Missing Persons (27 page)

“Okay. Theresa was wearing a silver chain bracelet the day she disappeared. According to Linda, there were two charms on it, a nurse’s cap and the Daley Plaza Picasso,” she said.

She was referring to the large sculpture Pablo Picasso made as a gift to the city in the late 1960s. It sits in front of the county court building where countless lawyers, people on their lunch hours, and tourists enjoy trying to figure out what it’s meant to represent.

“She’d just gotten the bracelet a few weeks before and she’d had the charms reinforced so she wouldn’t lose them. When we found her, she was still wearing the bracelet, but the charms were gone,” Rosenthal said. “I don’t think they just fell off. But just in case, we searched the area and couldn’t find them. But we did find something else. There were five hairs caught in the bracelet.”

“Left by her killer in a struggle?” I asked.

She shrugged. “We don’t know. The hairs didn’t have roots, so getting a DNA match is next to impossible, and anyway we don’t have DNA samples from any of the possible suspects. I doubt the killer will offer it up at this stage. If I bring up the bracelet, the killer might clam up, but they might not be so careful around you.”

“And the money? The ten thousand dollars. Do you want me to ask about that?”

“How do you know about that?”

I smiled.

“There’s an explanation for it.”

“And that is?”

She thought for a moment before speaking. “None of your business.”

I couldn’t argue with that, though I was about to try when I saw Andres packing up the camera. If we were going to the grave site, we had to leave.

“E-mail me your questions and I’ll ask them,” I said.

“Thanks. And seriously, Kate, if you feel nervous about any of these guys, let me know.”

“It’s fine,” I said. “I’m really not that worried about it.”

And I wasn’t, at that moment. I was even relieved that Rosenthal knew my situation and was confident about my innocence. Until it occurred to me that Podeski might be playing the same game as Rosenthal—using a sympathetic substitute to get information he had failed to get.

O
nly about thirty people attended the graveside ceremony to watch Theresa’s body be lowered into the ground. Linda barely got through it, but other than that, it was a quiet, if sad, event.

I kept looking around for any sign of Jason watching from a distance, but there was none. Like Vera, he must have considered the feelings of the family and stayed away.

We had packed up the car and were in the midst of our daily argument about where to eat lunch when Gray approached.

“Kate, can I talk with you a moment?”

“A moment,” I said. “My crew is on the clock and I need to get to another shoot.” It was a lie. I had no idea how I was going to fill our afternoon. We already had all the B-roll we needed. It was just that the last time Gray had wanted to speak with me he’d told me about the results of Frank’s autopsy. I wasn’t ready for any more revelations.

He took my elbow and walked me several feet away from Andres and Victor. He handed me a pink pastry box tied with a ribbon.

“Linda asked me to give these cookies to you, as a thank-you for coming to the funeral,” he said.

“She really doesn’t need to keep thanking me. Especially now.”

“I think it just gave her and Tom something to do these last couple of days. She gave me a box, and I think Detective Rosenthal got one too.”

I held up the pastry box. “Please tell her thank you.” I started to turn away, but Gray stopped me.

“That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. Not only that. I got a call right before the funeral. It was Vera. She’s been pulled in for questioning about your husband’s death.”

“Why?”

“No idea. She asked me if I would come to the station and act as her lawyer.”

“Then you should go.”

“She wants you to come too.”

It was very tempting to find out what the police had on Vera, but going was impossible. I pointed back to the crew.

“I’m working today. I can’t just cancel a shoot midday. My boss would have to pay the crew for the whole day and I’d get killed for it.”

“There’s no way around that?”

“Kate.” Andres called for me from the driver’s seat of his van.

I walked over to him. “You’ll never believe this.”

“We heard.” Andres pointed to the camera, which was rolling, and to Victor, who had the boom mic just peeking out from the window in the backseat. While a camera mic won’t pick up much beyond a few feet, a boom mic could pick up every word Gray and I had said.

“You were listening to my private conversation.”

