Ricochet

by Paula Gosling

  ‘I could be on my way to baseball practice,’ Dan said.

  ‘In November?’

  ‘Winter training?’ Dan offered.

  ‘No, I’m determined,’ Kate interrupted this flight of fancy. ‘We can handle it. Dan, thanks for the offer, but I think it’s up to us.’

  ‘Who, exactly, is “us”?’ Liz wanted to know.

  Kate looked at her reproachfully. ‘You don’t want to come?’

  ‘Well . . .’

  ‘You have The Look.’ David smiled. ‘That should nail him for a start.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ Liz hesitated. She looked at Kate, saw disappointment in her eyes. She understood her friend very well. She knew Kate was being backed into a corner. She saw confusion in her eyes, pleading, fear and stubbornness. Foolish or not, Kate was going forward, alone if she had to. And that Liz couldn’t accept. But she made one last try. ‘Now that you know, don’t you think it’s time to tell Jack? He could send a woman officer with you.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Kate allowed. ‘But Jack is very busy on another case and . . .’ She trailed off.

  ‘Oh, hell,’ Liz said. ‘All right. I’ll go with you.’

  ‘Good.’ Kate felt free now to indulge her appetite for strong cheddar and black coffee. Everything tasted so good lately; she knew she was being indulgent. She reached for a cracker. ‘Then that’s settled.’ She was so busy cutting cheese, she didn’t see the dismay on the faces around her.

  Lois McKittrick wouldn’t come out of her room.

  ‘We just want to have a word with you, Miss McKittrick,’ Neilson said in his most winsome voice.

  ‘Go away,’ was the answer from beyond the locked door.

  Muller glanced over his shoulder at the three girls clustered behind them. Lois McKittrick lived in a house near the campus and shared it with these other girls.

  It was a shabby house but well-kept and clean inside. Typical student accommodation, where the landlord does as little as possible and charges as much as possible. But the girls had made it homelike and it was obvious they were a decent group. They seemed uneasy and puzzled by the presence of two police officers in their upstairs hall, and kept looking at one another with worried expressions.

  Muller turned to them. ‘Does she do this often?’

  The plump girl, Lorrie, nodded. ‘Not that we ever ask her to come out, but sometimes she stays in there for days. We know she creeps down at night to get some food and use the bathroom, but otherwise . . . we don’t see her a lot anyway.’

  ‘She pays her rent on time,’ said Ayo. She was a tall, beautiful black girl with bright eyes. ‘She doesn’t leave a mess in the kitchen or after a bath – the ideal housemate, really.’

  ‘If you like living with a ghost,’ said the third girl, small and thin and sporting the amazing name of Peaches Crabtree. She didn’t have a southern accent, though she probably should have had with a name like that. ‘The rest of us are good friends, but Lois . . . just makes up the numbers, really. We’ve tried to include her in things, but she prefers to be on her own. She’s not nasty about it, she just . . . is very . . . solitary.’

  ‘How long has she lived here with you?’ Neilson asked.

  They exchanged glances. ‘Three years,’ Ayo finally said, after a little thought. ‘Her junior and senior year, and now she’s doing graduate school. So are we. I know she took her degree with honours, summa cum laude, but I only knew that when I read it in the programme. She never said.’

  ‘Isn’t her behaviour kind of . . . off-putting?’ Neilson asked.

  The girls shook their heads. ‘Everybody has a right to live the way they want as long as they don’t hurt anyone,’ Ayo said. ‘Why should we want to change her?’ She shrugged. ‘She is what she is. And she has to live somewhere, doesn’t she?’

  ‘Yes, but . . .’

  ‘I can hear you talking about me. Go away!’ called the voice beyond the door again.

  ‘Do you have a key to her room?’

  They looked shocked. ‘No, of course not,’ said Peaches. Neilson was looking at her in a way Muller didn’t like. Was Neilson deserting his crush on the oriental beauty of Chan Mei Mei for this little fluffy thing, all blonde curls and blue eyes? Muller detected a brain behind those eyes and that name – Neilson didn’t have a chance here either.

