Mirror Image

by Dennis Palumbo

  The bartender brought his beer and whiskey, and placed a tall, cool one in front of me. “Bud,” he said, by way of explanation, and moved off.

  Polk contemplated the drinks in front of him. “Fifteen years, I never cheated on my wife. Not once. All that time, workin’ the streets, bustin’ whores and hypes who’d do anything for a fix. Okay, maybe a blow-job once in a while from some runaway, just so I don’t drag her ass back home. But that’s it. No strange pussy. Pussy’s sacred, I figure, between husband and wife. It’s like my code, or somethin’. But now, all of a sudden, she divorces me. Well, fuck her. And fuck me.” He lifted the beer glass. “Cheers.”

  We drank in silence, the sergeant draining his beer in two gulps and reaching for the shot glass. He threw it back, eyes glazing between heavy lids.

  “Listen, Harry,” I said. “You want the number of somebody I know? He’s good with this kind of stuff. Been through a divorce himself. Real no-bullshit guy.”

  “Ya mean, a shrink or somethin’?” Polk laughed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. “Like you? Gimme a break. I was just shootin’ my mouth off. Forget about it, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  He pulled his head down between his shoulders, like a bear going into hiding. I knew better than to push it.

  “Look,” I said. “Maybe I was outta line. You just want to drink alone, I’m gone. You want some company, I’ll hang around. Up to you.”

  Polk took a slow breath. Tapped the shot glass against the bar, like a Morse code key.

  “You can hang around if you want,” he said finally. “I don’t give a shit.”

  I nodded, sipped my beer. “Then let me ask you one more question. About Nancy, and her alibi. You questioned everybody at Ten Oaks, right? Patients, staff?”

  “Everybody. I mean, run the numbers: Everybody was seen by at least one other person the whole time. Except Nancy Mendors.” He grinned. “Next to you, she’s my favorite suspect…”

  I smiled back. “But what about the patients’ family members? Other visitors who might’ve been there during the outbreak, or just before?”

  “We thought of that, too.” Polk rubbed his temples. “All visitors have to sign in and out. There were only a few relatives visiting patients that morning, and we got their names, their visiting times. All had alibis, too.”

  I let this sink in. Then I remembered.

  Polk was gesturing toward the bartender again when I grabbed his forearm.

  “Wait a minute, Harry.”

  He blinked at me, confused, as the bartender shuffled over. “Bring us two large coffees,” I told him. “To go.”

  The bartender glanced doubtfully at Polk, then nodded and headed off to fill the order. Polk glared at me.

  “Can’t I even get shit-faced in peace?” he said.

  “Not right now.” I leaned in closer. “Listen, you have to get a hold of Detective Lowrey. You and she have to question those two girls from the clinic one more time. Separately. Tell each one you know who paid her to start the fight in the rec yard. Tell her she’s facing accessory charges unless she rolls over on Riley’s killer.”

  Polk laughed sourly. “That kinda bluff only works on TV, Doc.”

  “Unless you really have the name of the killer. And I think we do.”

  Polk just stared, as the bartender brought over two large Styrofoam cups of coffee.

  “They’re both for you, Harry,” I said.

  I stood up, and threw some bills on the bar. “You coming or not?”

  Chapter Forty-eight

  Only a few lights were on in the house, muted behind closed drapes. Hard voices, rising in argument. The sound of shattering glass.

  As the three of us approached the front porch, Polk smiled at Lowrey. “Geez, ya think we’re comin’ at a bad time?” His service weapon was in his right hand.

  Det. Lowrey reached the door first and knocked loudly. Polk was right behind her, and I stood off to one side.

  The sounds from within grew still. Then, footsteps.

  Albert Garman, face flushed, opened his door. What looked like a fresh wine stain blotched his shirt.

  “Yes?” He peered out at us. “Dan? What is this?”

  “Pittsburgh Police,” Polk said. “I’m Sergeant Polk, this is Detective Lowrey.”

  Garman’s eyes flickered as awareness dawned. “Yes, of course. I remember you. But what—?”

  From behind him, a shrill, slurred voice. “Who the hell is it? Send them away!”

