“Small discrepancies,” O’Hara said as he handed the notebook back to me, “but discrepancies nonetheless.”
I took the book from him and put it back in my pocket. “Discrepancies that it sounds like Rachel might be able to answer for us. At least I hope she can.”
I started up the engine and pulled back out into traffic. “She’s the only lead we’ve got.” I saw a clear opening in the middle lane, and fed it some gas.
RACHEL’S DREAM
I WASN’T surprised to see Detective Steve Hauser already waiting for us in front of the Twelfth Precinct station house. Word had it that Hauser had become Carmichael’s right hand since I’d been put out to pasture. Since Carmichael couldn’t keep an eye on us personally, sticking us with Hauser was the next best thing.
Hauser was younger than me by a few years. Taller and stockier, too. He kept his hair close-cropped like mine, but his was blond and he had more of it. He had a rare combination for one of Carmichael’s boys: he was a tough guy with a good head on his shoulders. A thoughtful thug with a badge. Carmichael loved oddities.
I gave Hauser the high sign as the three of us got out of the car, but Hauser ignored it. He’d never been one for pleasantries.
“Chief called,” Hauser said. “Told me to extend you every courtesy once you got here, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. Didn’t sound too happy about it, either.”
I didn’t expect him to be. “I guess he told you to shadow us every step of the way, too.”
“He told me to extend you every courtesy,” Hauser repeated. “And that includes being available to assist you at a moment’s notice.”
I couldn’t help but smile because I knew it would annoy him. “Good boy. How about you start being helpful by taking us to the two people O’Hara had run over here a few hours ago.”
Hauser led the way while O’Hara, Loomis and I followed him into the station house. The air was hotter and thicker inside. A sweat stain on the back of Hauser’s shirt looked something like a butterfly, which was the last thing I expected to see in a place like this.
“We got names on both of them,” Hauser yelled as we passed two women crying in Italian to the desk sergeant. “Rachel Rosen and her brother, Sol.”
“You mean that ape who attacked me is her brother?” I asked.
“That’s what he says,” Hauser replied. “He’s been apologizing to everyone in earshot since we brought him in. Says he didn’t know you were a cop. Says he slugged you because he thought you were the guy who’s been ruining his sister’s life, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I planned on asking him what he was babbling about, but when the Chief called and said they were tied in with the Van Dorn thing, I figured you’d handle it.”
“You figured right. What about the girl?”
“Nothing. Hasn’t said a damned thing, and judging by the way she’s acting, I’d say she’s a dope-fiend.”
Loomis perked up. “What makes you say that?”
“She’s got all the signs,” Hauser told him. “Looks like hell, pale, shakes pretty bad. She even asked for a blanket, if you can believe it.” I watched sweat streak down the side of his face. It was at least ninety-five humid degrees in the station house. “Only a junkie would be cold in this kind of weather. We were going to bring her to the hospital, but they’re full up on account of this damned heat. We’ve got a doctor from the neighborhood coming over to take a look at her just to be safe, but she doesn’t look too good.”
Hauser kept talking as we took our time getting to the top of the stairs. Given the heat, no one was in a real hurry. “Matron’s been with her since we brought her in. She cuffed your girl to the chair on account of her shaking so bad, but the girl hardly noticed. She just sits there, whimpering every once in a while, staring off into space.”
When we got outside the interrogation rooms, Loomis asked, “How do you want to handle it, Charlie?”
“I’ll take a run at the girl. Then we’ll see if we have to bother questioning the brother.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Loomis asked. “No offense, Charlie, but this girl sounds sick and scared. And now she just might be an accomplice, based on what we found in Jack’s notebook. Maybe she needs a gentle touch, gentler than you’re used to.”
Floyd tried a smile, but it didn’t look good on him. “We might only get one chance at getting her to open up. If you push her too hard, you might spook her into clamming up. Why don’t you let me take a run at her first?”
