“Fuck’s been going on here,” he said and poked my cellie with his nightstick. Marcus rolled over and faced the wall. The guard looked up at me.
“What happened here?”
“Slipped and fell,” I said.
The guard snorted. “Come on. Detectives want to talk with you.”
We walked down a short hallway and into a small holding room. Dan Masters was already there, thumbing through some paperwork.
“Uncuff him.”
Masters spoke without looking up. The guard did as he was told and left. I sat down and waited. After a minute or so, Masters restacked his papers and pushed them across the table. I took a look. The top sheet was a release order with my name on it.
“What happened to you?” Masters was looking at five fingers’ worth of bruises on my neck.
“Cook County’s Welcome Wagon.”
The detective shook his head. “That didn’t take long. You all right?”
“I’m fine.” I picked up the release order. “Tell me about this.”
“You’re out.”
“How do you figure?”
“Appears Evidence lost the murder weapon during processing.”
“Convenient.”
Masters raised his chin as if I’d asked him to fight. “No murder weapon, no case. In fact, the prosecutor’s not even sure there was ever a gun to lose.”
“Damn, by this afternoon Johnny Woods will have died from a massive stroke.”
The detective didn’t find me very funny. “If I were you, I’d shut up and run with it.”
Masters looked like he wanted to say more. Instead, he stood up and left. I sat at the table and read through the paperwork. It was all there. A guard took me to the front. Fifteen minutes later, I was processed and back on the street, wondering what in the hell just happened.
CHAPTER 35
I walked out of the Cook County lockup a little after three in the afternoon. A Silver Audi pulled up near the corner of Twenty-sixth and California. Rachel Swenson was behind the wheel. I got in.
“They told me you wanted to post bond,” I said. “Thanks.”
“That’s okay.”
“You’re a judge. That took some guts.”
Rachel twitched her lips once and pushed the car into drive. We moved forward, slowly at first, and then with some purpose.
“You at least going to ask me?” I said.
Rachel flicked on the wipers at the first spattering of rain on her windshield. “Ask you what?”
“If I killed him?”
She moved her eyes back into the weather. “Sounds like he deserved it.”
“You think I shot him?” I said.
“As you said, I’m a federal magistrate, Michael. Probably shouldn’t be venturing an opinion on that.”
“I’m not saying I couldn’t have done it.”
I felt the car skid on the wet track. Then the judge straightened it out.
“Just that you could have?” she said.
“Just that I could have. That’s exactly right.”
Rachel merged onto the Stevenson Expressway and accelerated smoothly past seventy miles an hour. The rain was steady now, spiraling down in circles, tap dancing on the roof of Rachel’s car and roaring under the tires.
“Janet Woods was released from the hospital early this morning,” Rachel said.
“Nothing serious?”
“Depends on who you are and what you consider serious.”
She hit the accelerator. The Audi leaped forward, flashing onto the Dan Ryan, then the Kennedy.
“How does your gun disappear from Evidence, Michael?”
“I’m gonna find out right now.”
The judge flicked another look my way. “Do that. Because if that gun turns up again, you’re looking at murder one.”
“I know.”
We cruised for a bit, nothing but the storm to keep us company.
“You can get off here,” I said.
Rachel slid off the expressway at Fullerton and pulled to the curb near the corner of Halsted and Diversey. We sat and listened to the thump of the rain all around us.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, turning halfway to look at me.
“What’s that?”
“Sometimes you scare me.”
“Sometimes I scare myself.”
“I’m serious. You realize someone wanted you to take a very bad fall?”
“Yes.”
“And someone else broke a lot of laws to help you avoid the fall?”
“Yes.”
“And you don’t have any idea why?”
“Like I said, I’m close to some answers.”
She plucked at my shoulder with her fingers. “There are limits to what I can do, Michael. To what I will do. You understand that?”
“I understand it. The question is do you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I can read people, Rachel. Pretty damn well, in fact. You’re the kind who sticks it out for a friend. No matter what. That’s a rare thing. And a wonderful thing. But it can also be dangerous.”
Rachel’s face cracked into a thin smile. “Don’t want another woman on your conscience?”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what is it?”
I wasn’t going to tell her about the mayor. Or the ugly truth about her old boyfriend. But I felt the cold touch of fear for her all the same. It was the worst part of caring about someone. The worst part and, of course, the very best.
“We can’t talk about this right now,” I said. She nodded, but didn’t pretend to understand. I gave her a hug and slipped out of the car. The beautiful judge disappeared into traffic; the future between us simply left to drift.
On Halsted Street, the rain had reduced itself to a drizzle. I looked up and across the road, at the front door of the Hidden Shamrock. All things considered, a sight for sore eyes. I went inside and ordered a pint. Then I sipped and waited. For my answers to start walking through the door.
CHAPTER 36
I had taken my pint down a good four inches by the time Dan Masters poked his head into the Shamrock. I was seated at a table by the window and saw him right away, but I waited until he got close before looking up.
“Detective, thanks for meeting me.”
Masters chuckled and took a seat. “Fucking Kelly. Guess this might as well happen now. You want to know how it is you got out?”
“I know how I got out, Detective. I want to know why.”
“Let’s just say I was returning a favor.”
“I think you made a mistake.”
Masters lifted a finger for the waitress. The detective ordered a Bud and a shot of Jim Beam. Then he got himself comfortable in the chair across from me. I could hear the creak of the gun on his belt and wondered how he’d take it when I told him.
“You’re a free man, Kelly. Not everyone likes it. I’ll give you that.”
Masters tipped up the long neck and let the better half of the bottle drain south.
“When did the thing start with Janet Woods?” I said.
Masters put the bottle down quietly and rubbed the back of his teeth over his lips.
“How did you know about that?”
I didn’t know anything about Masters and my client. But I could guess. “Why else would you want to help me by making the murder weapon disappear?”
“You’re a friend.”
“Cut the bullshit, Dan.”
Masters waved a hand my way. “All right. All right. So we started up a little something a few months back. Maybe more than a little something. Anyway, Janet told me you and her had some history too. So you did what you did. For my money, Johnny Woods deserved the bullet. Then I did what I did. Now we leave it. You finish up your drink and go on home.”
“I didn’t do anything for Janet,” I said. “And I didn’t kill Johnny Woods.”
A seam of flesh twitched under the detective’s left eye. “I don’t believe it.”
“What did you do with the gun?” I said.
“Why?”
“What did you do with it, Dan?”
“Left it with Janet this morning. She was going to dump it for me. For you.”
I wasn’t so sure I needed the help Janet was offering, but held my peace.
“I need the gun, Dan. And I need to see Janet and the girl.”