Woody sat in one of the old worn-out chairs in front of Jerry’s desk and watched Jerry primp himself. The ritual involved smoothing his tie over and over again with no apparent effect on the wrinkles etched into the cheap fabric. Jerry caught Woody’s eyes on him and dropped the tie. “Christ, you look like shit, Woody. You look like a sweaty vampire.”
“I didn’t sleep last night. The scene kept me up.”
“I know what you mean,” Jerry said.
He didn’t.
“Well, I don’t know exactly,” Jerry continued. “I mean, Julie’s murder probably brought some stuff up for you. Are you sure you’re okay? You never took any time off after . . . you know. Tell me now if you’re not because I need you focused on this.”
“I’m fine, Jerry. Work keeps my mind busy. I need that. I’m just coming down with a bit of a cold that’s all.”
“I always take that vitamin C when I’m coming down with something. You ever try that?”
“I take stuff too,” Woody said. It wasn’t vitamin C, but it helped with the cold. Woody had been smoking too much the last few weeks to keep him feeling right. He promised himself again that as soon as he closed this case he was taking a few of his vacation days so he could get some rest and get back to normal.
Jerry looked like he wanted to keep talking about anything that wasn’t Os. Woody figured Os had roughed someone up somewhere and his luck had finally run out. Judging by how fast Jerry tossed him out, there was probably a lawyer involved and threats to go to the press. Woody didn’t have time for small talk, so he shut Jerry up by getting out his phone. He pulled Dennis’s number from his contacts and pushed connect. When the other cop picked up, Woody told him that Jerry wanted an update. Dennis said he was too busy, and Woody found himself actually liking the guy for a second. Woody put the phone on speaker and placed the cell on Jerry’s desk.
“You’re on speaker with me and Jerry, Dennis. We’ll just do this on the phone.”
“Where’s Os?” Dennis asked. “He somewhere beating a suspect with a phonebook?”
Woody looked at Jerry and saw the detective sergeant looking uncomfortable. A second later, he shifted in his seat and got back to looking impassive.
“Forget about Os, Dennis. Where are you with the investigation?”
Dennis told them about meeting Julie’s psychiatrist. He also mentioned that the woman who called in the body had died in a car accident while she was crossing the street on her way to the pharmacy. Dennis figured the girl, who was bipolar herself, was hit hard by her friend’s death and went for some medication to help her get through. She was in a bad mental state and probably didn’t notice the car that hit her. The theory made sense to Jerry, judging from the way he nodded, but Woody didn’t like it. Two deaths so close together didn’t feel right, but Woody knew that he wouldn’t be able to sway the other two men into looking into it, not when they were still no closer to solving Julie’s murder. He filed the information away as Dennis went on. He told them that losing the neighbour was a blow because Julie didn’t seem to have a lot of friends. The uniforms who canvassed the building came across only a few people who knew her by sight alone. The doctor hadn’t been keen on giving him the names of other patients either. Dennis said he knew when the next bipolar meeting was scheduled and he planned to camp out there in a few days to catch the crazies coming out. The only immediate lead left was the mother. Dennis was on his way to the Arc to see her now, but he wasn’t hopeful.
“Why?” Jerry asked.
“She’s got Alzheimer’s.”
“Fuck,” Jerry said.
“No one’s told her about Julie, so I guess that’s on me too,” Dennis said. “I’m looking forward to that alright.”
Woody gave Jerry and Dennis a rundown about what they found out from Ken Raines. Both agreed the Vietnamese angle had to be checked out. Woody said, “I’m meeting with Ramirez to talk about Julie’s cases in a little bit. How about we check in again around four?”
Jerry cleared his throat and said, “Two.”
“Two? Fuck, Jerry, you want this case solved or do you want to talk on the phone like a couple of twelve-year-old girls?”
Woody was liking Dennis again.
“Fine, fine, four then. But I mean four, not four fifteen or four thirty. Four o’clock.”
Woody said fine, Dennis agreed, and the call ended. Woody got up and started to leave. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. “You didn’t know about Julie’s mother having Alzheimer’s, Jerry?”
Jerry shook his head. “As if this case couldn’t get worse, eh, Woody? Could you close the door behind you? I got to make a call.”
Woody watched Jerry smooth his tie for the phone call and then he walked out of the office and closed the door behind him. Os had said at breakfast that Jerry was the one who had told him about Julie’s mother having Alzheimer’s. The shrink confirmed it this morning, but how did Os know about it last night if Jerry hadn’t told him? Woody didn’t like the questions rolling around in his mind. He didn’t have to worry about them long—his phone rang, and it pushed all of the thoughts about Os to the back of his mind.
“Yeah,” Woody said.
“Ramirez will meet you at Burger, Burger, Burger—it’s on King. He’ll be there at noon.”
“Thanks, Ken.”
“No problem. Just make sure you get the guy.”
Woody hung up the phone and hustled down the stairs.