by Mike Knowles
“I did not.”
Woody ignored Marie. “Go, Os.”
Os nodded and walked out of the room.
“What the fuck?” Marie demanded to know. “You putting words in my mouth now?”
Her mouth had never really gotten used to the metal inside; her spit arced high in the air when she got worked up.
“Jerry won’t take the publicity hit if he can help it. Coming from you, he can’t ignore it.”
“Publicity?”
Woody nodded. “Jerry already feels like the brass are watching him. Adding the media will just add more eyes and make the old ones look even harder.”
“But a cop was murdered.”
“Jerry wants Julie’s murder solved—don’t get me wrong—he just doesn’t want his career to go to the morgue with her if it takes longer than a few days.”
“And I thought I worked with some cold sons of bitches.”
“Was that a coroner’s joke?”
Marie nodded and uncomfortably looked away from both Woody and the body of the dead cop.
“Relax, it was funny. Listen, while I’ve got you here I have something I need to ask you.”
“Woody, I need to finish up with the body so we can get it down to the morgue.”
“It’ll just take a second. Then you can get back to cracking up the forensics crew.”
Woody led Marie to the bathroom. He opened the door, flicked the switch, and opened the medicine cabinet. She walked into the room and gently edged Woody out of the way. Woody let her examine most of the bottles before he asked, “Diagnosis, doctor?”
“Your vic was suffering from depression—maybe a bipolar disorder.”
“Seems like a lot of medication for that,” Woody said.
Marie turned around. “Oh really, doctor? Tell me, did you study for your M.D. on your nights off? You got that much free time now?”
Woody looked at the floor.
“Shit, Woody. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”
Woody roughly ran a hand through his hair; he felt his nails drag over his scalp. He ignored the apology.
“So, this is standard for someone who’s bipolar?”
Marie shook her head. “I just got testy when you made my conclusion for me. Really, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, Marie. Tell me about the pills.”
“There’s too many. The prescriptions here cross over. Too many of the bottles are essentially for the same thing. Judging from the dates and the different names on the bottles, she was shopping around.”
“For pills?”
“Probably for shrinks. There’s no uniform way to treat depression. There’s no uniform diagnosis either. She probably bounced from shrink to shrink, trying whatever they gave her until she felt either the doctor or the meds didn’t work.”
“She went off the meds while she was pregnant,” Woody said.
“The forensic pathologist will run her blood. If she was on something, they’ll find it.”
“No, she did. Look at the cabinet.”
Marie turned and looked inside the cabinet. Inside were four shelves. The heavy medication was second from the top. On the top shelf, was Tylenol, Pepto-Bismol, hand cream, folic acid, and a multi-vitamin.
“What am I looking at, Woody?”
“This medicine cabinet is a microcosm of the entire apartment. It’s in total order. I’m guessing whatever was getting taken regularly was organized on the top shelf. Those bottles, the folic acid, the prenatal vitamins, are the ones that are part of her routine. All of the depression medication is lined up below on the second shelf, like soldiers standing at attention. Everything is at eye level so she can read the labels because her medication is not routine. Judging from the way the labels fade towards the back of the shelf, her meds change often. I’ll bet you a coffee that if you looked at the date on the first bottle on the right of the second shelf, it’s at least eight months old.”
Marie picked up the bottle. The label was whiter than the ones at the other end. The bottle had recently become three pills lighter when Woody stole the Adderall.
“July,” she said.
“Eight months,” Woody said.
“Good guess.”
“What would going off her medication do to her?”
“Her depression would come back. If she was bipolar, and I am not saying that she was, she would experience times of extreme highs and other times of extreme lows. Add to that, her hormones would have been elevated with the pregnancy, and she would have had one hell of a hard time.”
“What’s the name on the last bottle?”
“Kelsey. Dr. A. Kelsey.”
“Thanks. How long do you think it will take to get the autopsy done?”
“Case like this? The forensic pathologist will push it to the front of the line.”
Woody nodded. “Thanks for the medical opinions, Marie.” He went to leave, and Marie caught his arm.
“Woody, you alright? I haven’t seen you in a while and you . . . well . . . you look like shit.”
Woody looked at Marie and then at her hand. She let go. “I get by.”
“Try to get a meal in, and maybe a shave,” Marie said.
“Call me if you notice anything else.”
Woody left the bathroom and went back into the living room.
9
Woody and Os were all over the crime scene, and it was obvious that Dennis was persona non grata. He walked into the hallway and took the elevator to the first floor. Jerry was still overseeing the unis, and Dennis told him what he needed upstairs.
Jerry told whoever was on the other end of the phone to hold on and brought the cell away from his ear. He cupped the phone in his hand and yelled out to the techs standing around the back doors of a white van. “What the hell are you still doing down here? I told you to get up there.”
“You told us to wait until you said it was time,” one of the techs yelled back.
“It’s fucking time. Get up there.”
The techs each shouldered a heavy bag and started for the building. As they passed, Dennis said, “Nine-fourteen.”
