Cold Shoulder (38 page)

Rooney was fighting to control his temper. She looked directly at him and continued. She described how she and Rosie had gone to S and A’s garage, how she had narrowed the list of cufflink owners down and taken photographs of suspects. None resembled the man who had
attacked her. She took the photographs out and passed them to Rooney and leant close to him as he examined the one of the blonde woman.

‘I think this is Steven Janklow. I think he’s a transvestite, and that he had a photographic session with either Mathews or Lyall. It could have been as far back as nine to ten years ago, maybe when he was just daring to come out. I think Mathews subsequently discovered who he was and started blackmailing him, realizing he’d found the golden goose. I think Art and Didi may have worked as a team. She was used or hired to do wigs and make-up. She made up Norman Hastings, fixed his hair for the photo session. Maybe she even tipped off Art, as Lyall said most of his clients always took the negatives. You interviewed Lyall, too, didn’t you?’

Rooney nodded. They’d come up with nothing as concrete as Lorraine. He couldn’t help but give a tight smile: she was good, always had been good. Now she began pacing up and down. There was something about the way she moved, tensing, relaxing her hands, and she rubbed her body, sexually, her face becoming more and more alive. She was exciting to watch, as she became increasingly animated.

‘I’ve got Hastings linked to Janklow — maybe they discussed the blackmail. Who knows what they discussed? Possible theory is, when Hastings went to the bank that morning, was he going to pay off Mathews? Pay off somebody? The strange thing is all his bank statements have been checked and the major transactions are accounted for.’ She suddenly stopped and clicked her fingers. ‘Unless Hastings was also tapping Janklow for money. It seems strange that he was allowed to park his car in the hangar. Nobody seems to know why he should have been when he no longer owned one of their cars. Did you know that at one time he owned a vintage car? Maybe that was where he could have found out that he and Janklow were the same kind of men. Whatever, we know they’re linked, and linked to Mathews through Didi. She’s very important. She may not have collected from Mathews’s blackmailing activities, but I’m beginning to think she may have been the go-between or, and this is a wild guess, maybe she was the person Janklow believed was blackmailing him. So that brings me to the last bit of guesswork.’

Lorraine took out the victims’ photographs and laid them along the sofa for Rooney to look at. ‘They have one thing in common apart from prostitution. Look at the make-up, the type of clothes they wore. Now, look at the morgue shots of Didi… Put her beside each one. You didn’t believe me earlier but what if Janklow was only after
her —
was only interested in tracking
her
down and killing her? He’s a Thorburn, right? His mother was a big society hostess, his brother is holding all the purse strings. What if Janklow has been paying out blackmail money because he’s scared his family will find out and it might be made public? Just as Hastings hid his private life from everyone who knew him.’

Lorraine tapped Rooney’s shoulder. He edged away, annoyed by her but more angry with himself. She had run rings around him and his department, and it infuriated him. But the only thing against her that he could think of was that she had withheld vital evidence.

‘You got to break Art Mathews — get him to admit this blackmail. If you do, then you got a clean motive and you’ve got Janklow — or at least enough to arrest him and take him in for questioning.’

Rooney’s head was spinning, and as he tried to assimilate everything she had told him he felt dizzy. She added, ‘And the guy has got to have some mark from where I bit him. Maybe the skin’s healed, even the bruising, but I held on for grim death.’

Rooney was unnerved by her toughness. ‘You faced him yet?’

‘I told you I hadn’t, I’m not stupid.’

‘You are one hell of a witness, you know that, don’t you?

‘Yeah.’ She stepped back, suddenly wary of him. He was a big man and when he stood up straight instead of his usual slouch it was surprising how much it added to his size.

‘You’ll have to come in with me. I’m sorry, Lorraine, there’s no way out of it now.’

‘Come on, Bill, don’t make me have to go to court, not now, not when I’m getting myself back together. I go to court, they can start throwing old charges at me, make me admit to what I was and they’ll dish the dirt on me, even bring up the shooting. Don’t do it to me, Bill.’

‘You were fucking attacked! That’s what you’d be in court for, nothing else.’

‘I know what he did but I won’t go to court. Don’t make them call me out, Bill.’

