Cold Blue Midnight Read online

  She knew they were looking for something to tie her to the murder. Mitch had once told her that the police frequently spent a lot of time going through garbage cans and dumpsters during the course of murder investigations. Something reliable often turned up.

  The male officer found something.

  His partner brought the light in closer.

  He dug deeper.

  Then he lifted something up for inspection.

  Even from here, she recognized it. Her electric-blue, sandwashed blouse. But now there were dark stains all over it.

  The officer folded it and put it in a large clear evidence bag.

  Then he went back to the dumpster.

  Behind her, Jill heard, 'What's going on?'

  'Police,' she said softly.

  Then Mitch stood next to her, smelling of sleep, his big hands on her thin shoulders. He felt warm and safe.

  The female officer went back to shining her beam straight down inside the dumpster.

  This took a few minutes longer than the blouse had, but eventually the male officer fished out another piece of her clothingher blue wraparound skirt. From this distance, Jill was unable to tell if the same dark splotches stained the skirt.

  The officer placed the blouse carefully inside another evidence bag.

  'Is that yours?' Mitch asked.

  'Yes,' Jill said.

  At this point, the female officer returned to the patrol car and made a call on the two-way. Her colleague came over and listened to her talk. When she'd finished, obviously having received instructions of some kind, the two officers started walking up and down the ancient brick alley, deep in shadow and lined with dumpsters and stoops, shining their lights along the ground. They might have been astronauts on the moon on some arcane mission that civilians couldn't comprehend.

  But Jill comprehended all right: they'd found her electric-blue blouse and her royal-blue skirt, and now they were looking for more evidence.

  'He's already decided that I killed Eric. Sievers, I mean.'

  'I didn't say he made his mind up that fast, Jill. He's a very competent cop.'

  'They found my blouse and skirt in the dumpster.'

  'I know, but'

  'I think there was blood all over the blouse. There may have been some on the skirt, too. This is crazy, Mitch. I didn't wear either that blouse or skirt tonight. Somebody's trying to make it look as if I killed Eric.'

  'What did you wear?'

  She told him.

  'Did anybody see you in that outfit?'

  'I wore a long coat. They couldn't see what I had on.'

  'Not even the skirt?'

  'The coat's a lot longer than the skirt.'

  'Let's just go back to sleep. I'll talk to Sievers in the morning.'

  'Should I get a lawyer?'

  'It probably wouldn't hurt.' He sighed. 'That isn't exactly what you wanted to hear, was it?'

  'No.'

  She looked out. They were working the far end of the alley now, their beams faint as lightning bugs in the gloom.

  'Still there.'

  'He'll probably put some more people on it tomorrow. I want to work on it all I can but I'm on the Allbright case full-timeyou know, the socialite murder. Sievers is getting a lot of heat about it.'

  'I don't understand why they're doing this.'

  He frowned. 'A suspect's residence or place of employment is important to check out.'

  '''Suspect." Boy, that has a nasty ring, doesn't it?' She hesitated. 'I didn't think things like this actually happened to people like me.'

  'Jill, nothing has happened to you. At least, not so far. That's what you've got to keep in mind.'

  'It's just been routine?'

  'Pretty much.'

  'Including my blouse in the dumpster?'

  Even in the darkness she could see that he averted his eyes.

  'We'll have to see about that. I'll check with Sievers first thing in the morning.'

  'I'm trying not to be scared, Mitch.'

  'Sleep will help.'

  'I can't sleep. I'm going to get up and put on some coffee.' She closed her eyes momentarily. 'Tell me again not to be scared, Mitch.'

  'Don't be scared.'

  'I'm glad you came over tonight.'

  'So am I. This'll all work out, Jill. I promise.'

  'You and me or Eric's murder?'

  'Both.'

  'I wish I felt guiltier.'

  'About Eric?'

  'Uh-huh.'

  'Sometimes you're numb for a while.'

  'I guess I was that way about Peter. After the execution, I mean.'

  'Try not to think about that tonight.'

  'Blue skies and butterflies? You know how you say that's all I should worry about.'

  'Blue skies and butterflies. That's all that should be in your head.'

