Every Breath You Take: A Novel (A Kristen Conner Mystery Book 2) (9 page)

I walked down the street from there and got the Happy Meal at McDonalds. The grandma serving me kept looking around with narrow eyes to see if I really had a kid. I don’t know what the rules are on age but I may be banned from at least one Chicagoland McDonalds. I did get a miniature Barbie. I’m no fan of the doll but I may keep this one for myself. When I bought Kendra a Sporty Barbie soccer star for her eighth birthday, I got in trouble with my sister for giving her a toy that might permanently twist her perception of the appropriate female body. I think Kendra is okay so far.

I finally got back to the office at four o’clock, legal and ready to get busy, despite the fact that my hair was a stringy mess and I had washed everything off my face. I might have detected a slight case of body odor when I lifted my arms to stretch my back.

Didn’t matter. The place was nearly a ghost town.

“Where is everybody?” I asked Shelly.

“The captain took everybody to serve a warrant to a person of interest on the Durham murder.”

Since I’m here, he obviously didn’t take
everybody
. I am tempted to point that out but hold my tongue.

“He leave any instructions what he wants me to get started on?”

“Not a thing.”

Thanks, Shelly. For nothing.

I decide to brave Chicago’s public transportation system and head home early to regroup. Everyone knows I put in long hours so I’m not too worried anyone will think I’m a slacker—and there’s no one around but Shelly to think that anyway.

After I cleared e-mail for twenty minutes, I walked the stairs down to the lobby, caught the bus almost immediately in front of our building. I hopped off at Walsh and Van Buren, walked a long half block to the LaSalle station and jumped on the northwest Blue Line. The El was packed. The guy standing next to me for a couple stops looked like he was homeless. He kept wrinkling his nose and giving me dirty looks when I held onto the overhead straps. No argument from me, my deodorant gave out an hour ago. When he started to make wretching sounds I gave him a dirty look and won a stare down. He moved further down the car. Glad I got one victory today.

We crossed Western and I was one stop from my exit when I saw Zaworski’s name pop up on my screen.

“Yes sir?”

“Where you at, Conner?”

“I’m just about home, sir. When I got back from office it was after four and I didn’t see anything on my desk.”

The silence at the end of the line is palpable. I guess I could have told him I was still straightening things up but I’m not going to lie to the boss.

“I’ll head right back in, sir.”

“You do that, Conner. Turn your car around and get here in thirty. Straight to my office.”

He saved me from explaining that I’m not in my car because the line was suddenly dead after a particularly loud click.

I get off on California. It takes me 10 minutes to find an ATM and then another fifteen minutes to flag a cab. We’re in the middle of rush hour so the drive to the precinct is about thirty minutes. I run up the five flights of steps to Homicide and head straight for the captain’s office. I give three quick raps on the door, then open it slowly and poke my head in. He is huddled with Commander Czaka and Sergeant Konkade at a small meeting table.

“Not now, Conner,” Zaworski says. “Go find Squires and get up to speed.”

I shut the door quietly and head over to the cubicle farm where Don and I and the other detectives are lined up. He’s not in his cube. I walk out front and Shelly has just picked up her purse to leave.

“Thought you scrammed,” she says.

“I did but the captain called me back in.”

“Yeah, he had all the detectives in the conference room to go over new developments on the Durham case.”

Not
all
Shelly.

“Squires and the others hiding somewhere around here?”

“No. That meeting ended fifteen minutes ago. Captain told everyone to go home because tomorrow is a big day. You probably need to get home too.”

“Captain didn’t leave a message for me to wait around to talk to him?”

“Not with me. He’s got a big dinner tonight. When he’s done with the commander he’ll be out of here in a hurry.”

She heads for the elevator bank. I blow hair off my face in exasperation.

• • •

I turn sideways and kick ten times as hard as I can with my right knee. A quick hop to my right and I kick ten times with my left. I square up and punch left, right, left, right as hard as I can for ninety seconds.

“Time!” Gary calls. “Not bad, not bad.”

I start to lean down and put my hands on my knees but straighten up and get my hands over my head to open my lungs. I get a sharp reminder that my deodorant gave up the fight hours ago. My thighs and everything else on me are burning and complaining from the last thirty minutes of kicking and punching. Not sure there is a better singular workout program than fighting.

I waited twenty more minutes at the office for Zaworksi to finish meeting with Czaka and Konkade. No way was I leaving the office without checking in with him. I did have to go the bathroom and when I came out he was gone. Shelly was right. He was out in a flash. It took me ninety minutes to navigate the route to my house through heavy traffic.

I was steaming when I got home. I threw on workout clothes and headed to the Planet Fitness about ten minutes from my apartment. I don’t know what’s going on tonight but the traffic was so heavy it took me twenty minutes. I didn’t have a game plan and was thinking maybe weight machines and then the elliptical. A guy was shadow boxing on one of the mats. He had the punching paddles there so I asked if he wanted me to hold for him.

Gary decided to get cute and flirt a little until he saw the expression on my face was all business. When he started his punching routine and I didn’t budge an inch holding the paddles he got down to business too. He came in fast and furious to show off. I still held my ground. After he was all punched out we talked a few minutes and he ended up being a nice guy. He told me he was a baggage handler for American out at O’Hare and had been in the Marines—two tours in Iraq. He boxed while he was in the service and before that did some Golden Gloves. He definitely had fast hands. When I told him that he started flirting again. I cut him off. I told him to give me the gloves and to pick up the paddles.

I offended him when I asked, “So you are an ex-Marine?”

“No true Marine ever stops being a Marine.
Semper Fi
.”

Okay. Dramatic. But I like the loyalty.

