He’s got his nose so far up O’Hara’s ass, it’s a wonder he’s still breathing, thought Leal.
“Okay, here’s the game plan,” Brice said. “The warrant for Nick Stevens, aka Nuke, is going to be placed in LEADS and NCIC by the end of the day. So if he’s stopped or picked up, we’ll be notified. I’ve reached out to several friends in various agencies, too. Joliet and Will County are both looking for him, and his picture’s also been put on the Chicago Daily Bulletin. I’m confident we’ll bag him this weekend.”
Brice stopped to glance at his watch. He kneaded his forehead with big fingers, and smoothed back his hair. His face looked creased and haggard, the strain evident in the heavy bags under each eye.
“So everybody keep either your beeper or cell phone on at all times.” He sighed. “In the event we don’t grab him in the next forty-eight hours, the sheriff has scheduled a news conference for Monday evening. He’s going to cover some of the aspects of the Walker investigation, including finding the body.”
“That’s going to make it worse for us,” Leal said.
“How so?” Brice said.
“Well, we still have some loose ends to tie up,” Leal said slowly. “I’d like to do a little more digging into Walker’s affairs. Find out who the brains behind this really is. Nuke’s not running the show himself, and if we tip our hand, we’ll lose him.”
“We won’t know that till we bring Nuke in,” Brice said. “And we can’t sit on finding the body too long. The press will crucify us. Anyway, the topic’s not open for discussion. If we get Nuke, we can grill him. If not, we let the truth about Walker being a sex pervert and hiring them motorcycle assholes to do his old lady come out at the conference.”
“But just how did a guy like Walker connect with someone like Nuke?” Leal asked. “It doesn’t make sense. There’s a piece of the puzzle missing.”
“Who gives a shit?” Brice said. His voice had risen to a high whine. “They probably were into drugs or something together. Anyway, that ain’t what’s important.”
Leal gave a reluctant nod. He was missing Ryan’s interdiction skills already. Brice was just too stubborn and single-minded.
“So, you’ve all worked really hard on this, and I’m proud of you,” Brice said. “After the ceremony, you can all take the weekend off. But like I said, stay close to your beepers and phones, and consider yourselves on call. That means no drinking. Well, one or two beers is all right, but this thing could jump out at us at any time. If I need you, I’ll beep you to my cell with a nine-one-one behind it. That means call me back immediately.”
Leal leaned back and tried to tune out Brice as he spoke. The weekend off. What a crock. But he already had some thing planned for this afternoon, and tonight, hopefully, his dinner with Sharon wouldn’t be interrupted.
The awards ceremony was set up in the gym to accommodate the overabundance of people. An academy class was graduating, and besides Hart’s medal, several other awards were being given out. Leal made the mistake of sitting next to Murphy near the back, watching the heavyset cop surreptitiously pick at his nose. Finally, Murphy bowed his head and he started to snore. The son of a bitch is dozing, he thought. Rather than rouse his partner with an errant elbow, Leal carefully slipped out of his seat and left the row of chairs. He collared one of the photographers and told him to take an extra roll of Hart receiving the Medal. He’d have it developed and printed himself. This is something she’ll want to look back on, he thought.
“And our recipient of the Cook County Medal of Valor,” the announcer’s voice said, echoing through the large auditorium, “is Officer Olivia Hart…”
Leal listened while a brief summary of the incident, obviously tailored to sound dynamically succinct while saying very little in the way of facts, was read. Hart stepped forward, stopped, and stood at attention. From the distance O’Hara looked short and paunchy as he moved next to her and held out the Medal in his left hand, while extending his right. As they shook hands and the flashes popped, Hart appeared infinitely more impressive, all blond curls, broad shoulders, and tapering waist. Like Wonder Woman receiving an award from one of the Seven Dwarfs.
That asshole Lucas ain’t gonna like the rushes on this one, Leal thought. Maybe that’s why he scheduled another photo shoot after the ceremony. Give them time to find a box for O’Hara to stand on for that one, and photograph him from the waist up. Just like early Elvis.
