“After taking that hit, I bet you wish I had.” Shannon helped him to his feet and thanked the twenty-something guy who’d probably broken three of Leigh’s ribs on the edge of the step.
She marched Leigh back toward his spot on the patio at Peet’s.
He sat down in his chair with a thud and a groan like a cat in heat.
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Shannon said.
“Are you all right, Shannon?” Marcie had her taser in hand.
“I’d be better if he sat and waited for a minute like a good boy.” She turned back to Leigh. “You realize that if you hadn’t taken off, you’d probably be sitting in the backseat of my Jeep on our way back to Cook County so we could release you for good, right?”
“You were going to let me go?”
“I’ve been trying to all morning,” Shannon said. “But I had to get Marcie on my side first.”
“Why? If you think I’m innocent, isn’t that enough?”
Did he have to argue every point with her? Shannon began to realize how living with this man would drive anyone nuts.
“It’s a professional courtesy, moron. Plus, if there’s unanimous agreement by both detectives working the case that you’re not a suspect, then there’s almost no chance of something falling back on you after we let you go.”
Marcie stood over him with her arms folded and a look on her face like she’d been up all night waiting for Leigh to come home past his curfew.
“We have to take him back now,” Marcie said. “I won’t be party to another escape attempt.”
“There’s one last thing I’d like to talk to Leigh about before we do.”
“No.” Marcie picked up her purse. “This has gone on for too long. Unless you want a fugitive running through the streets of your neighborhood, Shannon, I suggest you follow me back to the car, and you bring Mr. Corvath with you. I’ll be glad to have him back in Supervisor Nolan’s custody.”
“Just like that?”
Marcie peered down at Shannon, then turned her back and walked toward the patio’s exit.
“Marcie?” Shannon yanked Leigh up by the handcuffs and forced him to walk in front of her. “Hold on a minute—I haven’t said why I did all of this.”
Not that Marcie cared anymore. She left the patio, and marched down Halsted Street toward Shannon’s Jeep. What did she expect to do? Sit in the car and pout until Shannon came by and apologized for letting Leigh out of jail to take them for a drive?
Hmm. Maybe that’d work.
“Would you let me explain why I did all of this?” Shannon prodded Leigh forward. He was dragging his feet.
“She doesn’t care,” he said. “Nobody cares.”
“She did care until you decided you wanted to go for a quick jog.” Shannon pushed him forward again. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“I just want to go home.” His voice cracked.
“Are you crying?”
He shook his head, but yeah, he was crying.
“Shut up and walk,” Shannon said.
Up ahead, Marcie turned into the parking garage nearby, then walked over to the Jeep and hoisted herself into it. She had her purse on her lap like a girl who’d just been on a bad date.
“There’s a reason why I did all of this.” Shannon pulled the driver’s seat forward and helped Leigh stuff his long legs into the back seat. He wasn’t driving this time.
“Oh?” The way she had her fingers strangling her purse strap, it was clear Marcie wasn’t interested in hearing about it.
“I wanted to see how he drove.” Shannon started the Jeep, put it in gear, carefully let the clutch up, and headed for the exit. “That was all.”
“And what conclusions did you find from that? That Navy Pier looks pretty from Lake Shore? That coffee tastes better when you have a suspected murderer on hand? That you’re smart enough to convince a CPD commander to let said murderer out of jail under your surveillance?” Marcie spouted a disgusted breath. “You’d better pray that none of those people who saw him run have a mind to file a complaint.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” They exited the parking garage and turned onto Halsted.
“Oh, you’re more intelligent than that—I know you are.”
“Let’s say I’m not.” Shannon had to fight her urge to yell. “Spell it out for me.”
Marcie ground her teeth.
“Well, come on, Marcie, you know so much about everything—you tell me why I should be worried.”
“I don’t want to get into it right now.”
“No, you should. I insist.”
“I shouldn’t.”