Victor leaned forward. “I don’t trust the guy. He did Theresa in and now he’s going after you.”

“It’s sweet of you guys to be concerned, but you obviously know this isn’t about me. It’s about Vera.”

Andres shut the camera off. “Don’t you want to know what the police have on her?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “But Mike will want to see what else we shot today. What am I going to tell him?”

Andres looked back at Victor, who nodded. “Because we love you, and because this is a really weird situation . . .”

“And because I don’t like working in a suit,” Victor jumped in.

Andres rolled his eyes. “We were supposed to have tomorrow off, right? We’re not doing the interviews until Thursday and Friday?”

“Right.”

“We can do a half day tomorrow and shoot whatever you want. No extra charge. Mike will never know the difference.”

To people like Andres, Victor, and me, time really is money. We usually get paid by the day. As a producer my day can be three hours or fifteen and I get paid the same amount, but a camera crew usually has ten hours at the normal rate and then time and a half after that. If the day ends early, there is no discount. Which is why guys like Mike make sure I pack every day with enough shooting to last ten hours but not a minute more. To give me a half day is an act of exceptional generosity.

I squeezed Andres’s hand. “We can start the day with lunch. Wherever you want.”

After they pulled away, I got into Gray’s Porsche for the half-hour drive from Bridgeport to Area 3 headquarters.

“You and Vera must be very close,” I said as Gray sped through a red light.

“Not really. We’ve just known each other a long time.”

“Is she a friend of your wife’s?”

He looked at me, puzzled. “No. They wouldn’t have much in common.”

“What does that mean?”

“My wife likes to shop. Vera likes to . . .”

I almost said, “break up people’s marriages,” but I refrained. “She seems very into her dogs,” I said instead.

“Does she still live in that town house her dad bought?”

“It’s quite beautiful.”

“So you’ve been inside?”

“Yes. Does that surprise you?”

“Considering she’s your husband’s mistress, it kind of does.” He pressed the accelerator and I could see we were now going close to seventy on a street with a posted limit of forty-five.

“Are you training for the Indianapolis 500 or something?” I asked.

Gray put his foot on the brake, bringing the car to the posted speed. “Sorry. One of my vices.”

I smiled. “So you have vices? You present yourself as such a do-gooder.”

“Sorry to hear that. I just like to do the right thing.”

“Except when it comes to traffic laws.”

He laughed. “I never say I’m perfect. I say I try. That’s it. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from politics it’s you can survive anything but hypocrisy. It’s why Bill Clinton kept high approval ratings during the whole Monica Lewinsky scandal, while at the same time two Republican House leaders resigned after their affairs became public. Clinton never pretended to be a perfect husband so no one blamed him when he wasn’t.”

“Are you a perfect husband?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Well, it’s part of your image, isn’t it? Adoring husband.”

“Given your recent experience I can understand your attitude, but not all husbands cheat, Kate.”

“Not even with Theresa?”

Gray glanced toward me for a moment and then pointed toward the nondescript police building on the corner of Belmont and Western.

“I have to make a call so I’ll drop you off and park in the lot,” he said. “Just wait for me inside. Don’t ask for Podeski until I get there. Understand?”

“Perfectly.”

As I reached for the door handle, Gray touched my arm. “Not even with Theresa.”

I nodded and got out of the car. Gray hit the gas and sped off toward the parking lot.

I
did as I was told and waited for Gray to arrive, which he did a few minutes later. He knew the desk sergeant, as well as many of the detectives, and even greeted Podeski like an old friend.

“I’d like to see my client,” he said once the friendly chitchat had ended. “I assume she’s been read her rights.”

“She’s not under arrest,” Podeski said. “We’re just asking questions.”

“Not since she asked to speak to me, I hope.”

“We explained that she should wait for you, but she has been talking. We couldn’t actually get her to stop. But you’ll be happy to know she hasn’t said anything about the death of her boyfriend.” Podeski glanced toward me. “She’s been telling us about her visit to the Brookfield forest preserve with Mrs. Conway. She seemed very interested in how we investigate a homicide. Fact is, she’s been asking us more questions than we’ve been asking her.”