  'I really didn't kill him,' Jill said.

  'I know.'

  'Even if that was blood on my blouse.'

  'I know.'

  'Oh Mitch, I don't know how to deal with any of this at all. I can't keep second-guessing everything I say.'

  'That's what lawyers are for.'

  She laughed. 'I knew they served a purpose. So that's it, eh?'

  'You know Deborah Douglas, right?'

  'Did a portrait of her last year.'

  'She's a very good criminal attorney. Call her in the morning.'

  'Mitch?'

  'Yes.'

  'Do you think I can convince Sievers I'm innocent?'

  'Absolutely.'

  But the unspoken truth was that she didn't believe that, and Mitch probably didn't, either.

  Then she set about the difficult task of filling her mind with blue skies and butterflies as she went into the kitchen and made coffee.

  CHAPTER 47

  A city councilman had paid an early visit to Lieutenant Sievers and was discussing something at length inside the Lieutenant's office.

  Mitch could see the two men sitting on either side of the desk, talking. Every few minutes, the councilmanHank O'Mally was his namewould shove a document at the Lieutenant and then the Lieutenant would shove it right back.

  'This could go on for a while,' one of the detectives said to Mitch. 'O'Mally's trying to get this constituent's charges dropped.'

  'What'd he do?'

  'Allegedly raped his fourteen-year-old babysitter. O'Mally comes up here every couple of days.' The detective winked at Mitch. 'The constituent must really have somethin' on O'Mally.'

  Mitch smiled, nodded. This was a daily occurrence, somebody with power (real or imaginary) coming up here and trying, unsuccessfully, to get Lieutenant Sievers to drop some charge or other. Sievers was a great cop, liked and admired by all the men and women in the department. Wayne Sievers was middle-aged, a great racquetball player, and had lived for many years with a man who was obviously his lover. But that was nobody's business. Sievers didn't ask them about their sex-lives and they didn't ask him. He was a damned good cop and that was all that mattered.

  Mitch watched the day begin as he sat nervously at his desk, waiting his chance with Sievers. Roll call over, the sixteen detectives filling the sixteen desks that were sprawled across the big dusty room now worked the phones, lining up witnesses and suspects to hit for information on their various cases.

  O'Mally didn't wrap up for another twenty minutes.

  When Lieutenant Sievers' door finally came open, O'Mally, a lean man in the expensive gray suit of a banker, was saying. 'He's done a lot for this community, Lieutenant and this girl well, she isn't exactly from a real good family.'

  'That's supposed to convince me she didn't get raped, is itthat she isn't from a real good family?'

  'No, but it does bring her motives into question.'

  'Oh yeah?'

  O'Mally sighed, a thirtyish man with the faint air of weariness that touches all public officials after a few years. 'I think so. Here's a girl who hasn't had much in life. She sees the nice home he lives in, the nice car he drives her home in
… and she gets resentful.'

  'So she accuses him of rape?'

  'That's how I see it.' O'Mally put out his hand. 'I hope you'll give it a little more thought.'

  Lieutenant Sievers frowned. 'I just wish she'd gotten in here sooner. Too late for any kind of DNA evidence or anything like that.'

  'I'm not even sure the DA'll want to press charges.'

  'No?' Lieutenant Sievers said, irritated. 'You talk to him, did you?'

  O'Mally's cheeks turned red. 'I just meant that he tends not to go ahead unless a case is very strong'

  Lieutenant Sievers was still angry. 'You leave the DA to me, all right, O'Mally?'

  'Yessir.'

  'Now get the hell out of here.'

  O'Mally looked as if he wanted to protest at the Lieutenant's manner but then he thought better of it. He nodded to the Lieutenant and left.

  'Jerk,' Sievers said to O'Mally's back. He was talking to Mitch. 'O'Mally wants me to drop the charges because this guy's a good friend of the Cardinal's and used to be some kind of Catholic Man of the Year.'

  Then Sievers stood back, waved Mitch into his office, and closed the door behind them.

  'You want the bad news first?' he said as he walked around behind his desk and sat down again. His desk was always orderly. He had his secretary come in twice a day and haul out all papers that weren't absolutely necessary.

