“There’s nothing to tell. It looks worse than it is-you know how it is with black eyes.”
Bobby drummed on the steering wheel in exaggerated patience. “Vicki, after I talked to Thayer, I had McGonnigal go through our reports to see if anyone had turned in anything on a battered woman. And we found a cabbie had stopped at the Town Hall Station and mentioned picking up a woman at Astor and the Drive and dropping her at your address. Quite a coincidence, huh? The guy was worried because you looked in pretty bad shape, but there wasn’t anything anyone could do about it-you weren’t filing a complaint.”
“Right you are,” I said.
Mallory tightened his lips but didn’t lose his temper. “Now, Vicki,” he continued. “McGonnigal wondered what you were doing down at Astor and the Drive looking so bloody. It’s not really a mugger’s spot. And he remembered how Earl Smeissen owns a condo down there on Astor, in from State Street-or Parkway they call it when it gets into the tony part of town. So now we want to know why Earl wanted to beat you up.”
“It’s your story. You’re saying he beat me up, you give me a reason why.”
“He probably had a bellyful of your clowning,” Bobby said, his voice rising again. “For two cents, I’d black your other goddamn eye for you.”
“Is that why you came over, to threaten me?”
“Vicki, I want to know why Earl beat you. The only reason I can think of is that he’s tied to the Thayer boy-maybe had him shot when someone else fingered him.”
“Then you don’t think that Mackenzie is responsible? “ Mallory was silent. “You make the arrest?”
“No,” Mallory said stiffly. I could see this hurt. “Lieutenant Carlson did.”
“Carlson? I don’t know him. Who’s he work for?”
“Captain Vespucci,” Mallory said shortly.
I raised my eyebrows. “Vespucci?” I was beginning to sound like a parrot. Vespucci had been a colleague my father was ashamed to talk about. He’d been implicated in a number of departmental scandals over the years, most of them having to do with police bought off by the mob, or turning the other cheek to mob activities in their territory. There’d never been enough evidence to justify throwing him off the force-but that, too, the rumors said, was because he had the kind of connections that made you keep quiet.
“Carlson and Vespucci pretty close?” I asked.
“Yes,” Bobby bit off.
I thought for a minute. “Did someone-like Earl, say-bring pressure on Vespucci to make an arrest? Is Donald Mackenzie another poor slob caught in a trap because he was wandering around the wrong part of town? Did he leave any prints in the apartment? Can you find the gun? Has he made a confession?”
“No, but he can’t account for his time on Monday. And we’re pretty sure he’s been involved in some Hyde Park burglaries.”
“ But you don’t agree that he’s the killer?”
“As far as the department is concerned, the case is closed. I talked to Mackenzie myself this morning.”
“And?”
“And nothing. My captain says it’s a defensible arrest.”
“Your captain owe anything to Vespucci?” I asked.
Mallory made a violent motion with his torso. “Don’t talk like that to me, Vicki. We’ve got seventy-three unsolved homicides right now. If we wrap one up in a week, the captain has every right to be happy.”
“All right, Bobby.” I sighed. “Sorry. Lieutenant Carlson arrested Mackenzie, and Vespucci told your captain, who told you to lay off, the case was closed… But you want to know why Earl beat me up.” Mallory turned red again. “You can’t have it both ways. If Mackenzie is the killer, why would Smeissen care about me and Peter Thayer? If he beat me up-and I mean if-it could have been for lots of reasons. He might’ve made a heavy pass I turned down. Earl doesn’t like ladies who turn him down, you know-he’s beaten a couple before. First time I ever saw Earl was when I was a starry-eyed rookie attorney on the Public Defender’s roster. I was appearing for a lady whom Earl beat up. Nice young prostitute who didn’t want to work for him. Sorry, I just committed slander: she alleged that Earl beat her up, but we couldn’t make it stick.”
“You’re not going to ask for charges, then,” Mallory said. “Figures. Now tell me about your apartment. I haven’t seen it, but take it as read that it was torn apart-McGonnigal gave me a brief description. Someone was looking for something. What?”
I shook my head. “Beats me. None of my clients has ever given me the secret to the neutron bomb or even a new brand of toothpaste. I just don’t deal with that kind of stuff. And anytime I do have volatile evidence, I leave it in a safe in my office…” My voice trailed off. Why hadn’t I thought of that sooner? If someone had torn the apartment apart looking for something, they were probably down in my office now.
“Give me the address,” Bobby said, I gave it to him and he got on the car radio and ordered a patrol car to go up and check. “Now, Vicki, I want you to be honest with me. This is off the record-no witnesses, no tapes. Tell me what you took out of that apartment that someone, call him Smeissen, wants back so badly.” He looked at me in a kindly, worried, fatherly way. What did I have to lose by telling him about the picture and the pay stub?
“Bobby,” I said earnestly, “I did look around the apartment, but I didn’t see anything that smacked remotely of Earl or any other person in particular. Not only that, the place didn’t look as though anyone else had searched it.”
Sergeant McGonnigal came up to the car. “Hi, Lieutenant-Finchley said you wanted me.”
“Yeah,” Bobby said. “Who came in and out of the building while you were watching it?”
“Just one of the residents, sir.”
“You sure of that?”
“Yes, sir. She lives in the second-floor apartment. I was just talking to her-Mrs. Alvarez-said she heard a lot of noise about three this morning, but didn’t pay any attention to it-says Miss Warshawski often has strange guests and wouldn’t thank her-Mrs. Alvarez-for interfering.”
Thanks, Mrs. Alvarez, I thought. The city needs more neighbors like you. Glad I wasn’t home at the time. But what, I wondered, was whoever ransacked my place looking for so desperately? That pay stub linked Peter Thayer to Ajax, but that was no secret. And the picture of Anita? Even if the police hadn’t connected her to Andrew McGraw, the picture didn’t do that, either. I had put them both in my inner safe at my office, a small bomb- and fireproof box built into the wall at the back of the main safe. I had kept current case papers in there ever since the chairman of Transicon had hired someone to retrieve evidence from my safe two years ago. But I just didn’t think that was it.
Bobby and I discussed the break-in for another half hour, touching occasionally on my battle wounds. Finally I said, “Now you tell me something, Bobby: Why don’t you believe it was Mackenzie?”
Mallory stated through the windshield. “I’m not doubting it. I believe it. I’d be happier if we had a gun or a fingerprint, but I believe it.” I didn’t say anything. Bobby continued to look forward with unseeing eyes. “I just wish I’d found him,” he said at last. “My captain got a call from Commissioner Sullivan Friday afternoon saying he thought I was overworked and he was asking Vespucci to assign Carlson to help me out. I went home under orders-to get some sleep. Not off the case. Just to sleep. And next morning there was an arrest.” He turned to look at me. “You didn’t hear that,” he said.
I nodded agreement, and Bobby asked me a few more questions about the missing evidence, but his heart wasn’t in it. At last he gave up. “If you won’t talk, you won’t. Just remember, Vicki: Earl Smeissen is a heavy. You know yourself the courts can’t nail him. Don’t try to play hardball with him-you’re just not up to his weight at all.”
I nodded solemnly. “Thanks, Bobby. I’ll keep it in mind.” I opened the door.