“She’s like that,” I said. “She likes to get involved.” Once again I was defending Vera to Podeski, with no reason why I should.

“You two have become quite chummy, haven’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say that. I’d say, given the circumstances, we’re both just trying to make the best of it until we can put this behind us and get on with our lives.”

“So why is Vera being questioned?” Gray asked, bringing the conversation back to the reason why we were here.

Podeski turned his large body toward Gray. “I went by her place this morning for a chat. I had a few questions to ask her about the situation at Mrs. Conway’s house. The dead bird and the break-in. I just wanted to make sure it wasn’t coming from her.”

“What break-in?” Gray looked toward me.

“Long story,” I said.

“We had a nice conversation,” Podeski continued. “She even showed me around the place after I told her I loved the old houses.”

“You searched her house,” Gray said.

“With her permission.”

The two men stared at each other, both jaws tensed. I sensed a pissing contest about to begin. I inched between them. “What did you find?”

“She has a foxglove plant in her backyard,” Podeski said. “And it’s missing some of its leaves near the top.”

“And those are the best leaves for extracting digitalis.” I finished his thought.

Gray snorted. “That’s crazy. You’re saying she killed someone by poisoning him with the leaves of a plant in her own backyard?”

“It is a little Sherlock Holmes, I know, but it happens. Some people like to get creative with their murders.”

“Vera doesn’t know anything about that garden,” I said. “She had a gardener and then let it grow wild. I don’t think she’s ever pulled up a weed back there.”

Podeski looked at me, an amused expression spreading across his face. “How do you know about foxglove, Mrs. Conway?”

“I looked it up on the Internet.”

“Well, there you see. I’ll bet Ms. Brigham could have done that too.” He turned back to Gray. “Mr. Meyer, you can talk to your client if you like while I get Mrs. Conway some coffee.”

Gray stood squarely in front of Podeski, his three-thousand-dollar suit within inches of Podeski’s Salvation Army castoffs. “You said my client wasn’t under arrest, so why don’t you bring her to me, and I’ll take both women somewhere else for coffee.”

Podeski stood toe-to-toe with Gray for a moment then backed away. “Mrs. Conway, you can sit at my desk over there. Your friend left her sweater and tote bag on the chair, but I’m sure you can look after them while Mr. Meyer and I retrieve Ms. Bingham.”

I picked up Vera’s sweater, a bright-pink cotton cardigan with a designer label, and rested it on my lap. I looked around and saw that no one was paying attention to me, so I reached into her tote bag. There was the usual stuff. Her driver’s license placed her age at forty-one, four years older than me, which I had pretty much guessed. She’d put her weight at one twenty-five, which made me smile. Not because it was probably thirty pounds off the truth, which was also the case on my license, but because Vera didn’t strike me as being particularly vain.

The rest of her wallet contained a half dozen credit cards, a photo of Frank, and a voter’s registration card. She had a dog-eared paperback of
Anna Karenina
with a bookmark at the halfway point and a cell phone.

It probably didn’t mean anything but she had said her friend Susan was upset with her. I scrolled through the address book of her phone and found Susan’s number. I’d barely copied it onto a scrap of paper from Podeski’s desk when Gray and Vera emerged from a back room.

Vera came toward me, arms outstretched.

“No hugging,” I said.

“Right. I keep forgetting you hate that.”

“W
hat about the break-in?” Gray asked once we had settled into a booth at an upscale European-style coffeehouse near Vera’s home.

We’d ordered cappuccinos and apple torte and I was enjoying the aroma while I waited. The surroundings were elegant enough to make me almost forget that I was with two people I didn’t really want to spend time with, discussing a topic I didn’t want to discuss.

“Vera is your client,” I reminded Gray. “And she’s a suspect in the crazy stuff that’s been going on at my house, and my husband’s death. I’m not really sure we’re on the same side.”