  Polk held his gun hand behind his back. “We’d like to come in, Dr. Garman. We have an arrest warrant.”

  “A warrant?” Quickly, Garman managed to collect himself. “There must be some mistake.”

  “May we come in, sir?” Lowrey said. “Now?”

  “Dammit, Bert!” Another hoarse shout from inside the house. Garman winced visibly.

  Embarrassed, he finally nodded and stepped back from the door. As we filed past him inside, his eyes found mine.

  “Elaine and I…we’ve been fighting…money problems. But she’s been drinking and—Jesus, can’t this wait?”

  I spread my hands. “I’m sorry, Bert.”

  Polk and Lowrey had gone on ahead, into the living room. I nodded to Garman, and we followed.

  We found Elaine Garman in silk pajamas, swaying unsteadily on bare feet. Her eyes blazed with a mixture of incomprehension and rage. She was very drunk.

  “What is this, a surprise party?” she said, coming towards us. Trying awkwardly to avoid the spray of broken glass on the carpet. The remains of a wine bottle.

  Bert took his wife’s arm. “Let me help you, honey.”

  Elaine batted his hand away. “Like I can’t find a drink without my seeing-eye dog…” She took another halting step toward the well-stocked wet-bar.

  She never made it. Eleanor Lowrey moved adroitly in front of her and blocked her path. “Show me where your bedroom is, Mrs. Garman, and I’ll help you get dressed.”

  “Like hell. What the fuck is this?”

  “An arrest, Mrs. Garman.” Lowrey gripped her shoulder. “You’re under arrest for the murder of Dr. Brooks Riley.”

  “What?” Elaine squirmed in the detective’s grasp.

  Bert whirled, facing Polk and me. “Elaine couldn’t possibly—You can’t really think she killed Brooks—?!”

  “Take it easy, Doc,” Polk said smoothly.

  “This is total bullshit,” Elaine said, trying hard to steady herself. Regain some control.

  “’Fraid not,” Polk said. “We got your new best friend Lucy downtown. She told us how you kept her supplied with coke in exchange for starting that fight in the rec yard. Said you told her the exact day and time to do it.”

  “She’s lying,” Elaine said. But some of the bluster had gone out of her voice.

  “I don’t think so, Elaine,” I said quietly. “When Sgt. Polk told me Nancy Mendors was the only one at the scene without an alibi, I thought back to when he and I showed up that day to pick up my patient files.”

  I turned to Garman. “Remember, Bert? When you came out to meet us in the lobby, you said Elaine had just left. As the wife of the Clinical Director, it occurred to me she probably didn’t have to sign in or out. So what if, instead of leaving, Elaine had simply gone to some empty room near Riley’s office—and waited?”

  Garman shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It lays out,” I insisted. “Brooks barges into your office when Polk and I are there. He and I exchange words, then he returns to his office. Suddenly Elaine steps inside the door, shoots him twice, and—as previously planned with Lucy—calmly goes out to her car just as the fight breaks out. The alarm sounds, the rec yard’s swarming with people. So naturally the cops figure the riot was a cover for the shooting. But instead, it had happened just before.”

  “But why?” A kind of anguish was building in his eyes. “Why would Elaine want to kill Brooks?”

  “Because they were having an affair,” I said. “And when h
e broke it off, she—”

  “No!” A sudden, plaintive cry, as though torn out of him. “That’s not possible—”

  He swiveled where he stood, staring at his wife.

  “Elaine?” His voice aching.

  His wife managed to twist herself from Lowrey’s grasp, and stood back, face darkening. Her eyes were glazed.

  She threw the words at him. “You stupid shit…”

  Polk gave her a warning look. “You got somethin’ you wanna say, Mrs. Garman, I gotta read you your rights.”

  “Fuck you,” Elaine said.

  Polk shrugged, and Mirandized her anyway. She didn’t seem to register it.

  I caught Polk’s eye. He nodded, and I took a step toward Elaine. She had a hand against the wall, steadying herself. She glared at me, cornered, wary.

