‘Is this some kind of official business?’
‘It could be. I really can’t say anymore.’
‘Official, huh?’ He sounded amused. ‘Gimme your phone number and I’ll have her call you.’
There’d be no sleep for me until I heard from Betty. I read all the national coverage I could find on the shooting. Even the conservative papers were charitable to Jess’s liberal voting record. The right-wing blogs were another matter. A few of them came close to suggesting that maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad way to get rid of a Commie. My side had said similar nasty things when a right-wing senator had been seriously wounded in a hunting accident.
The local police chief’s name was Aaron Showalter. He’d given Channel 6 a three-minute interview that I’d missed. I was watching the rerun now. He stood in front of the police department. Next to him was a very attractive, small and dark-haired woman he introduced as Detective Karen Foster. She was apparently a prop. She was not asked a single question.
Showalter looked and sounded ex-military in the interview. He had a thickset body and deliberate way of speaking and moving. He seemed smart and cautious. He didn’t say much in the three minutes but managed to impress me as being harsh and wily.
The white Stetson almost ruined the hard-ass effect he wanted. If you live in Texas, Wyoming or South Dakota, the Stetson is fine, legit. If you live in a crooked river city in Illinois, you’re just playing cowpoke. That he wore it while he was inside was even more of a joke. But even with the Stetson, I knew he would be dangerous.
If I remembered my law correctly, Showalter would now be part of an inter-agency task force (local agencies, state agencies and the regional FBI office) that would be assembled quickly to investigate the shooting. Most likely the state would assign security to travel with Jessica and protect her twenty-four-seven, which would be divided into three teams.
Betty called twenty minutes after I talked to the cab company. She had a soft, intelligent voice. ‘I got a message to call you.’
‘Thanks very much for getting back to me so soon.’
‘They tell me you work for Congresswoman Bradshaw.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Back when she was on the city council here — that was quite a while ago — she really fought to get us cabbies better wages. I’ve always appreciated that. I’m just glad she’s all right. You wanted to know about my fare from the hotel, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘I took her over to the Skylight tavern. You know where that is?’
‘I’m afraid I don’t.’
‘Over by the old baseball stadium. It was a decent place till they built the new stadium but now it’s kind of a pit. That’s where I took her.’
‘Did she say anything while she was in your cab?’
‘She cried a little on and off. Not much. She kept punching in numbers on her cell phone but it must’ve been busy or something because she’d cuss every time she tried.’
‘Did you see anybody outside the place waiting for her?’
‘No. And she couldn’t have stayed too long. Earl, the guy who owns the place, was already cutting the lights. I wish there was more I could tell you.’
‘This is very helpful, Betty. Very helpful.’
She yawned. ‘Sorry. It’s time for me to pack it in. I’ve got a husband at home who always makes breakfast for me no matter what time I roll in. That and bed sound pretty darned good right now.’
‘Thanks, Betty. I really appreciate the call.’
Finding sleep again was difficult. It teased me. I almost dozed off several times, but not quite. It was the thought of how easy it would be if the woman who’d wanted to talk to me at the Royale could lead us directly to the shooter. But was anything ever that easy? So preposterously easy?
Nine
Jess and Ted lived in a Tudor-style house that could easily be classified as a mansion. At six-fifteen in the morning two massive TV trucks and at least half-a-dozen cars were parked in front of the wide steps leading up to the house itself. Dew made the vast slope of grass sparkle. A beautiful golden retriever — Churchill, as Jess had named him — roamed the front of the place.
Ted had called me at five-thirty. I’d asked him why he wanted me there. ‘You know how these cocksuckers are.’
‘Which cocksuckers are we talking about?’
‘The network news cocksuckers. They know everything and you’re just some dumb hick. But you know how to handle them. I’d like you to keep them from pushing me around.’
‘I’m not sure I can do that. They don’t have any more respect for me than for you.’
‘I have this black turtleneck sweater. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but I’ve developed this tiny gut. The sweater hides it. But the segment producer says that black is wrong. I had to show him four sweaters. He thinks the light blue one is best. First of all, it’s fucking fall, all right? Who wears light blue anything in the fall? And second, it emphasizes my little gut. You see what I’m talking about?’
‘Yeah, I see.’ I wished I could roll my eyes the way Abby could. Man, when she rolled her eyes you were not only judged guilty, you were sentenced to death.
Five-thirty in the morning and he was laying fashion quibbles on me.
‘No offense, Dev, but maybe you should’ve gone with another network.’
‘Uh-huh. Well, listen, I need to shower and grab some breakfast, then I’ll be at your place.’
‘I really appreciate this, Dev. We’ve had our differences but that’s going to change. From now on I’ll listen to you. You’re the expert.’
A magnanimous man is mighty Caesar.
I was about to ask how Jess was when he said, ‘Get out here as fast as you can,’ and hung up.
Despite the rush from His Majesty, I took three minutes to call Showalter’s office. He wasn’t there. I told the officer who answered about the young woman who’d called me, and how I wondered if this was worth pursuing.
Now, seated at the top of the stairs, Katherine gave me one of her wan little waves and followed it with one of her pale little smiles. She wore a simple white T-shirt, jeans, white socks and running shoes. She was colt spindly and all the more endearing for it.
‘It’s real stressful in there. I don’t think I could work in TV. I had to come out here.’ Her rich blonde hair gleamed in the early sunlight.
‘That’s because they’ve got to do a live cut-in. You don’t get any chance to do it again. There’s a lot of pressure.’
‘My dad always says he’s good under pressure. Mom always disagrees and I think she’s right. This guy is kind of pushy. But my dad lost his temper right away.’ She was watching Churchill bounce elegantly around the yard. ‘It’s probably nice being a dog. I know that sounds stupid but I think about it sometimes.’
‘Doesn’t sound stupid to me. I’ve thought of that all my life. Being a dog. A cat. A horse. Different kinds of animals.’
‘I love cats. I bet being a cat would be nice sometimes.’
‘In the first office I had we found a stray kitten. She’d lie next to my computer when I was working. And at night, when nobody else was around, I’d talk to her.’
‘You were afraid what people would think if you talked to her during the day, huh?’
‘Yeah, you know: “There goes the boss again, talking to his cat all day long.”’
Hers was the fetching smile of her mom’s.
‘I wish I’d had you around when I was so sick, Dev. Thank God I had Uncle Joel and Nan. They always came to see me. I even started going to Mass and I’m not even Catholic.’
‘The Vatican will be glad to hear that.’
She poked my arm with a tiny finger and laughed. It was time to stand up and go inside.