Too Dark To Sleep

by Dianne Gallagher

  Nick could open it before he turned it in, see what she was saying. If it was anything she wasn’t telling him, he could…

  “He’s a lab tech. He’ll know if you open it, so don’t. And that should do it,” Maggie said as she pulled her sleeves back.

  This time, Dublowski didn’t notice the scars.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nick Dublowski finally had time to catch his breath. As per Quinn’s instructions, he spent the morning on the phone looking for answers. No, the real estate agent hadn’t shown the building in months, but the property had passed through four other agents since it was put on the market.

  Meyers, the beat officer, actually took notes. Dublowski could feel himself blush as he listened to a uniform rattle off information he should’ve noted. Only one window was broken. The sixth window back on the inside, between the building and the storage containers. The smell from that broken window was what prompted the call. The door was locked and undamaged. One of the beats was about to go in through the window when Halverson took a Rambar to the door.

  None of Phillips’ friends returned Nick’s calls yet. Her family had no additional information. Just that their daughter was a smart girl who wouldn’t put herself in dangerous situations. It must’ve been a random attack, the exact opposite scenario Quinn suspected. Only one other call. Laura Kukac, Melinda Phillips’ roommate. Nick picked up the receiver.

  “So how’s Maggie?” Art asked as he sat on the corner of Dublowski’s desk.

  “What?” Nick lowered the phone.

  “Quinn. How’s Quinn? You went over to see her, right?”

  “Yeah, I saw her.”

  “So?” Gillette wheeled his chair over. “So how was she?”

  Dublowski ran a hand across tired eyes. “Always right.”

  Art chuckled. “Yeah, that would be Maggie.” His smile faded as he went back to his desk.

  Nick reached for the receiver as the phone rang. “Jesus, now what?” he mumbled.

  “Did you call Kukac yet?” Maggie asked, her voice still groggy.

  “No, I called everyone else. Not her,” Nick answered.

  “You’re going to set up an interview, right?”

  “I was going to ask her to drop by when she can.”

  “No good. You need to meet her,” Maggie answered. “Don’t talk to her at the Area Office. Tell her you have another interview and it would be more convenient if you met at her apartment.”

  “Why?”

  “Odds are she’s nervous. Hauling her to Wentworth won’t help. Let her stay in her safety zone, not yours. You’ll get better information.”

  “Why tell her I have another place to go?”

  “Makes her interview sound less important. Takes more heat off.”

  “You sure?”

  “Sure enough.”

  Dublowski was silent.

  “What’s wrong, Detective?”

  “Nothing, I just… Look, I got answers for just about everything you asked for and it all adds up to nothing. I don’t see how running out to talk to this roommate is going to make any difference.”

  There was an uneasy silence from the other end. Nick could feel Quinn’s stare through the phone.

  “You’re tired.”

  “It’s not that,” Nick lied. He was tired. He was tired and frustrated and had a stack of work waiting for him. He didn’t need to waste time on a wild goose chase. He looked at Kukac’s interview. The chick knew nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Forget it. It’s fine. I’ll go and talk to Kukac.”

  “Do you want company?” Maggie asked suddenly.

  An hour later, Nick and Maggie were standing outside Laura Kukac’s apartment building. Rayney stayed in the car. He didn’t bat an eye when Maggie told him she needed to be somewhere. He just asked where and reminded her that they would be home before the sun even looked like it was going to set. Not a problem. The interview shouldn’t take that long and she needed to be there. If Dublowski went alone, it would be worthless. The detective was already convinced they would learn nothing new.

  It was unseasonably warm. Almost eighty. Still, Maggie wore a jacket. She’d been slumming it since she got out of the hospital. Jeans, t-shirts, sweats. After twenty minutes of staring at her closet, a loose cotton shirt, brown jacket and tan pants got tossed on the bed, along with a leather belt. The one with grommets all the way around. She could pull it tight and let the shirt and jacket hide the pleats of fabric that gathered at her waist. An interesting dilemma. Maggie never lost her baby fat. Now she was forty-five pounds lighter with bones sticking out at every angle. Richard would be proud, she thought. That’s what he liked. Rail-thin. The impression of extreme denial demonstrating that his approval took precedence over all other life-preserving instincts.

  They were on the third floor, almost at Laura Kukac’s apartment. Maggie convinced Nick to take the stairs instead of the elevator. Just in case something went wrong. The last thing she needed was to be stuck with him in a small, dark box.

  “Aren’t you hot?” he asked as they scaled the last few steps.

  Maggie shrugged.

  She was sweating. He could see it. And why not? Long sleeves and a jacket on a day like this. He was about to say something, but stopped himself when he remembered the scars. Instead, he handed Maggie a slip of paper. “You got access to the system. Chief says to use my password.”

  “Thanks.” Maggie pocketed the information as Dublowski rang the bell.

  Laura Kukac let them into the large, well-kept apartment. She was a mousy girl who clearly would’ve crumbled in an interrogation room. So how did Quinn know? It didn’t matter, Nick told himself. He just needed to get some information from her.

  “Thanks for letting us meet here,” Maggie said after Nick introduced them. “It really helps us out.”

