Jess had to get the cops to direct their investigative energy in another direction. Any direction. The cops would be building a case against Harper, compiling evidence for the DA to proceed. If she cast doubt on Seth’s case—giving them a believable motive on anyone else—he might have a shot at bail. For them to drop the charges now was too much to ask, but that would eventually be the general idea.
“Don’t give up on me, Harper.” She grinned. “You gotta have faith.”
“I do have faith in you, Jessie. And thanks.”
“Well, I owe you one”—she shrugged—“or six.”
After coercing a faint smile from him, she hit Seth with an unexpected question.
“Why did you take a cab to Dirty Monty’s?” It was a bluff. Pretending to know more than she did, Jess stared him down and saw that her question had hit home, sort of. At least it got Harper thinking.
“A cab? I don’t remember—” He struggled for glimpses of memory. “But I guess I could have. I grab a taxi when I know I’ll be drinking.”
She had to smile at the kid. He hadn’t seen the irony in what he admitted.
“God, Harper. You’re priceless.” When he scrunched his face in confusion, she filled him in on the joke. “For cryin’ out loud, you even drink responsibly. How could anyone think you hacked a woman to death?”
“Promise me you won’t serve as my character witness.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Look, I’m makin’ my way down a list of cab companies. If a driver remembers you, it could help build a timeline for that night. But I’m letting you know now that I plan to ask the cabby where he picked you up. You got a problem with that?”
She saw by his reaction, the kid knew what that meant.
“I need to make a phone call, Jess.”
“Are you finally contacting a lawyer? If you need a name, I can check around, give you a good referral. You really shouldn’t let them assign you a public defender.”
“No, this is personal.”
Harper was done answering questions. She saw it in his eyes. He’d made a decision, and he wouldn’t share it with her. Seth had allowed her into his life in the past, but this time he chose to keep where he lived a secret—even from her.
Keeping his secret—and protecting someone else besides Mandy—was more important than he was.
Seth never thought he’d be on the wrong side of jail bars. And the reality of his situation made his stomach hurt.
Down the hall, a buzzer sounded, and a door slammed with a clang. Footsteps echoed and intensified as someone came closer. A dour-faced jailer stopped at his cell and escorted him down a hallway to a larger room with one phone on a far wall. Other prisoners stood in line. He kept his head down and didn’t make eye contact, but they knew he was fresh meat and taunted him until they lost interest.
The rules for use of the phone were posted in more than one language. All prisoners had access to it during limited times of day. If he didn’t make it through the line, he’d have to wait for the next time period. Since his call was not considered confidential or to a legal advisor, he had no right to privacy. His call would be monitored. Knowing this, he chose to call someone else, someone who would intervene.
And Harper prayed the man would.
When he got to the front of the line—with all eyes on him—Seth worked through the operator to place the collect call. On the other end of the line, a man with a low, gravelly voice picked up the phone. He acted as if he had expected the call and accepted the charges.
“Seth, is it really you?” the man asked after the operator got off the line.
He shut his eyes tight for an instant, wishing the call hadn’t been necessary—not like this. Seth gripped the phone and realized he was holding his breath. Finally, he gulped air and got on with it.
“I need to reach him. It’s urgent.”
Silence. For a moment, he didn’t know if the man would speak or hang up.
“Why haven’t you called before now? He’s been waiting.”
Seth lowered his head and hugged the phone to his ear, saying, “I know.”
CHAPTER 9
Harper was protecting someone else. At first, Jess thought it had been Mandy, but with the girl dead, he had no more reason to guard her identity. His reticence had something to do with where he was living now, but she had no idea why.
After leaving Harper, Jess drove to Harrison Station to see Sam. When she got there, her friend met her on the first floor and they walked to a nearby coffee shop to talk, away from prying eyes and ears.
“They took a blood sample on Seth and thanks to Ray Garza, the lab is gonna do a more extensive analysis, not just the standard screening. Ray thought Harper looked more drugged than drunk,” Sam said. “But I doubt the final analysis will be back in time for Seth’s bail hearing.”
