She worked on her core muscles while Zack showered. She handed him another cup of coffee when he came into the living room in sweatpants. There were beads of moisture in his hair. She glanced over him and away. He sucked in his stomach a little feeling he wasn’t as firm as he used to be though most people would have thought him exceedingly fit. Now next to this almost super human, he felt a little flabby and scolded himself to do more not to become the donut eating lard ass so many cops somehow let themselves become. Even the fittest, the toughest, could become obese if they didn’t watch it. Years of riding around, desk work, stake outs and poor diets took their toll. Compared to Claude or even Misha, he saw his body as far from perfect. He decided to work on that as he watched Mo stretch.
There had been no progress in the investigation and a small band of press was still camped out on the periphery of the hotel parking lot. There had been lots of speculation that it had to have been a hotel staffer. An Ecuadorian janitor had been questioned when it was found he could not account for his whereabouts at the time of the murder. The married woman he was having a liaison with denied having been with him until video tape busted the adulterers. Mo thought it was ridiculous that they should lose their jobs. Zack countered it was a matter of honesty and safety of the guests. Would she like to think the staff was using her bed every time she walked out the door?
Mo would snort with disgust as she watched the news. Yet she seemed to hope that they would suddenly reveal that the killer had been caught or some other relieving detail. Since Ling had not been robbed, nothing taken from Mo’s or Ling’s room, there had been nothing to leave a trail a comfortable several hundred miles away. No credit cards used in Florida or Texas. No pocketbooks found in Minnesota. Was the killer a long gone guest? A random opportunity taken advantage of. A stalker who had admired Ling and found a way to get to her? An admirer of Mo’s. There were no sudden epiphanies in the Greendale Police Department. Or none they’d informed her of. Zack’s contentious relationship with the burly Al whose chip widened with each conversation yielded nothing. Al would insinuate that Mo was still a person of interest. He even posited that Linc and Mo had been in on it together. Zack kept in touch with Harve who didn’t seem to be coming unhinged. He spoke often with Vince Smith the hotel security chief. He wanted all bases covered in the matter of Mo’s safety.
Six
Zack reported to the Mayor’s office daily even though he was now officially on leave. The union had urged him to take leave and not use his vacation. After all, he had it coming with Ray and all. He did his best to keep up with that investigation. The internal investigations department had frozen him out. There had been news reports stating suspicions that Ray had been dirty. These would send Zack’s fist onto the bar. A stream of curses from his mouth for which he would apologize. Mo would give him a beer or a cup of coffee and silently put her hand on his arm.
They fell into a routine of common cause. Between work and grief they formed a companionship with an edge of anxiety. When it got too claustrophobic, one of them found a way it lighten things up.
“I want to walk down Michigan Avenue.” It was Monday morning.
“What?”
“I’ve taken the day off. I want to walk down Michigan Avenue. Maybe shop.”
“The entire day?”
“I have to be back for rehearsal. Don’t worry I’m not bailing on your friends. But we did two shows yesterday to make up for lost time. I told Roddy and he agreed we are in fine form and can afford not to work all day.”
“Roddy would agree with anything you requested” Zack said with a laugh.
“I hope you didn’t wait for me to go to the gym, it was nice to sleep in.” She pulled the drapes open and breathed in as if the sash had been flung open allowing fresh air into the hotel room. “So?”
“So? Oh. Well sure. Whatever you want to do.”
“The always accommodating Detective Burnham. I hope they’re paying you what you’re worth.”
“Roddy has made it the most profitable busman’s holiday ever.” He thought how that sounded and looked at her. “That’s not why I’m here.” He said quickly.
“Why then, Detective?” She walked over to the coffee maker and poured a cup. “What an odd set of circumstances brought you here. But you didn’t have to stay.”
“Roddy’s a hard man to say no to.” He didn’t mention it was probably best if he stayed well away from the investigation into Ray’s murder.
“Yes, he is.” Her gaze seemed a little hard, her tone a little sharp. He wondered if she had become sick of his constant presence. Or was he seeing a little of the diva come out. It shouldn’t surprise him if it did, but she had so far had given no hint of it.
