Ricochet

Chapter 14

EVEN SO FAR INLAND, ATLANTA WAS AS SULTRY AS SAVANNAH.

The heat sucked the breath out of Duncan as he exited the airport to hail a cab. The driver was friendly and talkative, keeping up a lively chatter as he negotiated the expressway traffic toward Buckhead, where Tony Esteban owned the penthouse of a high-rise condo.

Duncan had woken up early, knowing he was going to come to Atlanta. He didn’t tell anybody, not even DeeDee, who would have wanted to come with him. He figured the Braves’ Puerto Rican treasure would be reluctant to discuss his sex life with cops, but that one would be less intimidating than two.

Besides, he was grateful to have a break from DeeDee. After leaving the judge and his wife last night, they’d driven separately to a restaurant, where Duncan ate a late supper, and DeeDee imbibed Diet Coke by the quart and railed endlessly against Elise Laird and her lies.

“I can’t believe she had the nerve to say that Coleman Greer was gay! That’s what she wants us to believe? As if!”

“It goes against stereotype, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Coleman Greer was not gay.”

She wouldn’t listen to any argument to the contrary and rebuked both Duncan and the judge for giving any credence to it whatsoever. “She’s got her husband by the dick. He’ll believe it because he wants to. She’s so damn clever. She told him the one lie where he could save face. She let herself off the hook and salvaged his wounded pride. That takes talent. She’s a player, Duncan. The likes of which I’ve never seen.”

When he could work in a word edgewise, he’d said, “Even if what she claims about Greer is false, that only makes her guilty of adultery. We’re no closer to having evidence that she plugged Gary Ray Trotter for any reason other than self-defense.”

“It’s still murky, Duncan.”

Yes, it was. Murky enough for him to make the short flight from Savannah to Atlanta, paying his own way. He would try to get reimbursed later. Even if he wound up financing the trip himself, it would be worth the price of the airfare to get to the truth. Was Elise Laird a manipulative liar? If so, the investigation into the fatal shooting would continue. If not, her own life was at risk.

Either way, he had to know.

The driver pulled the taxi into the porte cochere of the high-rise and remarked on its swankiness. Duncan agreed. He paid the man and walked into the marble lobby, which embraced him with refrigerated air, the scent of lilies, and soft music. The reception desk was manned by a uniformed concierge.

“Good morning, sir. Can I help you?”

“Morning. I’m here to see Mr. Anthony Esteban.” He reached for his ID wallet, and in doing so made certain the man could see the holster beneath his sport jacket.

The concierge cleared his throat. “Is Mr. Esteban expecting you?”

Duncan flashed him a wide smile. “I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“I’ll have to buzz him.”

“Whatever. No rush.”

Belying his nonchalance, he leaned forward over the tall desk and watched with interest as the concierge raised a telephone receiver to his ear, then pressed the call button for the penthouse. “Mr. Esteban, I hate to disturb you. There’s a gentleman here, asking to see you. A Mr… uh…”

“Detective Sergeant Duncan Hatcher, Savannah-Chatham Metropolitan Police Department.” The city and county departments had officially merged a year ago. Duncan rarely used the full name. For one thing, it sounded stupid. For another, it was too long. In the time it took you to identify yourself to a felon, you could get killed. He really only used it when he wanted to look like a big shot.

The concierge repeated what he’d said, listened, then asked the baseball player to hold on. “He wants to know in regards to what.”

“Elise Laird and an incident at her house last week.”

Again, he repeated Duncan ’s words into the telephone receiver. After a brief pause, he said, “Mr. Esteban says he doesn’t know an Elise Laird.”

“Coleman Greer’s friend.”

The concierge’s mouth formed a small, round O, then he passed along the message to Esteban. “Of course, Mr. Esteban.” He hung up. “Go right up. The elevator bank is behind this wall.”

“Thanks.”

The elevator was so fast, Duncan ’s ears popped on the express ascent. The doors opened into a sizable foyer. Tony Esteban was waiting for him outside his front door. He was several inches shorter than Duncan, solidly built, and, Duncan knew, had arms that could knock the stitches out of a baseball. He was wearing nothing except a pair of workout shorts and a chunk of gold suspended from a half-inch-wide chain around his neck.

“Hatcher?”

“It’s a pleasure, Mr. Esteban.”

“Call me Tony,” he said, extending his hand. “Come in.” He spoke with only a trace of a Spanish accent.

