Triple Pursuit (27 page)
When Father Dowling told him that Jane Gallagher herself had brought up her husband's alibi, that he was out of town on business the night Agatha Rossner was killed, Cy once more drove to the Loop and ascended the elevator to Barth, Brach, Frailey, and Kelly. He had to assume that Timothy was there in midafternoon; calling in advance was too risky. Young Gallagher would want to know what Cy needed to see him for, and it was not wise to lie in the course of the search for the truth. His gamble did not pay off.
“Oh, he's gone for the day.” Phyllis's manner was chillier than it had been earlier.
“You wouldn't try to fool me, would you?”
“I wish I had used more sense when you were here this morning.”
“Something go wrong?”
“Mr. Gallagher came in and wanted me to enter something in the appointment book and wondered why it was opened where it was. I forgot to put it away after I made the photocopy.”
“You tell him about the photocopy?”
“He found out in the copying room. I'm lucky I still have my job.”
What could Cy say that would reassure her? He had shamelessly relied on the fact that women trusted him implicitly when he'd asked for the photocopy of Timothy Gallagher's appointment calendar.
“If you have any trouble I'll take the blame.”
“That ought to help.”
Well, it was the best he could give. “Any idea where he went?”
“He didn't even say good-bye.”
“Guess.”
“He called his sister.”
That Tim would go to Colleen now that he knew his supposed alibi was exploded made some sort of sense. He had to go somewhere and probably going home early did not appeal. Sooner or later he would have to tell his wife that he had not been out of town on business that night. So where had he been? Jane Gallagher would not want to know the answer to that question any more than Cy Horvath did. Calling her was out, even more than calling Timothy's office had been. Now Tim would know that Cy Horvath had seen his appointment calendar and knew the story he had told his wife about a business trip was phony. If he was at Colleen's and she got a call from Cy, he wouldn't stick around to talk about where he had been on the night Agatha was killed.
As he drove, Cy thought of Agatha's Alfa Romeo, which had finally cleared the red-tape hurdles and was being given a thorough examination, courtesy of the Chicago police lab. Agatha must have driven that car to the Western Sun condominiums on the last night of her life. Someone else had driven the car away and left it in the garage where she rented space. Why? Whoever it was had taken it through a car wash and probably had cleaned up the interior as well, making chances of the police lab turning up incriminating evidence minimal. But it was the thought of someone waiting around outside Jack's condo, someone who seemed not to have come by car, that intrigued. He would have had to have known where Agatha's car was. He would have had to have reason to think that she wouldn't spend the entire night in Jack's apartment, but would emerge in the wee hours. Had he been waiting for her when she came out? Had he killed her and then, for whatever reason, driven off in her car, washed it, parked it in its stall in the garage? This faceless person took on the face of Timothy Gallagher ; he would have known of his father's liaison with Agatha. Had he been driven by jealousy of his own father? Orâa darker thoughtâhad he done what he did in order to implicate Jack Gallagher?
Cy found a parking space within walking distance of Colleen's
apartment. When he turned in at the building, Tim Gallagher was coming toward him.
apartment. When he turned in at the building, Tim Gallagher was coming toward him.
“She isn't here.”
“It's you I want to see.”
“Yes, yes, I know. But I called Colleen on my way over and when I got here she was gone.”
“Did you get in the apartment?”
“The door wasn't shut tightly enough to engage the lock.”
“Did you leave it that way?”
“No, I shut it. It's locked now.”
“Well, let's find the building manager.”
Checking out Colleen's apartment might loosen up Timothy. He knew why Cy was here, that he had come to see him rather than his sister. He had as much as acknowledged that, but his concern for his sister was real.
Lazenby, the superintendent, wrinkled his nose. “You're her brother?”
“Yes.”
“And you are a policeman.”
“That's why I carry this badge.”
“Well, I don't see why I should let either one of you into her apartment.”
“Can I use your phone?”
Lazenby seemed ready to veto this as well. Cy picked up the phone and dialed. “Inspector of Buildings? Look, this is Lieutenant Horvath. Could you get an inspector out here immediately? I think we've gotâ”
“Stop!” Lazenby cried.
“Just a moment,” Cy said to the busy signal.
“I'll let you in but I must go in with you.”
They went upstairs and the superintendent managed to get the door of Colleen's apartment open.
There is an emptiness that feels like absence. With Lazenby dogging
his footsteps Cy went through the apartment. A glance around sufficed to show she wasn't there, but he looked in the closets and even under the bed. “What time was it when you spoke to her?”
his footsteps Cy went through the apartment. A glance around sufficed to show she wasn't there, but he looked in the closets and even under the bed. “What time was it when you spoke to her?”
Timothy looked at his watch. “Not an hour ago.”
“She left without her purse.”
“That's a computer case.”
