Random Victim (10 page)

Nothing but rich assholes around here, Leal thought.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Messages

“You what?” Ryan asked, leaning back in his chair and letting his cigarette dangle loosely from his lips.

“We went out and interviewed Walker last night.”

“At his fucking house?”

Leal nodded.

Ryan moved forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

“Great move, Franko. Just fucking great.”

Hart was standing off to the side, watching the contest between the two men.

“Christ, Ryan,” Leal said. “If we don’t start taking some proper investigative steps on this—”

Ryan cut him off: “We’ll get Brice’s boot shoved up our asses.”

“Hey, fuck that,” Leal said, massaging the back of his neck. He had almost said, “Fuck Brice.”

Ryan smiled crookedly, as if he knew what Leal was thinking, and said, mimicking a black accent, “Brice be da boss.” Smith
hadn’t shown up yet.

“Then maybe we got to start thinking about going over his head,” said Leal. “There’s less than two months till the election.
If O’Hara’s so set on us clearing this damn thing, he’s got to give us the leeway to check everything.”

“Nobody from upstairs has been in lately,” Ryan said.

“All out campaigning at those county luncheons, putting the arm on everybody’s wallets.” He stubbed his cigarette out after
taking a last drag. “Anyway, we got to go through the motions on Brice’s suppositions. Me and Smith are going to check with
DCI today. They were supposed to be running a big chop-shop sting. If the brother ever gets here, that is.”

Leal said nothing.

“Look, Frank,” Ryan said, leaning forward again. “Like I said, we gotta at least go through the motions, right? And in covering
that stuff we’re at least able to rule it out.”

Leal was still silent.

“Let’s try this,” Ryan offered. “I’ll run this chop-shop angle to pacify the boss. You and Hart take the rest of today and
tomorrow off. Then Sunday you guys can run down some of the personal angles on the housekeeper and maybe that author dude
if you want. And I’ll bring up our suspicions about checking out the husband to Brice when the time’s right.”

Leal looked at Hart, then back to Ryan.

“That would give us weekend coverage, I guess,” he said. And keep us out of Brice’s hair for today, too, he thought. “Sounds
okay to me. Ollie?”

“Sure, Sarge,” she said. “I have to get in a heavy workout tonight anyway.”

Ryan clapped his hands together. “Good, now that we’ve got that settled,” he moved over to a stack of papers on his desk and
rummaged through it. He selected a pink message slip and shoved it toward Leal. “Here, this is for you.”

It was a telephone number under which was written
S.A. Devain. Please call.

“I assume that’s Sharon
Divine
?” Ryan asked salaciously.

Leal noticed that it was her home, not her work number.

“Who’s that?” Hart asked.

“A state’s attorney I know,” Leal said quickly. He stood and started to head for the door. “I’d better make this call.”

“Hey, wait, Franko,” Ryan said. “Just use one of these phones, why don’t ya?”

“I want to get some coffee,” Leal said. He pushed out the door as Ryan smirked triumphantly.

Leal took out his cell phone as he walked, but noticed the low battery signal as soon as he turned it on. He snapped it shut
and debated going back to the office to get a new one. To hell with that, he thought. I’ll just use the pay phone in the cafeteria.
Proceeding down the hall, Leal took a dollar bill out of his pocket and put it in the coin changer. A set of pay phones was
on the opposite wall. She answered on the third ring.

“Hi, Sharon. It’s Frank Leal. Returning your call.”

“How are you?” she asked. Her voice had a coolness that seemed more distinct over the phone. “I got your message on my machine,
but I didn’t get in until late last night.”

“I see,” Leal said, wondering what that meant. “How’s Felony Review?”

“It’s not too bad. Keeps me hopping. We work twelve-hour shifts, on call seven to seven. Four days, four nights, then four
days off.”

“Doesn’t sound too bad.”

“It’s not, really, once you get used to it. I had my off days, so I went up to Michigan with my sister. They’ve got a summer
place up there.”

That sounded innocuous enough, Leal thought. At least it doesn’t sound like she went someplace with a boyfriend.

“Well, ah,” he began, finding himself fumbling over the words, like a teenager. “I was wondering if you’d be interested in
going out to dinner?”