‘You’ve withheld evidence, and you even had Norman Hastings’s goddamned wallet! You never even told me about the cufflinks, so what do you expect me to do? You are the only witness. You gave me weeks of fucking waste of time. If you’d been upfront with me I’d have cracked this, I’d have been—’

She yelled, ‘Patted on the back and given a commendation before you retired, that’s what you’re pissed off about right now! Instead of moving on what I’ve just been spewing out for the past hour, you’re gettin’ the needle to me. You want me to face out Steven Janklow, then I’ll do it right now, I’ll go over to his place in Beverly Glen with you, with anyone you want, but I won’t go to court. Bill, I’m not standing up as ex-cop, ex-alcoholic, ex-hooker so you can get a slap on the back. I won’t do it, I’ll pack up and walk out right now and you won’t see me for dust.’

He waved the warrant. ‘
l
can take you in, Lorraine.’

Try it,
just try it.’
Hands on hips she glowered at him. ‘Go get Art Mathews to talk, Bill, that’s what you should be doing. You know it, so stop bullshitting and get on with it. I won’t be taken in and I warn you, if they drag me into court, then I won’t pour the next bottle down the drain.’

He pointed at her with his index finger. ‘You don’t leave this apartment, you hear me? If you want I can make sure. I can have a squad car out front in two minutes. I can have you watched day and night, right round the clock, have guys on your doorstep.’

She sat down. ‘I won’t leave, Bill, I give you my word. Maybe just to the corner for groceries but I’ll stay put.’

His upright position relaxed and he resumed his habitual slouch. ‘I’ll call you, see what I can do, lie about you, I suppose. But don’t let me down, Lorraine, I couldn’t take it.’

She hugged him tightly. He smelt of cigarettes and booze and food and he grunted at her to get away from him. He walked out of the door without a word and slammed it behind him.

Lorraine slumped onto the sofa. She was hot, angry, frustrated and a little scared. She should have kept her mouth shut about Hastings’s wallet. There was no need for her to have mentioned it — that had been a big mistake. She wondered if Rooney would have the balls to keep her identity secret and not make her go to court. To have all her past made public, to have her daughters and Mike read about her made her anger turn to humiliation. For the first time she faced her shame. She was disgusted with herself. Tears slid down her cheeks, but she made no sound. Had she really been stupid enough to think that she could start a new career? Who would want to hire her if her past life was splashed across every tabloid? She knew they’d love it, that she’d be hounded, and she knew they’d rake up why she’d been forced to quit the police. She saw him again, the yellow zig-zag stripe down his jacket, his face as he fell, his hair flopping.

Rosie opened the bedroom door and Lorraine heard the heavy, plodding feet crossing the room. She waited, praying for Rosie to leave her in peace. She bit harder into her hand as she felt her friend’s weight subsiding on the edge of the sofa. Rosie stroked her hair. ‘I listened at the door just in case you needed me.’

Lorraine sighed. She never had any privacy. She almost forgot that this was Rosie’s place.

‘You serious about going into the investigation business? For real?’ Rosie asked quietly.

‘No, I’d never get a licence, I was just kidding myself.’

‘You shouldn’t. I was real proud of the way you just talked to Rooney, the way you were piecing it together. You’re good, you know, clever.’

Lorraine gazed up at the big plump face. ‘Did you hear it all?’

‘Yep, and that’s another thing you’re good at. He was right, you sure as hell can lie better than anyone I know.’

Lorraine laughed softly. ‘Yeah, I guess you just get used to it, part of a cop’s life that, you know. “No cause for alarm”, when a whole building’s about to collapse.’

Rosie rubbed Lorraine’s back, like a mother would her child’s. ‘Maybe if you had to go to court it wouldn’t be such a bad thing. Maybe your kids
should
know, maybe they’ll be proud that you’re fighting back, proving yourself — proving your worth.’

Lorraine grinned. ‘Rosie, you’re such an optimist.’

‘Yeah, but I’m looking out for me too. I think I could get used to this kind of work — being a private investigator’s more interesting than sticking down envelopes — computers, even!’

Lorraine moved away from the soothing warmth of Rosie’s reassuring hand. ‘You don’t know it all, Rosie. It’s not just the drinking, the whoring, it’s not just that…’ and she told her about the fourteen-year-old boy. Rosie didn’t say anything but she felt even more warmth towards Lorraine, and especially when after the telling of the story, she tilted her face slightly and gave her a sweet, sad smile. ‘I’m gonna take a shower now.’