  “I talked with Nancy Mendors,” I said. “She admitted having an affair with Brooks, until he suddenly ended it. She told me she suspected he was seeing other women. When I started thinking about the possibility that you could’ve killed him, I wondered if—”

  “I’ll bet you did,” Elaine said coolly. Behind the belligerence, a dull pain shone in her eyes. “Brooks was a busy man—and proud of it. He told me about Nancy himself. Right before he said it was over between us, too.”

  She blinked once, slowly. “I asked him if there was someone else. You know what that bastard said? He gave me that shark smile and said, ‘Honey, there’s always someone else.’ Then he said he was surprised that a woman as skinny as me could have saggy tits. Must be my age. He hadn’t minded at first, but now—”

  “Who cares what he said?” Garman staggered toward his wife, eyes wide. “How could you do this? How could you—?”

  “Puh-leese.” She laughed bitterly. “Don’t you dare. You think I’ve forgotten your affairs over the years? What you put me through—”

  “But that was a long time ago. You said you still—”

  Elaine gave him a boozy smile. “I lied.”

  Polk held up a hand. “All right, folks, it’s time we took this show downtown.”

  Elaine took another step back, stumbled. “I’m not goin’ anywhere…” She struggled to right herself.

  Garman turned to Polk. “For God’s sake, Sergeant, you can see she’s in no condition to—”

  Polk smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll drive.”

  “To hell with all of you!” Elaine suddenly shouted, voice laced with contempt. “You think I’m stupid? All I did was sleep with the bastard. That doesn’t mean I killed him. You can’t prove anything. It’s Lucy’s word against mine. A mental patient with a coke habit. Christ!”

  I knew she was right. Other than Lucy’s testimony, the case against Elaine Garman was as circumstantial as the one against Nancy Mendors. Even if Lucy was telling the truth about the drugs she got for causing the diversion at Ten Oaks, any evidence of it had long since gone up her nose.

  There had been just enough for me to convince Polk, and for Biegler to get a warrant. But without more…

  Nobody said anything for a long moment. Then, forcefully, Lowrey walked over and took hold of Elaine’s wrist. “Come on, Mrs. Garman. Let’s get you dressed.”

  Elaine Garman looked at Lowrey as though seeing her for the first time. “I love your lip shade. What is it?”

  Lowrey just shook her head and started guiding their suspect out of the room, toward the rear hall. Meanwhile, Polk sat wearily on the arm of the sofa.

  “Don’t take all night,” he called after them.

  I watched Bert Garman sink into a chair in the corner. He looked like he’d aged a year in a half hour.

  Polk cleared his throat. “We got a search warrant, too, Dr. Garman. Team’s gonna be here any minute.”

  “I suppose you’re looking for the weapon,” Garman said quietly. “You won’t find anything. We don’t keep a gun in this house.”

  “Never know what a search will turn up,” Polk said.

  I gave him a look. “Give us a minute, will ya?”

  Polk shrugged, and lumbered to his feet. Then, without a word, he stepped out onto the front porch.

  I took his place on the sofa arm. “Listen, Bert, I’m sorry about all this.”

  “Me, too. Sorry, but not surprised.” Garman sighed. “I mean, the police thinking Elaine killed Brooks—that’s just ludicrous. But their affair…I knew she was seeing someone. I could feel it. I even accused her a few times, but she always denied it.”

  “Did you suspect Brooks?”

  “I’d heard a rumor he was sleeping with Nancy, but—hell, if I believed every rumor at Ten Oaks…Funny, but Elaine always seemed so dismissive of Brooks. Disdainful. I remember one time, after a faculty function, all she could talk about was how arrogant he was…”

  Bert looked down at his hands. “I’ve been a real idiot, eh? So blind. So wrapped up in clinic business…” He paused. “You know, if Elaine did kill Brooks, it must mean she really loved him. That it wasn’t just some sleazy affair. He’d hurt her so badly she…”

  He stood up then. “Dan, despite everything, I’ve still got to help her.”

  Muffled footsteps made us look up in tandem. Lowrey was leading Elaine back into the room. Garman’s wife had changed into a stylish pants suit and low heels.

  “I’ll need a coat,” she ordered.

  Lowrey looked at Garman, who went quickly to the hall closet and returned with a sable coat. Elaine took it from him before he could help her put it on.

