“I find that people who think they’re not interesting invariably are.”
“And people who do find themselves interesting…”
Karen rolled her eyes. “We all know some of them.”
My phone buzzed with an e-mail. It was Jack O’Donnell, suggesting a time and place for our meeting. I shook my head and slipped the phone back in my pocket.
“What is it?” Karen said.
“A friend wants me to meet him in the middle of nowhere tomorrow night.”
“Who is he?”
“Just a guy. Used to work as the transportation writer for the Trib. Now he runs an industry newsletter on highway construction.”
“Does it have anything to do with Ray?”
“Could be.”
“Highway construction? I don’t see the connection.”
“Neither do I, but that’s how things usually work.” I pulled my pint an inch closer. “A case is like a ball of string. You pick one thread at random and start pulling. Eventually, it leads you to whatever’s in the middle. At least that’s the hope.”
“So you really don’t know where you’re going?”
“I start out by asking questions, watch how people react, and decide what to do from there.”
“You must piss off a lot of people?”
I grinned. “We’re back to the gun again.”
“Do you think you’ll find Ray?”
“Maybe not, but I’ll find something.”
“You seem so sure of yourself.”
“I’m Irish. We can’t help ourselves.”
“Touché.” Karen tipped her glass my way, then paused.
“What is it now?”
“You’re gonna say it’s the beer talking, but I think I can help you.”
“With Ray?”
“Yes.”
“You’re right. It’s the beer talking.”
“I’ve got good instincts about people. I could be your sounding board.”
“And why would I need a sounding board?”
“Why not? I know Ray. I know a lot of his friends. In a few months, my charity will be shutting its doors, and I’ll be on a bus out of town. Probably never to return.”
“People have helped me before.”
“And?”
“And some of them wound up dead.”
That brought the conversation to a standstill…at least for a moment. “I don’t plan on winding up dead, Michael.”
“Neither did they.”
“It’s not like I’m going out on a raid or anything.”
“You mean it’s just talk in a bar?”
“That’s it. Talk in a bar.”
“Can’t do it, Karen. Sorry.”
“Why not?”
“I told you. Too dangerous.”
“I already know you got a text from some highway guy. Tell me more about that.”
I scratched my jaw. Karen sat patiently and watched.
“I’ll give you one more piece of information. Just because you might be in a position to help. There’s a company called Beacon Limited. You ever heard of them?”
She shook her head.
“They donated a lot of money to Ray and got a huge chunk of work out of it.”
“What kind of work?”
“It’s a little complicated, but they own a lot of other companies that build roads. Illinois roads.”
“So what about them?”
“If you ever hear anything, just let me know.”
“What would I hear?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”
“You think this Beacon had something to do with Ray’s disappearance?”
“It’s possible.”
Karen frowned. “It’s not.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Ray disappeared because he wanted to. Not because anyone forced him to. And certainly not because of some evil cabal of road contractors.”
“So Ray was just trying to avoid the prison time?”
“Probably.”
“You don’t seem totally convinced.”
“I told you Ray’s personal life wasn’t right.”
“And when you say ‘personal life,’ you mean his marriage?”
“Bingo. You want another beer?”
I put a hand on her arm. “In a minute. So you’re saying Ray disappeared to get away from Marie?”
“I think Ray loved his wife, almost to a fault. In some ways, his marriage was a life sentence. And that was probably just as hard as anything the judge was handing out. When he disappeared, Ray killed two birds with one stone. Whether he meant it that way or not, I don’t know. But that’s what happened. Now, do you want another beer or what?”
CHAPTER 19
We had two more beers, bummed a couple of cigarettes from the table next to us, and left around ten-thirty. I was hungry. Karen was starved. So we got in her car and drove. Actually, I drove. She sat in the passenger’s seat and played with the radio. I tried three different places, two Italian and one Thai, but they were all closing up for the night. The last, a place in Ravenswood called Baffeto’s, was still doing takeout. Baffeto’s had a woodburning oven, and their thin-crust pies took only three minutes to cook. Sold. We got a large margherita pie and brought it back to my place. It was past eleven by the time we walked through the door. Maggie was waiting.
“She’s adorable.” Karen crouched to scratch Mags behind the ears. The pup liked that so much she rolled over on her back for the full treatment. I went into the kitchen to get us some plates and a couple of beers. By the time I got back, Mags was on high alert, wagging her tail and looking expectantly from me to the heavenly aromas emanating from the pizza box.
“Just ignore her,” I said.
“Did she get dinner?”
“You have a dog?”
Karen shook her head.
“You can feed them dinner five times over, and they’ll still be looking for number six. You mind if we take her for a quick walk?”
Mags was less interested in the walk than we were. After all, there was pizza in the house. We ate in the living room. The pie was great, thin and light with hunks of fresh mozzarella and a touch of basil.