Mo looked at him and wondered what it was that had been bugging her. He had been such a perfect gentleman. And she felt they had become friends. But when she lay in bed the night before she had touched herself and thought of him. Then she felt guilty. Not about the orgasm but about Ling and allowing herself to be overcome by lust while her murderer ran loose. While she knew it was unreasonable she was just a little angry at him for it and looked for a way to blame him and maybe punish him a little. She wanted to see him want her a little. The furtive glances were no longer enough. His professionalism is what had started to bug her. She looked at his blameless face and mentally slapped herself for her pettiness. She thought of the cloying Claude, the sheepish Misha. She thought of the men who had tried to bed her because of her beauty, because of who she was. She thought of the couple men she had bedded for lust and thought little more of. There had not been relationships. Her work was too hard on relationships. The couple times she had dated a guy more than a few times, the complaints started. And she was nothing if not dedicated to her work.
She studied his ruggedly handsome, but somehow gentle face. He had turned and looked out the window. His brow a little hardened. A little hurt at her sharp tone. “Let’s get out of here today. You must be sick of this. You can drop me off and do some stuff you need to do. Go get some fresh clothes. I’m sure I’ll be perfectly safe on Michigan Avenue.”
She probably needs some time by herself. He made his translation.
Besides the occasional male, visual probe, Mo felt anonymous and able to breathe as she walked the ‘Magnificent’ mile. They had snuck out of the hotel informing only Roddy so far as Mo knew. What she didn’t know is he had arranged for a discreet tail on her in the form of Janet Ben-Ghury, on loan from Vince Smith’s team. Mo had noticed that Zack seemed to be making sure they weren’t followed. She felt a little like she was in a movie. Two hours, speed dial, cop on every corner, and meet at one. Zack’s law, she chuckled to herself. The day was incredible and she was relieved to have some time by herself. Nothing more had happened and the murderer more than likely a long ways away. But the unknown had a palpably stifling quality that had made even breathing feel strained. She looked in windows and watched people. She admired a dress or raised her eyebrows at a hat. The styles on Michigan Avenue were a little too rich for her taste. A lot of it had a Ladies Who Lunch quality about it. Brooks brothers shouted board room. She found a happy note when she discovered Filene’s Basement and felt a little more at home. Going out of business. What a shame. But the deals were great.
Back on the street her phone rang. Zack. “I’m still here. I have a new scarf. Where are you?”
“I just left my place. I’ve got to drop stuff at the cleaner and stop by Tyler’s office. One still good?” I’ll call for your location. See that cop?”
“I see a cop.” She turned and looked around. “And one on a bike.”
“One on every corner. Be good.”
“Now that you have this show biz gig going how ‘bout some tickets? Think you can fix it for your chums to see a show?” Merle Gleason stood by Zack’s desk with his hands in his pockets and coffee stains on his shirt. His unkempt, hangdog looks belied a sharp Holmesian mind with a bit of Freud thrown in. He was also as socially inept as they came. Particular
ly with women.
“I don’t have that kind of pull, Merle. I’m just security, for a couple weeks. Mayor’s idea. I kind of do the same thing I’ve been doing in Tyler’s office except the people are much nicer and I don’t worry about a knife in my back.”
“Their weapon of choice is an undetermined blunt object from what I hear. I saw your client in the paper. If I pulled that tour, I wouldn’t be wasting time here.” Merle slouched with what he evidently thought was a ‘just one of the boys’ leer.
Zack looked at him and saw the envy. “Merle, she’s a nice lady. She’s had something really bad happen. Her best friend’s been murdered and they may have been after her. I wouldn’t have ever thought I’d wind up in this job, even temporarily. But since I did, I’m gonna do the job. You guys have a laugh if you want to, but I hope while you’re at it you find that punk who managed to get Ray’s gun away from him.”
“Look, Burham, no offense.” Merle leaned in more closely. “I talked to Bull Shaughnessy about a Curtis Lyons. He’s on that. Lyons had once been his stoolie. We collared a Jamal Smith on a B and E. He said he had info on this Lyons. And Ray. He said Ray had been boosting dealers with Lyon’s help. Lyons set up small timers to sell the stuff that Ray had pinched. Had a couple runners who owed ‘im. He made a statement and we turned it over to Bull at Internal. Presumably Bull will have a chat with the DA’s office.