  'You seem eager to give it to me.'

  'I'm not in the business of painting pretty pictures, Mitch. You came up here to find out how the Eric Brooks case was doing so I'm going to tell you how it's doing.'

  'Fair enough.'

  'Your friend Jill Coffey is starting to look awfully good for this.'

  Mitch began to say something but Sievers raised his hand. 'I like you, Mitch. Believe me, I don't take any pleasure in telling you that your friend may be involved in a murder.'

  'She didn't kill him.'

  Lieutenant Sievers sat back. Shook his head. 'Mitch, this is an ongoing homicide investigation. I don't have to tell you that I don't want you interfering. Anyway, I can't afford to spare youyou've got to stay on the Allbright case sixteen hours a day.'

  'I'm not interfering, Lieutenant, I'm just trying to help you get to know Jill the same way I do.'

  'And she couldn't possibly kill anybody?'

  'Right. Except maybe in self-defense.'

  'Remember the Sister Rosemary case?'

  'Oh God, Lieutenant, you always roll that one out.'

  'You remember it or not?'

  'Yes, I remember the Sister Rosemary case.'

  'A nun for thirty-five years. A damned good one, too. When she wasn't working with orphans, she was helping feed the homeless. Who could ask for a better human being than that?'

  'I know the punchline, Lieutenant.'

  But the Lieutenant would not be rushed through the story. 'But one day we find this eighteen-year-old kid dead in the alley behind the school where Sister Rosemary teaches. And we find out that Sister Rosemary had just had a terrible argument with this kid because he wouldn't marry the nice little Catholic girl he'd just knocked up. Hit over the head with a brick, from behind. Skull crushed. And I say to my detectivesgrown men who've had a lot of training and should be able to keep an open mind about thingsI say, "Men, I kind've like this nun for the killer." And you know what my detectives said to me?'

  Mitch grumpily played along. 'They said that a sweet old nun couldn't possibly pick up a brick and crush somebody's skull like that.'

  'That's exactly what they said. Oh, and they said one other thing, too. They said: "Lieutenant, you always pick the first suspect you find. That's your fatal flaw, Lieutenant, always picking the first suspect." And you know what I told them?'

  'You told them about your conviction rate.'

  'Exactly, Mitch. I told them about my conviction rate. And what is that rate?'

  'Over eighty per cent.'

  'Wrong. These days, it's over eighty-five.'

  'She didn't do it, Lieutenant.'

  'Weren't you working for me back in the days of Sister Rosemary?'

  'You know I was.'

  'And weren't you one of the detectives who insisted that a sweet little old nun like Sister Rosemary couldn't possibly have'

  'She didn't do it, Lieutenant.'

  'She certainly did, Mitch. In fact, she confessed.'

  'Sister Rosemary confessed. Not Jill Coffey.'

  'But Jill's going to confess, Mitch. Because I honestly believe that she's the killer.'

  'There's no proof.'

  Lieutenant Sievers opened the wide center drawer of his desk and took out three pages of a report. He dropped the report directly in front of Mitch.

  'I need to go empty my bladder. You read through that while I'm gone.'

  The Lieutenant was back in four minutes.

  'You read it?' he said, sitting down again.

  'Yes.'

  'Would you say that was incriminatingher blood-soaked blouse and skirt found in a dumpster in the alley next to her place?'

  'She didn't do it.'

  'You ask me for evidence, I show you evidence, and all you can say is, "She didn't do it." Mitch, you've got to be a pro here. This is a murder investigation. We have to find out what happened and we can't let personal matters get in the way.'

  The Lieutenant sat back, steepled his fingers. 'There's one more thing.'

  'What?'

  'The murder weapon.'

  'Which is?'

  'Which is a pair of scissors.'

  'You found them at the scene?'

  The Lieutenant nodded. 'Lots of prints on them, Mitch. Lots. I'm asking her to come in this afternoon to be printed.'

  'You called her yet?'

  'Not yet. But I will in the next half hour or so.'

  'She'll be scared.'

