I pull out my notebook and find Helen’s number. I hear the dial tone and put another nickel into the slot. After a moment, I hear Helen answer.
“Hello?”
“Miss O’Reilly?”
“Yes?”
“This is Detective Thomas Baxter.”
“Detective Baxter!” she says, excited. “What have you found? Have you found Howard?”
I sigh, and I know through my breath she’s figured out everything I’m about to say. Before I say a word, I can hear a slight whimper from her end.
“I’m sorry, Miss O’Reilly, I did find Howard. He’s passed from unknown causes. The police are on their way and will probably ask you to identify the body. I’ll make a note of informing the police to ask you instead of his wife.”
“No,” Helen replies. “I want both of us there. I want to meet her. Howard’s gone; it can’t hurt. Besides, she deserves that bit of closure.”
Helen’s words surprise me; I would never have expected her to care about Ruth’s feelings. Once our conversation finishes, I hang up the horn and remain in the booth while I wait for the coppers.
Chapter 6
The Police
I wait half an hour before the police finally arrived. By their attitude, a dead body isn’t going anywhere; why hurry? It’s one of the many reasons I don’t like coppers; they have no sense of urgency. Everything is done in their own time, and damn what's going on around the city. I’m not surprised by this mentality, but I don’t like it.
Four cars pull up; Constable John Corey and Sergeant Barney Liddell get out and approach me.
“Baxter,” Corey scoffs. “What are you doing here?”
“I found the body,” I say. “I’m the one who called it in. Good job getting here, by the way; I could have walked him to the morgue faster than you got here.”
“Now, now,” Sergeant Liddell says, eyeing both Corey and me. “Let’s not say anything that can get us in trouble.”
I don’t like coppers, but I do like Sergeant Liddell. He’s an honest man who doesn’t mince words. He shoots straight and says precisely what he means, no word wasted. I’d first met Liddell while I was taking my courses at the Ares Corporation building. I’m confident in stating he’s why I passed my final exam 1 not by giving me answers but by calming my nerves. I was a bit of a nervous wreck in my early twenties.
“No disrespect intended,” I say. “But my point remains, you took your time getting here.”
“We had to get some people on the blower before we could show up.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it.”
“You hold your tongue,” Corey snaps.
“Constable Corey, go set a perimeter,” Sergeant Liddell says, his voice firm.
Corey immediately stands at attention, his eyes large. “Yes, sir,” he says and moves without delay.
We both watch as the beat cop walks away. Once he’s out of hearing range, Liddell comes in close. “If I’m honest, we took so long because it takes time to get people out into the cold. Especially for some poor froze bum.”
“He ain’t no bum,” I say, my words raising Liddell’s left eyebrow. We both turn to watch the investigation, the cold wind continuing to push through my overcoat. My shiver goes unnoticed by Liddell. “This is my second time having to find this man. The first time was for his wife, this time for his mistress.”
“Joe sure got around.”
“He did,” I say, pulling out my pack of cigarettes. “This one’s odd, though. The guy apparently believed someone was out to give him the kiss-off.”
“Looks like they succeeded. Might not have been murder, though.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s pretty cold out here. Were there any signs of a struggle? Or points of impact?”
“No,” I admit. “I know you think he froze to death, but I still suspect foul play. The guy was scared for his life, then winds up dead. That don’t smell right to me.”
I watch Liddell nod and then shrug. “Maybe. We won’t know for sure until we get him thawed and go through an autopsy. What’s his name?”
“Howard Sutton.”
“Did you talk to the family?”
“I talked to my client; I believe it should be you trained professionals who should speak with the wife — well, I suppose ex-wife for the past while. But I did tell the mistress that you might want to bring her in to identify the body.”
“Why would you do that?”
“She loved him,” I say. “She deserves at least a little closure.”
Liddell huffs in amusement and shakes his head. “You’re a good man, Baxter. A real sentimentalist.”
“Don’t go spreading that around.”
“Don’t worry.” Liddell looks at me, finally noticing my shivers. “Hop in,” he says, gesturing at the car. “I’ll give you a ride home. If you’ve been out here as long as I think you have, you’ll be half froze to death. Don’t need another dead bum in my morgue.”
I give Liddell a friendly laugh and thank him. I get in the cop car, and he peels out onto the street toward my office. It’s awfully late, and I didn’t realize how exhausted I am.
***
I’m still cold as I wake. I hear Genevieve in the other room; I imagine she’s tidying the office from the sounds. I sigh as I extricate myself from my blankets and dress quickly. I consider running a hot bath, but quickly dismiss the thought because I likely won’t have the time. The police will undoubtedly want me to make a statement about my case and how I came to find the body. What happens after that is entirely up to them.
I exit my living area to my office. As expected, Genevieve is picking up some loose paper from the floor. I’m not even sure how it got there. She stops suddenly and looks up at me.
“Mister Baxter, good morning.”
“Good morning, Genevieve,” I reply. “Any calls while I slept?”
Genevieve shakes her head. “It’s been quiet. Are you expecting a call?”