  Polk came in then from the front door. I heard the sounds of a vehicle pulling up to the curb outside.

  “That’s CSU,” he said, handing Garman the search warrant. Bert didn’t even look at it.

  “Any damages to my house, I’ll sue the whole damn city,” Elaine Garman said. “Bert, for once in your life, be a man and keep an eye on these pricks. Pretend you give a shit about anything other than yourself.”

  Bert just stood there, face drained of life.

  “Any time, folks,” Polk said sharply.

  Lowrey gripped Elaine’s elbow more tightly than was probably necessary and led her out the door.

  ***

  It was a good forty minutes after midnight when I finally arrived at Casey’s place. I’d waited with Bert until the search was finished at his house, and he’d left to be with his wife at the police station. Then I’d headed up the Parkway to Casey’s condo, remembering to stop for some champagne.

  I also remembered the bucket of ice.

  Chapter Forty-nine

  It was 4 a.m., and Casey had made scrambled eggs. As she brought over a pitcher of juice, light from the kitchen lamp highlighted the fullness of her naked breasts.

  We sat across from each other at the small breakfast table. Hair wild from bed, skin burnished, she looked so fresh, so beautiful. I told her so.

  “That’s just your cock talking,” she said. Something shaded her brief smile.

  I looked at her. “Don’t…”

  “No. Don’t you…” Her eyes were cool. “I’m happy just being the best fuck you ever had…or ever will. Let’s not get stupid about it.”

  “Yeah?” I held her gaze, insistent. “What happened to the woman who took my head off because I didn’t tell her I was going to Banford?”

  She laughed easily. “You want consistent, get yourself another girl.”

  She leaned up and gave me a quick kiss, then sat back and began pouring honey from a little plastic bear onto some toast. End of discussion.

  “In other news,” she said wryly, “Leland called me earlier tonight about Elaine Garman. Though it’ll be a miracle if it gets to trial. Not without the gun.”

  “It’s a stronger case than they have against Nancy. Polk said they were dropping the charges against her.”

  “Thanks to you.” She took a sip of coffee. “You make a stand-up ex-lover, Danny boy. Good to know.”

  I let that one go. “Any follow-up on the Clarksons?”

  “Oh, yeah. Poor Karen was telling the truth. They’
re siblings, all right. Peter went to work for Miles Wingfield while still in junior high. Some kind of intern program in business. Kid sister Sheila came along, too, though details about their job descriptions are pretty sketchy.”

  “Any family?”

  “Their parents died when they were just kids. They were raised by an aunt.”

  “Where?”

  “Palo Alto, California. You figure Wingfield latched onto them when he moved there?”

  “Fits the pattern,” I said. “Abusers tend to like their victims to be of a certain age. Once they grow up, the abuser loses interest.”

  “You don’t think he’s having sex with them now?”

  “I can’t know for sure. People change. Even abusers. But I’d guess not.”

  “Then why keep these two around? In his employ?”

  “Maybe just because he can. He still exercises powerful control over them. I saw it myself in his hotel room.”

  I stirred. I still ached from my struggle with Richie Ellner, and going a couple rounds with Casey tonight hadn’t helped. Though it was a small price to pay.

  She saw me wince, and smiled. “You okay, tiger?”

  “I’ll live.” I decided to change the subject. “I hear Wingfield’s due back in town this morning. Then it’s more hearings on that Cochran merger. Busy man.”

  “Not busy enough. Lee and the mayor have been summoned to another papal audience at nine. Wingfield’s turning up the heat.”

  I had a thought. “Maybe we should turn it up on him.”

  She glanced up. “How?”

  “Let me work on it.”

  Casey nodded, and took a big bite of toast. A drop of honey fell between her breasts. She and I both watched its slow, glistening slide toward her belly.

  “Hey, Doc.” She looked up. “You wanna get that?”

  ***

  I left Casey’s place an hour after sunrise, but already the day was bright as a new dime. This early on a Sunday, the Parkway was practically empty, so in less than twenty minutes I was heading up Mt. Washington, toward home. And, I promised myself, about a gallon of fresh coffee.