Goodbye Sister Disco (8 page)

“All right, Lieutenant,” Shellow said. “Thank you for your recommendation. We'll take it from here.”

Hastings said, “Where are you going?”

Agent Kubiak said, “Well, first we're going to interview the reporter. We'll keep you posted.”

Hastings said, “I'm going with you.”

Agent Kubiak smiled and shook his head. He looked over to Shellow as if to say,
I told you. I told you he was going to be this way.

Agent Shellow said, “It's FBI's case now, Lieutenant. You can observe, and we'll call you if we need you. But it's a kidnapping and that makes it our ball game. You know how it works.”

“Yes, sir, I do. But there's a homicide too. We can safely presume that the kidnappers killed Tom Myers. And that's my case.”

There was another silence and exchange of glances around the table. Hastings kept a patient expression, resting a casual eye on Shellow. He'd decided that Kubiak wasn't worth eyeballing.

ASAC Jim Shellow turned to Fenton Murray.

Murray raised a hand, like there was nothing he could do about it. He said, “The lieutenant's right. It's our murder case. I've already discussed this with Chief Grassino. We all want the same thing here, really. We can joint-task it. And there's no point in the police and your boys interviewing the same witnesses separately. We can agree, can we not, that it's a waste of manpower. But the danger is that it gives the witness an opportunity to change his story on the second round. Best to do it all at once, don't you think, Jim?”

*   *   *

The meeting wrapped up shortly after that. Hastings got Fenton Murray alone and said, “Did the chief really say that?”

Fenton Murray said, “Don't talk to me.” And then walked away. He was in a foul mood, obviously, and Hastings was wise enough to let him be.

THIRTEEN

Hastings remembered one time a copy of
St. Louis Magazine
being passed around the Department because it had an article titled “Single in the City” in it and there was a thirty-year-old patrolman who had been dumb enough to let himself be featured as one of the city's prime catches. The article said something like, “Get to know some of the metro area's most successful singles and find out what makes them tick, what they like to do when they're not hard at work.”

The patrolman's name was Nick Pesavento, and he must have been something of a masochist because alongside a photo of him leaning up against a brick wall with his arms folded and wearing a ridiculous, self-satisfied smile with his tight black T-shirt, there was a profile of his “personal” details. Such as:
Ideal first date
: A long conversation over coffee;
First thing I notice about someone I'm attracted to
: Smile;
My secret talent/skill
: I'm good with people.
Celebrity dream date
: Cameron Diaz. And perhaps one of the best,
The celebrity who would play me in a movie
: George Clooney.

It was too much to resist. George Clooney? Long conversations over coffee? The guy was fucking asking for it. And homophobic comedy long being a staple of the law enforcement community, it was just a matter of time before a couple of cops with a computer put together a flyer and hung it on Department walls and cafeterias and locker space. The flyer had the same photo of Nick as the one in the magazine and the personal details included but were not limited to:

Ideal first date
: Shopping for new boots at the Galleria.

Celebrity dream date
: Nicholas Cage.

First thing I notice about someone I'm attracted to
: His package.

The celebrity who would play me in a movie
: Ricky Martin.

And so forth.

Joe Klosterman, who was known for instigating these sorts of things, swore he had nothing to do with it. But he made sure that Hastings and everyone else on the squad saw both the flyer and the magazine article.

Hastings read the magazine and, though he would never admit it, read the profiles of the other “hot” singles as well, men and women. He was then recently divorced and it was before he'd gotten involved with Carol, so he was curious about the singles scene, such as it was. The article wasn't promising. Many of the women seemed to answer their questionnaires with exclamation points. E.g., “
First thing I notice about someone I'm attracted to
: Personality! If you like to laugh and have a great time, you're a hit in my book!” Women wanting to take hot-air-balloon rides and saying that Selma Blair should play them in a movie. Ay-yi-yi.

He remembered Judy Chen being one of the singles profiled. Attractive girl still in her twenties. And Hastings had thought then that she was posing in the magazine not because of lack of dates, but more to gain publicity for the news network. And herself. Cute little thing. Had her arms been folded too…?

*   *   *

He rode with the FBI agents to the news station. Kubiak and Gabler sat in the front. Hastings sat in the back. The agents didn't say much and when they did speak it was to each other, as if Hastings were not there. Hastings thought about asking them how long they intended to keep this up, but he doubted it would do any good.

When they got to the lobby of the station, he stood in the background as the feds presented their credentials to the front desk and said they were here to speak with Judy Chen and the station manager as well. Minutes later they were seated at a conference-room table in a room that had little more than a chamber of commerce seal as decoration.

Judy Chen and the station manager were seated opposite the law enforcement officers. The station manager was named Kelly Ingle and one of the first things he did was put a videotape on the table and slide it across.

Agent Craig Kubiak said, “Is that the original?”

Kelly Ingle said, “Yes.”

“But you made a copy?”

“Yes, sir.”

To Judy Chen, Kubiak said, “And when did you get this?”

“This morning.”

Kubiak said, “Tell us about that.”

She said, “Well, I was getting into my car—I had just gotten into my car and my cell phone rang. I answered it. And this guy said his name was Carl.”

“Carl what?”

“He didn't give a last name. He just said Carl.” She said, “I think he said something like, ‘for purposes of this conversation.' Meaning, Carl wasn't his real name.”

Kubiak nodded.

Judy Chen said, “So he asked me if I knew about Gene Penmark's daughter being kidnapped.”

Kubiak said, “Did you?”

“I don't think I did, then.”

“Did you tell him that?”

She seemed to think about that for a moment. Then she said, “No. I don't think I did. I think I said, ‘Who is this?'”

“And he said?”

“And he said he'd already told me his name was Carl. Then he said, ‘Turn around.'”