  ‘But what happens in case of fire?’ Neilson asked. ‘Suppose she fainted in there, or was taken ill? What would you do then?’

  Again they exchanged glances. ‘It’s never happened,’ Lorrie finally said. She was the plain one of the three, but had a fantastic smile. Or had, when she first let them in. Now none of them appeared to be very friendly. ‘She’s not stupid, you know. She doesn’t usually lock her door anyway. Just closes it.’

  ‘Ah. But she has locked it now,’ Muller said. ‘When did that happen?’

  They didn’t know. They hadn’t tried the door before Muller and Neilson had arrived. Why should they? their expressions said. It was only when Muller knocked and then tried the handle that the situation became apparent.

  ‘Don’t you feel responsible for her?’ Neilson asked.

  They all shook their heads. ‘She’s not responsible for us either,’ Ayo said. ‘We are independent women who happen to share a house, that’s all. We each have our own lives to lead.’

  ‘That we get along with each other is a bonus,’ Lorrie put in eagerly. ‘But it isn’t necessary. Not really.’

  Muller knocked on the door again. ‘Miss McKittrick, you have nothing to fear. We only need to talk to you about Professor Mayhew.’

  ‘No,’ was the unequivocal answer.

  ‘If we want to drag her out we’ll have to get a warrant for her arrest,’ Neilson whispered. He eyed the three girls, all of whom were beginning to look irritable. They had withdrawn to the stairway and were muttering among themselves. He was especially worried about the one called Ayo – she seemed to have strong convictions and he would bet she knew what was what about every law in the land. ‘McKittrick has rights.’

  ‘But we only want to question her.’

  ‘Yeah – and my mother sings with the Metropolitan Opera,’ Neilson sneered. ‘She’s our best suspect and you know it. Come on. We’ll pick up a woman officer while we’re at it.’

  They said goodbye to the girls and went down the stairs.

  ‘Lieutenant Stryker is going to love this,’ Muller said.

  The three girls stood quietly in the hall until they heard the front door close. Then Ayo went to the locked door and rapped gently. ‘Lois, they’ve gone. It’s just us here. Would you like some coffee? We’re just going to make some.’

  There was a long silence. Then came the sound of the key turning in the lock and the door swinging back with a slight squeal from the hinges. ‘I’m in bad trouble,’ said Lois McKittrick, her eyes wide and wet behind her spectacles.

  Ayo, Lorrie and Peaches drew themselves up and somehow together. ‘We’ll help you,’ Peaches said. ‘Won’t we, girls?’

  ‘Woman to woman,’ Ayo said. ‘Whatever it is, we’re on your side.’

  ‘But it’s very bad,’ Lois said again.

  Lorrie looked puzzled. ‘How bad can it be? It’s not like you killed anyone or anything.’

  ‘Well . . .’ Lois began.

  TWENTY-ONE

  Stryker stared at the list of phone calls from Torrance’s office and home phones. There it was in black and white. Torrance had been placing regular phone calls to Mayhew’s home and to her office. Enough to count as harassment – or a love affair. Thinking back to Torrance’s appearance, the latter seemed highly unlikely, but he knew attraction between the sexes often didn’t make sense. Torrance was a widower. And Mayhew’s husband was often away for days at a time.

  But that wasn’t what was bothering him.

  It was another number tha
t he recognized.

  Kate’s office number.

  According to the records, Torrance had been calling her regularly and often for some time now. He hadn’t noticed the number at first, but when he had registered it something inside him had turned over. What the hell?

  Kate had come in very late last night and rather giggly from too much wine. After he had gently scolded her for driving in that state, she had owlishly informed him that Liz had been driving and anyway, she was a grown woman and could make her own decisions. In fact, she had said, she was in charge of herself, thank you.

  It had been more of the same song she had been singing over the past week or so. He still didn’t know what she meant by it. But neither of them was in any state for a discussion – it had been so late and he had been exhausted too. This morning he had left her asleep, and had put a couple of aspirin and a glass of water on the bedside table for when she awoke.