“Hmm,” she said slowly. “When?”

Oh, great, he thought. Another brush-off.

“Whenever’s best for you,” he said. “Depending on your schedule and plans, of course.” He was beginning to feel stupid.

“Well, I’m scheduled to go back on call tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, feeling crushed.

“But I haven’t got anything planned for tonight.”

There was an abrupt dropping sound and at first Leal thought he’d been disconnected. Then a computerized voice said, “Ten
cents more, please.” He fished in his pocket for more coins and quickly fed a dime into the slot.

“You still there?” he asked.

“Where are you? I thought you hung up on me.”

“The battery was dead in my cell phone,” he said. She laughed and gave him her address, agreeing to expect him at seven.

Leal walked back to the office, sipping from a cup of coffee and smiling. Maybe things are finally starting to go my way,
he thought. Then he remembered his car. There was no way he wanted to show up in his beat-up old Chevy with holes in the seat
covers. Maybe he could borrow a car, but from whom? He wouldn’t even consider asking Ryan…Hart maybe? But she drove
a Toyota, with a stick shift at that. It had been a while since he’d driven one of those. Plus the car seemed so small.

Dammit, he thought. I got too used to driving those sharp confiscated numbers when I was in MEG. Should’ve taken care of business
and bought a new car when I got transferred.

There was only one other alternative, and it wasn’t pretty. Use the unmarked and hope Sharon wouldn’t notice.

Leal managed to sidestep all of Ryan’s idiotic questions as Hart gathered up her stuff and they left. When they got to the
unmarked, Leal immediately went to the driver’s side and got in. Hart opened her door and slid inside.

“I was wondering if you’d mind me using the squad this weekend?” she asked as he headed for the expressway.

“Why’s that?”

“I was thinking of going in tomorrow to run a few things on the computer,” she said.

Oh great, he thought. But what the hell, I’m the sergeant here.

“Actually, I’m going to need it,” he said.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hart nod and quickly look away. She said very little else as he got on the entrance ramp
and began the ride home.

Hart slammed the door of her apartment, angry at herself for the way she was feeling. Her reflection in the full-length mirror
opposite the door stared back at her and she canted her head slightly, looking at her face from various angles before drifting
lower. She tossed her jacket toward the sofa, watching the muscles of her arm and shoulder bulge and jump at the action. Her
body, even unpumped, looked so big. So…massive. Taking a deep breath, she immediately went to a double biceps pose,
turning to scrutinize the well-defined, tautly bundled tissue that seemed ready to burst through her skin.

Olivia Hart, Mid-Western Female Bodybuilding Champion, she thought. Yeah, that’s me. And my partner won’t even trust me alone
with the squad car.

Going to her bedroom she quickly assembled her “heavy workout” clothes: a pair of black nylon shorts, a baggy sweatshirt with
the sleeves cut off, and her usual socks and gym shoes. She stuffed a towel and clean underwear into her bag and zipped it
closed. As she straightened, she brushed back her hair and again studied her reflection in the mirror above the dresser. The
sunlight streamed through the windows, seemingly softening her image and making her hair seem lighter. It had been obvious
from Leal’s conversation with Ryan that the state’s attorney they’d talked about was more than a professional contact. And
Leal had seemed in such a good mood leaving that place, too.

He must be seeing her, Hart thought, and wondered if Leal found her attractive. She certainly felt the sizzle when she was
with him, but as partners she knew that could complicate things.

Yeah, she thought. Those kinds of complications I don’t need. Not after what she’d been through with Jim Markham. He’d been
teaching at the academy, and she began reporting to him when the aerobics instructor position opened up. They’d seen each
other every day, and he’d taken a genuine interest in her activities. He asked her out to lunch, and then dinner. The wedding
band on his finger was an imposing obstacle, but she’d conveniently ignored it, telling herself that she was, after all, just
going out to dinner with a colleague.