“The proverbial glass house,” Duncan remarked as he stepped into the penthouse and took a look around. Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded almost a 360-degree view of the city.

“You like it? Cost a fucking fortune.”

“You make a fucking fortune.”

He grinned the grin that had made him vastly popular with fans and the media. “You want something to drink?” He led Duncan across what seemed to be an acre of sparsely furnished living space to a wet bar. He pushed a concealed button that opened the mirrored doors behind the bar to reveal its stock. “Whatever you like. Scotch, bourbon, a milk shake? I got everything.”

“How about a glass of ice water?”

He looked disappointed, but said okay. Duncan expected him to step behind the bar, so he was surprised when he hollered, “Jenny!”

Within seconds Jenny appeared. All six feet of her, most of it sleek, tanned legs that looked like they’d been airbrushed to perfection. Her hair was the color of a sunset, her breasts were huge, and she was gorgeous. She was wearing a miniskirt, high-heeled sandals, and a tank top no bigger than a slingshot, which left absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Jenny, this is Mr. Hatcher.”

“Hi, Mr. Hatcher.”

Duncan found his voice. “How do you do, Jenny.”

“Fine. Are you in baseball?”

“Uh, no.”

“He’s a cop from Savannah and he’s thirsty. Fix him some ice water. Do me one of those protein shakes.”

“Berries and yogurt?”

“Yeah, all that health stuff.”

She went behind the bar to do his bidding. Esteban motioned Duncan toward one of the low white leather sofas in a grouping of similar pieces. The end tables were hammered metal and glass.

Once they were seated, Esteban asked, “You a baseball fan?”

“Yes.”

“Braves?”

“Of course.”

“Good.” He beamed. “You ever play?”

“Some. Mostly football.”

“Pro?”

Duncan smiled and shook his head. “I maxed out in college.”

They filled the time it took Jenny to prepare their drinks talking about sports and the Braves’ season so far. “Show him your ring, honey,” Esteban said to her after she’d served their drinks. She extended her left hand toward Duncan, who praised the diamond, since it seemed that was expected.

“Almost ten carats,” Esteban told him, though he hadn’t asked.

“Wow.” He smiled up at Jenny. “Is it an engagement ring?”

“He proposed in a hot air balloon,” she simpered.

“In Napa,” Esteban added. “One of those wine country things.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“It was,” said Jenny.

“Have you set a date for the wedding?”

“Thanksgiving weekend. It can’t be during the season.”

“Right.”

“Wedding, wedding, wedding is all she talks about. Flowers. Dresses. Shrimp cocktails. All that shit. Go on now, honey.”

“It was nice to meet you, Mr. Hatcher. Bye.”

“Bye.”

Esteban affectionately smacked her heart-shaped butt as she strutted away, her heels tapping on the marble floor. As she disappeared through a set of double doors, he said, “She’s something, huh?”

“She’s amazing.”

“I’m crazy about her. Have you ever seen a body like that?”

“Not that I can recall.”

“She had some added to the top. I paid. She wanted them bigger, and I thought, what the hell? The bigger the better, right?”

“That’s always been my motto.” His wryness escaped the other man, who was too egotistical to hear anything except the sound of his own voice.

“She’s a sweet kid. Goes through money like it was water, but it keeps her happy. And she keeps me happy. I’m telling you-and this is no exaggeration.” He leaned in closer. “She could suck your eyeballs out through your dick.”

“Impressive.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” He took a drink of his shake and glanced at his wristwatch. “I got practice in an hour. How can I help you?”

“I’m investigating a fatal shooting.”

“Fatal means somebody died, right?”

“Right. It took place last Thursday evening at the home of Judge Cato Laird and his wife, Elise.”

“Yeah, I remember Elise. Now that you reminded me who she is. She’s dead?”

“No.” Duncan filled him in on the facts. He tried to avoid using words with more than five letters. “It seems Elise fired the fatal shot in self-defense. I’m just clearing up a few points.”

“Like what?”

“I understand she had a close personal relationship with Coleman Greer.”

He grimaced with obvious regret. “King Cole, we called him. What a fucking thing to do. You know, they think he’d been dead for a couple days before someone went to his place and checked on him. I heard it was a mess.”

He’d blown the top of his head off. That could be messy, all right.

“What do you know about his relationship with Elise?”

“They went way back. Fuck buddies, you know? When there’s nobody else around to fuck?”

“I’m familiar with the phrase.”

“They were that kind of friends.”

Duncan took a drink of his ice water and tried to look and sound casual. “When did you meet her?”