Leal chuckled at the thought, then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Brice standing about fifty feet away staring at him.
Leal cruised by Richard Connors’ home twice before he called the unlisted number on his cell phone. He’d done that same thing when he’d been in MEG—driven by to get a feel for the place. He pulled to the edge of the sweeping cul-de-sac and appreciated the lush, green lawn. The front door was recessed behind a brick archway, and the white XJ6 sat in the driveway like a gleaming trophy. Leal pressed the “send” button.
Connors answered on the second ring with a clipped hello. The voice became totally cordial and relaxed when Leal identified himself as a police officer.
“I’m conducting a death investigation. This number was among the decedent’s possessions.”
“Oh, yeah. Who died?” He sounded mildly curious.
“I’d rather speak in person about this, Mr. Connors,” Leal said. “Would you mind if I stopped in? I’m in the neighborhood.”
“Well, I was on my way out,” Connors said, a trickle of doubt seemed to invade his tone for the first time. “But I certainly want to do everything to cooperate. And since you’re in the neighborhood. You need my address?”
“No,” Leal said.
He waited down the block for about five minutes just to see if Connors was going to rabbit on him. Then he made the slow turn and pulled up in front of the house. A forced space between two of the closed blinds in the picture window cracked shut.
Connors looked pretty much like Leal had imagined: midthirties, fit-looking, a wavy crop of brown hair, and with a fashionable tan.
“We spoke on the phone,” Leal said, holding up his badge.
“Yeah, come on in,” Connors said, stepping back and extending his arm. “I hope you can at least tell me who it was that got murdered.”
“How’d you know it was a murder?”
Connors looked almost startled, then relaxed into a smile.
“I didn’t,” he said. “I just assumed. That’s a dangerous thing to do with a guy like you, isn’t it?”
The house was dimly lit and the light pastel walls blended effortlessly into each other. The floor was lined with a thick, bluish carpeting, and the hallway was bordered by a row of ceiling-to-floor burnished wooden posts. Through the gaps Leal could see into a sunken dayroom where a large-screen television played some cable movie. A pair of well-formed female legs and a bare arm protruded from the corner area of a curving sofa. The legs shifted suddenly and a young girl in a purple bikini padded to the bottom of the stairs. Leal admired her curves for a moment and she smiled up at him.
“Candy, this is Sergeant Leal,” Connors said. “We’re going to be talking in the den for a bit.”
“Oh, okay,” the girl said. Her eyes swept over Leal for a moment, as if assessing him, and she returned to the sofa.
“Come on this way,” Connors said. “Want something to drink?”
Leal shook his head.
“Oh, that’s right, you’re on duty, aren’t you?” Connors smiled. He turned and spoke over his shoulder as they walked. “So tell me, what’s it like being a cop?”
“Like anything else, I guess. It has its moments.” Leal followed him down an adjacent hallway. “What type of work do you do, Mr. Connors?”
“I’m what you might call an entrepreneur. Made a killing with a dot-com company when they first started. Got out before they went belly-up.” He opened a finely polished door, paused, and grinned. “I didn’t mean the killing part literally, now.”
The room was spacious, w
ith a large teakwood desk at the rear wall. A computer sprawled across the desk, along with a set of assembled chess pieces. Two comfortable-looking leather chairs sat on either side of the desk, and a gun cabinet with an array of rifles was off to the right. The walls were decorated with the stuffed heads of several ani-mals: a ten-point buck, an elk, a brown bear. On the opposite wall were three big snarling cat heads: a male lion, his female counterpart, and the striped head of a tiger.
Leal studied the animals as he sat down.
“Trophies,” Connors said. “I like to hunt.”
“I thought tigers were an endangered species,” Leal said.
Connors smiled.
“Actually, those came from a game farm. One of those private zoos down in Texas. It was going out of business and my guide bought them. We tried to set them free on his preserve so we could hunt them, but it turned out to be a bust. They were so tame all they wanted to do was hide, even after we set the dogs loose.”