I started out slow and steady but picked up the pace. I started mixing speed and power and then switched to kicks and karate chops with hands and elbows. I ended with a speed routine that is designed to take the muscles to absolute failure. It worked. I am shaky. The only reason I keep moving is to do an appropriate cool down and save myself from lactic acid buildup.

“Let’s work out again sometime. You punch great.”

I think he wanted to add, “for a girl,” but caught himself.

“Give me your number so I can put it in my phone,” Gary continues.

I hesitate. I give out my number all day every day but usually to witnesses and suspects.

“I promise I won’t bug you,” he says. “I have a girlfriend already and I’m loyal like a Marine. I’ll just call if none of my workout partners want to punch.”

I give him my number with a trace of uneasiness.

“So what do you do?” he asks.

“I’m a cop. Detective first class for the Chicago Police Department.”

“I for sure won’t bug you, Detective Kristen.”

“Good workout and thanks,” I say as I make my typical graceful exit. I step on a fat rope someone left at the edge of the map and about bite the dust. I look back and he’s watching me and laughing. I give a curtsy and head for the door.

You better be loyal to your girl and not bug me Gary.

• • •

I put a towel on my seat and sink into my Miata. The ride home takes the customary ten minutes. I plan to take a quick shower but the water feels too good and I empty my water heater. My green consciousness is definitely reeling with all the water and electricity I just wasted. I flip on ESPN to Monday Night Football and watch Cincinnati versus Baltimore for twenty minutes. Ray Lewis has definitely slowed down and the Bengals are a lot better than I remember them being.

First day back in the office. What a disaster. And what’s with no real welcome home? I wasn’t expecting a brass band to play “Seventy-Six Trombones” from
The Music Man
. But a little recognition within my department might have been nice. What is up with Zaworski anyway?

So much for easing back into things. We’re on a full-blown high profile murder case. Well the others are and I plan to be tomorrow. I don’t need to ease back in anyway. I’ve had an all-expense vacation in Quantico, Virginia. My knee feels great. I’m ready to go.

16

I GOT CALLED into Zaworski’s office this morning within five minutes of arriving at the precinct. I was actually twenty-five minutes early.

Sergeant Konkade and Bob Blackshear were in the office with him. Blackshear works at the Fourth Precinct so I wonder what he’s doing over here.

“Sit down, Conner,” Zaworski orders with his patented charm and courtesy.

I smile at Konkade who ignores me. Blackshear and I nod to each other. He’s a rung or two above me on the detective ladder. I can see him getting a big-time promotion in the near future.

“Blackshear is here because he is going to run Homicide in the Second for a month or so.”

Apparently I am a prophet. Okay. That’s a surprise.

“And in case you’re wondering where I’ll be and what I’ll be doing don’t ask because I’m not saying right now.”

“Yes sir.”

“I like that, Conner. Just keep saying ‘yes sir’ and don’t ask any . . . darn questions.”

“Yes sir.”

He looks up to see if I’m being a smart aleck. I am. But I think I have emptied my face of even the hint of a smile or any other sign of mirth or emotion.

“In the big scheme of life, I’m not sure if our Durham murder case matters more or less than any others,” he presses on. “In fact, I know it doesn’t. All murders are wrong and a tragedy. But . . . some feel just a little less like a tragedy. This might be one of them. If you or Blackshear quote me on this I’ll swear you are lying. But sometimes when the herd gets thinned a little, everybody gets along a little bit better.”

Where is he going with this?

“This Jack Durham may have had a boatload of money but he was a lowlife if ever there was one. My wife is very enlightened so I don’t talk this way at home. But I’m not crying in my beer that we lost Durham.

“Doesn’t mean this isn’t a huge case, however. It’s still a murder and we got everyone from the mayor’s office to every hack writer with a blog watching us like a hawk. Conner, I think I saw your sister waxing eloquent about it on the late news.”

He pauses but looks at me intently. He better not be implying I feed her information or this meeting is going to get heated.
Sir
.

“If we break the case this afternoon it won’t be soon enough,” he sighs. “According to the news we’ll still have moved too slow and botched everything we did along the way. Fine. We know better. Bottom line, I want this one cleared fast. Preferably before I get back.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good memory, Conner. You’re still doing well. Don’t mess it up now.”

Uh oh. Something’s coming. My magical detective antennae feel tremblers all around me.

“You did good work undercover with Alcoholics Anonymous earlier this year. Well, you mostly did good work.”

He pauses and scratches his chin. He’s having a hard time getting this out. That can’t be good. I’m holding my breath.

“We met with the lady who we think is our leverage on this case. We told her what we had on her, what we planned to do to her, but what she could for herself if she decided to help us. She folded like a cheap tent. Didn’t she Blackshear?”

“Yes sir, she—”

“That’s right, she did,” Zaworski interrupts. “Commander Czaka and I had a late night powwow to think through how to play this. Konkade and Squires wrote a nice two-page strategy report. It was good but not inspired. No offense meant,” he says, looking at the sergeant who just shrugs his shoulders. “With all the pressure we’re getting, we needed it to be inspired. We even called your partner to get his feedback. Despite some misgivings from Squires, he agrees with Czaka and me that this might be our best approach for the moment. I thought about it all morning driving into the office and I’m still inspired.”

Is he ever going to spit it out? This is worse than whatever the uber-inspiring plan entails.

“So we have a little something undercover we want you to do on this case.”

• • •

I didn’t do quite as well on the “yes sir” the rest of the meeting as I had earlier. I had a lot of questions and a few out-and-out objections. We argued. Zaworski stopped being a bear. He needed me to say yes to something so he quickly developed a lot more patience and cut out most of the sarcasm. He could barely suppress a smile when he knew he had won.