I didn’t know if Loomis was trying to insult me. I didn’t care, either. I took the notebook from him and put it in my back pocket. “Thanks, but I’ll handle the girl. Alone.” I could tell Loomis didn’t like it, but he didn’t have to. I was in charge, not him.
To O’Hara and Hauser, I said, “I want all three of you listening in while I question the girl. Knock if you think I should ask her anything.”
“You’ll find her in Room One with the matron.” Hauser nodded at my gun. “But lose the hardware first. Department regulations.”
I took my .38 from my shoulder holster and handed it to him. “Happy?”
Hauser pocketed my gun. “Not yet. I’ll take the sap and the knife, too, Charlie. And the drop piece on your ankle.”
I smiled at him as I handed it all over. “Carmichael told you a lot, didn’t he?”
“Not everything,” Hauser said as he pocketed my whole stash. “Found some things out for myself. You know how the Chief likes his boys to be thorough.”
I tried to think of a snappy comeback. I just handed him the .22 I kept on my ankle instead.
ROOM ONE wasn’t any better or worse than any other sweatboxes I’d seen. Four gray, scuffed walls. No windows. A musty smell, like a mix of dead mice and fear. A couple of creaky wooden chairs. A wooden table that had more nicks and dings in it than you could count. A couple of naked yellow bulbs high up in the ceiling made the whole room look a lot more depressing than it already was. The two-way mirror on the wall wasn’t fooling anyone, but then again, it wasn’t supposed to.
The matron they’d posted to guard Rachel had five inches and about fifty pounds on me. She was a ruddy, stonefaced bruiser with a thin line for a mouth and mean eyes. Her square jaw looked like it could take a better punch than mine could.
Rachel looked worse than when I’d seen her back at the apartment. She was slumped forward in her chair, staring down at the table as if she might find something in the wood swirls and gouges. Her dark, curly hair hung like a damp curtain in front of her face, hiding the swollen eyes and gaunt face I’d seen back at the apartment. Her left hand gripped the far edge of the table like her life depended on it.
She had a thin blanket around her shoulders, and her dirty white shirt looked like she’d sweat through it a few times. Her right hand was curved limp onto her lap, cuffed to the chair’s wooden arm. A small puddle of sweat had pooled on the table beneath her. I would’ve taken the blanket off her if she wasn’t shivering so damned much.
I’d seen dozens of dopers suffer like this. Their bodies crashed while the shit they’d poisoned themselves with left their system. But then I noticed her left arm didn’t have needle marks. Her right arm looked clean, too. She also could’ve sniffed it, or injected it elsewhere for all I knew, but most junkies weren’t that concerned about appearances.
Suddenly, Hauser’s doper angle didn’t fit so well. That — and the stuff Jack had written in his notebook — complicated things.
I threw my jacket across the back of a chair and sat on the edge of the table, I lit a Lucky, then slid the pack and matches across the table to Rachel.
The girl didn’t budge. She didn’t even flinch.
“I’m Detective Doherty. You might remember that we met back in Jack’s apartment a little while ago. I’d like to talk to you about a couple of things.”
The voice that came from behind that wet mess of hair was surprisingly strong and clear. “How do you know my name?”
“Same way I knew about
the apartment: Jack Van Dorn.” I waited for a reaction, but didn’t get one. I nodded toward the Luckies. “Light one up if you want.”
She didn’t even look at them. “Why did you arrest me? I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re not under arrest. You’re free to go whenever you want. But we’d appreciate it if you could answer a couple of questions first.”
Rachel jiggled her chained right wrist. In the close, humid room, it sounded like a ship’s anchor dropping. “Sure feels like I’m under arrest.”
The matron caught my eye and shook her head slowly. She wouldn’t unchain her and I wouldn’t ask her to.
“I’m sorry, Rachel, but that was done for your own protection.”
“Protection?” She laughed, and it wasn’t a nice laugh. “Protection from what?”
“From yourself, maybe. You’ve been sweating and shaking like a leaf since we brought you here, but you won’t tell anyone what’s wrong with you. What do you expect us to do?”