Shannon yanked the handbrake on the Jeep. It died in the middle of Halsted, and someone honked at her.
“Go around!” She screeched loud enough to break the windshield.
The car went around. While it did, she glared at Marcie, waiting for her to cough up whatever it was she hinted at.
“I don’t do well with indirectness,” Shannon said. “It’s not something I can tolerate. So, why don’t you just come out and say what you want to say?”
Marcie curled her lip and shook her head. Guilt flashed across her face just long enough to cover up her anger, then subsided into disbelief. “I took this case to keep an eye on you.”
“No, I asked for your help because you had inside information on Jennica Ausdall, remember?”
“Shannon….” There was that pitiful look from Marcie again. “Everyone knows you’ve been in trouble since the Isabella Arroz case—you haven’t been yourself. You’ve been sloppier with your work, you’ve been short-tempered. And what’s this I hear about you writing letters to her?”
How did she know about that? Did someone at the office see her doing it?
“That’s none of your business.”
“Of course.” Marcie held her hands up in a plea for clemency. “But would you agree that since that case, you haven’t been quite on top of your game?”
“I’ve had a bad streak,” Shannon said. “But that doesn’t mean I’m any less committed to this job—to finding out the truth behind Jennica Ausdall’s death.”
“Of course not. But I’m not sure Sergeant Boyd sees it that way. I’ve seen detectives wash out, and well, I think you might have taken an unnecessary risk here.” Marcie thumbed back at Leigh, who appeared to have sunk into complete resignation about his fate.
“There’s a reason he’s here.”
“I know, dear, but consider what you would’ve done in the past. Would you have done something as drastic as letting a suspected murderer out of jail or would you have taken your time so that you could conduct solid police work, then make your decision from there?”
“I probably would’ve slowed things down, but it’s not like I brought him out of jail for fun. It was the only way I could confirm something I heard from an eyewitness at the scene of Jennica’s murder.”
Marcie smiled at her, though she was clearly exhausted with Shannon. “And what was it you heard?”
“Would you mind if I asked Leigh one more thing?”
“If you feel you must.”
Shannon turned to Leigh. He sat with his head back, his eyes turned skyward. She slapped him on the knee. He popped up.
“When you had your Stingray, did anyone else ever drive it?”
He blinked at her. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Leigh’s eyes drifted between Shannon and Marcie. His brain must’ve whirred inside his head as he tried to figure out which answer would keep him from checking back into his cell again.
“A buddy of mine drove it once, but every time he shifted—”
“—the car stalled.” Shannon said.
He looked surprised. “Yeah. That’s right.”
“The clutch is going bad, isn’t it? Just like my Jeep?”
“It felt pretty much the same.”
“Which is why you were able to drive my Jeep without much trouble today.”
“I guess.”
Shannon raised her eyebrows at Marcie. “If I put you behind the wheel of this car,” she patted the dashboard, “you’d probably have trouble keeping the engine going, which isn’t your fault. The clutch is going bad, and you aren’t used to it. But I bet if I let you practice driving it, you’d get it down like nothing was ever wrong. You’d probably never stall, never miss a shift—nothing like that.”
“Probably.” Marcie shrugged. “What does that have to do with Leigh?”
Shannon reached for her bag. She had to stretch as far as she possibly could, maneuvering her arm past Leigh’s spindly legs, but she hooked her bag’s strap with a crooked finger and pulled it to her lap.
Inside the bag, Shannon found her pocket notebook. She flipped to the page where she’d written some initial notes about Jennica Ausdall’s murder scene.
“Read that out loud.” She thrust the notebook at Marcie.
Marcie took it. Her eyes pinched together as she deciphered Shannon’s hurried note taking. “Let me see… ‘DVE: the car stalled multiple times.’ Is that what you’re looking for?”
“Sure is.” Shannon took the notebook back, closed it, then returned it to its rightful spot in her bag.
“Is DVE one of the witnesses?”