  He had felt sympathetic and loving, for despite her recent bad tempers and moodiness, he loved her very much.

  Now he just felt angry.

  Was this what all the cold shoulders and prickly attitudes had been about? No affair, he was certain of that. But what was her connection with Torrance? And why hadn’t she mentioned it?

  He left the office and drove over to the campus, determined to track her down and ask for an explanation. Did this have something to do with the ‘project’ she and Liz were working on? Was Torrance a part of it or what? Some of his anger was fear – Torrance was obviously a suspect in the Mayhew killing and he didn’t want Kate involved in any of that.

  In the event, tracking her down wasn’t difficult. She was in her office, drinking black coffee and looking miserable. He barged in without even knocking and glared at her. ‘What are you doing with Albert Torrance?’ he demanded.

  Kate looked at him, shocked and dismayed. ‘What?’ she asked nervously. ‘Don’t yell, Jack.’

  He swallowed and spoke more quietly. ‘What are you doing with Albert Torrance?’ he repeated.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, drinking some of her coffee and hiding behind the mug.

  He flung himself into the chair opposite the desk. ‘Oh hell, Kate, stop the crap. I happen to know that Albert Torrance has been calling you regularly for some time. What’s it about?’

  She looked almost frightened, which puzzled him. Her eyes avoided his. ‘It’s nothing,’ she said finally.

  ‘I said, cut the crap.’

  ‘What are you so angry about?’ Kate flashed back. ‘You come in here, yelling and crashing around . . .’

  ‘I asked you a question. Please answer it.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said.

  ‘What the hell does that mean? You can’t or you won’t?’

  ‘All right then, I won’t.’ She had got her breath back and glared at him in turn. ‘It has nothing to do with you; it’s my problem and I will deal with it.’

  ‘And does Liz know about this problem?’

  ‘What if she does?’

  ‘So you confide in Liz but not in me, is that it?’

  ‘It’s a woman thing,’ Kate improvised quickly. ‘It has to do with a biological survey. Professor Torrance . . .’

  ‘Oh Jesus, Kate, cut it out, will you? I’ve met Torrance. As of right now he’s involved in the Mayhew case.’

  ‘You mean – you think he killed her?’ Kate went a little pale.

  ‘No . . .’ He hesitated. ‘But we think he may have been harassing her somehow. Has he been harassing you?’

  She looked away.

  He stared at her. ‘Has he?’ he asked more gently.

  She felt herself wanting to cry at the concern in his voice, but managed to hold back. ‘He . . . can be . . . difficult,’ she finally allowed. ‘He doesn’t like other departments poaching students.’ Suddenly she remembered something. ‘Do you know about Pinsky and Ricky Sanchez?’

  ‘Yes, I do. How do you know?’

  She explained about Dan Waxman and meeting him at the Waxman house where she and Liz had had dinner the previous evening. She kept talking, quickly, hoping to distract him from asking any questions about what she and Liz had to do with the music department. ‘Dan said Torrance talked about Ricky, that he was angry because Ricky was changing from pre-med to anthropology. Physical anthropology, which was what Elise Mayhew taught, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But . . .’

  ‘Torrance was angry with me because he said I had poached Michael Deeds and Janet Linley from science, and apparently he was angry with Mayhew because of Ricky. Maybe he killed her and Ricky, too,’ Kate said, going as quickly as she could, hoping he wouldn’t pursue the mention of Michael Deeds in her revelation. She drew a breath and took another angle. ‘Ned Pinsky is on leave, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes. I think I told you that – he was very upset about the boy’s death.’

  ‘Well, he’s investigating it on his own,’ Kate told him. ‘He got Dr Waxman to help him, too. Somebody beat Dan Waxman up the other night. Maybe it was Torrance.’

  ‘Where has Waxman been asking questions?’

  ‘At the hospital, because Ned told him—’

  ‘I know about Ned’s theory.’