Zack’s face reddened, he glared angrily at Merle. He turned from his desk toward the other detective, towering over him. Merle shrunk back a little as Zack said, “Go on.”
“Hey, I’m just givin’ ya the heads up on where this thing’s going. You didn’t hear it from me.” He looked around and laughed out loud as if Zack had just told him a real zinger. “That’s good, Burnham!” He lowered his voice again. “Look man, this Jamal Smith said one time Ray got real impatient about some dough a kid owed him. Said Ray told you he was going to run to the florist for his wife’s birthday and left you sitting at the Ashland Veiw Coffeeshop. He gave Lyons his gun and him told to go scare the kid and get the dough. Smith said Ray was laughing about getting flowers for his wife while having Lyons collect money to give his girlfriend.”
“That’s bullshit, Ray didn’t have a girlfriend. Ray wasn’t dirty, what kind of a setup is this?” He could have smashed his desk to pieces. He contained himself and eyed Merle. Where does this Jamal Smith fit in?”
“He’s Lyon’s cousin and a small time thief. He said Lyon’s tried to recruit him but he didn’t like Ray. Didn’t trust ‘im. Said a dirty cop was more likely to kill ya than a hopped up armed robber. Zack, he said Ray worked a kid over so bad Lyons threatened to quit. But he was afraid of Ray. Said Ray was desperate enough for money to kill.” Merle shoved his hands in his pockets, leaned in real close. “Rosalie Villareal, 1783 Paulina, third floor. Yeah, take it easy Burnham!” Merle shuffled off whistling.
It occurred to Zack that he didn’t usually notice the smell of sweat, urine and vomit with a fixative of pine based cleaner that permeated his precinct house. Suddenly it overwhelmed him. He dropped down in his chair and felt his stomach roil. Ray…No, it can’t be true. This is a fucking set up. Someone’s dirty and their trying to dump their laundry pile at Ray’s feet. Could Bull Shaughnessy have something he needs to hide up someone else’s skirt? Who’s this Jamal? This Lyon’s had had a cozy relationship with Bull in the past. Bull was sure dragging out the investigation into Ray’s murder. He remembered the day a few months before that he and Ray had stopped at one of their usual spots for coffee. Ray was saying, “Shit, forgot Marge’s birthday. I’m dead meat. Look, I’m gonna run down to Ashland florist and cop some rose’s. Marge’s favorite. Be back in twenty.” Ray didn’t return with roses. “Oh. Had ‘em delivered. She’ll be real surprised that way. She’ll even think I remembered before today!”
Zack glanced at his watch after pulling a couple hundred from the ATM machine. He put it in an envelope and sealed it using his tongue to wet the glue. Had to make it quick. He’d called Tyler’s office and found the Mayor out with a sigh of relief. He left an update into the Greendale investigation with one of Tyler’s obsequious cronies. 1783 Paulina was in a part of the southwest side that had gotten into the rehab boom and had managed to sell itself as an up and coming family neighborhood. A lot of the buildings had gone condo and sat renovated in move in condition. With the economy taking a dive, the pool of easy credit buyers had dried up.
During the real estate salad days the endemic gang element had darted clandestinely out from under the edges of the carpet it had been furiously swept under. Now they practically owned the streets again. Zack looked at the young men in muscle shirts sitting on the steps of the building. The street was busy. Kids played while their mothers or big sisters watched. An old man selling food from a wagon (unlicensed, Zack thought) was hawking his wares in Spanish. A Spanish music radio station blared from a jacked up seventies Chevy Camaro parked across the street. The building was a three story forties brick job that had been converted. A huge sign advertised the first floor at a reduced price. Zack glanced down the For Sale sign lined street. Not the rehab heyday it once was, Zack thought.
He got out of the car and walked toward the building. One of the young men stood up in the middle of the first step making him eye level with the detective. “You looking to buy?” he asked with a Northern Mexican accent. Zack flashed his badge. “I mean you interested in the condo. It’s my brother’s building. We were cleaning up the unit. Some punks broke in, you here about that? My brother called the cops and said he got the brush off. You gonna take a report?”
