“I haven’t had a chance to tell him,” he said. “We’re meeting as soon as I’m done here.”
“What I’m suggesting is that a conflict of interest doesn’t necessarily preclude Dr. Tolan from working with us on this. Maybe he’d rather stay on board.”
Rossbach snorted. “He’d have to be a friggin’ masochist.”
“Well, I’ve worked with him too,” Carmody said. “Probably more than anyone here. And he once told me that the reason he left private practice and took the job at Baycliff was because of what happened to his wife.”
“How so?” Escalante asked.
“He said he wanted to get dirty. Spent too many years listening to neurotics complain about their cheating wives and their overbearing mothers, when what he really should be doing is trying to stop people like Vincent before they get started. Said he wanted something good to come from his wife’s murder. I can’t think of anything better than catching her killer.”
The chief assistant district attorney cleared his throat and said, “You’re forgetting the legal implications. If any of this winds up in court, a defense attorney’ll have a field day. He could impeach Tolan in about two seconds flat.”
Carmody shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that. Tolan has a solid reputation. Renowned therapist. Bestselling author.”
“That was before his wife was murdered.”
“He’s done some pretty remarkable work since then. I’ve seen it firsthand. And ask any of the ADAs who have called him as a witness. He’s pretty spectacular on the stand. Conflict or not, putting Tolan in a witness chair would likely work to our advantage no matter what some overpaid defense attorney throws at him.”
Several heads around the table nodded, but Rossbach didn’t seem convinced. “I still think it’s a bad idea. Besides, we don’t want to put all our eggs in this one basket. What if this woman never opens up? What then?”
Escalante frowned. “Nobody’s suggesting we put limits on the investigation. I want every possible avenue explored. That’s what you’re here for. But this woman could very well be our only tangible link to Vincent, and I think it behooves us to pursue this angle vigorously.” He looked at Carmody. “Detective, I want you and Blackburn to follow up on this.”
Say what?
Carmody looked just as shocked as Blackburn felt. “Sir?”
“You two were partners before you transferred to Homicide, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“Then it makes sense to partner up again. We need all the help we can get on this. Does that work for you, Detective Blackburn?”
A couple of thoughts raced through Blackburn’s head. It was obvious now that Carmody wasn’t boinking Escalante. It was equally obvious that he, Frank Blackburn, was one of the few new additions to the task force that Escalante had mentioned.
He hadn’t lost his case after all.
As distasteful as working with a hormonal basket bunny like Carmody might be, if the alternative meant being left out in the cold, he’d gladly take one in the gonads for the department. Besides, being up close and personal again with Miss Wonder Butt’s wonder butt was not entirely objectionable.
“Detective Blackburn? Do you have any problem with that?”
“Uh,” Blackburn said, feeling the heat of Carmody’s gaze on him. He was afraid to look directly at her. “No problem at all.”
“Good,” Escalante said. “I want the two of you to talk to Tolan and try to determine if this conflict is more a hindrance than a help. If you still think he’s the man for the job, then get him back to work on that witness right away. I want to know exactly what she saw.”
Easier said than done, Blackburn thought.
“Did Detective De Mello come up with you?”
Blackburn nodded. “He’s right outside.”
“I understand he’s one of our best background analysts.”
“And resident lard ass,” Ron Worsley murmured. The first words he’d spoken since Blackburn entered the room.
Scattered laughter broke out, but abruptly ended when Escalante shot the offenders a look. He turned his gaze on Blackburn again. “Tell De Mello he’s part of the team. And, lard ass or not, I expect you all to utilize him fully and without remark. Understood?”
Guilty nods around the table.
“Loud and clear,” Blackburn said.
He still didn’t look at Carmody. He could feel her outrage from ten feet away.
17
They spent the next several minutes slicing up the investigative pie, Blackburn still reeling from his double dose of luck — good and bad. The task force was split into five two-man field teams. Each team would put the magnifying glass to two of the prior murders, starting from scratch, sifting through the murder books, reinterviewing witnesses, while Blackburn and Carmody concentrated on Janovic and Jane Doe.
After the meeting, Blackburn quickly briefed De Mello, who took the news with a predictable lack of enthusiasm but promised to step up his efforts on the victim’s background and push Billy on cracking the Palm Pilot.
Blackburn told him about the BOMBSHELL magazine page sitting on his desk. “Get the ad agency’s name from the fragrance manufacturer and find out who the model is. I can’t be a hundred percent sure it’s our gal, but I like the odds.”
He was thinking about those odds as he headed for the stairs to the parking lot. Just as he reached the stairwell door, Carmody caught up to him.
Oh, goody.
“You’re in a hurry.” She was still struggling to contain her rage and he suddenly felt as if he was standing too close to a hornet’s nest.
“I’m meeting with Tolan, remember?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Blackburn studied her. “And that would be?”
“Your partner,” she said, without even a hint of humor.
He eyed her dully, then opened the door and waved her past him. “After you.”
They were quiet as they descended the steps, Blackburn silently cursing Escalante. When they reached the ground-floor landing, Carmody gestured him to a halt. Her frown was so deep, the muscles in her jaw had to be screaming in agony.
“Let’s get this out in the open right now,” she said. “If we’re going to be working together again, I think we need some ground rules.”
“If?” Blackburn said. “Where in Escalante’s little speech did you hear an ‘if’?”
“Don’t start, Frank. This is exactly the kind of thing that drives me crazy and you know it.”
“What I know is that we’re stuck together whether we like it or not. So let’s just make the best of it, okay?”
“Fine,” Carmody said. “But if you make one crack about my ass or any other part of my anatomy, I swear to God I’ll file papers against you so fast you won’t know which way is up.”
Blackburn stifled a smile, but Carmody caught it.
“What?” she barked. “What’s so funny?”
“Do you ever stop and listen to yourself?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just said ‘crack about my ass.’ Even you’ve gotta admit that’s pretty fuckin’ hilarious.”
Carmody’s face hardened. “You’re emotionally retarded, you know that?”
“I’ve been accused of much worse. But tell me something. If you despise me so goddamn much…” He hesitated.
“What?”
“Why the hell did you sleep with me?”
The question was a surprise. Even for Blackburn, who wasn’t quite sure why he’d asked it.
A renewed spark of anger lit Carmody’s eyes — a look Blackburn knew all too well. If he pushed much harder, the nest would burst and there’d be hell to pay.