“I thought Chicago only did deep dish,” Karen said, reaching for another piece.
“Good?”
“Awesome.” She folded up her slice and took a bite. “As you can tell, I was starving.”
“Dig in. Otherwise, it goes to the beast.”
Mags licked her chops once and moved a little closer to us and the pie.
“She’s so cute.”
“You should get one.”
“I’d love to. Maybe once I settle down somewhere.”
“So you don’t think it’ll be Chicago?”
“I don’t have anything lined up. And there are cheaper places to live.”
“A lot of not-for-profits in town.”
“Yeah but…” Karen wiped her mouth with a napkin and took a sip from her beer.
“But what?”
“The community’s a small one. And Marie Perry’s name still carries a lot of weight.”
“You think she’s blackballing you?”
“I didn’t say that. In fact, she doesn’t have to. The publicity about Ray and me did that for her.”
“Did you ever confront any of the media about the articles?”
“Confront how?”
“I don’t know. Sue.”
“To be honest, Ray caught most of the heat. And it all went away once the indictments came down.”
“But you think it ruined your career in Chicago?”
“Maybe not. Maybe I just want to move on. It’s not like I’m from here or anything.”
“Where are you from?”
Karen picked a melted piece of cheese off her plate. “Okay?” I nodded. She gave it to Mags, who licked Karen’s fingers clean. “I grew up all over.”
“You said back east?”
“All over back east. My parents were killed in a car crash wh
en I was seven.”
“I’m sorry, Karen.”
She held up a hand. “Thanks, but it was a long time ago. Anyway, at that age you’re a tough sell in the adoption market. Couples came by to kick the tires, but no-go. I bounced around in foster homes until I was old enough to get out on my own.”
“You put yourself through school?”
“Community college for two years. Then I wrangled a scholarship. So, you see? No roots. No ties. No need to stay in Chicago. How about you?”
“I was born here.”
“How about the rest?”
“The rest of what?”
She looked around the apartment. “This? You? Your life? Gotta be more than late nights and guns.”
“After Mags, it’s all downhill.”
“Come on.”
“What?”
“Why isn’t there someone in your life?”
“How do you know there isn’t?”
“Is there?”
I carried the plates back into the kitchen. Karen followed.
“Not fair, Kelly.”
I opened the refrigerator. “You want another beer?”
She shook her head. I popped one open and leaned against the counter. Karen parked herself on a stool and waited.
“You know the bar we were in tonight?” I said.
“Sterch’s?”
“Yeah, Sterch’s.”
“What about it?”
“The truth is for the last couple of months I’ve been in there a couple of times a week. I sit in the window and wait for a certain bus to arrive from downtown. My ex is on it. She doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t want to see her. But there I am. Twice a week, give or take. Getting my fix.”
“Now, I’m the one that’s sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s just a thing. A rut I’m in, I guess.” I stared at the clock on my kitchen wall and wondered what time it was in hell.
“Can I ask you something else?” she said.
“More humiliation? By all means.”
“Do you believe me? What I told you about me and Ray?”
“That there was nothing going on?”
She nodded.
“I believe you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Instinct.”
“You use that a lot in your job?”
“Have to.”
“How’s it working?”
I waggled my hand back and forth. “Fifty-fifty, but I’m still breathing. You want to go back out?”
I put on some music, and we settled on the couch. Karen scooted close, and I put my arm around her. The music was Elvis Costello. Mellow Elvis. I listened to him sing about a girl named Alison and thought about one named Rachel. Then I thought about the one beside me. I could feel the rise and fall as her breathing slowed. When the music was finished, I got up carefully. Karen mumbled something and curled up on my couch. I got some blankets out of the closet and slipped a pillow under her head. Then I turned off the lights. I called to Mags, but she was laid out on the floor and not moving. I made my way back to my room and crawled into bed. The night was mostly quiet. I listened to the traffic below and the wind in the trees until I fell asleep.
—
Across the street, Spyder leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. Then he picked up his cell and punched in a number.
“What?”
“You told me to call when he went to bed.”
“Is he asleep?”
Spyder checked the monitor. “He’s gone.”
“Did he fuck the girl?”
“No. She’s asleep on the couch.”
“Can you see her?”
“I can see every room in the house.”
“Why didn’t he fuck her?”
“I don’t know. He just didn’t.”
“What did he talk about?”
“He talked about Marie Perry.”
“What else?”
“He’s got an old girlfriend.”
“We know about her.”
“And?”
“It’s being taken care of. You just keep listening.”
CHAPTER 20
I woke to a buzzing in my ear. Maggie jumped out of bed and growled low in her throat.
“It’s just my phone.” I pulled the mobile off my nightstand. The message symbol was flashing. I clicked on it.
Why haven’t you accessed your money?
Mags jumped back up on the bed beside me. I scratched her behind the ears and read the words again. Then I typed in a reply.