“He brought her to a Braves party, not long after he signed with the team. Knocked us all for a loop, ’cause she was such a babe and Cole had never said nothing about her. But he was low-key like that. Not a wild party guy.”

“Are you a wild party guy?”

He laughed. “I do my share.”

“Will marriage cramp your style?”

Esteban bobbed his eyebrows. “What happens on the road stays on the road. Know what I mean?”

“Gotcha.”

Esteban held out his fist. Duncan bumped it with his, forming a male pact of silence. “So, King Cole brings Elise to a Braves party and she’s a babe.”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Esteban reached for his shake and took a slurp. “That’s it.”

“Really.”

“Never saw her again and, as I said, Cole didn’t talk about stuff like that. So, I guess that’s all I can tell you.”

Duncan leaned against the stiff leather back of the sofa and propped one ankle on the opposite knee. “Know what Elise told me? She told me that you and Coleman Greer were the fuck buddies, and that you were breaking it off, and that’s why he put the barrels of that shotgun in his mouth and pulled the trigger.”

Esteban’s jaw went slack. He leaned forward, then back. He opened his mouth to speak but found he had no words. Finally he shook his head and said, “That bitch. That lying bitch!”

“It’s not true?”

“Fucking A, it’s not true.” He bounded off his seat and began to prowl the marble floor, flinging deprecations in rapid-fire Spanish.

“Why would she say such a thing?” Duncan asked.

Esteban bore down on him. “Why? I’ll tell you why. You want to know why?”

“Why?”

“Okay, it was like this. That night at the party?”

“The one where you said there was ‘and nothing’?”

“I didn’t want you to think I was a jerk, the kind of guy who would-”

“What happened at the party, Tony?”

“Cole got wasted. He passed out. That girl, that Elise, comes on to me. And I mean, man, she was hot for it. Hot, you know?”

“Okay.”

“She’s all over me. Made me nervous.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want my new teammate pissed at me over this chick, but she said it wasn’t like that between her and Cole. Said they were friends and that he would want her to have a good time at the party. She was saying stuff like that all the time she’s got her hand inside my pants. So I gave her what she wanted. Coupla times. I mean, she’s great-looking. Why not, you know?”

Duncan made a guttural sound of acknowledgment.

Esteban sat back down. “She was good, man. I wouldn’t have minded having some more of that, but the next morning, she’s writing down all her phone numbers, asking when I’m gonna call, stuff like that.

“Every day after that, she’s calling me, asking when she’s going to see me, why haven’t I called, didn’t I like her, how dare I use her and then dump her like she was nothing.”

He stopped suddenly. “You see that movie Fatal Attraction? That’s what she was. That broad. That psycho bitch from hell. I expected to come home one day and find a fucking bunny boiling on my kitchen stove.”

“Did you ever see her again?”

He shook his head. “I don’t need that shit, man. I guess she gave up. She finally stopped calling.”

“What did Coleman have to say about this?”

“He didn’t know. At least, I didn’t tell him. Don’t know if she did.” He frowned with disgust. “Man, I knew she was one twisted chick, and she swore she would pay me back for dumping her, but I didn’t figure on her making up something like I’m gay. Gay? Jesus!” Then he chortled a laugh. “It’s funny when you think about it.”

“You took it upon yourself to go to Atlanta and see Tony Esteban?”

“Yes.”

No sooner had Duncan cleared the door of the Barracks than he’d been summoned into Bill Gerard’s office. Captain Gerard was a good cop with nearly forty years with the department. He was a fair supervisor who kept himself up to speed on all the cases the VCU was investigating, and he dispensed advice when asked for it. But he trusted the detectives under his supervision to do their jobs without having to be micromanaged.

However, when necessary, he could chew ass effectively. Duncan braced himself for a good one.

“The Braves management office called,” Gerard said, stacking his freckled hands on his thinning ginger-colored hair. “They were steamed you didn’t go through them to interview Esteban.”

“I wanted to catch him unaware.”

“Apparently you did, because after you left, he had second thoughts. He went whining to the team’s PR people about a cop from Savannah asking him about a woman he barely knows who’s involved in a fatal shooting. He was scared the media would get wind of it, blow it out of proportion, he’d wind up the cover story of The National Enquirer.

“The nervous PR people called Chief Taylor, who called me and wanted to know what the hell was going on.” He spat into his dip cup and peered at Duncan over the top of his reading glasses. “I’d sorta like to know that myself, Dunk. What the hell’s going on?”