“The police should be calling at some point today,” I say as I walk to the coat rack and grab my hat and overcoat. “I discovered Mister Sutton dead last night, and they’re going to want me to give a statement.”
“Why not just go there?” she asks. “Save everyone some time.”
I flash Genevieve a devilish grin. “And give them an easy time? Wouldn’t think of it.”
“Where are you going?”
I throw my overcoat over my shoulders and send my arms through the sleeves. “I’m getting something to eat. If the police or if Miss O’Reilly call while I’m out, take a message and I’ll call them back as soon as I get back.”
I don’t give Genevieve a chance to reply before I walk out the door.
***
Sonny’s Café is a small eatery with seating for only a dozen. Amazingly, the man stays in business.
“Mister Baxter, it’s good to see you,” Margot says as she approaches.
Margot is a tall thin woman with straight, dark-blonde hair. She’s seen better days, and the lines on her face show it. The Depression is just one event in a long line of hardships the woman has known. She doesn’t let it show as best she can, but it’s easy enough to tell.
“Thank you, Margot,” I say. “The usual for me.”
“I figured as much.”
She puts a mug on the table and fills it with coffee before walking off to the kitchen. I grab the newspaper someone left on the table and peruse the pages, looking for any mention of Howard Sutton.
“Genevieve said you’d be here,” a woman’s voice says.
I lower the paper to see Dorothy taking a seat opposite me. “Hello Dorothy,” I say, smiling.
“Where were you last night? I was waiting for you.”
My eyes widen as I remember that she and I had plans for a date. I cover my face with my hands and groan. “I’m sorry,” I say, removing my hands. “It’s a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere, and it looks like you only just ordered, so I�
��m all ears.”
“I was on a case and ended up out a lot longer than anticipated.”
I go through the whole ordeal of my night, describing the tip I’d gotten at the clip joint from the odd man to finding Howard’s body and dealing with the police. I know I shouldn’t share info on my case, but it’s the only way to stay in Dorothy’s good books.
“Oh, my,” Dorothy says, placing her hands over her mouth. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were giving me the high hat.”
I take Dorothy’s hands in my own. “I would never do that. I’m just bad at using the horn when I got a dame waiting for me.”
“You had a body; I’m not mad.”
“Have you eaten?”
Dorothy nods. “It’s late enough; you should have eaten a while ago.” I narrow an eye. “Late night. I understand.”
Margot places a plate in front of me and gives Dorothy an eye. “What can I get you, hun?”
“Just coffee,” she says, her grin beaming.
Margot isn’t gone for long before she returns with a mug and a pot of coffee. “Thank you,” Dorothy says.
“I’m happy to see you,” I say once Margot has left. “It’s going to be a long day.”
I explain my plans and wait for Dorothy to reply. She sits and stares at me with a straight face.
“I’ll be over tonight,” she says “You don’t have to prepare or do anything. You’re going through a lot, and you need a woman’s touch to help you.”
I’m not going to turn her away, though I suppress my smile. “Thank you,” I reply. “I appreciate that.”
The conversation switches to everyday occurrences and the weather. Dorothy drinks her coffee as I eat, both of us speaking boot wash. It’s comfortable. More comfortable than I’d imagined a regular conversation could be.
In the past, all my interactions with the fairer sex had been with a motive — either sexual in nature or I was on a case and needed information. Before going steady with Dorothy, I’d never before just sat down and had a conversation with no motive or reason. Even any conversation I have with Genevieve has a purpose.
I thank Dorothy again for stopping by and pay for both of us. Dorothy gives me a kiss before leaving the diner; I leave close behind.
***
“The police called for you,” Genevieve says, not waiting for me to close the door.
“Was it Sergeant Liddell or one of the other coppers?”
“Sergeant Liddell,” Genevieve replies. “He said there’s no rush, but would like you to come in today if your schedule allows. He sounded sarcastic but playful. It was an odd conversation.”
I snicker as I open the door to my office. “Yes, he is an odd fellow.”
“Are you going?”
I walk to my desk and sit. “I will; just not right now. I want to type out my report so I don’t forget any details.”
Genevieve gazes at me for a moment before turning and walking back to her desk. I get half my report completed when the telephone rings. I hear Genevieve answer it as I continue to type. In a moment, Genevieve leans and looks through my doorway.
“Miss O’Reilly is on the telephone. Do you want to speak to her?”
I consider it for a moment. “Is she asking for anything important? Or is she just asking about how she pays?”
I’m well aware it’s an inconsiderate thing to ask. The woman had just lost the man she loves, and I’m acting like an oaf. Genevieve’s glare tells me what I already know.
“She wants to talk to you. I don’t know what about, and I’m not going to ask her. That’s between you and her.”
I groan as I get out of my chair and walk to the telephone. “Hello, Miss O’Reilly.”
“Detective Baxter?”
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Can we talk? In-person. I need to know something.”
“Anything you can ask then, you can ask now. Out with it.” I can’t explain my shortness to her; it comes right out of nowhere. “I’m sorry,” I say before she has a chance to reply. “Yes, we can meet in person. Later, though. I have to meet the police and give them my statement.”