“Turn around?”

“Yes. Turn around. So I did, and there was the videotape.”

“Where?”

“On my backseat. Well, in a brown bag on my backseat.”

“Where is that bag now?”

The lady looked at the station manager and gave him a shrug. “It's in my car, I guess,” she said.

Agent Gabler said, “We're going to need that too, ma'am.”

Kubiak said, “Then what?”

Judy Chen said, “Then he said that they had kidnapped Cordelia Penmark. He said that she was alive and he told me to take the tape to the station and play it over the air.”

Kubiak said, “And that's what you did?”

“Yes.”

“Before contacting the police?”

Hastings noticed the station manager shift in his seat.

Judy Chen said, “Yes.”

Kubiak said, “Do you think that was smart?”

“I don't know what the law is,” Judy Chen said. “But I don't regret doing that.”

Gabler said, “Why not?”

Hastings was listening a little closer now. He expected the woman to excuse it by saying she didn't want to risk the Penmark girl's life by not following their instructions. It would be a rational excuse, though Hastings probably wouldn't have bought it.

But Judy Chen didn't say that. What she said was, “Because I had a feeling that whoever was calling me was watching me too.”

For a moment, no one said anything. Kubiak looked briefly at Gabler and even at Hastings before he turned his attention back to the woman.

Kubiak said, “Why do you think that?”

“I don't know. The way he said ‘turn around' and then seemed to know that I had.”

“Did you see anyone?”

“No. But I was parked near my apartment. I mean, he could have been anywhere.”

“But you didn't—”

“I just felt someone was watching me.”

Hastings said, “Did it frighten you?”

She looked down at the table at Hastings, her weighted expression not the one she wore in the magazine photo.

“Yes,” she said. “Very much.”

“And yet,” Kubiak said, “you still didn't call the authorities.”

Her expression changed again. Hardened. She said, “Sir, the man knew where I lived and what I drove. Knew who I am. Knows. I'm cooperating with you now and I haven't broken any laws.”

“That's debatable, Ms. Chen,” Kubiak said. “And how are we to know that this fear you're describing isn't just an act?”

“Because I'm telling you the truth.”

Craig Kubiak smiled at the woman then. It was the sort of cold, superior smile that drives people to hate cops and managers and lawyers. It was working on Hastings now too, because he could see that the woman was seething and there was now a real danger that she would clam up on them.

Hastings could also see that she was no pushover. And that she would not hesitate at all to get a lawyer and make things difficult. Which would be a hardship for him and the feds. Unnecessary, but inevitable if this clod weren't so intent on pushing her. Kubiak was probably attracted to the woman and blaming her for it. Or he was just a fool. In any event, the woman was about one step away from ending the interview.

Hastings leaned forward, his body language conciliatory. He said to Judy Chen, “We believe you are telling the truth. I'm sorry if we've been misunderstood.”

From the corner of his eye, Hastings detected a scowl on Agent Kubiak's face. Hastings said, “Our beef is not with you. I know you understand that.”

Hastings waited for her to give him a nod. Which she did. Good.

Hastings said, “The goal for everybody involved is to get the girl back safe. That's what Agent Kubiak wants.”

“Of course,” the station manager said. He seemed a little relieved now. Judy Chen was looking wary, but it was an improvement over cold fury.

Hastings said, “Your car, where is it now?”

Judy Chen said, “It's in the parking garage.”

“Has anyone touched it since you drove here this morning?”

“No.”

“We're going to have to have some technicians go over it. Obviously, the man or men who planted that tape got into your vehicle, and we're going to have to look for prints and hairs and, you know, technical stuff. Now, we'll be glad to get you home by cab or police escort while we're using your car. Would that be okay with you?”

“Yes.”

Hastings knew that if it wasn't, they could still seize it. At least temporarily. But she could make things difficult if she was of a mind to.

Hastings said, “Now, the man you spoke to. What did he sound like?”

Judy Chen seemed to have mentally unfolded her arms. She said, “Uh, youngish. Maybe thirty. I mean, twenties, early thirties.” She shrugged in a way that was not unkind. “If that helps,” she said.

“It does,” Hastings said.

“He sounded white. He didn't sound like a country guy. He didn't sound like a redneck. I would say that his accent was midwestern.”

“You mean midwestern like around here?”

“Yes. He didn't sound like a Chicagoan. Or a Michigander. He sounded like he was from around here.”

“Okay,” Hastings said, “And did you hear anything in the background? Traffic, music, anything.”

“I can't remember hearing anything.”

“All right,” Hastings said. “Now, your car. When you're at home, where do you park it?”

“In the street. I have a permit.”

“It's not parked in a garage?”

“No.”

“You lock it?”

“Always.”

“Any cameras around where you park?”

“On the street?” she said. “I don't think so. Sorry.”

“That's all right.” Hastings said, “Did he say he would contact you again?”

“No.”

“Do you think he will?”

She said, “I don't know.”

“Did you encourage him to?” Hastings believed it was a necessary question.

She paused for a moment, but did not seem offended. She said, “No. I don't believe I did.”

“Okay,” Hastings said. “I believe that. But I want to tell you that we're going to have to set up recording devices on your home phone and cell phone in case he tries it again. No one's interested in your private life, but this will be necessary. Do you understand that?”

“I understand it.”

“Having said that, I want you to know that I don't
want
this man to contact you again. It may be a great news story, but this man is a killer. He murdered a young man who was Cordelia Penmark's escort. You know that, don't you?”

“I know it.”

“And the physical evidence that we have so far seems to suggest that the young man gave them no struggle. In other words, they killed him in cold blood.”

The woman didn't say anything.

Hastings said, “So he's not someone you want a relationship with. A man like this Carl, people are just objects to him. He used you and, if necessary, he'd kill you.”