Leal nodded, continuing to size the other man up. If he was nervous, he sure wasn’t showing it.
“Not much of a challenge, really,” Connors said. “But they make a helluva conversation piece. I’m hoping to bag a bison next year. It’s one of the big ten, you know.”
Leal shook his head. He’d learned a long time ago to listen more and talk less. It gave him a chance to observe the other person. Size them up.
“So tell, me,” Connors said, “who is it that was killed? I’m dying to know.” He laughed.
“Do know Martin Walker?”
Connors wrinkled his brow. “Martin, yeah, sure. We went to high school together. Used to be in the chess club.” He stared at Leal for a moment. “It’s him? Oh, wow, that’s a trip. After what happened to his wife, and now him.” He shook his head. “How did it happen?”
Leal ignored the question. “When was the last time you spoke to him?”
Connors licked his lips, shaking his head slightly.
“You know, I couldn’t really tell you. We bumped into each other a few years ago at one of our high school reunions. Our fifteenth, I think.” He smiled. “It was right after I’d started making some money with my company, and he offered to help me invest some of it. But we weren’t particularly close.”
“Why would he have your home number?”
“Well, like I said, he was my investor,” Connors said. “But a lot of people have my number. Can you tell me what happened?”
Leal shook his head. “You knew his wife, too?”
“Actually, I found a place for her on the board of directors of one of my companies,” Connors said. “It was strictly for show, though. I mean, she was a sharp lady, and it didn’t hurt to have a female judge associated with me. She liked to give away money to artistic and avant-garde causes, like her little domestic violence thing. It was a good tax write-off for me.”
“Was she a victim of domestic violence?”
Connors shrugged. “No idea about that. If she was, she never told me. Anyway, I hardly knew her. Or Marty, either, for that matter. It was more of a business relationship.”
“What about Nick Stevens?”
“Who?”
“Nicholas Stevens,” Leal said. “Big guy. Calls himself Nuke.”
Connors raised his eyebrows. “Doesn’t ring a bell, but maybe if I saw him…” He looked at his watch. “Is this gonna take much longer? I did promise my girlfriend we’d go down to the lakefront.”
“You have a boat?”
“Yeah, I do,” he said slowly. “You’re asking an awful lot of questions about me, aren’t you? I thought you wanted to know about Marty.”
“Just curious,” Leal said, standing. This bastard’s too crafty. “I appreciate your time, Mr. Connors.” Leal extended his hand.
They shook. Leal noticed Connors’ grip was strong. Next time, he thought, we’ll finish this on my turf.
Connors watched the unmarked back out of his driveway and pull away. So that was Leal, he thought. Bigger than I expected. And smarter, too. Can’t afford to underestimate him anymore. Candy came up the stairs and pressed herself against his back, her arms encircling his waist.
“What did that cop want?” she asked.
He unclasped her hands from around him and turned.
“Never mind,” he said. “Go get the hot tub warmed up for me. I gotta make a call.”
He watched her ass as she bounced down the stairs, undoing her bikini top.
I wonder how much he knows? he thought as he picked up the phone and dialed. There’s only one way to play this one now.
The voice at the other end of the line answered with a gruff “Hello.”
“Nuke?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s me. Everything cool?”
“Sure, just waiting for instructions, just like you said.”
“All right,” Connors said. “Tell Moose to call his dad now. I want it done right away. Tonight. No later. Got it?”
Connors heard a low chuckle on the other end.
“Sure, boss,” Nuke said. “We’ll take care of things for you.”
After he hung up Connors felt a slight tickle move up his spine. A tinge of regret that he wouldn’t be able to pull the trigger himself? Or was it a trace of fear that Leal was striking so close to home? Either way, the guy was dangerous. It was time for a decisive move. But it would be almost like stalking one of those big cats that had lost their cunning. Black rook takes troublesome white knight. Black king out of check. Poor Leal, he thought. He’s about to get blind-sided by a freight train out of nowhere.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Commitments and Cop-Outs
When Leal picked Sharon up at seven thirty he was stunned at how attractive she looked. She’d obviously gotten her hair done, and worked carefully on her makeup. Her white silk blouse was open just enough to let him appreciate the swell of her breasts, and he caught the delicate smell of her perfume as he closed the car door behind her. On the phone he’d told her that he had a reservation at a very fine restaurant, and he wanted to make the evening very special.