  'She can bring her lawyer if she wants to.'

  'You sound as if you plan to charge her.'

  'It's crossed my mind.'

  'She didn't kill him.'

  'I believe you told me that already.'

  Mitch stood up. He felt a kind of panic, wanted to burst from this office, go for a long fast walk, or maybe even a run. He saw what was shaping up heresaw what was ahead for Jilland he feared for her.

  'I'd like to call you late this afternoon,' he said.

  'About the fingerprints?'

  'Yes.'

  Lieutenant Sievers smiled sadly. 'I guess I could handle that all right.'

  He stood up and came around the desk and put his hand on Mitch's shoulder. He was not a physical man, the Lieutenant, and so the gesture startled Mitch.

  'I'm sorry, Mitch.'

  'Thanks.'

  'Maybe this'll have a happy ending yet.'

  Now it was Mitch's turn to smile sadly. 'I sure hope so, Lieutenant. I sure hope so.'

  Sievers nodded and slid his arm around Mitch's shoulder, walking the younger man out of the room. 'Just hang in there, Mitch. See how it goes.'

  'Thanks. I appreciate it.'

  He left.

  CHAPTER 48

  This was the sort of day on which Marcy wanted to stay home in her little two-room apartment, clad only in her faded old red bathrobe. Watch the Sci-Fi Channel (they were doing a 'Salute to Mutant Rodents' this week, including her all-time favorite 'Them', about these giant spiders), eat a little Orville Redenbacher Gourmet-Style popcorn, and wriggle her toes inside the bunny slippers (with bushy tails yet) she'd gotten for Christmas six years ago, and that still fit her.

  These were her thoughts on waking. Unfortunately, Marcy had a hell of a lot to do today so, as usual, she hurried through her shower, hurried through her makeup and hair-brushing, and then set off for Hardee's in the massive black Ford pick-up truck, complete with glas-pak mufflers you could hear from a block away, that she'd borrowed from the used car lot down the street. She'd run down a few deadbeat customers for them (the car lot floated its own paper, meaning that they carried their own loans) and the owner was properly appreciative (plus he was
always hitting on Marcy and probably figured loaning her the truck would bring him closer to her boudoir).

  After breakfast, she drove the huge roaring beast of a truck over to a Volvo dealership on Dempster, where she asked one of the men on the floor if they had a brochure that showed various Volvo models for the last five, six years. The guy obviously thought this was kind of a weird request, but went along with it anyway. He left Marcy in his tiny cubbyhole of an office to look through brochures from the past eight years. The blue Volvo that had been at Jill's last night was a model from three years ago. She wrote it all down, thanked the salesman and left.

  Her next stop was a computer outlet on West Belmont. On the way there, another truck pulled up alongside her. The driver, a guy who was doing his best to look like a pirate of the scurviest kind, right down to this really twinky eye-patch, obviously decided that here was some cute little chick with her big brother's wheels for the day. He was going to show her how to handle one of these babies. He ogled Marcy and then revved his engine.

  Marcy blew him away. By the time the pirate was done peacocking around, the light had changed and Marcy was already through the intersection.

  What a dip that guy was.

  In the computer place, Marcy asked for a man named Jose and moments later a handsome Latino man appeared. He was in his forties, trim, wearing an inexpensive dark suit that gave him a funereal air contradicted by his merry dark eyes.

  Jose Sanchez escorted her into his office, closed the door and said, 'It's illegal, isn't it?'

  'Gee, Jose, you always make me feel like a criminal.'

  He grinned. 'You are a criminal. And so am I.'

  She grinned right back. 'Yeah, I guess we kind of are, at that.'

  Technically they were, anyway. Jose always hacked into the state Driver's License Bureau computer for her. Marcy didn't know any cops who'd use the computer for her, so she had to turn to her former night-school computer instructor. Jose was very, very good as long as she stayed within his guidelines. He would only hack into public information. Nothing private, no violation of anybody's rights.

  'How're the kids?'

  'We bought Donna her first training bra.'

  'Wow.'

  'It depresses me.'

  'How come?'

  'All the boys I see around her. I know what they want.'