“I’m glad you’re the one who found the body.”
“You are?” I’m genuinely confused.
“At least he was found by someone who knew him. Well, at least knew him better than I did.”
“I’ll call you later, Miss O’Reilly,” I say before hanging up.
Genevieve’s glare never leaves me. “You can be a right brute some days.”
I don’t ignore her words, but I don’t reply to them either. I drape my overcoat over my body and grab my hat from the coat rack. As I walk out the door, I remind myself to think before I speak and to not let my temper get the better of me. I need a good night’s sleep, and after today, I’m going to get one.
***
The police precinct is a small two-story stone building. As I walk in I can feel the daggers following me from the eyes of all the officers. I never understood the police’s anger toward detectives. It’s our job to detect, and it’s theirs to follow orders and bumble around like fools.
I suppose I do see the reason after all.
Sergeant Liddell approaches and greets me before I’ve made it too far into the building. “Detective, it’s so good to see you.”
“You as well, and thank you again for driving me home last night.”
I watch as the glares turn to the sergeant. He won’t suffer any; he outranks the lot of them, and as if they’d risk attacking a superior officer. I see Liddell’s brow lower as he realizes what I’ve just done.
“I keep you from freezing, and this is how you repay me?”
“You’ll be fine,” I reply, and neither of us brings it up again.
Liddell brings me to a small room at the corner of the building. He motions to a seat behind a table, and I sit. A small man with a brown mustache comes in and places a piece of paper and a pen beside me.
“Write out everything, and you’ll be free to go.”
I obey the sergeant’s command and write out the entire job, starting with Ruth Sutton and Howard’s adulterous nature. Once I finish, I slide the paper over to Sergeant Liddell and watch his face as he reads it.
“This really happened? Two women in the span of a month ask you to find the same man?”
“Yes, and I’ll be happy never to hear the man’s name again.”
A secretary walks in and hands both Sergeant Liddell and me a coffee. We both take a sip of the hot beverage.
“So, what do you think happened?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Care to wager a guess? Just from what you saw?”
I narrow my eyes at Sergeant Liddell. “Am I a suspect?”
“You found the body, Baxter. You should expect to be a suspect.”
I laugh harder than I probably should. Rage courses through my veins, and I do everything I can to keep from flying off the handle.
“I report the body of a man to whom I have little to no connection. A man worth more to me alive, as my client would most certainly prefer her lover alive, and you suspect me of being the killer?”
Sergeant Liddell raises his hands in apology. “I don’t mean any disrespect, Thomas,” he says. “But it is expected of me to question you at the very least.”
I nearly spit at him but resist the urge and take a deep breath. I exhale through my nose and close my eyes.
“I understand,” I say. “But suspecting me doesn’t make any sense at all. I’m sure you’ve already put that together, likely before I showed up here.”
Sergeant Liddell snorts in amusement. “You’re either innocent or you’re guilty and willing to nearly freeze to death to fake your innocence. For the record, I don’t believe you’re the killer. You’re too obvious to be the killer.”
“Too obvious?”
“You find the body in the middle of nowhere, just based on a tip from some wet-smack-looking guy, because you’re sent to find him by his mistress. The
fact that you found the body at all says you probably did it.
“But then there’s the problem of the motive. Maybe you’re taken by Miss Helen O’Reilly, and with Howard out of the way, you could potentially woo her.” I raise a finger in protest, but Sergeant Liddell cuts me off. “I have it on good authority that you’ve been running with that canary Dorothy Ibot for the past month. Well, officially running with Dorothy Ibot anyway. You’ve been pitching woo with her for a couple years now, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Sergeant,” I say. “I didn’t know you were so knowledgeable about my love life.”
“I keep an eye on persons of interest, and you, Detective Baxter, are always a person of interest.”
“So I’m not a suspect then,” I say. “Or did you go through all that just to waste my time?”
“You’re not a suspect.” Liddell flashes me a sly grin. “How do you think it was done?”
I shrug. “I really don’t know. But were I to wager a guess, he was killed and moved to the Edgar Industrial Area. Because of where the body was dumped, it looks like the killer didn’t want the body to be found, at least not immediately. The falling snow was a good way to cover tracks and hide a body. Had I been ten minutes later, I probably wouldn’t have found him at all.”
“Cause of death?”
“I didn’t see any exterior wounds, so I’d say poisoning. Which kind? Who knows.”
An officer opens the door to the interrogation room. “Sergeant, there’s a call from the Ares Corporation for you.”
Sergeant Liddell turns and stares at the officer. “Are you sure it’s from the Ares Corporation?”
The officer nods. “We asked for the authentication number.”
The sergeant sighs. “All right, I’ll be right out.”
The officer salutes and closes the door. Sergeant Liddell massages the bridge of his nose, groaning the whole time. “Before I go, I just want to tell you to stay away from the case. You’re much too close to it and it might cause a conflict of interest. Don’t give me that look; you know damn well that it’s protocol, and despite the fact that I don’t see you as a suspect, the chief might see it differently. Just do yourself a favour and stay away from it.”
Dead Man Walking Page 6
