He liked it that way.
He flipped on the radio, checking the news update on KWGS. No new developments on the case the whole city was talking about, the one with the very special victim. It went by various names, depending on the luridness and schlock factor of the given station. One channel was calling it “The Case of the Cordial Corpse.” Hell, what was next—the Sensational Smiling Stiff?
He had to laugh; who would have expected the deceased to become a media celebrity? But it was all the news folks had at the moment; it was all they could use to exploit this bit of grisliness. Because thus far there had been no arrest.
He pounded his fist down on the end table. What was wrong with the justice system these days? Here he’d gone to all this trouble, setting Earl up with a frame so strong even a blind man could see it, and they hadn’t arrested him yet. Good God, what did it take these days, a live video of the murder? Cops were so stupid it was easier to get away with murder than to get convicted of it. What was the world coming to?
He shut off the radio. Perhaps he was expecting too much too soon. Still, it was troubling. When he thought of all the meticulous preparations—well, it just didn’t seem fair. After all the risks he’d taken. The risk of being caught, the risk of being seen—
A risk that was realized, he reminded himself. Because he was seen. Because that stupid punk in the bathroom got a clear look at his face after the wig and beard were removed. If he started blabbing to the wrong people …
So far, miraculously, he had escaped detection. But he couldn’t count on this state of grace lasting forever. The risk had to be neutralized. The discordant note had to be silenced. That kid was the fly in the ointment, the instrument out of groove.
The melody had to be sweetened, so to speak.
The kid had to be eliminated.
Problem was, he didn’t know where to find the kid. And it would be hard to start making inquiries without provoking undesirable attention.
Well, something would turn up. He was sure of it. He’d made it this far, hadn’t he? Even when plans went sour, when unexpected developments arose, he’d managed to deal with them. Managed to overcome them. And he would again. That was the difference between Earl and himself. He was smart, and he knew what was really important and what wasn’t.
Tomorrow he would start trolling, cruise the streets of the North Side, see if he couldn’t tumble onto that kid. He’d keep an eye on the club, too. And since Earl was still inexplicably on the streets, maybe when he popped the kid …
An ear-to-ear grin spread across his face, almost as wide as the one he had carved the day before. That would work. That would be damned sweet. That would give him something worth living for.
Still smiling, he picked up his instrument and began to play. The lilting jazz riffs floated off his porch and drifted down to the city below that had no idea what was coming.
Chapter 18
BEN WAS NOT exactly surprised when he heard the thunderous pounding on the front door of Uncle Earl’s Jazz Revue. He was surprised, however, when he opened the door and found a friend standing on the other side.
“Mike!” Ben said. “What are you doing here?”
“We’ve come to make an arrest, Ben. May we come in?”
Ben nodded and stepped aside, making way for Mike Morelli, two uniforms, and a silent, sulking Lieutenant Prescott.
“I didn’t think you handled arrests yourself.”
“Normally I don’t,” Mike said, thrusting his hands deep in the pockets of his trench coat. “But I’m still in charge of the Homicide Department. When one of my men tells me his arrest has been thwarted, I get involved.”
Ben stepped between his friend and Prescott. “Look, Mike, I don’t know what the good lieutenant told you, but he breezed in with no warrant, didn’t read Earl his rights, and basically came on like he’d cut the man’s tongue out if he didn’t spill his guts.”
“That’s a filthy lie,” Prescott barked.
“Like hell,” Ben replied. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring a rubber hose.”
Prescott started to respond, but Mike cut him off with a gesture. “Don’t even start, you two. It doesn’t matter what happened before. We’re starting from scratch.” He withdrew a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket. “We have a warrant.”
“Based on what? That Earl happened to be here when the body was found?”
“There’s more evidence against Earl than that, Ben. And there doesn’t seem to be any exculpatory evidence suggesting that he didn’t commit the crime. We have more than enough to justify an arrest.”
“I’ll want the arraignment held as soon as possible.”
“Understood.”
“And the preliminary hearing. I think we can beat this rap.”
“You can take that up with the judge.”
“And I’ll ask the court to set bail.”
Prescott made a snorting noise, but Mike remained placid. “You’re always free to ask. Now where is he?”
Ben leaned up the spiral staircase that led to Earl’s office. “Come on out, Earl.”
Earl had changed his clothes and combed his hair and generally groomed himself. It was obvious that this time he was ready to travel.
“Thank you for your cooperation,” Mike said.
Earl held out his hands. “I suppose you’ll want to cuff me.”
“It’s departmental procedure,” Mike said. “Prescott, read him his rights.”
“But—”
“Do it.”
His lips pursed, Prescott pulled a card out of his shirt pocket and began to read.
While Earl was being Mirandized, Ben saw the young boy he had met earlier entering the club. He stopped several paces from the cops, then turned and ran.
Obviously not a kid who liked rubbing shoulders with police officers, Ben noted. He wondered if Tyrone Jackson’s ties with the Crips had been severed as completely as he had intimated.
To his surprise, the kid stopped at the door. He hesitated, obviously deliberating. After a more than a minute had passed, he slowly made his way back to the center of the club.
“What’s going on?” Tyrone asked.
“Earl’s being arrested,” Ben said quietly.
“For what?”
“For the murder. Yesterday. Lily Campbell.”
“But—”
“I know. We’re going to do everything possible for him.”
“But—”
Mike cocked up one eyebrow. “But what?”
“Why him?”
Prescott sneered. “Because we think he did it, that’s why.”
“But—”
A deep crease lined Mike’s forehead. “Kid, if you have something to say, say it. If you don’t, get out of the way.”
“I—but—” Whatever was on the boy’s mind, he didn’t seem able to spit it out.
Mike’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you look familiar.”
The kid turned away. “I shouldn’t. I’m new in town. I don’t know anybody.”
“Right.”
“I’m not a suspect. I don’t have to answer any questions. Can I go?”
Mike frowned. “I suppose.” Tyrone skittered toward the door. “C’mon, Earl, you’re going downtown.”
“Say goodbye to this pretty club of yours,” Prescott added. “You may never see it again.”
Once again, Tyrone froze. “Now why is that?”
“ ’Cause once he’s charged with capital murder, he ain’t likely to be set free for no amount of money. And once he’s been convicted, he ain’t gonna see nothin’ but a cell. Followed by a coffin.”
Tyrone turned away. Ben had the clear impression that he wanted to say something. But whatever it was, it wasn’t coming out.