Then, of course, came the sex. She was still on the rebound from her divorce, she told herself, and his wife didn’t understand
him. Whatever the reasons, they provided all the necessary rationalizations as the affair stretched from weeks to months.
And despite the occasional guilt, Hart found herself feeling strangely happy for the first time in a long time. There was
somebody for her to share her dreams with, albeit limited. They held each other in bed after making love and she’d tell him
of her dream to get into investigations one day. And he kept listening and encouraging her, saying he knew she’d make it one
day.

It had ended abruptly. She came in one Monday and found that he’d transferred back to a street assignment. Not so much as
an explanation as to why, and he wouldn’t answer her pages or calls. Hart wondered if his wife had found out, or if the duplicity
of their relationship had gotten to him. Finally, after more than a week she found a pink message slip left in her box. It
was unsigned, but she recognized his scrawl:

Ollie, Sorry the way things worked out. I put in a good word
about you for that assignment you wanted. You should hear
something soon. Take care.

J.

J, she remembered thinking. He didn’t even have the balls to sign his name. Not even a, “If you need anything call me . .
.” As she crumpled the pink message slip and felt the rush of the tears down her face, she became immediately cognizant of
the secretaries watching her.

And then, the next week Captain O’Herlieghy had called her in and interviewed her about this position. She knew then that
some strings had been pulled, but so what? She’d earned it, in a twisted sort of way, hadn’t she?

No, I’ve had enough of cops, she thought. Frank’s sweet, and he’s nice-looking, but since we’re working together as partners
it’s better if it doesn’t develop into anything more. She picked up her gym bag and car keys. Besides, she added mentally,
he’s obviously got someone else on his mind anyway.

She continued her ruminations on the drive to the gym, and when she pulled open the door and saw Rory Chalma’s surprised expression,
she felt a surge of resentment. Unjustified resentment, she knew, but she didn’t feel like answering what she knew would be
twenty questions. She just wanted to do her workout.

“What are you doing in so early?” Rory asked. “I didn’t expect to see you till tonight.”

Walk on by, Hart thought. But she couldn’t.

“I got the day off. Tomorrow, too. Thought I’d go heavy and then work on my routine.”

“Do the routine first. Otherwise you’ll be too tired.” Chalma’s head bobbled as he looked past her. “Where’s your new boyfriend?”

Hart crinkled her face. “What are you talking about?”

“What’s his name? Frank? You two made quite a couple.” He put a slight lilt in his voice. “Everybody was talking about it
in here.”

“Don’t they have anything better to talk about?” Hart said, a little more sharply than she intended. “I mean, he’s just my
partner.”

“Whatever,” Chalma said, smiling slyly.

“Rory, get a life.”

“Whoa,” Chalma said, raising his hands to his chest and fluttering his fingers. “Aren’t we testy today?”

Hart headed for the locker room and slammed her gym bag onto the bench. Get it together, girlfriend, she thought. Focus.

She undressed slowly, thinking about what Chalma had said.
Everybody was talking about it…
Didn’t they have lives of their own to worry about, instead of speculating about mine?

Hart removed the tiny pink posing bikini she wore for the contests and looked at it. Maybe she should go with black instead.
She held the bottom against her hips and stared in the mirror. She’d have to wax again soon, she thought. But that could wait
until right before the contest. Today was just a dress rehearsal anyway.

When she stepped out of the locker room a couple of the guys working out sounded off with wolf whistles. Hart tried to ignore
them, juggling the CD player and towel. She felt slightly cold and regretted not wearing a robe or something.

Chalma jogged back to her and yelled for one of the others to watch the front desk for him. They walked past the weight room
area to the aerobics section. Two smaller rooms with tanning beds were off to the side.

“You’ll want to get some tanning in, too,” Chalma said.

“Okay,” Hart said. She hated the thought of lying there naked in the ultraviolet glow. “But I’m thinking about using some
instant tanning lotion instead.”

Chalma looked at her.

“Oh?” he said.

“I read where too much of that artificial tanning isn’t good for you.”

“Whatever,” he said. They stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that covered the back wall. “What CDs do you have?”

Hart studied her mirrored image. The overhead lighting made her muscles look heavier, more defined. She turned.

“Earth to Ollie,” Chalma said, mimicking a person on a telephone. “The songs?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’ve been working with ‘If You’re Not In It For Love.’ ”

Chalma wrinkled his nose.