  ‘You should be helping him,’ Kate said. ‘He’s doing it all on his own.’

  ‘His choice. Fineman made it clear he didn’t want it taken any further and we were stuck with that.’

  ‘Your Captain Fineman is a fool.’

  ‘Not really.’ Stryker almost smiled. ‘But he has a lot on his desk.’

  ‘Not in his head, obviously.’

  ‘Look, Kate, nice try, but I came to ask you about Torrance.’

  ‘I told you, he’s mad because he thinks I poached Michael Deeds and Janet Linley from science to English. He’s an old man with a grudge, that’s all.’

  ‘Well, stay away from him. Hang up if he calls again. He’s got something to do with the Mayhew case – he was probably harassing her too and it may have led to her death. Leave it to me.’

  Kate regarded him. ‘If I had told you that I was getting annoying phone calls, what would you have done?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I would have told you to call the phone company. Were they dirty calls?’

  ‘No,’ Kate conceded. ‘Just . . . angry.’

  ‘The phone company would have put a tap on your line, gathered evidence and dealt with him.’

  ‘Dealt with him how?’

  ‘I don’t know. Depends on the situation. Did he threaten you physically?’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t have to lie about that.

  ‘I don’t know, then. If he had threatened you or been sexually offensive they might have taken him to court, I suppose. On your behalf. Otherwise I suppose they might have just given him a warning . . . or cut off his telephone.’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I thought,’ Kate said. ‘So I didn’t bother you with it.’

  ‘Kate, I want you to bother me if you have problems.’

  ‘Well, I want to deal with my problems myself,’ Kate said firmly. ‘I am not your child or your possession.’

  I never said you were.’

  ‘Well, then – stop coming in here and yelling at me and telling me not to do things. I resent it.’

  ‘Oh, you do, do you? Well, I resent your not being truthful with me.’

  ‘I am truthful with you. I just don’t tell you every little problem I might have at work. I am a grown-up, remember?’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’ Stryker stood up. ‘Just ignore Torrance, all right? Stay away from him, do not talk to him. In fact, I forbid you to have anything to do with him. Leave it to me.’

  Rage welled up inside her. ‘My work, my problems.’

  ‘Well, this is my work,’ he snap
ped. ‘My case and I want you out of it. Is that understood?’

  She glared at him, arms folded across her chest, curls practically standing on end and eyes flashing. A bell sounded in the corridor outside and she stood up abruptly. Her voice was suddenly cold and hard. ‘If you have finished issuing orders, I have a class to teach.’ She strode out without a backward glance.

  He sat there for a few minutes, off balance and confused, not quite understanding how he had come in full of righteous anger and had ended up in the wrong. How did she do that?

  How did they all do that?

  ‘You can’t come in.’

  Muller looked at Neilson. Then he looked at the pair of bright-brown eyes that peered at him from around the corner of the front door. They were back on the front porch of the house shared by McKittrick and the other women. It was cold. He was getting pissed off at the whole situation. There had been no woman officer available, and he and Neilson had returned alone. ‘We have to see Lois McKittrick,’ he said stolidly.

  ‘I’m sorry, you can’t come in.’

  ‘We have a warrant for her arrest,’ Neilson said.

  ‘That may be, but you don’t have a warrant to come into this house,’ said Ayo. ‘It’s our house, not hers. The lease is in our names and we don’t want you to come in.’

  Muller sighed. ‘We are authorized to use reasonable force,’ he said patiently.

  ‘Go away,’ was the reply and the door was firmly shut in their faces.

  ‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ said Neilson. ‘This is ridiculous.’

  ‘She’s got them on her side.’

  ‘We can break the door down.’

  ‘Is that reasonable force?’ Muller wondered. ‘That’s pretty drastic.’

  ‘We could get a couple of boom boxes and play loud music like they did for Noriega.’ Neilson leaned his backside against the railing of the porch that ran across the front of the house. He crossed his arms. ‘I’m here to stay,’ he added.

  Muller rang the bell again.

  ‘Go away,’ came a voice from behind the closed door.