“I’m not convinced the fatal shooting of Gary Ray Trotter was self-defense.”

“Aw, shit.”

Gerard liked to hunt and fish, read books about the Civil War, and make love to the wife he’d been married to since the night after his high school graduation. He was looking forward to enjoying those pastimes in retirement, which was only two years away. Until then, he wanted to do his job well, meeting its demands, but avoiding the snares of bureaucratic politics so that he could exit the police department gracefully and enemy-free.

“You think the judge’s wife wasn’t just protecting her life?”

“I think she may have been protecting her life style.”

“Shit,” he repeated. “This isn’t going to sit well with Cato Laird.”

“I realize that, Bill. Believe me, I deliberated on it all the way back from Atlanta. He’s chief judge of superior court. He presides over felony cases. The last thing a police department wants is a judge with a grudge against cops who bring those felons to court. This places the department in an awkward position. I understand and appreciate that. But it’s my duty-”

Gerard held up his hand. “None of my detectives has to explain himself to me, Dunk. I trust you. Trust your instincts even more.”

He wouldn’t trust him so well if he knew the secrets Duncan had been keeping recently, the ethics he’d violated. Elise’s note. His private encounter with her at his house. He wouldn’t trust him so well if he knew how hard Duncan had struggled with his decision to pursue the case against her.

“What did Esteban say that implicated her?” Gerard asked.

“Is Kong here?”

Gerard looked at him with puzzlement. “I don’t know, why?”

“I’d like for him and DeeDee to be in on this. That way I only have to tell it once.”

“I’ll go take a leak. You get them in here.”

They reconvened five minutes later. DeeDee came in with a can of Diet Coke and an attitude. She was miffed at Duncan for going to Atlanta without her, or even telling her about the trip beforehand. He didn’t let her pouting bother him. She’d get over it. Soon, unless he missed his bet. She’d suspected Elise of an ulterior motive all along, and he was about to provide one.

Kong was his hairy, sweaty, but affable self. “What up?” he asked Gerard.

The captain pointed to Duncan. “This is his meeting.”

Duncan began by saying, “First of all, I’m giving notice here and now. When I grow up, I want to be a professional baseball player.” His description of Tony Esteban’s penthouse was designed to have them smiling, relaxed, and listening by the time he got down to the nitty-gritty.

“There was this red metal sculpture standing in the center of the room. It looked like an instrument of torture, or maybe a swan. And just like in the movies, he pushes a button, these smoky mirrored doors slide open, and there’s a bar stocked with every conceivable potable.”

They were raptly attentive by the time he got to Jenny. “Hugh Hefner never had it so good. Legs that went on forever. Tits out to here.” He gestured with both hands, holding them away from his chest. “Right there on display beneath this tight tank top, and I’m talking-”

“We get it, Duncan,” DeeDee said. “She had big tits. What did Esteban have to say?”

He gave the men a look that said there would be a more detailed description of Jenny’s chest later, then recounted for them his conversation with Esteban.

When he finished, Gerard asked for clarification on a few points. “It was Mrs. Laird who told you Coleman Greer was gay?”

“Last night at their home,” Duncan replied. “DeeDee and I were summoned there. Mrs. Laird was reluctant to destroy the myth-”

“It’s no myth,” DeeDee said.

“-of Coleman Greer’s machismo, but she told us that after their high school romance, which was platonic-”

“Like hell,” mumbled DeeDee.

“-he confessed to her what he’d never told another living soul. He was attracted to men.”

“ ‘As God is my witness.’ ” DeeDee dramatically placed her hand over her heart. “Á la Scarlett O ’Hara, she swore it.”

“Jeez, I can’t believe it,” Kong said. “My boys would be crushed. I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it. Live and let live, I say. But…well, you’d rather your baseball heroes be straight.” He looked around as though polling them. “Wouldn’t you?”

“According to Esteban, Coleman Greer was straight.”

“Correction, Bill,” Duncan said. “According to Esteban, he’s straight. He couldn’t speak for Coleman Greer, and doesn’t know with absolute certainty, but Esteban seriously doubts he was gay. How could he have been gay and nobody know? How could he have kept that hidden when he lived and traveled in the company of men half the year? He doesn’t believe Coleman Greer was gay. But he knows that he ‘ain’t no fucking fag.’ ”

“Which blows a big hole in Elise Laird’s story,” DeeDee said. “I’m positive she invented that lie because it was the one her husband would grab on to with both hands. During all those trysts, she wasn’t screwing her baseball player. No, she was consoling him over his gay love affair gone awry.” She snuffled with scorn. “Priceless. Your affair is exposed by a PI your husband has hired to follow you. You need a lie, and quick. Voilà! Your lover isn’t your lover. He doesn’t even like girls.”