“Sorry, kid, it’s not my call. Rosalie Villareal, she still on the third floor?” Zack nodded upward.
“Yeah, she still up there. Hopefully not for long.” One of the other young men reacted to the name and started pulling his wife beater out at the nipples making feminine pouty faces. Jesting in Spanish ensued amongst them.
“She doesn’t own the condo?” Zack thought the kid seemed pretty straight up.
“Hard times, man. My brother owner financed it to some boyfriend of hers. A cop. Married I heard. Cop got killed in the line. Now Rosalie can’t make the payments. But she told Herman, my bro, she got something in the works. Some money coming in soon. We figure new friend, know what I mean. She’s got a lot of friends, but no one that’s got the dinero to make the mortgage. Now you know. I haven’t seen her come out today.”
“Thanks kid. I’ll put a call in for your brother, as soon as I’m done talking to Ms. Villareal. Don’t touch anything else for Chrissake.” Zack headed up the stairs and pushed the bell for three. It buzzed without question, she’s expecting someone, or she had seen him and was curious maybe. He took two stairs at a time to find the door open several inches. He knocked. The door opened slowly to reveal a beautiful woman with large, dark brown eyes and shoulder length raspberry tinged black hair. She had a wide full mouth and wide cheekbones. She was small, five two, one fifteen with a curvy stripper’s body. Large breasts barely suppressed by a bright orange halter top with no bra. A tiny waist gave way to hips a little large in very low riding shorts. Legs men dreamed would be the last legs they ever had to see were shown off by platform espadrilles. Her skin was golden brown and flawless except for a tiny dark mole half an inch south east of her right eye. She gave him the once over. “You are here about the break in?” She had a husky voice and a heavy accent. Not Mexican, El Salvador, maybe.
“I’m Zack Burnham.” She would have heard the name. Her face remained impassive, but he saw her swallow too hard. “Ray’s partner.”
“Senor, me no, uh, habla de Englais.” She gave an ‘oh dumb me’ shrug and smiled. “No can help you, I see no thing. Break in down the stairs.” She started to push the door closed.
“I have something for you. From Ray.” The door stopped moving. She froze and he could see her calculating. She opened the door again.
“Come in Zack, I feel like I know you. Ray always say you are a stand up?...stan
d up guy. He teach me English. Ray say the Spanish muy bien, very good.” She led him into the living room which was painted bright yellow. It opened into a small kitchen with stainless steel appliances and a granite countertop with flowers on the wall that looked like they’d been cut from magazines and pasted on. She stopped and turned toward him. “What you have for me?” Her eyes went right to the envelope Zack pulled out of his pocket. Her hand moved toward it. Then she drew it back when she saw his look. “What do you want?” She pouted her lips and looked at him through half closed eyes. “Ray tell you all about me?” The emphasis was on the all.
“He told me about you. And the condo. He put down a down payment and made the mortgage payments. What I understand is that’s two mortgages on a detective’s salary. You knew about the other mortgage, on the house his wife and kids live in? But that’s not really why I’m here. You know about what Ray was into. My guess is expensive girlfriend got all the details. Do you know where I can find Curtis Lyons?”
“I don’t know no Lyon. I don’t know anything about Ray’s business. He don’t talk about his cases. He love me, he going to marry me. Then he die. That’s all I know.”
“He may have loved you but his wife is gonna get about half a million in insurance. And you’re looking for the mortgage. Guess owner financing isn’t the most secure way to go. Long term. Then again, how else was he gonna set you up? Shoulda just rented. Better yet, shoulda just paid as he went.” She snorted and glared into his eyes. Then looked at the envelope as if she might salivate. He could see the wheels turning and wasn’t surprised when she took a different tack. She closed the distance between them and put her thumb and forefinger on his lapel, looking up into his eyes. She gave him a little smile that he knew was one she had relied on many times to get her way. Was it the moist lipped smile and half closed bedroom eyes that had sucked Ray in? If Ray had needed sucking in.
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