“Dakota Van Etten was another mom working with Jennica on the Northern Cardinal Homecoming. She saw Leigh’s Corvette Stingray stall out twice right after it had run Jennica over.”
By looking at her, Shannon could tell that a sudden appreciation for the point of this whole mess had finally taken root in Marcie. “Because the driver tried to switch gears.”
“You got it,” Shannon said. “Now combine that with what my informant said about Robert Norwaldo selling the car off to a third party, and the idea that Leigh killed Jennica is seriously called into doubt—don’t you think?”
“I suppose it seems questionable.”
Shannon looked back at Leigh.
His face had lit up with excitement. “Does this mean you’re letting me go?”
“Does it?” She looked back to Marcie.
She pinched her face together—the same way she would when she’d come across a particularly hard clue in her crossword puzzle. But she’d figure this problem out, and she’d get it right—she had to.
“I think it does.”
Leigh tried to stand up in the backseat, but fell back on his butt. The fall didn’t stop him from howling with excitement. A tiny smile crept onto Shannon’s face. It felt good to see him go free—and, to a lesser extent, that she had been vindicated.
She started the Jeep again. “Let’s get you back to county, Leigh. It’ll take a little time for them to process you.”
Before she put it in gear, she felt Leigh’s huge hands engulf the top of her head. He planted a dry kiss in the middle of her hair. “Thank you, Detective!”
Shannon rolled her eyes while he kissed Marcie’s cheek.
“Thank you, both of you! I can’t believe I’ll actually get to go home.”
If Shannon were him, she wouldn’t be so excited about returning to either that empty apartment or Jennica’s home.
“You should stay with your father,” she said. “Your parents seem like nice people.”
“I plan on it,” Leigh said. “No way in hell am I going anywhere else.”
“Good.” Shannon put the Jeep in gear and moved with the flow of traffic again. “I’ll want you to stay available for more questioning too.”
“More? I thought I wasn’t a suspect anymore.”
“No,” Shannon said. “You’re not. But you know the man who is.”
“Gregory?” He knew the answer right away.
“That’s right. Gregory Wendt.”
CHAPTER 33
The Cook County Jail hadn’t been upended by Leigh Corvath’s coffee run. It was still hunkered down in the same spot, wearing the same chain-link and barbed-wire shroud as when they left.
Shannon pulled up to the parking garage, flashed her star at the attendant, and found a nice spot near the front. “You ready, Leigh?”
He looked ready to jump out of his skin if she kept him waiting a half second longer than she had to. “I’m ready to take a shower by myself again,” he said. “Can I take the handcuffs off?”
She hopped out and slid the driver’s seat forward. “Soon enough.”
Shannon and Marcie guided Leigh into the building and over to the processing area. The guards took him into their custody while Shannon and Marcie explained why Leigh was to be let go.
With that done, they were told to take a seat. The warden would have to make a couple phone calls and sign a few documents, but Leigh Corvath would probably be released within the hour.
Both detectives waited together on a tan, vinyl couch—the type with cushions that practically screamed anytime either of them moved a muscle.
It wasn’t long before Leigh came bouncing out of the security door separating the jail from the waiting room. He looked terrible. Tired, dirty, wearing the same pilled shirt Shannon had arrested him in, but the guy smiled like he’d found a winning Lotto ticket under a bus seat.
“How’s it feel to be free again?” Shannon asked.
“I should be doubled over in pain from my broken rib, but I just don’t care.”
“Give it some time.” Shannon motioned toward the door. “I’ve got to take Marcie back to the station, but if you want a ride back home, I’d be happy to give you one.”
“I’ll drive,” Leigh said.
“Not this time.”
The three of them walked out, the automatic doors opening ahead of them. They stepped out into the garage.
Leigh huffed in the air like he hadn’t just been outside an hour ago. “I was thinking about something,” he said.
“Oh yeah?” Shannon played with the keys in her pocket.