“That’s too bad, but if Ray is right, the tox screen should help our boy, right?”
“Let’s hope so. Harper couldn’t remember anything other than heading for a bar, then waking up at that motel room. It would be nice if we had more of a timeline of what he did that night…and the name of that bar.”
Good boy, Jess thought. Harper had held out with the cops, but the face of the bartender flashed in her mind. As much as she wanted to pin something on the bastard—to wipe the smirk off his arrogant face—anyone in the bar that night could have slipped a roofie into Harper’s drink when he wasn’t looking. And the tattooed Good Samaritan who had hauled Seth from the bar would be at the top of the suspect list.
“Well, maybe your guys didn’t say ‘pretty please,’” Jess said. “…’cause Harper gave me the name of Dirty Monty’s, a bar on the South Side. And I did a little recon last night.”
Sam didn’t act surprised to know Harper had withheld information.
“And?” her friend prompted.
“Harper didn’t remember making it to the bar, so he didn’t exactly lie to the police, but he told me he was supposed to meet Mandy there. She’d set it up.” Jess pinched a corner off her Danish and popped it in her mouth. “The bartender remembered seein’ him, but Mandy never showed. According to him, she knew better than to walk through the door. He’d kicked her out for conducting business outside with bar patrons.”
“But why would Mandy arrange to meet Seth there if she knew she wouldn’t be welcomed? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Yeah, I thought the same thing. The bartender’s a big talker. He was coverin’ his own ass about the money she gave him for lettin’ her operate down the street. The guy’s a real jerk wad.”
Jess told her what she knew about Mandy hooking near the bar to feed her crank habit. And she shared the news about the mystery man with a tattoo who helped Harper out of the bar.
“That’s good stuff, Jess, but we need more.” Sam lowered her voice so no one else would hear. “If Harper’s blood test comes back positive for some drug and not just alcohol, the DA won’t be happy; but that bit of news won’t exactly kill her case. It would put a major dent in it depending on time of death, but Seth’s not out of the woods. Right now, the DA’s probably working a plausible timeline and gathering more evidence against our boy to solidify her charge. If she thinks she’s got a strong enough case, she may go ahead with it.”
Sam leaned forward after a peek over her shoulder, keeping her voice low.
“As it stands, Harper’s got an uphill battle for bail. With his sketchy background and lack of cooperation on where he’s living, the judge will probably hold him over, given the nature of the crime. But if we can show someone else had motive and that Harper was a convenient scapegoat, the charges might be dropped.”
“Then you may want to find out why Nadir Beladi and his muscle-for-brains sidekick Sal Pinzolo pulled a knife on me outside Dirty Monty’s. Apparently, me asking questions about Desiree got Beladi’s tidy-whites in a bunch. And the guy seemed to know about the murder before it hit the paper.” Jess pulled two driver’s licenses from her pocket and tossed them on the table. “Pinzolo let his blade do the talkin’ for Beladi. And he wasn’t above using it on a defenseless woman.”
“You, defenseless? You’re friggin’ Rambo with ovaries.” Sam fought a smile as she got a closer look at the licenses. “And I’m not gonna ask how you got these. Tell me what happened.”
Jess started talking, leaving out the minor detail of the stun grenade and finishing with her car chase in the boonies.
“You’ve been busy.” Sam leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Any idea who was in the sedan?”
“No, it was too dark, but the guy flew solo, and he definitely had a gun. Plus he’s now got a pretty big scrape on the driver’s side of his vehicle. Kissing an embankment tends to do that.”
“I’ll look into these two boneheads and let you know what I find out.” While the waitress refilled their coffee, Sam palmed the licenses in her hand until the woman left. Once they had their privacy, Jessie had something more on her mind.
“Okay, I gotta ask. What’s this about Ray Garza getting involved? Isn’t he the detective who tried to pin Baker’s murder on me a few months back? He works out of Harrison Station like you, not Pullman. What’s his interest?”