You mean the 100k?
The response was immediate.
Are you making progress?
I typed.
Hard to say.
My fingers paused over the touch screen. Then I typed some more.
Who is this?
I waited but got no response so I typed a final line.
I think Ray’s dead.
Five minutes slipped by, but my client, if that’s who it had been, was gone. Maggie jumped off the bed and stretched into a perfect downward dog. It was then that I remembered we had an overnight guest.
“Is she still out there, pup?”
Mags took that as a cue for breakfast and bolted out of the room. I threw on some jeans and followed. Sunlight poured through my living room windows. The couch was empty, pillow and blankets neatly folded and stacked on the floor. I could smell coffee and found a fresh pot brewing in the kitchen. There was a note beside it.
Michael,
Thanks for the bed. Not to mention the pizza and beer.
Had fun last night. Love to do it again.
Your new sounding board,
K.
I fed Mags, poured myself a cup of coffee, and took the note into the living room. I liked looking at her cursive and wondered what the hell that meant. And why she hadn’t stayed for breakfast. I was rereading the texts I’d received when my front doorbell rang.
“She came back for breakfast.”
Mags wagged her tail. I walked to the front door and hit the buzzer. Thirty seconds later, there was a footfall on the stairs. I swung the door open. Andrew Wallace stood there with two cups in his hands. “I brought coffee.”
—
“You don’t seem too happy to see me,” Wallace said.
“It’s fine. How did you know where I lived?”
“It was on your business card.”
“Oh, yeah.”
We were in my kitchen. Wallace was sitting on a stool, his backpack on the counter beside him. “I e-mailed you last night. Told you I might stop by.”
“Must have missed it. What time is it?”
“Almost eight. You want me to come back?”
“I just need to wake up. What’s going on?”
“I pulled together some photos from the courthouse.” Wallace zipped open his pack and slid out an iPad.
“From the day Ray disappeared?”
“Yes. There are only a handful of shots worth looking at. The first few are Ray and his wife together, waiting for the elevator to take them to the basement. Then I took three of Ms. Perry alone, waiting in the parking garage.”
Wallace powered up the tablet. I yawned and took a sip from one of the coffees he’d brought. Awful. I found my own brew and watched over the grad student’s shoulder as he began to open applications. “Did either of them say anything to you while you were taking the photos?”
“Ray knew I was there but ignored me. Which was fine. I don’t think Ms. Perry ever registered me.”
“Even in the basement?”
Wallace shook his head. “I don’t think so. Not until the end anyway. She just had this glazed look on her face. Here we go.”
Wallace pulled up the first shot. It showed Marie and Ray standing in an empty hallway. Ray was looking away from the camera. Marie was staring at Ray. Wallace was right. She was locked into a thousand-yard death stare. Wallace clicked through a selection of similar shots from the twenty-fifth floor. Then we switched to the garage.
“The lighting wasn’t very good here, so the pictures are grainy. This is Marie waiting for Ray’s elevator.”
The photo was clouded and taken from almost directly behind Marie. She had her hands jammed into her pockets and her head tilted up, watching a row of floor numbers strung out in pinpoints of light above her.
“These next two are from when the elevator door actually opened.”
Wallace had angled to one side so he was just off Marie’s shoulder. She was leaning forward slightly and peering directly into an empty elevator car. The light from inside the car was yellow and warmed one side of her face.
“This is when the door first opened?” I said.
“Yes. Here’s the other shot I got. Maybe ten seconds later. She turned and looked straight at me.”
The picture wasn’t much help. The light from the elevator car was almost directly behind Marie, casting her in silhouette.
“Did she say anything?” I said.
“No. She just looked at me like I wasn’t there. Then she pulled out her cell phone and walked away.”
“Did you go over to the elevator?”
“I didn’t even think about the elevator.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Why would I?”
“So what did you do?”
“I followed Ms. Perry. Tried to hear what she was saying on the phone. I was thinking maybe her husband had gotten sick. Or decided to take another route out of the building.”
“But?”
“When she got off the phone, I saw her face and knew it was bad. Like maybe Ray was dead.”
“Did you take any more pictures?”
Wallace shook his head. “Didn’t seem right. I mean I’m not really a journalist or anything. Anyway, ten minutes after that the cops arrived and all hell broke loose.”
I pulled up the three parking garage photos and put them side by side on the screen. “You were standing right behind her?”
“For the first shot. I wanted to get Ray coming out of the elevator for the second, so I moved a little.”
I got out my laptop and clicked on the photos I’d taken of the parking garage elevator. We studied the two sets of images.
“See anything?” I said.
“My photos have Marie Perry in them. Yours don’t.”
“Anything else?”
“The elevator door isn’t open in any of your photos, so there’s hardly any light.”
The Governor's Wife Page 9