Cy took the strap and lifted it, trying its heft, then put the strap over his shoulder. It was still on his shoulder when Lazenby let them out, and watched them go down the stairs.
“You're welcome,” he called after them sarcastically.
“What time would you like the building inspector to come?”
Lazenby clattered down the stairs after them. “But I showed you her apartment.”
“I won't report that.” At the curb he turned to Timothy. “Where are you parked?”
“That's me there.”
“I'm two blocks away. Let's sit in your car.”
Cy got into the passenger seat and waited for Timothy to settle behind the wheel.
“You weren't out of town on business the night Agatha was killed.”
“No.”
“Where were you?”
“I spent the night at a motel.”
“Why?”
“I wanted to sort out my thoughts, review what I had been doing. I had made a damned fool of myself with that girl and I was determined to get over it. I didn't realize then that I would have to tell my wife about it.”
Cy thought about that. He didn't envy Timothy that ordeal. “What motel?”
“The Hacienda.”
“Why the Hacienda?”
“Why not? It's the only local motel I ever stayed at.”
That was something easy to check. Maybe Timothy had an alibi after all.
“Why did you take Colleen's computer out of the apartment?” Tim asked.
“I thought you could check her e-mail. See where she might have gone.”
Timothy got the laptop out of its case, turned it on, connected it to his cell phone, and hummed while he waited. “She should get a new one. This is slow.”
Her code name was recorded on AOL so he logged into the server and then brought up new mail. Most of the messages were from Mallard and Bill.
“Fremont,” Cy said. There were half a dozen messages from Fremont.
“She's been working with him as well as Mario.”
“Is there a message there from Mario?”
“No.”
“Do you know his number?”
He didn't but he called information and then waited. The corners of his mouth turning down. “No answer.”
“Give me a lift to my car.”
When he had directed Timothy to where he had parked his car, he opened the door and stepped out.
“You can check at the Hacienda Motel, Lieutenant.”
“I will.”
Phil Keegan was annoyed with the way things were going. Mario Liberati was nowhere to be found either, suggesting that he and Colleen had gone off together. At least that was the hypothesis Phil Keegan invoked to explain why his department was not involving itself in the matter.
“People go off without telling anybody all the time, Cy. It's not a police matter. And when a man and a woman go off together, well ⦔
“But when the two people are mixed up in an ongoing investigation?”
Cy's pursuit of the possibility that Timothy Gallagher was once more a suspect, given the fact that he had not been, as his wife had believed, out of town on business the night Agatha Rossner was killed, had come aground at the Hacienda Motel. Tim had indeed spent the night there.
“To gather his thoughts,” Phil said, his attitude toward Timothy's reason for going into seclusion a product of his disappointment that the young lawyer was no longer a suspect.
Cy was not sure that registration in the Hacienda settled the matter. He had become quite the confidant of the housekeepers there and the new head housekeeper looked into it and found Timothy had had dinner in his room and seemed to have stayed there until morning. That still did not absolutely close off the possibility that Timothy had
used the motel as a base of operations from which to go to Western Sun and strangle Agatha.
used the motel as a base of operations from which to go to Western Sun and strangle Agatha.
Of course Mario Liberati had a motive too, if he was right to suspect that Agatha had informed Mallard and Bill that their star courtroom performer had underworld ties in Milwaukee. For the moment, Phil Keegan was sick of it. He got into his car and stopped at the St. Hilary rectory.
“The Bulls on?” he asked when Roger Dowling answered the door.
“Come on in.”
But in the study Phil found himself reviewing the annoying details of the investigation, ending with the suspicious disappearance of Mario Liberati. “Maybe that's why he took a powder, Roger.”
“With Colleen?”
Phil shrugged. His eyes drifted to the screen where the Bulls, in the post-Jordan era, were disgracing themselves as Larry Bird's Pacers went up by twenty points. Phil groaned.
An hour later, alone, Phil having gone home, Father Dowling sat on in his study, puffing pensively on his pipe. The events of the past several weeks occupied him as he tried to make sense of what had happened. He longed for the time when it had been the rumpus at the parish dance that had held center stage. Two elderly men, brothers-in-law still, although the sisters they had married were dead, had vied for the favors of an equally elderly lady, and the suit brought by Jack Gallagher against Austin Rooney had threatened to bring unwelcome publicity to the center so capably run by Edna Hospers. The death of Agatha had made that dispute seem more trivial than it already was, and Jack Gallagher's dramatic confession to the murder of Agatha had drawn the attention of the media away from the parish but in a way Father Dowling could scarcely find comforting.