Sam smiled, a familiar expression Jess had come to recognize lately.
“Oh yeah, there it is.” Jess pointed a finger and chuckled. “That goofy grin you get whenever you talk about Mr. Macho.”
“Let’s just say that I’ve got a bet going with Ray on who’ll figure this out first. Harper can use the extra help, and if I play my cards right, I may get noticed by the brass. Homicide is where I’d like to be.”
“I know you’ve been wanting out of Vice, but it probably doesn’t hurt that a gorgeous Hispanic hunk works Homicide.” Jess sipped her coffee. “But just remember, when your best friend makes a believable murder suspect, lesser men might hold it against you.” She smirked. “So what about this bet? Spill it.”
“Oh no, that’s between him and me. Let’s just say he’s a good resource I can use.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet. Real good.” Jess winked over the rim of her cup. “Does he know you’re stacking the deck against him? Hell, you’ve got him and me both workin’ the case with you having the inside track and poised to make the collar. Has he figured that out yet?”
“Nope.”
“Oh Sammie, you make me proud, girl.” Jess crooked a lip. “Hey, one more thing. Harper told me about Mandy having a boyfriend. Some guy named Jason. Did he mention that little detail to the cops?”
“Yeah, he did. We found out the guy’s name is Jason Burke. And Burke’s got a record of using his fists on a woman.”
“That’s great.” Her quick grin shifted to a grimace. “I mean, not great like…great great.”
“I know what you mean, but don’t get your hopes up. Burke’s got an alibi. He was out in Lombard at a bar. And his I-PASS confirms he wasn’t anywhere near downtown when the medical examiner fixed time of death.”
Sam gave her the rundown on Jason Burke. The guy was the same age as Mandy and worked hourly as a journeyman subcontractor doing on-site construction and repair wherever he was assigned. He’d been arrested once, two years ago, on charges of domestic abuse against his live-in girlfriend at the time. There had been more beatings, but the girlfriend never pressed charges.
“Are there any witnesses to corroborate his alibi? ’Cause I-PASS is only an electronic toll system. It proves his car was in the burbs, not that he was in it.”
“I know, Jess. We’re checking his story, but his toll pass trumps Harper’s ‘I forgot’ defense.”
She sighed, knowing Sam was right.
“You said Burke has an arrest record. Can you send it to me via e-mail?” Jess’s e-mail was set to forward to her cell phone. Normally, that service allowed her to keep moving and not be tied to an office, but reading an arrest record would require a download to print. Once she got the word Sam had sent the document, she’d retrieve it from home.
“Yeah, I can. What are you thinking?”
“Jealousy. Harper said the guy got bent about him seeing his girl. Seth tried to clean her up, maybe that didn’t sit well with Romeo. He could be the guy who drugged our boy and took him off the premises. If the bartender at Dirty Monty’s can ID Burke from his booking photo and place him at the bar that night, we’ll know he lied about Lombard, and his alibi is for shit.”
“Yeah, that’d be worth a shot. I’m jammed with my caseload, but I’ll send his booking record as soon as I get back to the station.”
“And if that report had his work and home address listed, that would be great. I might need to talk to him, too,” she added, looking a little sheepish. “…to see if he’s got tattoos.”
Sam cocked her head and stared at her for a moment before opening her mouth.
“Talk to him? I know you, Jessie. You have no intention of just talking. And so you know? Checking him for tattoos doesn’t require a full body-cavity search.” Sam winced. “God, this better not come back to bite me in the ass. And if CPD gets wind of this, you wouldn’t be doing Harper any favors either.”
Jess tried to act insulted. “Hey, I can be discreet.”
“Yeah, you and Paris Hilton.” Sam shook her head. “Call me if you need anything. I’ll keep you in the loop from my end. You do the same.”
Her friend left her with a lot to think about—and the tab.
South Chicago