Lucas, this is Dan Johnson. Johnson ran the overnight Homicide. Listen, you know this McDonald guy youve been tracking?
Yeah?
We caught a call from his old lady last night. Audrey McDonald. She killed him with a shotgun.
What? He heard the words, but they didnt make sense.
Killed him, Johnson said. Hit him in the chest with a goose load, range of about six feet. Hed beaten the shit out of her. There was blood all over the goddamn place.
Aw, man. Lucas thought for a moment. Where is she right now? Audrey?
Over at the hospital. We got a preliminary statement from her, on the way downtown. She admitted shooting him, then asked for an attorney. Her sister, Helen, is here, making a statement. She says Audrey called her, lookingfor help, while her old man was chasing her around the house.
That sounds a little strange. Whatd they do, call a time-out so she could use the phone?
Well, you gotta hear the whole story, but it holds together.
Okay.
So Helen called 911 and asked us to send out a car, that her sister was being beaten to death. The next thing, we get a 911 from Audrey, saying she shot her old man. They were both pretty drunk, Audrey and Wilson. We got blood alcohols on both of them, the old man was twopointone, she was one-point-four, and big as he was, he had to drink a shitload of booze to get up to two-point-one. We got an empty fifth of scotch and another bottle with about an inch left. He had been drinking part of the afternoon and all evening.
You think Audrey and Helen couldve set it up? Lucas asked.
I dont think so. You gotta see Audrey. I mean, McDonald beat theshitout of her. Shes gonna need plastic surgery. In fact, she might be getting it right now.
Ah, Christ. Okay, Ill be in.
No rush. She wont be able to talk for a couple hours, as close as I can tell.
LUCAS WENT BACK TO THE BEDROOM, WHERE SHERRILL was still curled under the covers. What? she asked.
Lucas told her: McDonalds dead. Shot to death by his old lady in a drunken fight. Or maybe, while her old man was beating her. Like that.
Sherrill sat up, letting the blankets fall away. Lucas decided she was beautiful. How can that be right?
What do you mean?
It solves too many problems, she said.
Yeah. He nodded and remembered his talk with the St. Paul fingerprint specialistremembered saying that the discovery of McDonald's prints was just too easy. But it happens that way.
The first time it happened to me was with that Bonnie Bonet chick. And that was on this case too. Weird case… Are you going in?
Got to, he said. He dropped down on the bed next to her. But not this exact moment.
Oh, God, morning sex, she said. I never understood what men see in it. I think they just wake up with hard-ons and dont know where else to put them. She yawned and said, My mouth tastes really bad. Like that drawer in Sex that Rigotto used to spit into.
Sweet image. You oughta be a fuckin writer, Lucas said.
A fuckin scribe.
A fuckin hack. Anyway, I got a new toothbrush you can use, he said.
Yeah, you would.
Hey… He was offended.
Sorry. I make, like, a total retraction. She rolled her eyes.
You should. Anyway, you could brush your teeth and then I could show you the shower again.
She brightened. Thats not a bad idea; I only got part of the tour last night.
Did we get to the soap on a rope?
I dont believe we did…
LUCAS HAD NEVER THOUGHT OF HIMSELF AS A CHEERFUL person, because he wasnt; he wasnt usually morose either. He simply lived in a kind of police-world meґlange built of cynicism, brutality, and absurdity, leavened by not infrequent acts of selflessness, idealism, and sacrifice. If a cop brought a continuing attitude of good cheer to that world, there was something wrong with him, Lucas thought. His own recent problems he recognized as involving brain chemicals: he could take other chemicals to alter his mental state, but he was afraid to do that. Would thebrain-altered Davenport actually be himself? Or would it be some shrinks idea of what a good Davenport would look like?
All that aside, he was feeling fairly cheerful when he arrived downtown, alone. Sherrill would not get in the car with him: she would not arrive downtown at the same time.
If we keep doing this, theyre gonna know anyway, Lucas said.
Yeah. Later. And thats what I want. Later.
But you want to keep doing it?
Oh jeez, yeah. I mean, if you do, she said. A couple, three times a week, anyway. Dont think I could handle every night.
Dont have to worry about that, Lucas grunted, as he looked in a dresser mirror to tie his necktie. Another night like last nightd probably kill me.
Youre in pretty good shape for an old fuck, Sherrill said. She was still lounging on the bed, pink as a baby.
If you make me think of things to say, I wont remember how to tie a necktie, he said, fumbling the knot.
Who picked out your suits? she asked. She hopped off the bed to look in the closet. Not only was she beautiful, he thought, her ass was absolutely glorious; and she knew it.
I did. Who else?
Youve got pretty good taste. She pulled out a suit, looked at it, put it back, pulled out another. I can remember, you always wore good suits, good-looking suits, even before you were rich.
I like suits, he said. They feel good. I like Italian suits, actually. Ive had a couple of British suits, and they were okay, but they felt… constructed. Like I was wearing a building. But the Italiansthey know how to make a suit.
Ever try French suits?
Yeah, three or four times. Theyre okay, but a little… sharp-looking. They made me feel like a watch salesman.
How about American suits? she asked.
Efficient, he said. Do the job; dont feel like much. You always wear an American suit if you dont want people to notice you.
Jeez. A real interest. She was being cop-sarcastic. Never would have guessed it. Suits.
He wasnt having it: Yeah, sorta, he said. I like to watch the fashion shows on TV, sometimes, late at night.
Now she was amazed. Now youre lying.
No, Im not. Fashion is interesting. You can tell just about everything you need to know about somebody, by looking at their fashion.
What about me?
Ask me some other time; like three years from now.
Cmon, Davenport…
Nope. Im not going to tell you, he said. Women get nervous when men have insights into their personalities, and were too early in this whole thing for me to reveal any.
Youve had some? Her eyebrows went up.
Several, over the years, and more last night, he said. Some of them unbearably intimate; Ill list them for you. Like, three years from now.
Jeez, she said. What an enormous asshole…
LUCAS DUMPED THE CAR AND STRODE INTO CITY Hall, jingling his car keys. Sloan spotted him in the hallway.
What happened to you? Sloan asked.
What? Nothing.
You look weird, Sloan said. You look… happy.
Any fuckin happier Id be dancing a jig, Lucas said. You talking to McDonald?
I was just on the way.
I want to watch, if thats okay.
Sure. Its over on the ward, at Hennepin.
HENNEPIN GENERAL HOSPITAL WAS JUST DOWN THE block and over one; Sloan and Lucas walked over in thebrilliant, clear morning light, just a fresh touch of winter in the wind.
Her lawyer says shell make a statement, Sloan said, as they crossed the street. Theyre trying to hurry things along, get a bond hearing this afternoon.
Theyre talking self-defense?
Man, itwasself-defense, Sloan said. I was just out at the house, theres blood all over the place. And waitll you see her. He chopped the shit out of her head with a golf trophy. She got like forty stitches in her scalp.