“Yeah,” one of the techs said, “we know.”
Jerry went back to his phone conversation; it took him two minutes to notice that Dennis was still standing beside him. He sighed, told the person on the other end of the line to hold on again, and cupped the phone. “What now, Dennis?”
Dennis could tell that Jerry was pissed off. “Coroner?”
“She’ll be here in a minute. Anything else?”
“You started canvassing the building?”
“I got some uniforms on it—they were waiting for you guys to finish before they started inside.” Jerry waved to two constables and they ran over. “I’m giving you two of the best out here. I want you to stick close by them. Make sure they find out everything without giving away anything. Understand?”
Dennis nodded.
“We done?”
“Almost, Jerry. Who called in the nine-one-one?”
“Neighbour across the hall. Didn’t Os tell you?”
Dennis shook his head.
“Fucking perfect. Well it was the neighbour, alright. We done?”
Dennis nodded and Jerry got back to his phone conversation. Dennis didn’t take Jerry’s mood personal. He knew what Jerry really thought of him. After all, he had called him to be one of the primaries on the case.
Two minutes later, Dennis was riding the elevator with two of the so-called brightest constables. He was ready for the shitty elevator to take off, and he braced himself against the wall. Both of the unis looked freaked out when the floor bucked under them, and they both gave Dennis a wide-eyed look. Dennis kept his face like stone, letting the unis know he was too cool to be freaked out.
“I need you to canvass the f
loors. I want to know who was friendly with the vic and who didn’t like her. None of the people in the building need to know what went on tonight. You keep them in the dark, understand?”
The unis nodded. The small blonde went for her pad and pen; the baby-faced kid beside her saw what she was doing and did the same. Dennis picked the girl as the bright one.
“What’s your name?”
“Hill, sir.”
“You?” Dennis said looking at Baby Face.
“Connolly, sir.”
“There’s only nine other apartments on the floor. I’ve got the witness across the hall, that leaves eight for you two. When you finish the floor,” Dennis said, looking at the blonde, “you go down and Connolly you go up.”
“What do I do when I finish the tenth floor? That’s the top one.”
Dennis looked at Hill. The blonde didn’t change her face at all. He could tell what she was thinking, but he saw that she wasn’t going to shit on Connolly in front of Dennis. She reminded him of Julie.
“When you finish with the top floor, Connolly, find Hill. She’ll put you to work.”
Connolly looked pissed at the idea of being under Hill, but he said nothing about it. Dennis gave them his cell number and told them to let him know the second they found out anything useful.
When the doors opened on the ninth floor, Os was waiting. Everyone in the elevator stayed where they were and stared at the huge man in the hallway. The stalemate broke when the doors started to close and Os shot a big hand inside to stop them.
Dennis stepped out and the constables followed. He turned to look at Os as he walked into the elevator.
“I’m starting the canvass with the neighbour who called nine-one-one. Thanks, by the way, for letting me know she was across the hall.” The last part came out whiny, and Dennis hoped no one noticed. He deepened his voice and went on. “What are you doing?”
“Going to talk to Jerry.”
“What about?” Dennis asked. Os didn’t answer—the elevator doors closed and no one stuck a hand inside this time.
10
Os didn’t notice the elevator on the way down; he was thinking about the kid. Someone had cut his baby out of Julie and taken it. What would someone want with the kid? It didn’t feel like a kidnapping, it felt like a message. But who was the message to? He wanted to believe the baby was alive, but deep down he knew something like this was bound to end bad. Even if the kid was alive, the coroner said it would need serious medical care to stay that way. A clock was counting down, and it hadn’t started at a very high number. He wanted to run outside to tear the city apart, but he knew panic was the enemy. Panic would let the killer walk because it would put Os off his game. He had to keep it together long enough to see this through. He had to.
Jerry was sitting sideways inside his car with his feet on the pavement. He was giving a report to someone, and there were a lot of sirs being unloaded. Os stood in front of Jerry and waited. Jerry noticed him and put his hand over his brow, shielding his eyes as though Os was the sun. Os waited and listened to Jerry spin everything that had been done so far so that it sounded like serious progress had been made. Os wondered who Jerry was trying to fool. Every cop knew that the first few hours was nothing but groundwork. Cops needed to know everything there was to know before they started getting things done. Jerry knew this, but he kept on serving up his verbal bullshit anyway.
When he finally ended the call, he said, “The brass is crawling up my ass on this.”
“Must be rough on you, Jer,” Os said.
Jerry missed the sarcasm. “Yeah, but we’ll get this done, Os.”
Os didn’t even acknowledge the meaningless vow. “I need an Amber Alert put out for the baby.”
“Amber Alert? Os, this is a murder, not a kidnapping.”
“There was no baby up there, so we go on the assumption that the baby is still alive. We can’t call anything a murder without a body. You know that.”
“There’s your problem right there,” Jerry said. “We don’t even know if the baby is a boy or a girl. What do we put out?”
“Put the alert out for a newborn baby in the company of a suspicious person.”
