Stanley walked me back down the outside staircase and held open the back doors of the van. Neither of his two brothers joined me in the back. He walked around to the driver’s seat, started us up and we pulled away. Again, we took turn after turn. He was disorienting me, making sure I’d never be able to determine where Jenny was recuperating.
Twenty minutes later, he pulled to the curb and let me out. ‘You know where you are?’
We were at a bus stop but there were no street signs at the corner. ‘No.’
‘Three miles straight north of Galecki’s. The bus will stop right across the street.’ He got back in the van and drove away.
I checked my cell phone for messages while I waited for the bus. I’d gotten only one call. It was from Jeffries, the security chief at the Wade campaign headquarters. I called him.
He started off politely. ‘I emailed Miss Wade asking whether I ought to look into Marilyn’s murder,’ he said, ‘to make sure nothing might rise up and bite the campaign. She emailed back saying that I should forget about that. She said you should forget about it, too.’
‘Was that before or after you called out to Laguna Beach?’ I said.
He clicked me away.
I got back to Rivertown at seven o’clock, furious that Jenny was hurt yet relieved that she wasn’t hurt worse. And tired, too tired to want to deal with the black Impala that looked like a cop car parked on the short street that led from Thompson Avenue to mine.
I drove my fatigue right past it but the car was an insult. My anger insisted I back up. I threw the Jeep in reverse and shot backward until I was abreast of the car.
I jumped out and walked around to the driver’s window. Sergeant Bohler powered down her window and looked out at me impassively as though she was studying a museum oddity.
‘Why the half-stab at surreptitiousness?’ I asked. ‘Why not pull right up in front of the turret?’
She nodded. ‘Makes sense. I’ll follow.’
I got back in the Jeep, took the turn too fast and slammed on the brakes in a most infantile manner. I stormed into the turret, slammed the door and left the outside light off so she could savor my petulance in full darkness.
Going up the wrought-iron stairs, I reconsidered, turned on the lamp on the first floor and went back outside.
‘You can spy on me more efficiently inside,’ I called out, holding the door open.
‘Anybody ever tell you you’re crazy, Elstrom?’ she asked, walking up.
‘Depends on the doctor,’ I said, closing the door after her.
‘What the hell is that?’ she asked of the lamp-lit grouping on the first floor.
‘Two plastic lawn chairs, an uninstalled furnace and a lamp to draw attention to it all.’
‘There’s no lampshade.’
‘I haven’t found the perfect one.’
‘The right doctor might help you with that as well.’
I led her up the wrought-iron stairs and told her to take a folding chair at the temporary, plywood kitchen table.
‘I’ll get us some hors d’oevres and coffee,’ I said.
I set a paper napkin in the microwave, set in my last two purple Peeps and switched it on. I’d just picked up the carafe of the morning’s blend when the light surged brighter in the microwave – always a bad sign.
‘Don’t you—’
She stopped when the Peeps emitted a loud, gaseous sigh and began to ooze out beneath the bottom of the poorly fitting microwave door.
‘Pardon me?’ I poured coffee into two mugs, pretending not to notice the purple puddle hardening on the counter.
Visibly struggling to look anywhere but at the counter, she said, ‘I was about to ask why you don’t warm up your coffee.’
I picked up my plastic spatula and began to scrape the purple Peep particles from the counter, adding them to the by-now rock-hard puddle that had remained on the paper towel. ‘In this microwave?’
‘Too risky?’ she asked.
‘Scalding coffee can be lethal when airborne,’ I said. I set the paper towel of reshaped Peeps onto the plywood, grabbed the mugs and set them and myself down.
‘Cold coffee and warm, uh …’
‘Peeps,’ I said.
‘Even if this is no act, you being certifiably crazy won’t stop me from coming at you, Elstrom.’
‘You said the Marilyn Paul case got kicked to your detectives. They’ve not called. Did you finally tell them about me?’
She shrugged. ‘Nothing. They kicked the case, too.’ She picked up a particle of Peep and put it on her tongue.
‘Good, right?’ I inquired.
‘Surprisingly,’ she said, peeling a larger piece from the napkin.
‘Where was it kicked?’
‘Chicago PD.’
‘Marilyn Paul was discovered beyond the outskirts of Chicago.’
‘I know, but the sheriff argued the murder probably happened in the city and the body traveled downriver. It’s weak reasoning but the sheriff didn’t want the case. There are no leads, except to you.’ She licked her fingers. ‘Really, really good, Elstrom.’
‘Then there are no leads at all.’
She studied me for a moment and said, ‘Want to know where Chicago PD kicked the case?’
‘They kicked it, too?’
She nodded.
‘Where?’ I asked.
‘Into the trash.’
‘They give you a reason?’
‘They’re overworked, understaffed. They have no leads. Anyway, I’m not giving up and that’s why I’m here. You know things, Elstrom. Things you haven’t told Lieutenant Beech; things you haven’t told me. Things that will help me find Marilyn Paul’s killer.’
‘For that I need a peek at that old file I asked you about.’
‘Why?’
‘To make me sure.’