 5:30. The bed started to look too good, so Woody left for Crack of Dawn early.
Os was the next to arrive. Through the window, Woody saw him park his Jeep and walk in. The big man looked like a bull on the hunt for a matador to gore. His eyes swept back and forth, and his breath fogged around him in the cold winter air. His big shoulders were bunched, and Woody could tell that he hadn’t slept either. Something about this case was hitting Os hard. Woody had seen his partner’s face change when he looked at the body, and he couldn’t miss how quiet it made him. It was the first time Os had ever looked sad at a murder scene. Usually he was a fucking rock with an acid tongue. Woody had never really considered Os to be someone with feelings—all evidence before then had been to the contrary.
Os saw Woody and walked straight to the table. A few of the early morning blue-collar crowd saw him and tracked his movement across the room with their eyes. It wasn’t a race thing. The colour of Os’s skin might have drawn initial looks, but it wasn’t why people kept staring at him out of the corner of their eyes. There was a menace to Os that everyone was able to pick up on. He sat across from Woody and reached over the table for Woody’s cup of coffee. Os drank it in one pull and set the cup down.
“Didn’t sleep, Os?”
“What makes you say that?”
“Well, your table manners have always been barbaric, but you didn’t shave.” Os kept a neat goatee at all times, and today, for the first time, it looked less defined. Os was former military; he never got out of the habit of wearing perfectly ironed shirts, having spit-shined shoes, and shaving every day. A change was a bad sign.
“Don’t do that Columbo shit with me, Wood.”
“I’m just concerned is all.”
“I’m fine. I’d be better with some more coffee.”
Woody waved to a waitress and held up his cup along with two fingers.
“You seemed spooked last night,” Woody said.
“That a question?”
Woody shrugged.
“It isn’t like you took it well, Wood. Doesn’t look like you slept last night either. Whose medicine cabinet do you have to thank for that?”
Woody leaned back from the table.
“Columbo shit cuts both ways, Wood.”
The coffee arrived, and Woody drank it without talking; Os did the same.
Dennis came in twenty minutes after Os; he didn’t hesitate to take a seat beside Woody. It wasn’t a shock; a lion wouldn’t choose to sit next to Os—especially with the look he had on his face.
“Amber Alert’s still up,” Dennis said as a greeting. “Which one of you came up with that idea?”
Both Woody and Os stared at each other. Woody took a sip of his coffee and gestured at Os with the mug.
“Smart,” Dennis said.
“Jerry didn’t think so. Said it would bring too much heat on him,” Os said.
“He’s right,” Dennis said.
“Fuck Jerry and fuck the heat. A cop died.”
“There’s a cop dying and there’s a cop dying,” Dennis said.
Woody looked at Dennis. The tubby asshole was onto something. No one offered a rebuttal, and Dennis took the silence to mean continue.
“Cop dies busting a drug dealer, or doing a pull over, everyone with a badge is going to lose their nut. The media, the public—they all turn a blind eye to what we do next. Deep down everybody wants to see the law get some payback. No, a lot of payback, because the alternative is anarchy. But a cop dying in her apartment isn’t the same. Sure, there’s outrage. A blue tidal wave at the scene, but no one is going to give a shit like they would had she died on duty. Think about it.” Dennis waved one of the menus at the waitress, “How many times have you heard about a solider dying in Afghanistan and you get choked up, or whatever it is you get when you hear bad news? Do you get the same feeling when a soldier dies while he’s home on leave? It ain’t the same thing, Os. It just ain’t.”
Os leaned forward and Woody quickly put the sole of his shoe on his partner’s knee. Os flashed him a look and Woody gave him one back. If Dennis made it through the day in one piece, it would be a miracle.
“What’s your point, Dennis?” Woody said.
“Point is, Jerry is acting how everybody’s going to be acting soon. They’ll all pretend to give a shit, but they won’t.”
“Seems like you might be our expert on bullshit, Dennis.” Woody said.
Os smirked and relaxed a little into his chair.
“You don’t buy what I’m selling, Woody, that’s fine. But see how much help we really get and then tell me I’m wrong. I’m not saying I agree with it. Far as I’m concerned, she was a cop, and that means her murder is personal. I’m going to solve it, but I’m not counting on any help.”
The waitress stopped at the table before either Woody or Os could respond to Dennis’s statement that he was going to solve the case. The chubby asshole got lucky.
“Ready to order?”
Dennis went first without looking around the table to get approval from Woody or Os.
“Morning, beautiful. Can I get some pancakes with some bacon done crispy? Some coffee too.” He didn’t say thank you; the waitress left an opening for it, but Dennis just handed her the menu. Os asked for six eggs, a few servings of toast, more coffee, and some orange juice. Woody just ordered more coffee. When the waitress left, Woody opened the conversation. Bad enough he was exhausted; now he was responsible for making sure Os didn’t knock Dennis across the room.
“Os, you get us face time with Julie’s DS?”
“Yeah,” Os said. “Ken Raines said he’d see us at eight.”
“You know him?” Woody asked Dennis.
“Nah, never crossed paths with him. Where is he out of?”
“Central,” Os said.
Central was the same building homicide ran out of. Dennis not knowing the sergeant’s name wasn’t a surprise. Woody knew Dennis didn’t pay much attention to anyone but hims
elf. Far as Woody could tell, Dennis didn’t have friends, or even associates, on the job. He showed up, did his shift, and went home. His attitude made the chance of anyone wanting to befriend him nearly impossible. He talked a good game, but it was all bullshit. Dennis sounded like he was doing his best impression of a cop he saw on NYPD Blue. To the average person, it might have sounded right, but to a cop it was just posturing.
“Os and I are going to run him down and see what Julie was working on,” Woody said.
“She was eight months pregnant,” Dennis said. “She had to be riding a desk.”
“Maybe, but she was working gangs. We can’t just eliminate a suspect pool because she was knocked up.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Dennis said defensively. “If you two are feminists, I’m sorry if I offended you. I don’t mean to spurn pregnant women. Hell, I love it when a broad gets pregnant.” Dennis put his hands in front of his chest and slowly let them move outward. “Bigger tits.”
The food arrived, and the woman sliding the plates across the table gave Woody no choice but to calm down. Woody couldn’t figure out what was going on. He’d always hated Dennis, but he’d never wanted to climb over the table to get at him like he did right then. Asshole was talking about pregnant women and bigger tits when the pregnant woman in question was a dead cop. It was everything that Woody hated about Dennis. A real cop would know not to say something so stupid.
Woody blew on his new cup of coffee and spoke to Dennis in the calmest voice he could muster. “Where’d you get with the witness who found the body?”
Dennis groped in his coat for a notebook. It was a spiral-bound pad with a battered brown cover. In the metal rings was a tiny pencil that looked like it belonged on a mini-golf course. Dennis put the pencil in his mouth and flipped to the last page he had written on.
“Witness’s name is Lisa O’Brien. She found the door open and went in thinking it was because Owen left in a hurry for the hospital. She found the body and called nine-one-one, but she was so freaked out she didn’t wait around.”
