It had taken her four years to feel safe enough to play their everyday game of office banter, a game she engaged in with no one else.
Hank Railsback shattered the fragile crystal moment.
"Norm, I got it."
Beth closed up like a poppy at sunset.
"What?" Cash snapped. Hank was startled. But only momentarily.
"A whole new angle on your damned Groloch case. I think it's the answer."
"Excuse me," said Beth. "I'll start calling."
Bulwarked by anonymity and long distance, she could sometimes be a dragoness. It was too bad she couldn't live her life via the long lines.
"Thanks, Beth. So clue me, Hank."
"I got the idea watching the Bijou on four Friday night. Know something? I can't even remember the name of that turkey now."
"I don't care what it was."
"You don't have to bite. What it was was, there was this private eye who had a problem something like yours. Couldn't get the facts to add up."
"So?"
"So, in the end, it turned out that the cop who supposedly found the body was really the guy who did it."
Cash raised a hand, asking a chance to think.
He grinned. The rattle of his head machinery must be shaking windows throughout the building.
Of course! Hank had to be right. Or on the right track, anyway. Not once had he bothered counterchecking the evidence itself. Nor had he questioned the reporting officers, nor the evidence technicians, nor the man who had done the autopsy. There was plenty of room for error or outright lying…
"Goddamned, Hank! After all these years I've got to admit I was wrong about you. You just keep your genius hidden. Hey! How much pressure can I put on? Could I use a polygraph?"
A phone rang. Beth, with receiver in hand already and another call on hold, said something neither shy nor ladylike.
"I thought I'd dump it on the inspector's office."
"My ass. This's mine, Hank. You start the ball rolling. Soon as Beth finishes what I've got her on now, I'll have her dig up the names and current shift assignments."
Beth called out, "Your wife, Norm."
"Eh?" He went to take the call at Beth's desk.
"Not that one. The other one. I've got Immigration on hold there."
Cash grabbed the receiver. "Yeah?"
"What happened to the twenty thousand?" Annie asked.
"Huh? What twenty thousand?"
"The counterfeit money O'Brien snatched. I think you said it never turned up. I thought maybe he might have left it at Miss Groloch's."
"She would've gotten rid of it…" The wheels were turning again.
"She hung on to that doll. And she probably wouldn't have known it wasn't any good."
"Could be. Could be. I'll talk it over with John."
Harald had been in and out at start of shift almost too fast for "Hello." He was rushing his legwork because they had a court appearance that afternoon. Cash was to meet him in the civil courts building at one o'clock.
Hopefully, jury selection would be complete and they would spend just the one afternoon testifying.
"Beth, be a doll and, when you get a chance, see if you can get me a meeting with Judge Gardner during lunch."
She sighed into the phone she was holding. "More Groloch?"
"Of course."
"You really should let go."
"Noway. Annie?"
"Patiently waiting."
He couldn't think of a thing more to say. Norman Cash would never win prizes as a phone conversationalist. When on he would speak his message, then wait, first nervously, then impatiently, for the other party to end it. He was completely aware of what he was doing even while doing it, yet could never smooth over with small talk. Even with a wife of half a lifetime.
"Anything else?" he asked, knowing she would resent it, yet totally unable to think of any better course.
"No. Bye then." Her tone was disappointed. It always was. Damned, but he wished he knew how to give her more of whatever it was she wanted. Or that she could understand him a little better.
"Bye." He hung up with the inevitable feeling of relief.
Beth still watched with those big brown eyes. They seemed to stare right down inside to those shadowed parts of his soul that were alien even to him. His own gaze slid away.
Another bad habit. How come he had so much trouble meeting a woman's eyes?
Maybe he was the one who should make an appointment with the departmental shrink.
"Uh… I'm going out. To see O'Brien's sister."
Beth merely nodded. Then, as he was moving out the door,
"Norm, I've got to have your LEA paperwork today."
"Aw, shit. Okay. I'll get it when I get back. Oh. Do me another favor. See if you can track down Tommy O'Lochlain. So I can give him a call."
Beth sighed again. Cash went out thinking he should do something special for her. He had been dumping on her a lot this morning.
Sister Mary Joseph was openly hostile this time around. Cash pretended not to notice. Maybe he should do something for her, too.
"Just a couple questions this time," he said. The answers should have been in the Carstairs file. The lieutenant must have carried on a remarkably narrow or uninformed investigation.
"The day your brother vanished he stole twenty thousand dollars from the people he worked for."
He really needed go no further. Her surprise answered his question before he put it into words.
"I wondered if he'd been home that day? If he had a package or briefcase or anything?"
"Yes. He was there. For half an hour. To change and eat. He'd been away for three or four days. I told you that before. But he didn't bring anything home. I don't think. But I remember he was real happy. Excited."
"Tch. Yeah. Pretty much what I expected." He took a deep breath, plunged. "I'm really sorry about all the trouble I've been. Can I do something, a gesture, you know, to make it up? Maybe have you to dinner some night?"
Damn, it was hard making the feelings translate.
She was surprised. Then a ghost of a smile flickered across her lips. "Thank you. I might take you up on that. Just to get even."