“PI?” Kong said. “Here’s where my missing person comes in, right? The PI was Napoli?”

Duncan said, “Anything?”

“Nothing. Not a hair off his greasy head.”

“The judge hired Napoli?” Gerard said, his dismay showing.

“He said he was desperate to know if his wife was having an affair or if it was his imagination,” Duncan explained. “He admitted to us that Napoli came through with something, but at the last minute he changed his mind, didn’t want to learn what that something was.”

“And Kong found Gary Ray Trotter’s name among papers on Meyer Napoli’s desk.”

“That’s right, Bill,” Duncan said.

“Now I see where you’re going with this,” the captain said.

“ Napoli had proof of Mrs. Laird’s affair. The judge got cold feet, didn’t want to know the truth after all, turned it down. But Napoli got greedy and took the proof to Mrs. Laird. He blackmailed her with it. Whether to protect herself, or Coleman Greer, or both of them, she agreed to a big payoff. Gary Ray Trotter was the drop man.” He paused, then added, “This is all speculative, but it fits.”

They sat in silence for a moment, pondering Duncan ’s summary. Kong was the first to speak. “But how’d she know Trotter would break in that particular night?”

“It could have been prearranged.” Duncan told Gerard and Kong about her insomnia, her habit of going downstairs for milk. “Trotter may have been about to leave the goods, as instructed-”

“But she popped him first,” DeeDee said. “Maybe he was firing his pistol in self-defense, not her.”

“Maybe,” Duncan said, tugging thoughtfully on his lip. “But if that’s the way it went down, where are the goods? Supposing he had an envelope with him, what did she do with it?”

“Lots of places to hide it in that study,” DeeDee said. “She could have stuck it between two law books before the judge got downstairs. Or in a credenza drawer. It could have looked innocuous enough. She went back for it later.”

“I guess.”

“If Trotter was coming through with the promised goods, why’d she shoot him?” Kong asked.

“To tie up a loose end. This is one cold gal,” DeeDee replied.

“Funny,” Duncan said, “Tony Esteban described her as hot.”

“I guess it depends on your point of view.”

“I guess it does,” Duncan said, matching the bite in DeeDee’s voice.

Gerard said, “The key to all this is Napoli. If he sent Trotter to the Lairds’ house, and Mrs. Laird was expecting him, we’ve got ourselves a case of premeditated murder.”

“Or,” Duncan countered, “it was a burglary gone bad and a matter of self-defense as she claimed.” Or, he thought, there was another scenario. The one in which Elise was supposed to die, not Trotter. But he had only her say-so for that, and after his conversation with Esteban, it seemed even more unbelievable than it had before.

“What about ballistics on the two weapons?” Gerard asked.

“I got the report this afternoon,” DeeDee said. “Both clean as a whistle. The judge purchased his seven years ago.”

“Long before he’d even met Elise,” Duncan remarked.

“Trotter’s has never been attached to a crime,” DeeDee said. “Dead end.”

Addressing Kong, Bill Gerard said, “ Napoli needs to be found.”

“I’ve got every cop on the force with his eyes peeled and an ear to the ground. Right now, looks like he’s pulled a Jimmy Hoffa.”

Then the captain turned to Duncan. “What’s your next move?”

He thought about it for a moment. “I suppose I go back to Mrs. Laird and tell her that Esteban categorically denied being Coleman Greer’s lover. See what she says.”

“She’ll say he’s lying.” That from DeeDee.

Gerard spat into his cup. “You’re frowning, Dunk. What’s on your mind? Something tells me you’re not convinced.”

He stood up, walked over to the window, and gazed out thoughtfully. A horse-drawn carriage loaded with tourists was clop-ping past. The tour guide was pointing out the architectural features of the Barracks, giving them its history.

“Convinced?” Duncan said. “Good word, Bill. Because I’ve been wondering if maybe Esteban was trying to convince me that he’s heterosexual. Everything he said, his posturing, it was almost overkill. His Barbie-doll fiancée with an engagement ring bigger and heavier than an anchor. Her jumbo-sized breasts, which he paid for. Eyeballs through his dick.”

“Excuse me?”