“That’s not going to fly. You know how many questions we’ll get out of that? The media will be all over me for answers I don’t have.”
“The media will be all over the killer too,” Os said. “The baby is the best chance we have of catching the fucker that did Julie. That’s what you care about, right?”
“Fine, Os, fine.” Jerry sighed as he got to his feet. “I’ll put out a call to every hospital. I’ll tell them to be on the lookout for any newborn that raises any flags. Sound good?” The fat man put his hands on his waist and pulled his belt up a few inches.
Os stepped closer. “No, Jer, it doesn’t sound good.” His words came out through clenched teeth, and he could feel the pressure radiating through his jaw. “We can’t rely on whoever did this to use an emergency room. We need every pair of eyes we can get, looking out for this guy and the kid.”
“But we don’t even know who we’re looking for, Os.”
Os didn’t have time to go in circles with Jerry. He took another step forward and Jerry instinctively stepped back. He missed the fact that his foot was going over the curb and he fell back into the car. Os stuck his head in after him. “Either you call the Amber Alert or I tell the media about the crime, and they get to wonder why there wasn’t one put out by you.”
“I ain’t the bad guy, Os.”
“Then why am I the only one trying to find a cop killer, Jerry? Tell me that. Do the good guys let people like that get breaks?”
Jerry held up two palms. “Alright, alright, fine. Dennis is talking to the neighbour who found the body. See if she knows what it was, and I’ll get the alert out.”
Os eased his head back out of the car. “I need one more thing, Jerry.”
“Sure you do. You want me to get the mayor to decree martial law so you can just do whatever you want to get this murder solved?”
“You can do that, Jerry?”
“Just tell me what you want, asshole.”
“I need to talk with Julie’s sergeant. I want to know what she had been working on over the last few months.”
Jerry got out of the car again. “She was working in the GANG unit. Raines is running it. You know him?”
Os shook his head.
“I’ll tell him to get in touch with you.”
“Tonight,” Os said. “Wake him up. I want him to know I’m coming to see him first thing tomorrow.”
“Alright, I’ll do it now.”
“Thanks, Jerry.”
Os turned around and walked towards the building until a white van caught his eye. He turned his head enough to see that the van had a satellite dish raised in the air. He looked back at Jerry. “I’ll get you what you need to know about the baby. Get yourself cleaned up so you’re ready to talk to them.”
Jerry looked over at the van and immediately began smoothing out his shirt.
11
The ninth floor was still quiet when Dennis stepped back onto it. There was considerable noise coming from nine-fourteen, but no one else on the floor seemed to be opening their doors to check it out. Dennis pointed at the right side and told Hill to get started; it took a second for Connolly to understand he was supposed to start on the left. The baby-faced constable was about to start with a door less than five feet away when Dennis put a hand on his shoulder.
“You start down there. That way if someone sees you coming and decides to make a break for it, they’ll run right into Hill.”
The unis got to work. Dennis stopped beside Julie Owen’s door and turned to his right so that he was facing the neighbour’s apartment. He stepped to the door and used the side of his fist to pound out a knock. It only took a few seconds for the door to open a crack.
Dennis held up his badge to the crack and said, “Can I speak with you about what happened across the hall?”
The door closed and he heard a chain jingle. When the door opened again, he saw a tall redhead. Behind the woman’s glasses were eyes the same colour as her head. She had been crying.
“I’m Detective Hamlet. Did you call nine-one-one?”
The redhead nodded. “I was friends with Julie. I was the one who . . . who found her.”
“Your name, Ma’am?”
“Lisa O’Brien.”
“Can I come in, Ms. O’Brien?”
She nodded and Dennis walked into a dark entryway. The apartment was a mirror image of the murder scene. Instead of a hallway to the right, Lisa O’Brien’s hallway went left. Dennis followed Lisa through the kitchen to the small dining room he knew would be on the other side. Lisa took a seat at the table facing away from the living room that opened up behind her. Dennis took a chair that backed the kitchen.
“I’m sorry I didn’t wait for the police. There was just so much blood, and Julie was lying there like that. I had to get away from it. I stumbled out of Julie’s apartment and almost knocked over Mrs. Chang.”
“Mrs. Chang?”
“She lives two doors down. I almost ran right into her. The only thing I could think about was getting to a phone. It wasn’t until Mrs. Chang said my name that I noticed her. Then I saw that I left the door open. I lunged for the door and pulled it closed. I couldn’t let someone else see Julie—not like that. Mrs. Chang knew something wasn’t right, but I just kept telling her that everything was fine. She didn’t believe me, but she went home.” Lisa ran her hands through her tangled hair. “I just couldn’t have let her see Julie like that. It would have killed her. I’m sure of it. She loved Julie. It would have killed her.”
“I understand,” Dennis said. “It sounds like you did the right thing.” Lisa crossed her arms and closed her eyes while she processed the memory that was still as raw as an open wound. Dennis let her have a moment to regain her composure while he looked around the dining room. There wasn’t much to see outside of a small chandelier above the table and framed Asian characters hanging on the wall.