  The girl blushed. “No, problem.”

  “This won’t take long, Miss Kukac. We’re just filling in a few blanks. Do you know, was Melinda Phillips seeing anyone on a regular basis?” Nick asked as he readied his pen.

  “The other officer already asked that,” she said meekly.

  “We’re just…” Nick began

  “Yeah,” Maggie interrupted. “You know what though. The guy’s worthless. Lost his notes before he even reported in. What an ass.”

  Laura covered her mouth as she giggled. Even Nick felt her tension drain.

  “So if you could help us out, we’d appreciate it.” Nick threw the woman one of his smiles. “Did you know if she had a date with anyone that night?”

  “Maybe. I don’t think so. Maybe.” Laura awkwardly tilting her head.

  “Okay.” Dublowski flipped a few pages. “Did she have a habit of going out with men she didn’t know well?”

  Laura shrugged.

  “Did she frequent any particular bars or restaurants?”

  Another shrug.

  “Well, is there anything you remember that you didn’t tell the other officers?” Nick said, trying not to sound too frustrated.

  The woman fidgeted. “I don’t… I don’t think so.”

  “Okay, well…”

  He was going to wrap it up. Maggie could hear it in his voice. And he had barely started. “You said Melinda wasn’t really seeing anyone on a regular basis. Did she date a lot?”

  “I guess.”

  Maggie noticed a definite blush. “You know, I had a roommate in college. I swear, she had someone new every week. A new face every time I answered the door for her. Drove me crazy.”

  “Yeah, it would.” Laura nodded. “That was the nice thing about Melinda. Most of the guys didn’t come to the apartment.”

  “Most?” Dublowski interrupted. “So there were a lot?”

  The woman reddened even more. “Look,
I don’t want to… I mean, Melinda’s parents have this idea of what she… what she was like. I mean, they think she was pretty...” A fidget.

  “She wouldn’t intentionally get in trouble,” Dublowski added. That’s what her parents told him.

  The woman raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. Well, I mean… it wasn’t like she wanted trouble. I don’t really think she thought about it that much.” Laura was flustered. She turned to Maggie. “Look, is this going to be in a report? Are her parents going to hear this because, you know, they’ve been through a lot and I wouldn’t want…”

  “We’ll have to…” Nick started firmly.

  “This is strictly confidential.” Maggie cut him off. She was careful to use words that registered with the young woman. “And your accuracy, how much you are able to tell us, is what’s going to help us catch Melinda’s killer.”

  “So if you could please tell us what you know.” Another Dublowski smile and the roommate’s eyes dropped to the floor. The young detective made her more nervous than Maggie expected. Women like Laura Kukac weren’t good with men, especially men like Nick Dublowski.

  “I know sometimes it’s easier to talk about certain things in private,” Maggie said with a smile. “Detective Dublowski?”

  Rayney saw Nick storm out of the apartment building, throw himself in the car and slam the door.

  “Shit,” Antoine muttered.

  Dublowski tossed his notebook on the seat.

  “Where’s Maggie?” Rayney said anxiously, standing outside the car.

  “Where do you think? Doing the fucking interview while I’m down here… sitting on my thumb.”

  Antoine Rayney’s shoulders relaxed. At least she hadn’t bugged out.

  “The woman wouldn’t talk with me there,” Nick grumbled. “She wanted to talk to Quinn alone.”

  “And that’s bad?”

  No, Dublowski thought. Laura Kukac barely said boo to Halverson. There wasn’t anything useful from her in the report, yet she lived with Phillips for almost two years. The detective paused. That’s how Quinn knew how to handle the roommate. She read the report and saw what wasn’t there, not what was. There were questions Kukac should’ve been able to answer, but didn’t. If she didn’t talk to Ray Halverson, she wouldn’t talk at the Area Office. She probably wouldn’t talk to any guy. That’s what Maggie Quinn saw. That’s why she offered to come with.

  “No,” Nick finally smiled. “It’s not bad.”

  All Maggie’s questions were answered in less than half an hour. She thanked the young woman who was still blushing when she walked out the door. Outside, she saw Dublowski running for her. Probably to smack her in the face.

  “We’ve got another body.” The young man’s face was red with excitement. “The chief called. Another warehouse. About a mile and a half from where Phillips was killed.”

  “You better get going,” Maggie said calmly.

  The young detective paused, shuffled.

  “You could ride with me,” Dublowski said as he headed back to his car.

  “That’s not part of the deal,” Maggie said quietly.

  “Now it is,” Dublowski said. “I asked the chief.”

  Maggie paused to chew on the prospect. She’d love to see a fresh scene. It might make all the difference. But seeing the scene meant seeing everyone who worked it. That was a problem.

  “Please,” the young man said.

  Maggie thought a moment, then nodded.

  “We’ll follow you over,” Rayney said, taking Maggie’s elbow and pointing her toward their car. “You sure you should go?”