“I expect you to let me go. And I don’t want to answer any of your goddamned questions. Not about Jack, or about anything else.”
She was getting worked up, but I stayed calm. I took a long drag on my cigarette and let the smoke drift across the table towards her. “Why not? You don’t even know what I want to talk to you about. Or do you?”
I watched a quick shudder go through her. “I want a lawyer.”
I looked at the matron. “Now she wants a lawyer. Why would she need a lawyer if she’s done nothing wrong?”
Another shudder. Tiny blue veins in her hand swelled as she gripped the edge of the table. A few more drips of sweat hit the puddle on the table beneath her nose. “I told you that I want a lawyer. I’ve got a right to a lawyer.”
“A woman who knows her rights. I’m impressed.”
I couldn’t see it, but I could feel her looking at me from behind the hair in front of her face. “I don’t give a damn how impressed you are. I don’t give a damn about your questions, either. I just want my lawyer, and I want him now.”
I kept pushing. “What were you doing in Jack’s apartment, Rachel?”
“It’s not just his apartment. It’s my apartment, too.”
“Your name’s not on the lease. That makes it Jack’s apartment, and Jack’s alone.” I gave her a smile. “I’m not looking to give you a hard time over this, kid. Just tell me what you were doing there. Tell me why you were crying on the kitchen floor like that?”
“What do you care? Is it illegal now to cry in my own apartment?”
“But it’s not your—”
Rachel banged the table with her left hand. The matron came off the wall and clamped a thick hand on her thin shoulder.
Rachel shook. Not shiver like before, but really shook. Like something bottled up inside was coming to the surface. I hadn’t gotten to her yet, but I was damned close.
I couldn’t let up now. “What’s going on, Rachel? Why were you crying? Was it because of what happened to Jack? Is that it?”
Her shaking got worse. The matron looked at me, worried, but I ignored her.
Rachel said, “I want my lawyer.”
“I don’t blame you.” I took out Jack’s notebook and laid it on the table next to me so she could see it. “Nope, can’t say I blame you at all.”
Her shaking stopped as soon as she saw the notebook. “That’s… that’s Jack’s notebook. Where did you get it? You’re not supposed to read his things.”
“This?” I drummed my fingers on the cover of the notebook. “How do you know what this is? It could be mine, couldn’t it? All notebooks kind of look alike, don’t they?”
No answer.
“You’ve seen this notebook before, haven’t you, Rachel?”
Her head was tilted in the direction of the book and she was very still. I waited for her to say something, but she didn’t. I tried prodding her some more. “There something in here you don’t want me to read, isn’t there, Rachel? Something about Jack. About what happened to him.” I leaned in closer. “About your plan. Isn’t there, Rachel?”
Rachel tried to lunge at me, but the matron jerked her back down in the seat. Hard. Her shaking got worse and I thought she might be on the verge of a fit. The matron looked worried, too, but I was too close to stop now.
“Quit stalling and tell me what happened, Rachel. Things are going to keep getting worse until you come clean. Why were you in Jack’s apartment? Why were you crying on the kitchen floor? What happened?”
She threw her head up and her black hair went back as she screamed, “I’m pregnant, you stupid son of a bitch! I’m pregnant and I don’t know if I’m ever going to see Jack again!”
I looked at the two-way mirror, at O’Hara, Loomis and Hauser. My own surprised reflection gawked back at me.
The matron looked as surprised as I felt. She asked, “How far along are you?”
“What do you care?” Rachel sank back in her chair and her hair fell in front of her face again in thick, wet strands. “What difference does it make?”
The matron jerked her shoulder. “Damn it, how far along?”
“A month,” Rachel shrugged. “Maybe two… I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” the matron said. “Haven’t you been to see a doctor yet?”
Rachel gave something between a shrug and a nod as she dropped her head into her left hand. Whatever feeble dam she’d built in her mind finally broke and her tears came in full force.