Jack's confession had been a diversion, as Father Dowling had been convinced it was when Jack had shied away from confession in the sacramental sense. If he had sought Divine forgiveness for the deed to which he had confessed to the police, it would have been impossible to dismiss it, but Jack had avoided making the confession that he knew would count. The assumption had been that he confessed to the police in order to divert attention from the one he assumed to be the murderer, and his son was the obvious candidate for that role. The alibi, if it could be called thatâafter all, Timothy's business trip had been the excuse he had given his wife, not a public claimâhad now dissolved and it seemed improbable that he had registered at the Hacienda Motel and then somehow gotten to Western Sun and done away with the woman who had led him up the garden path before she had succeeded in capturing the fancy of his father.
But his motive remained a strong factor. Agatha had exposed the weaknesses of son and father, and had led Tim into a dalliance that had threatened his home and career. But the fact that he had bared his soul to his wife told strongly against his being guilty of the death of Agatha. So where did that lead?
Roger Dowling had been intrigued by Cy Horvath's hypothesis that there was some connection between the death of Agatha Rossner and the horrible incident on Dirksen Boulevard when Linda Hopkins had been pushed into oncoming traffic and died a terrible death. The arrest of Harry Paquette in Kansas City, given his past record, negated his claim of innocence. But the decisive fact that Harry had been in custody when Ruby Otter was killed in her office at the Hacienda Motel was in his favor. That Ruby had been witness to his love for Linda scarcely made her a menace. But another of the witnesses, Mabel Wilson, had died in a suspicious manner, though that too had happened when Harry was out of the picture. Unless Harry had friends who were responsible for getting rid of the one
whose testimony would have been decisive against Harry, and killed Ruby in the bargain, these deaths seemed unrelated to that of Linda Hopkins. But how could all this be linked to the death of Agatha Rossner?
whose testimony would have been decisive against Harry, and killed Ruby in the bargain, these deaths seemed unrelated to that of Linda Hopkins. But how could all this be linked to the death of Agatha Rossner?
Cy had thought that Timothy Gallagher would provide the link, but when Agnes Lamb had showed his picture, taken from the Web site of Mallard and Bill, to GloriaâRuby's successor as head housekeeper at the Hacienda Motelâthe result had been negative. But someone who had attended a conference at the motel had shown interest in Linda. Perhaps looking into all the conferences held at the Hacienda during that time frame was the most promising avenue now. Father Dowling had a hunch this would have occurred to Cy Horvath.
Cy was keeping vigil outside the apartment of Mario Liberati. He had learned that Liberati's car was not in the parking bay he rented but was unable to learn anything helpful as to when the lawyer had last been seen at his place of residence. It was possible, maybe even probable, that Mario and Colleen had decided to go off together, to get away from the scene of recent events, perhaps to marry, but everything Cy knew of the couple told against it. They were due to begin marriage-preparation classes with Father Dowling; both of them seemed to regard marriage in such a way that an elopement would be an unlikely course.
The biggest decision Cy had taken was not to go to Milwaukee. Mario's departure from Mallard and Bill had been precipitated by his brother-in-law Jimmy Kane's demand that Mario defend him against the charges he faced. Pressure had been put on Mario by his sister, and her plea had been difficult to ignore. Lining up these thoughts did
not produce anything like an argument. Nonetheless, Cy was parked outside Liberati's apartment on the unformulated assumption that the missing lawyer would return.
not produce anything like an argument. Nonetheless, Cy was parked outside Liberati's apartment on the unformulated assumption that the missing lawyer would return.
And so he did. At two in the morning, when the street had dissolved into shadows and the rows of parked cars lining each curb seemed to be taking their rest along with their owners, a pair of headlights came slowly down the street, a driver looking for an opening. Cy sat forward and turned the key in the ignition and waited. The car crept by him, only one person visible, the driver. The car continued down the street and accelerated. Cy pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and followed without turning on his lights. He followed the car to the garage into which it turned. Cy parked and got out of the car and was waiting when Mario Liberati walked slowly up the ramp to the street.
“Liberati?” He stopped and Cy stepped into the light. “Lieutenant Horvath.”
“Have you found her?”
“Where have you been?”
But Liberati advanced on Cy as if he would force an answer from him. “Where is she? Where is Colleen?”
“I don't know. Where can we talk?”
“Talk? For God's sake, you have to find Colleen!”
“That's what we're going to talk about.”
After some hesitation, they started up the street to Mario's apartment.
“How did you know she was missing?” Mario asked, when he had let them into his apartment.
“Her brother Timothy became worried when he couldn't reach her.”
“I talked to her last night. But today ⦔
“Where have you been?”
“Milwaukee.”
The story came easily when Liberati realized that Cy knew of his
brother-in-law Jimmy Kane and Kane's effort to enlist Mario as his defense attorney.
brother-in-law Jimmy Kane and Kane's effort to enlist Mario as his defense attorney.
“He tried to work on me through my sister. Then, when I couldn't find Colleen, I had the thought that he was trying to work on me through her.”