Who knows, this could be our last one together, he thought. The beginning of the end before she flies off to New York and out of my life.
At the restaurant they lingered over the menu, drinking white wine and appreciating the European motif. Baroque designs and long flowing curtains extended from the ceiling to the floor. They ordered and she began telling him about the cases she’d been involved in on her two night shifts: an armed robbery, an aggravated battery, several thefts, and an aggravated sexual abuse case.
“An eight-year-old girl who’d been repeatedly molested by her stepfather,” she said looking at the table and shaking her head. “I mean, it’s bad enough when something like that happens to an adult, but an eight-year-old?”
“It’s always rough when kids are involved,” he said. “A loss of innocence.”
She gazed up at him, after taking another sip of her wine, and asked how his case was going.
“Did I mention that Brice is now in charge?” he said. “He relieved Ryan.”
“Wow. As in fired?”
“Pretty much.” Leal smiled slightly. “You know, I really didn’t care for Ryan, but he took one on the chin for a mess-up that wasn’t entirely his fault. Now that he’s gone, I kind of miss him. At least he had some street sense.”
“And your favorite lieutenant doesn’t?”
“Brice is too one-dimensional.” He drank some more from his glass. “Plus he brought that idiot Murphy back into it. Between the two of them, they’ve mishandled things from the beginning.”
“Well, it sounds like you’ve almost got it tied up now,” she said, smiling.
The waiter came back with their orders and they ate leisurely, enjoying the wine, the food, and the conversation. For dessert they ordered ice cream and more wine.
“Brice would kill me if he knew I was drinking tonight,” Leal said. “We’re officially on call in case they pick up Nuke.”
&nbs
p; “Well, I won’t tell,” she said. She looked at him over the rim of her glass. “So how come you haven’t asked me?”
“Asked you what?”
“If I’m going to take the job in New York at Feinstein and Royale?”
He looked into her face for a moment.
“I guess I’ve been afraid to.”
Her nostrils flared slightly as she took in a deep breath.
“It’s been a tough decision,” she said. “I was really shocked when he called me and apologized. And the money that he offered was a lot more than I’d ever make at the State’s Attorney’s office.” She took out her cigarettes and shook one from the pack. “Do you mind?”
He shook his head. Here it comes, he thought.
She lit it and blew the cloud of smoke away from him.
“But, on the other hand, I’ve got a lot holding me here, too. My parents, my sister, my friends, you. It’s not easy just to leave.” She paused to inhale once more on the cigarette, and then stubbed it out. “I’m trying to quit,” she said, and smiled. “Steve was pretty honest about my future here, too. I’ll be getting assigned to do felony trials after about six months, and there’s a lot of opportunities opening up in the office for women.” Glancing downward, she reached for his hand. “And I’m not so sure I’d ever be happy doing defense work. Not after all the things I’ve seen as a prosecutor. That little girl last night…”
She brought his hand up to her lips, touching his fingers to her face. “And then there’s us. We’ve got something nice here, Frank. I don’t know how it is for you, and I’m not trying to press you for a commitment or anything, but, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I think you’re a pretty special guy.”
“I feel the same about you,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse.
“So, I’m staying,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Leal was stunned. A feeling of relief flooded through him, but so did a small bit of fear. She said she wasn’t pushing him, but did she mean it? Was she really prodding him to make a reciprocal commitment? Visions danced through his mind of Sharon and him arguing while a trio of screaming kids cried in the background. But maybe he was just drudging up the unpleasant memories of his first marriage. He’d grown since then, hadn’t he? And what the hell, he thought. Am I ever gonna be happy about anything? Maybe it was the wine. He pushed the glass aside, silently vowing, no more tonight.
Random Victim Page 27