The telephone rang and Rosie answered it. It was Rooney and she knew something was wrong straight away.

‘She’s just taking a shower, Captain Rooney, you want me to fetch her?’

Rooney coughed. ‘Rosie, I’ve got some bad news. Art Mathews committed suicide.’

Rosie gasped. ‘My God, but how — how did he do—’

Rooney interrupted, ‘I’m sorry, but you’d better warn Lorraine. There’s not a hope in hell of me keeping her out of this now, you understand?’

‘How long does she have before they get here?’

‘They’re already on their way.’

Rosie looked at the closed bedroom door. ‘She’ll be ready.’

Rooney wanted to say more but there was too much going on so he hung up. Rosie opened the bedroom door: she could hear Lorraine singing in the shower. ‘Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run…’

J
AKE listened without interrupting. When Rosie had called him before he’d even had his breakfast, his first thought was it was she who needed him ‘urgently’. He was relieved to find her waiting at her front door stone cold sober. As she drew him into the apartment, she put her finger to her lips, indicating the bedroom. She didn’t want Lorraine to hear what she was saying but she knew she had to make it fast. ‘They arrest her, Jake, and everything she’s accomplished so far will be over. She’ll go back on the booze — she as good as said it.’

It was hard for him to take in everything Rosie said. Just the pertinent facts were enough to make him break out in a sweat. Lorraine had been attacked by the so-called hammer killer; she was the witness the police were searching for; she was also investigating or assisting the police in their inquiries. It was hard to believe, and even more so when Rosie slipped in that Lorraine’s ‘partner’ was also helping the investigation.

They couldn’t carry on the conversation as Lorraine walked in. She was surprised to see Jake.

‘You come for breakfast?’

‘Nope. I was wondering if you wanted to come to a meeting.’

‘What? Are you nuts? It’s not even nine o’clock. Besides, I can’t. I got to stay in the apartment.’

‘I’m gonna get dressed,’ Rosie said, eyeing Jake and jerking her head towards Lorraine, who watched her go out and then started to wash the cups.

She ran water into the sink. ‘So, what has she told you?’

Jake fiddled with his collar.

‘Is it about me admitting I wanted a drink?’

Jake shrugged. ‘You may not know it, Lorraine, but you just broke through, and you’ll make it even if it doesn’t look or feel like it right now. But I want you to come to a meeting with me this morning. According to Rosie you might need a morale boost.’

Lorraine put her head on one side. ‘She tell you I might be arrested?’

‘Is it true?’

She put down the dishcloth. ‘It’s true, and I think I’m gonna need a lot more than just a morale boost.’

‘Then you’ll come to the early-morning meeting?’

Bean strode into Rooney’s office, hands in his pockets. ‘Ambulance just taken his body away.’

Rooney pulled at his nose. ‘How the hell did he do it?’

‘Broke his glasses and slit his wrists.’

‘FBI must be shitting themselves.’ Rooney snorted with a half-derisive laugh and sneer.

‘Yep, all in there blaming each other and patting each other on the back at the same time.’

Rooney gaped. ‘What you mean?’

‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? I mean, why kill yourself if you’re innocent? They reckon he must be the one.’

Rooney snorted again. ‘That’s bullshit. We know he couldn’t have done two of them because he was inside. They got the report of his criminal record, didn’t they?’

Bean said that they might have found some discrepancies over the dates. Whatever, they were not digging too deep as the Chief was putting out a press release that the suspect in custody had admitted his guilt.

‘Had he?’ Rooney asked, astonished, because when he’d last seen Mathews he hadn’t — far from it.

‘They reckon so, but they still want to question his accomplice.’

‘His what?’

‘Lorraine Page. I was told you were bringing her in. They’ve been waiting for you.’

Rooney could feel the warrant in his pocket. He took it out and passed it to Bean, his heart pounding. He felt sick, needed time to plan what he was going to do with the information Lorraine had passed him. He had already decided not to mention the theft of Norman Hastings’s wallet, and would maybe tell her to leave out the cufflinks. He was even toying with trying to keep the attack on her out of his statements; now it looked as if it was out of his hands. He asked himself why he’d go out on a limb for her like this, but all he came up with was that he liked her, but if it got out that he’d used her, paid her, and had been privy to the information, he’d not only be out in the cold but his hoped-for bonus was shrinking by the minute.