I lowered my voice and spoke to the matron. “Hauser said he’s already got a doctor on the way to look at her. Why don’t you see if you can’t find out where he is?”
The matron left the room and closed the door behind her. I found my key and undid Rachel’s cuff myself.
She sat back in the chair and pulled her hair back behind her ears. Her sunken red eyes looked like they were probably blue. She had thin, almost delicate features and looked younger than I’d first thought. She was eighteen. Maybe twenty on the outside.
“Is that why you were crying in the apartment?” I asked her. “Because you’re pregnant.” She wiped the tears away from her cheeks with both hands. I would’ve given her a handkerchief if I’d had a dry one.
“My aunt’s some kind of a nursemaid,” Rachel said, “or at least she was back in the old country. I went to her when I realized I was… late.”
She looked embarrassed, so I said, “My wife and I have two daughters. I know how it goes.”
She went on, “The old bitch was supposed to keep her mouth shut, but she told my mother instead. My mother went hysterical and chased me out of the house. I didn’t really have anywhere else to go, so I went over to the apartment. I turned on the radio and that’s when I heard… what happened to him. I guess… I guess I just kind of broke down after that.”
I felt myself wincing as she spoke. “You got the best and worst news of your life all in one morning. I’d probably cry on my kitchen floor myself.”
She sniffed back more tears. “My mother must’ve told my brother about the baby. He probably came over to the apartment looking to beat up Jack for getting me pregnant. He must’ve thought you were Jack.”
“Your brother’s fine, by the way,” I told her. “He’s in the next room being questioned by my partner.”
Rachel shrugged. “Him and his bullshit bourgeois sensibility. He could use a good beating now and then. Knock some sense into him.”
“We could all use that every once in a while.” I tapped the notebook. “Talk to me about some of the stuff I read in here.”
She looked at the notebook, then at me. “That’s Jack’s private notebook. He was always writing in it, but he never let me see what was in it.”
“The last time he wrote in this book was a couple of weeks ago. And he wrote about you, and him. And his sister, Jessica. And Philadelphia, too.”
Whatever color that had returned to her face disappeared again. “That… that… was nothing.”
“It sounded like some
thing to me,” I said. “In fact, it sounded exactly like the way the kidnappers took Jack. Right down to having Jessica drop off the ransom money.” I saved the worst for last. “Which is probably what got her killed.”
Rachel’s eyes grew wider than I’d thought possible. “She’s dead? Jessica’s… dead?”
I’d been lied to enough in my life to know the truth when I saw it. I was seeing it now, but I had to be sure. “Guess you weren’t counting on that, were you?”
The shaking started again, only harder this time. “Counting? Counting on what?”
She started to gag and I looked for a wastebasket in case she vomited, but there was nothing in the room. Department regulations. She pitched to one side and got sick on the floor. I went to hold her head up, to keep her from choking, but there was no need. It wound up being dry-heaves more than anything.
Rachel sat back in the chair and looked even worse than before, if that was possible.
Loomis slipped into the room with a glass of water. I took it from him and blocked his way inside. He didn’t belong in there. He got the hint and backed outside.
I handed Rachel the water and took my seat back on the table. Rachel’s hands shook as she drank from the glass with both hands. Water spilled all over the front of her shirt and onto the blanket.
When she was done, I took the glass from her before she dropped it. “Oh God,” she whispered. “Oh God. How did this happen? What the hell is going on?”
I didn’t see any reason to soft-sell it to her. She was in a hell of a mess and she deserved to know it. “Jessica’s dead and Jack’s missing. His family wants answers, and by what I read in Jack’s notebook, the only one who can give them answers is you.”
Rachel dry-heaved again, but it was mostly water. I knew she was pregnant and I knew she was scared, but I couldn’t let up. “The quicker you tell me what’s going on here, Rachel, the better for all of us. You included.”
I thought she was about to get sick again, but she didn’t. She took a deep breath and started in. “Jack isn’t the man you probably think he is.”
“Few people are. Tell me what you mean.”
Slow Burn Page 10