He turned back into the room and smiled at Kong. “You had to be there. The point is, he wanted there to be no doubt in my mind that he was a superstud, a man who liked women.”

“He’s that way all the time,” Gerard said. “You ever see him when he wasn’t strutting his stuff?”

“He’s cocky as hell,” Kong agreed.

“Yeah, the swagger and boasting may just be elements of his personality.” Duncan returned to his chair, but didn’t sit down. He braced his arms against the back of it. “But let’s say, for the sake of argument, that Esteban and Coleman Greer were lovers. Who’s the one person in the world who might know about it and could expose it?”

Gerard supplied the answer. “Coleman’s longtime friend and confidante, Elise Laird.”

“Right. When the concierge of Esteban’s building announced me, I said I was there to talk to him about Coleman Greer’s friend Elise Laird. Maybe he panicked. Maybe he thought right then and there that the jig was up, that his homosexuality was about to be exposed. So everything he said and did was calculated to contradict anything she might have told me about his relationship with his teammate.”

“Or maybe her lie was payback for him dumping her, just like he said,” DeeDee argued.

“He’s an egomaniac. That whole story about her coming on to him could have been a lie.”

She made a snorting sound. “You just don’t want her to be guilty of murder.”

“And you do,” he fired back.

“No,” she said slowly. “But just because she’s got a doll face and a figure to match doesn’t mean she’s innocent.”

“It doesn’t mean she’s guilty, either.”

“Why don’t you push her the way you do other suspects?”

“Up till today she hasn’t been a suspect.”

“Only because you didn’t want to think so,” DeeDee retorted angrily.

“Hey!” Bill Gerard interrupted the heated exchange. “What’s with you two?”

“ Duncan goes calf-eyed every time he sees Elise Laird.”

“You’re pissing me off, DeeDee.” He spoke quietly, his lips barely moving to form the words. “Name one thing I’ve failed to do.” She continued to stare at him without speaking. “Name one thing I’ve failed to do,” he repeated angrily.

She looked across at Bill Gerard and sighed with resignation. “He hasn’t failed to do anything. He’s conducted a thorough investigation.”

“Thank you,” Duncan said stiffly. “Have I been cautious? More tentative than normal? You’re goddamn right I have. Because we’re about to go after a superior court judge’s wife. Before we do, I think we should explore every possibility. Because if we’re wrong on this, we’re gonna be butt-fucked and then we’re gonna be unemployed.”

A long, tense silence ensued. Kong broke it by saying, “Ouch.”

Everyone relaxed, chuckled. But Duncan wasn’t quite ready to forgive DeeDee, and when he looked at her, he didn’t smile.

“It comes down to this, Dunk,” Gerard said. “One of them is playing you. Either Mrs. Laird or Tony Esteban. Who do you think it is?”

That’s the question he’d asked himself a thousand times since leaving Esteban’s penthouse. Did he believe the cocky baseball player or the woman who had killed a man last week?

Quietly he said, “Elise Laird.” He glanced at DeeDee, then addressed his captain. “Too many things about that shooting just don’t add up, Bill. It doesn’t feel right. I think we should get her in here tomorrow, put her in an interrogation room with a court reporter, make it official. Hammer her pretty hard. See if we can shake something loose.”

Gerard nodded, but he looked unhappy. “Shit’s gonna fly. I’ll notify Chief Taylor tonight, because I’m sure he’ll get an earful from Judge Laird tomorrow.” No one disputed that. “Kong, let them know soon as you get anything on Napoli.”

“Will do.”

DeeDee was the only one in the room who looked happy. She stood up and dropped her empty soda can in the wastebasket, saying to Duncan, “I’ll be at my desk, if you want to go over the plan for tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

On his way out, Kong nudged Duncan and said in an undertone, “I still want to hear about that eyeball thing.”

Duncan was left alone with Gerard, who was using his necktie to polish his reading glasses. “What your partner said, is it true? Do you go moony over this lady?”

“I’d have to be a eunuch not to notice her, Bill. And so would you.”

“I’ve seen her. I understand. So I gotta know. Can you put blinders on and be objective?”

“She’s married.”

“Not what I asked, Dunk.”

“She’s a principal in an investigation.”

“Again.”

“We’ve got no solid evidence on which to build a murder case against her. Yet. But upon my recommendation we’re moving forward on the investigation, and if we find that needed evidence, I’ll get an indictment.”

Gerard replaced his eyeglasses and reached for a stack of paperwork on his desk. “All I needed to hear.”