  “No.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The meeting with the student Marcus Galen was mentoring finished early. The young man was convinced he could excel in the cardiac field. Galen agreed he had flawless surgical skills, almost as impressive as his own. But that wasn’t the only qualification necessary. The first-year resident was ill-equipped to handle the high-stress environment of cardiac surgery and Marcus Galen told him as much. Better to be honest than have someone throw years of their life away training for a job they would never be able to do.

  Galen learned that from his grandmother, the woman who raised him, more or less. Both Ted and Frances Galen held positions that demanded the majority of their time. Galen’s father was an executive for an investment firm and traveled frequently. Frances was a neurosurgeon who had her own lecture circuit, a circuit much more challenging than Rebecca’s. Part of her time was spent in the operating room, the rest behind a podium. It wasn’t a great surprise when his parents divorced just before Marcus’ tenth birthday.

  Caroline Somner spent her autumn years caring for her grandson. She was a task master, demanding the same perfection from Marcus that she expected from his mother. Frances Galen never seemed to mind. Marcus did. He was having trouble with his father’s absence. He became a voyeur, first spying on his grandmother as she stared at herself for hours in the mirror, adjusting her hair, freshening her make-up, putting on and taking off jewelry. Later, he spent hours hidden in the trees or behind a fence, watching the happy family next door. Watching the husband kiss the wife. Watching the children sit with their parents. On more than one occasion his grandmother caught him in the neighbor’s yard, peeking into their windows. Caroline Somner’s punishments were severe, but it didn’t stop Marcus. He just became better at it.

  His mother never tolerated mediocre work, so Marcus always kept his grades up. The only class he could let himself loose in was Art where his work took a dark turn. His art teacher was so disturbed by the boy’s paintings and sketches, he suggested Mrs. Galen take her son for counseling.

  “Mr. Fitzpatrick,” Frances Galen exclaimed loudly during their first and only phone conversation. “I’m a physician, a neurosurgeon. The human brain is my life, so don’t tell me my business.” She then went on to lecture the teacher for the next twenty minutes while Marcus listened from his room.

  The stupid teacher should know better, Marcus thought. No one crossed his mother and walked away. Not him. Not his father and certainly not Mr. Fitzpatrick. Marcus always remembered the look of complete indignation on his mother’s face every time she repeated the story for him or anyone else who would listen. How dare a teacher – an art teacher, at that – tell Frances Galen, respected physician, how to handle her son. Marcus didn’t need a therapist, his mother decided. He needed a vocation. A purpose. That’s when the medical books came off the shelves.

  “You’re a natural surgeon, Marcus,” his mother told him. “You have the temperament. You don’t let your emotions rule you.”

  Marcus didn’t mind medicine. Particularly psychiatry. But Frances Galen had different ideas. “How can you even consider wasting your time on something so illegitimate? I will not have some mumbo-jumbo, feel-good fake in my house! You want money? You want respect? Study something real. You owe it to yourself and to your family.”

  Grandma Caroline heartily agreed and used the same methods she honed on her daughter to discipline her grandson. Marcus wasn’t allowed to draw or do any form of art. If he did, his grandmother made him destroy it. No frivolous entertainment or hobbies. Instead, he dissected on a regular basis and read his mother’s reference books. He never complained, never objected. It wasn’t in his nature.

  In the end, Marcus Galen was thankful for the guidance his mother and grandmother gave him. They helped him make the correct choice for his life. Just as he was helping the young resident make the correct choice by focusing on something less stressful than cardiac surgery. A satisfying life was based on correct choices. Some were easier to accept than others. Consequently, Marcus had little patience when this student, this inexperienced weakling begged for support. The surgeon silently walked away and the young man crumbled, proving his judgment to be sound. The boy didn’t have what it took.

 
Rebecca called just as her husband got in his car.

  “Do you have time to catch lunch before my flight?”

  Marcus looked at his watch. He had nothing until three that afternoon. “Sure. Should we meet somewhere near the airport?”

  “La Cave.”

  “I’ll see you in an hour.”

  Whenever they were near O’Hare, Rebecca steered them toward the French restaurant. And although it was a fine establishment, Marcus knew they could afford much better. His wife didn’t come from money like he had, so she occasionally fell back into her old ways, watching her money, remaining frugal. She even insisted they keep separate checking accounts. It was actually quite endearing to a man like him.

  There was an accident on the Dan Ryan, so the surgeon decided to jump off and weave through some side streets to make better time. Near 40th and Morgan, Marcus Galen slowed to get a better look at the police cars gathered at a warehouse.

  There were two squad cars at the scene. Nick Dublowski looked over at Quinn who was already out of the car and scoping the area.

  “I’m going with you,” Rayney’s voice was apprehensive. He had enough of blood and guts for a while, but he certainly couldn’t let Maggie go in alone.

  “You stay here.”

  “I can’t…”

  “I have to go by myself, okay?” Maggie was dead serious.

  Rayney knew he wasn’t going to win. “Okay. This time.”

  Maggie started toward the warehouse as her eyes swept the area. Dublowski was still in his car. She paused. The young detective was scared. He knew his last big crime scene was botched. He’s afraid it’ll happen again. That’s why he wanted Maggie there. She tapped on the window and Dublowski came out of his trance.

  “Get your ass out of the car,” she whispered.