Sara Paretsky - Indemnity Only

“All right; I’ll be careful.”

He gave me a sour look and left.

McGraw looked at me approvingly. “ You handled him just right, Warshawski.”

I ignored that. “Why did you give me a fake name the other night, McGraw? And why did you give your daughter a different phony one?”

“How’d you find me, anyway?”

“Once I saw the McGraw name, it began stirring in the back of my mind. I remembered you from the night you were shot-it came back to me when Lieutenant Mallory mentioned the Knifegrinders. Why’d you come to me to begin with? You think my dad might help you out the way he did back then?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Oh, can it, McGraw. I was there. You may not remember me-but I remember you. You came in absolutely covered with blood and my dad fixed up your shoulder and got you out of the building. Did you think he’d help you out of whatever trouble you’re in this time, until you found out he was dead? Then what-you found my name in the Yellow Pages and thought maybe I was Tony’s son? Now, why did you use Thayer’s name?”

The fight died down in him a bit. “I wasn’t sure you’d do a job for me if you knew who I was.”

“But why Thayer? Why drag in the senior guy in Chicago’s biggest bank? Why not just call yourself Joe Blow?”

“I don’t know. It was just an impulse, I guess.”

“Impulse? You’re not that dumb. He could sue you for slander or something, dragging his name in like that.”

“Then why the hell did you let him know I’d done it? You’re on my payroll.”

“No, I’m not. You’ve hired me to do some independent professional work, but I’m not on your payroll. Which brings us to the original question: what’d you hire me for, anyway?”

“To find my daughter.”

“Then why did you give her a false name? How could I possibly look for her? No. I think you hired me to find the body.”

“Now, look here, Warshawski-”

“You look, McGraw. It’s so obvious you knew the kid was dead. When did you find out? Or did you shoot him yourself?”

His eyes disappeared in his heavy face and he pushed close to me. “Don’t talk smart with me, Warshawski.”

My heart beat faster but I didn’t back away. “When did you find the body?”

He stared at me another minute, then half-smiled. “You’re no softie. I don’t object to a lady with guts… I was worried about Anita. She usually calls me on Monday evening, and when she didn’t, I thought I should go down and check up on her. You know what a dangerous neighborhood that is.”

“You know, Mr. McGraw, it continues to astonish me the number of people who think the University of Chicago is in an unsafe neighborhood. Why parents ever send their children to school there at all amazes me. Now let’s have a little more honesty. You knew Anita had disappeared when you came to see me, or you would never have given me her picture. You are worried about her, and you want her found. Do you think she killed the boy?”

That got an explosive reaction. “No, I don’t, goddamnit. If you must know, she came home from work Tuesday night and found his dead body. She called me in a panic, and then she disappeared.”

“Did she accuse you of killing him?”

“Why should she do that?” He was bellicose but uncomfortable.

“I can think of lots of reasons. You hated young Thayer, thought your daughter was selling out to the bosses. So in a mistaken fit of paternal anxiety, you killed the kid, thinking it would restore your daughter to you. Instead-”

“You’re crazy, Warshawski! No parent is that cuckoo.”

I’ve seen lots of kookier parents but decided not to argue that point. “Well,” I said, “you don’t like that idea, try this one. Peter somehow got wind of some shady, possibly even criminal, activities that you and the Knifegrinders are involved in. He communicated his fears to Anita, but being in love he wouldn’t welch on you to the cops. On the other hand, being young and idealistic, he had to confront you. And he couldn’t be bought. You shot him-or had him shot-and Anita knew it had to be you. So she did a bunk.”

McGraw’s nerves were acting up again, but he blustered and bellowed and called me names. Finally he said, “Why in Sam Hill would I want you to find my daughter if all she’d do is finger me?”

“ I don’t know. Maybe you were playing the odds-figuring you’ve been close and she wouldn’t turn on you. Trouble is, the police are going to be making the connection between you and Anita before too long. They know the kids had some tie-in with the brotherhood because there was some literature around the house created by your printer. They’re not dummies, and everyone knows you’re head of the union and they know there was a McGraw in the apartment.

“When they come around, they’re not going to care about your daughter, or your relationship with her. They’ve got a murder to solve, and they’ll be happy to tag you with it-especially with a guy in Thayer’s position pressuring them. Now if you tell me what you know, I may-no promises, but may-be able to salvage you and your daughter-if you’re not guilty, of course.”

McGraw studied the floor for a while. I realized I’d been clutching the arms of the chair while I was talking and carefully relaxed my muscles. Finally he looked up at me and said, “If I tell you something, will you promise not to take it to the police?”

I shook my head. “can’t promise anything, Mr. McGraw. I’d lose my license if I kept knowledge of a crime to myself.”

“Not that kind of knowledge, damnit! Goddamnit, Warshawski, you keep acting like I committed the goddamn murder or something.” He breathed heavily for a few minutes. Finally he said, “I just want to tell you about-you’re right. I did-I was-I did find the kid’s body.” He choked that out, and the rest came easier. “Annie-Anita-called me Monday night. She wasn’t in the apartment, she wouldn’t say where she was.” He shifted a bit in his chair. “Anita’s a good, levelheaded kid. She never got any special pampering as a child, and she grew up knowing how to be independent. She and I are, well, we’re pretty close, and she’s always been union all the way, but she’s no clinging daddy’s girl. And I never wanted her to be one.

“Tuesday night I hardly recognized her. She was pretty damn near hysterical, yelling a lot of half-assed stuff which didn’t make any sense at all. But she didn’t mention the kid’s murder.”

“What was she yelling?” I asked conversationally.

“Oh, just nonsense, I couldn’t make anything out of it.”

“Same song, second verse,” I remarked.

“What?”

“Same as the first,” I explained. “A little bit louder and a little bit worse.”

“Once and for all, she didn’t accuse me of killing Peter Thayer!” he yelled at the top of his lungs.

We weren’t moving too quickly.

“Okay, she didn’t accuse you of murdering Peter. Did she tell you about his being dead?”

He stopped for a minute. If he said yes, the next question was, why had the girl done a bunk if she didn’t think McGraw had committed the murder? “No, like I said, she was just hysterical. She-Well, later, after I saw the body, I figured she was calling because of-of, well, that.” He stopped again, but this time it was to collect some memories. “She hung up and I tried calling back, but there wasn’t any answer, so I went down to see for myself. And I found the boy.”

“How’d you get in?” I asked curiously.

“I have a key. Annie gave it to me when she moved in, But I’d never used it before.” He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a key. I looked at it and shrugged.

“That was Tuesday night?” He nodded. “And you waited ‘til Wednesday night to come to see me?”