“And?”
Mario shook his head slowly. “I'm going to make a drink. What would you like?”
“What have you got?”
Cy settled for a beer.
Edna needed a day off when she realized she couldn't stand the sight of Desmond O'Toole and that the girlish laughter of Maud Gorman was driving her nuts. She needed some peace and quiet. But the hope of having the house all to herself was dashed when the kids reminded her the night before that tomorrow was December 8, the Immaculate Conception, a holiday of obligation.
“And there's no school!”
“Oh, good,” she managed to say.
But after Mass she made waffles and it was better than the weekend. Janet helped her with the dishes and Carl went off to his computer. By noon the house was as quiet as Edna could have wished and she couldn't stand it. Before she could suggest a visit to the mall, Janet got a call and arranged to go out with her girlfriends. When Edna looked in on Carl, he was engrossed in an astronomy program on his computer and was way out in space in several senses.
“I think I'll go over to the Center, Carl.”
“Hmmm.”
“I'll be back in a few hours.”
He nodded. She doubted he had heard a word she said. She headed back to the St. Hilary Senior Center almost with relief.
“Father Dowling was looking for you,” Desmond O'Toole said.
“Thank you.” Edna looked into the converted gym. There seemed as many here on a holy day as any other day. Of course, they would have attended Mass at St. Hilary's before coming to the Center. On a corner table near the coffee urn were doughnut boxes, suggesting an improvised breakfast.
“He asked me if you were in your office,” Desmond said over her shoulder. “I said I suppose so and he went upstairs.”
“Thank you, Desmond.”
“He said you weren't there.”
“I wondered where I wasn't.”
Edna skipped up the stairs as if fearful Desmond might follow. She closed her office door behind her and felt a fleeting impulse to lock it. She slumped into a chair and wondered if this is what people meant by “burnout.” Her planned day at home had proved a disappointment and it didn't help to have Desmond O'Toole almost scolding her when she showed up at the Center.
Her hand went out to the phone, then stopped. Maybe she should go over to the rectory to find out what Father Dowling had wanted. But the thought of Marie Murkin dissuaded her. She dialed the rectory.
“Marie? Is Father there?”
“Edna, where are you?”
“In my office.”
“Oh, thank God. When Father came back and said you weren't there I called your house and talked to your son. He didn't know where you were.
“Well, here I am. Let me speak to Father.”
But Marie had not exhausted the subject of Edna's mysterious disappearance. “I tried to remember if I had noticed you at Mass this morning ⦔
“Marie, I've been to Mass, I spent the morning with my kids, I am now in my office, and please put Father Dowling on.”
A silence. “One moment, please.”
After Edna's phone call Father Dowling walked over to her office in the school.
“It was nothing at all, really, Edna. I wanted to ask you a computer question.”
“Have you bought a computer, Father?”
“I never rose to the level of an electric typewriter.”
One becomes an expert on the computer when asked questions by someone who knows less about them. Father Dowling professed to know nothing at all. Could Edna get onto the World Wide Web? She could. Is it true that any Web site in the world can be brought up on the screen? “How do you summon them?”
“They have addresses.”
He looked disappointed. “So if I had heard of such a site but didn't know the address, you couldn't show it to me?”
“What Web site is it?”
“Mallard and Bill are a firm of lawyers in the Loop. I am told they have a Web site.”
“I'll do a search.”
Edna typed
Mallard and Bill
in the little box, and clicked on SEARCH. Moments later the results appeared on the screen. “Is that it?”
Mallard and Bill
in the little box, and clicked on SEARCH. Moments later the results appeared on the screen. “Is that it?”
Father Dowling leaned toward the monitor, which of course was difficult to read at an angle. “Is that all there is?”
Edna highlighted the entry and pressed ENTER and the Web site for Mallard and Bill formed on the screen.
“Ah,” Father Dowling said. He pulled a chair up next to Edna's.
Edna showed Father Dowling the various subdivisions of the site that could now be reached.
“Let's look at partners and associates.”
“All right.”
“They're very small, aren't they?” he said a moment later, looking at the array of photographs on the screen.
“Oh, they can be enlarged.” She clicked on one to show him. It was Mario Liberati. At least he hadn't been removed from the roster.
“And you can print it out.”
“Of course.”
Edna printed out Liberati's picture. It was not photograph-quality, of course, but amazing nonetheless.
“I would like printouts of all of them.”
“You would?”
Father Dowling lifted his hands. “Just a wild idea. Too wild to bother Cy Horvath with.”
He had fifteen printed photos when he thanked her, ready to go.
“What is the wild idea?”
“I'll tell you later. Do you have an envelope for these?”
Edna found a large manila envelope and put the photographs in it for him, enjoying the thought that he did not want Marie Murkin to see what he had come to the Center for.
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