William Kienzle - Requiem for Moses

“There’s always a first time.”

“You think?”

“What if that’s their plan? They want to get Lacki alone in the station. I already checked with the guy whose place Lacki took. He was called out of town in a hurry after he got a message that there was illness in his family. The illness turned out to be nonexistent. But that puts Lacki in the garage alone. Then Billy Bob’s people bring in two cars late in the day to make sure the hoists are filled and Lacki will have to use the jack.”

“So, a conspiracy! Sounds good. But why?”

“At this point, and with no good reason, I’d say it’s got something to do with the Moe Green case … but I don’t know what.”

There was a long pause while Tully seemed to be listening to someone else. “I think we got your connection,” Tully said finally. “They just found Claire McNern dead.”

“No! God, no! When? Where?”

“Within the past hour. In her apartment.”

“I drove her home from the station.”

“Mangiapane told me.”

“I can’t believe it. I asked if she wanted me to go in with her, but she said no. So I sat and waited till she was inside her building.”

“Initial report says it was suicide.”

“Yeah,” Lennon said bitterly, “just like Lacki was an accident!”

“You took her home, so you know where she lives.”

“Yes.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

By the time Lennon, Tully, and Mangiapane arrived in separate cars, the media was gathering. There were more than a few gripes when Lennon walked past them and disappeared inside with Tully. They all knew Lennon had a beat on this story. But seeing her handed another lead on a silver platter rankled. “She’s a material witness,” Mangiapane said over his shoulder as he passed through the journalists.

The police technicians were at work on their various specialties. One officer had been collating the information as the investigation continued. “Whaddya got so far?” Tully asked.

“So far, it looks like suicide.”

“Give it to me from the top.”

The officer consulted his notes throughout. “The couple downstairs heard a shot-or so they guessed-at about seven this morning.”

“Did they check it out?”

The officer shook his head. “It wasn’t their problem. And it wasn’t going to become their problem as long as they stayed out of it.”

“Ummm.”

“It was the manager of the station her fiance worked for who found her. Seems he brought her car to her-it was being repaired. He knocked at the door-says he wanted to make sure she was all right and to give her the car keys.”

“Did he touch anything?”

“Fortunately, no. But he told us how her boyfriend had been killed earlier this morning. And how they were going to get married. That plus no trace of anything else, plus the gun in her hand added up to suicide. She was real depressed-understandable, I guess.”

“When I interviewed her, I noticed she was left-handed,” Lennon observed thoughtfully.

“Huh …” Tully looked more carefully. “She’s holding the gun in her right hand.”

“Zoo,” Mangiapane called from the doorway, “this is Mrs. Bartholomew. She’s one of the neighbors. This is Lieutenant Tully, ma’am. Tell him what you saw, please.”

“A man. He must have jumped from this window up here. I heard the gunshot and I looked out the window. I was in the kitchen starting breakfast.”

“Did he injure or hurt himself when he landed on the ground?” Tully asked.

“I don’t think so. He kind of rolled when he hit the ground. Then he got up and ran away. He didn’t limp or anything like that.”

“Thanks very much, Mrs. Bartholomew,” Tully said. “Now please go with Sergeant Mangiapane. He’ll take your statement.”

“But I just told you-”

“For the record. You understand.”

“Not really.”

“Manj …”

The sergeant took her arm, in a helpful manner. “Ma’am, would you come this way, please ….”

Lennon’s role as a material witness was over. Neither she nor Tully wished to compromise a mutually beneficial relationship. So, after a few more words with Tully, she left and joined her fellow journalists behind the police line.

Mangiapane returned to Tully. Another officer was recording Mrs. Bartholomew’s statement. “She got a pretty good look at him, Zoo. She thinks she’d recognize him if she saw him again. So Ted’s gonna take her to look at some mug shots. She’s not too happy about that. But she’ll go.”

Tully, contemplating the floor, nodded. “In my gut, it’s as clear as can be. It’s a big jump-but … I think Doc Green set this up. Somehow he got a contract out on McNern and Lacki. And, if he did, he probably included his two children and the other guy, Cameron.

“Manj, get in touch with those three. Tell them what’s happened. Suggest they get some protection-at least until we break this.”

“Sure thing, Zoo.”

To no one in particular, Tully said, “I’d give a lot to toss Green’s apartment. There’s gotta be something in there that would tie him to these deaths. But … we haven’t got enough. We can’t ask for a warrant on a hunch. And we haven’t got any hard evidence.”

Sergeant Angie Moore approached Tully just as he was concluding his soliloquy. “The good guys are winning some.”

“What’s that?” Tully was eager.

“The GOB Company. Some of our guys got looking into that. They rousted several of Higbie’s hangouts. One of the girls-a longtime member of the gang-was pretty pissed off because a younger gal-a recent member-got to pull off a hit. And, as far as anyone could remember, it was the first hit ever pulled off by the gang. They say it was the first contract killing Billy Bob ever accepted.

“Anyway, the two gals were at each other’s throats and running off at the mouth. As a result, we have in custody the perp of the Lacki murder, the perp of the McNern killing, a bunch of gang members, some mad at us, almost all mad at each other, and …” She paused to give Tully the benefit of her dramatic conclusion, “… Billy Bob Higbie himself.”

“Anybody tie the doc into issuing the contract?”

“No … not yet, anyway.”

Even though this spreading web had not yet engulfed Dr. Moses Green-in Tully’s opinion the prime mover-they were getting close. The ice under Green’s feet was getting thinner by the minute.

Meantime, the Good Old Boys network was coming apart. Tully expected great things from the women, who were angry at or envious of each other. Just take the caliber of woman who would join a gang like Billy Bob’s and get a couple of them at each other’s throats and watch the Good Old Boys fragment.

Higbie was in over his head. Drugs, prostitution, protection rackets-crimes such as these Higbie could handle; indeed, he was skilled at them. But homicide was something else, particularly for the neophyte. Almost no other crime held so many pitfalls. At every turn was the chance of making mistakes-mistakes that could return to haunt-and trip up.

If Tully was right-and his gut told him he was-the linchpin- Moses Green-was still not in the bag. And Tully knew he didn’t have enough cause for a search warrant.

Someone giving a good imitation of a disheveled bum walked casually into the crime scene. Tully had worked with Tim Fisher years ago in Vice. While Tully had moved on to Homicide, Fisher had stayed with Vice, refining a technique that continued to improve over the years.

“Word on the street is you’re looking for the guy who put out a contract on a couple of people.” Fisher looked around the room and focused on the dead woman. “This looks like maybe one of ’em. But what’s she doing with the gun? Suicide?”