“I know how you can prove Gregory paid for the car.”
“Do you?”
He kicked a pebble across the parking garage. “Well, maybe. I dunno, it probably wouldn’t work. It’s a long shot.”
“I don’t know why I’d stop taking long shots now.” She smiled at Leigh. “How can I prove Gregory paid to have your Stingray released?”
“Well, he’s kind of a … he’s a detailed guy, you know?”
“I guessed,” Shannon said. “His pocket square could’ve been used to make perfect right angles.”
“He likes to keep track of things. He couldn’t keep his shoes tied if he didn’t write down the exact time he laced them up. I think the guy even kept a calendar on what clothes he’d wear on what day.”
“What kind of psycho does that?” Shannon said in Marcie’s direction.
Marcie scrunched her nose at Shannon.
“Right?” Leigh said. “One night, I remember him and Jennica really going at each other. It started off as a phone call that Jennica wouldn’t take in the same room as me, but before I knew it, Gregory was pounding on the front door, screaming about how he had to talk to her, so I got the hell out of the way and let him do it.
“Anyway, they went into Jen’s office, and closed the door. I couldn’t hear it all, but it sounded like they were fighting about him writing too many things down. Now, I’m not the smartest guy who ever lived, but I think he was writing down things about the dirty side of their business.”
Shannon about tripped over herself when he said that. She couldn’t believe it. “You think Gregory Wendt kept a ledger detailing the illegal money that came his way?” she asked.
Even Marcie looked shocked by their good luck.
“I bet he keeps track of what he spends, too,” Leigh said. “He probably has what he paid for my car in there.”
That only left one question. “Do you know where he keeps it?”
“That’s the rub.”
“You don’t know where it is?”
Leigh scratched the back of his neck. “It’s probably in his office.”
“Probably?”
“I’ve never actually
seen it—I’ve only heard Jennica talk a little about it—but I know he keeps stuff like that there.”
“So, where’s Gregory’s office? In his club?”
“In the basement,” Leigh said. “But it’s not that simple.”
“That sounds simple.”
“Well, it’s not, because the basement is where he hides his casino.”
A hidden casino? That raised Shannon’s eyebrow.
“So, you’re telling me that not only is Gregory Wendt responsible for a murder, as well as the fixing of several athletic competitions to benefit his illegal gambling ring—he actually has a literal casino in the basement of The Aces Club?”
Leigh nodded.
Shannon slapped him on the back so hard he nearly spit. “Have I told you how much I love you?” she said. “Marcie, can you get to work on a warrant after I drop you off?”
“Sure thing.” She was probably just as happy to get this whole mess behind them as Shannon was.
“Well, there’s one thing,” Leigh said. “You can’t let him know you’re coming.”
“We have to let him know at some point,” Shannon said. “That’s how a search works. We have to identify ourselves as CPD when we hand out the warrant.”
“See, that’s what I’m saying,” Leigh said. “When you guys come knocking, it’ll spook him, and I’ve seen Gregory get spooked before. He’s going to stall you long enough to get rid of anything he thinks could be trouble—including that ledger.”
That would pose a problem. They could grab someone from an undercover unit to go into Gregory Wendt’s Aces Club, but they had to get the warrant first.
“We’ll figure out a way to get it before he knows we’re there,” Shannon said. “Don’t worry.”
CHAPTER 34
By the time Shannon dropped Marcie off at District 12, then Leigh at his parents’ place, then made her way back home, her left shoulder was stiff as concrete.
The sun rested on the top of the skyscrapers to the south and all the barflies buzzed out to one spot or another in Wrigleyville. There wasn’t a Cubs game tonight, but in a city like Chicago, people didn’t need an excuse to drink. The lights in the Wrigley bars stayed on until 3 a.m. every night.
What a delightful thing to come home to.
Chicago Broken: Detective Shannon Rourke Book 2 Page 17