Read No Show of Remorse Online
Authors: David J. Walker
No Show of Remorse (34 page)
They didn't give credit for persistence.
“I
HAVE TO TURN MYSELF IN TOMORROW
.”
“I'm aware of that,” the Lady said. She poured me some brandy and we sat across from each other in her parlor. “You'll be in Cook County Jail.”
“Right.” I sipped some of the brandy. It didn't seem possible four weeks had passed since my interrogation by Frick. Time enough for the Supreme Court to hold me in contempt again.
The Lady swirled the brandy in her glass. “Imprisonment didn't make you tell the last time,” she said. “Maybe this time they won't keep you so long.”
“That's what I'm hoping.” I finished my brandy and looked across at her. “You know,” I said, “I haven't seen Layla around for a while.”
“She's gone.”
“Gone?”
“She has family in Atlanta,” she said. “I managed to get her into culinary school down there.”
“In Atlanta? You know people in Atlanta?”
“I know people here,” she said, “who know people in Atlanta.”
“Of course you do.” The Lady also knew people here who might help me hold onto my private detective's license when I got out of jail again. I stood up. “I'm late. Got another good-bye to take care of.”
“That charming little man, you mean? Yogi?”
“No.”
“Oh,” she said. “And not Jimmy Coletta, I suppose.”
“No. He's called a few times, but I haven't called back. I don't need another coversation not to talk about. And he doesn't either. The lawyer Renata got for him has so far been able to fight off his having to give any statement. There's really nothing new to ask him. You can't just drag a person in and ask him did he commit a crime five years ago.”
“Well good-bye then, Malachy.” She stood up. “I shan't keep you.”
“I thought you wanted to know where I'm going.”
“I do, butâ”
“To say good-bye,” I said, “to Stefanie Randle.”
Her eyes lit up. “Really?” she said. “I suppose she'll miss you while you're gone.”
“She'll get over it. She's moving to Albany, New York.”
“Oh.”
“She has family there.”
*Â Â Â *Â Â Â *
F
IVE DAYS LATER
, in the afternoon, I had visitors. Renata Carroway and Yogi. Because she was my lawyer and said Yogi was her paralegal, we got to use one of those little glassed-in rooms at County Jail.
Yogi was wearing the threadbare tweed sportcoat he'd worn to lead Stefanie through the underground pedway to Marshall Field's that night about a hundred years ago. He looked healthy. “You doin' okay?” he asked.
“Pretty good,” I said.
“Not a pretty good place, this one, big mon.”
“No.”
“I have some news,” Renata said. “Jimmy Coletta's lawyer called me yesterday. He's been on vacation for two weeks. But he'd been telling Frick all along that he's got no case against Jimmy; that if Jimmy had to appear, he could invoke the fifth amendment. Frick knows that, of course.”
“But Frick still wants to put him through it, doesn't he,” I said. “He knows taking the fifth will make Jimmy look guilty as hell.”
“Of course.”
“Frick wants to destroy Jimmy. And what good will that do? What about his wife? His children?”
“Yes, well, he
is
guilty,” she said, then added, “I can voice my opinion, you know, because I'm not his lawyer. But anywayâ”
“What about the foundation he's setting up to help those poor kids? It won't even get off the goddamn ground. Guys like Frick don'tâ”
“Hold on, big mon,” Yogi said. He looked at Renata. “Best you tell him the rest, miss.”
“I'm trying to,” she said. “Anyway, Jimmy's lawyer called and told me Frick called him ⦠to say he was withdrawing his demand that Jimmy give a statement. And to say he was closing out the Lonnie Bright case.”
“Closingâ” The breath went out of me and it took a while to remember how to get some back in. “Then he doesn't need my answers, either. I can get out of here.”
“He
was
closing the case.” Renata stared at me through her big round lenses. “When the lawyer called Jimmy to tell him, Jimmy said he'd been trying to reach you. But you wouldn't call him back.”
“Right. So what?”
“Jimmy wants to give a statement. He's going to say that if there was a plan that night to kill Lonnie Bright, he knew nothing about it. But he's going to admit he was in on a deal to sell coke to Lonnie.”
“What?”
“Jimmy said for a long time he thought it was enough just to tell himself he wouldn't lie about it again if he's asked. But now he says he can't keep quiet any longer. And that it's not right that you should be in jail because of him. They went in this morning to give the statement. I guess his wife went with him.”
“For chrissake, doesn't he understand what will happen?”
“He knows,” she said. “Thing is, the state has big statute-of-limitations problems. They may not even bring charges.”
“I'm talking about what people will think. How they'll turn on him, wheelchair or not. What it'll do to hisâ”
“He was a cop. He knows. He told his lawyer he was leaving all that in God's hands. They say it'll be on the evening news, tonight.”
“Too bad he didn't do this long time ago, hey big mon?” Yogi said.
I shook my head. “How soon do I get out, Renata?”
“I'm filing a motion first thing in the morning,” she said. “But⦔
“But what?”
“Well, I sort of informally checked with someone who informally checked, and ⦠anyway, my understanding is the supreme court's really pissed off at you.”
“I sort of informally knew that already,” I said.
“My understanding is they'll let the motion sit until you've been in, say, thirty days,” she said, “and then cut you loose.”
“Thirty days? Who the hell do theyâ”
“Hey, thirty days,” Yogi said. “Piece o' pie, big mon, for guy like you. I visit every day they let me.”
“Right.” I looked around the bare, dingy room, and out through the thick glass at the steel bars and the double-locked doors I'd have to pass throughâjust to get back into the rest of that scary, stinking toilet they called a jail. “Piece o' pie.”
“None of this had to be,” Renata said. “You could have just answered a few questions. In fact, you could offer to do that now. I'll contact Frick.”
“No. I suppose I'm glad Jimmy decided to tell. It'll help him move on with his life. But I have to live my life, too, and in my ownâ”
“Jesus, Mal,” she slammed her hand down on the table. “If you'd learn how to give in to them, even a little, you wouldn't have to put up with shit like this.”
“I know, butâ” I shook my head. “I can't explain it.”
“I can,” Yogi said. He looked at me, and then at Renata. “What he mean, miss, he rather learn how to put up with shit like this, an' then he don't have to be givin' in, even a little.”
David J. Walker
,
a lawyer, is the author of the Edgar Award-nominated Mal Foley series, including
No Show of Remorse.
He lives in Chicago. You can sign up for email updates
here
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Also by
David J. Walker
MALACHY FOLEY MYSTERIES
Fixed in His Folly
Half the Truth
Applaud the Hollow Ghost
WILD ONION, LTD., MYSTERIES
A Ticket to Die For
A Beer at a Bawdy House
The End of Emerald Woods
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Contents
NO SHOW OF REMORSE
. Copyright © 2002 by David J. Walker. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Our e-books may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at (800) 221-7945, extension 5442, or by e-mail at
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ISBN 0-312-25240-4
First Edition: April 2002
eISBN 9781250112743
First eBook edition: January 2016
