Stuart Kaminsky - Lieberman's thief

Ken Franklin returned and placed a tray with two fluted glasses on the small wooden table.

"Quibel," he said, handing a glass to Lieberman and to Rozier before checking the crease in his trousers and sitting.

Man's got style, Lieberman thought and then asked…

LIEBERMAN: Mr. Franklin, you were in sight of Mr. Rozier throughout the concert?

FRANKLIN: What the hell do you-?

ROZIER: It's all right, Ken. He's doing his job.

FRANKLIN: Yes.

LIEBERMAN: Did he leave the room during the performance?

FRANKLIN: I don't know. Perhaps for a minute or two. No, he did leave for a few minutes to use the rest room at the end of the intermission.

LIEBERMAN: You saw him come back into the hall?

FRANKLIN: Don't remember, but I do recall looking back at Mr. Rozier once or twice after the intermission. Does that satisfy you?

LIEBERMAN: You remember the Vivaldi piece?

FRANKLIN: This is… Yes.

LIEBERMAN: Mr. Rozier tells me the violin was a bit off on the scherzo.

FRANKLIN: For God's sake. Dana was murdered, horribly… and you… All right. No, the violin was fine. The girl on the cello was definitely off on that piece. Now ifLIEBERMAN: Any of you touch anything when you came in and found Mrs. Rozier's body?

ROZIER: I… went to Dana, lifted her head, knew she was dead, but…

LIEBERMAN: Touched nothing?

ROZIER: Not that I recall.

FRANKLIN: Nor I, nor Mrs. Franklin. I said immediately that nothing should be touched.

LIEBERMAN: We'll check with the neighbors, but did you see anyone unfamiliar in the neighborhood in the last week or two? Your wife mention anyone?

ROZIER: No, I don't think… God, there was a man, came to the door last Sunday. Wanted to know if we needed a handyman. Said he had a customer in the neighborhood and was trying to pick up more work. But I don't think…

LIEBERMAN: He give you a card? His name?

ROZIER: No, maybe. Maybe he did mumble it. I told him immediately that we've had the same handyman, Jeff Lerner, for years. He does electrical work, carpentry, a little plumbing.

LIEBERMAN: Didn't say which neighbor he was working for?

ROZIER: No.

LIEBERMAN: Think you'd recognize him again if you saw him?

ROZIER: Absolutely.

FRANKLIN: Harvey has an amazing memory for faces, names, and numbers.

LIEBERMAN: Good. Would you mind coming to the station and looking at some pictures?

FRANKLIN: You mean now?

LIEBERMAN: The closer we are to the event, the more likely you are to recognize him. We can wait tillROZIER: I'll be happy to come whenever you like, the sooner the better. Now is fine. If he… Ken, I know you're tired, but if you can hold down the fort for another hour or so…

FRANKLIN: Of course.

LIEBERMAN: Good. Then let's go. And thanks for the water.

They didn't have to say anything. Hanrahan simply stayed outside to follow up with the neighbors when Abe and Rozier got into Lieberman's car.

"Back here in front of the house in two hours," Lieberman said.

"Cutting it close for the Cubbies," Hanrahan said quietly.

'Tomorrow," said Lieberman, "Giants are in town."

Cameras turned and reporters with microphones shouted questions through the closed window, but Lieberman had no trouble getting through on a path cleared by Scotty Phierson and his Kleinert crew.

Lieberman looked up at the window of Rozier's study, Kenneth Franklin looked down at the policeman. The old lawyer didn't look quite so health-club robust from this angle. Lieberman backed out, leaving his partner in the driveway.

Lieberman drove silently, heading back toward the heart of the city.

"Radio all right?" asked Lieberman, Rozier at his side.

The smell of donuts and coffee hung in the car. Abe Lieberman's stomach growled.

Rozier nodded. Lieberman turned the radio on and pushed the button for the oldies station. Rudy Vallee was looking for a nasal high note in "Goodnight Sweetheart."

"Kids?" asked Lieberman.

Rozier shook his head no.

"Wife's relatives? Yours?"

"Dana's parents live in Santa Fe. I talked to them earlier. They'll be here sometime tonight or this afternoon."

"… till we meet tomorrow," Rudy crooned.

"No brothers, sisters, cousins?"

"Dana's father said he'd take care of that. One brother. A few cousins I've never met. My parents are dead. I was an only child. Haven't talked to my aunt and cousins in, who knows, twenty-five years. Ken and Betty are the closest thing I have to family. I'm sorry, but do you mind changing the station?"

"No," said Lieberman, even though they both knew that he did.

A classical piece came on and Rozier closed his eyes.

"I've had a few tranquilizers," Rozier said.

"I understand."

Nothing more was said till they pulled into the small parking lot behind the Clark Street Station. The smell of the Wendy's next to the station hit Abe when he opened the car door. It made him long for a burger with fries even though he ate at fast-food restaurants only in emergencies. Home or Maish's T amp; L were the places of choice. He would have to read carefully the brochures Doc Berry had given him. He would have to tell Bess tonight and they would have to come up with a plan that would keep Abe from temptation. It was going to be hard. A good pastrami on fresh rye with a pickle was the best refuge from the chaos of human existence. He would have to make an effort this time and stick to the diet.

Lieberman led Rozier down the cement path to the front of the station and into the lobby, where Sergeant Nestor Briggs was on the desk talking to a pair of women complaining in Spanish, a language that had successfully eluded Nestor in his almost thirty years as a Chicago cop. Nestor looked more than a little like Edgar Kennedy, the old-time bald actor who did a slow burn at the antics of every comic from Keaton to Abbott and Costello. Not only was Briggs trying to handle the complaint, he was also trying to deal with a phone call. He barely nodded as Lieberman and Rozier went by.

Tapes and mug books were kept in the "library," through the doors behind Nestor Briggs. Abe led Rozier to the small room, sat him at a table in front of a computer screen, and said, "Gonna show you burglars, hundreds of burglars, but we'll try to narrow it down so you don't start forgetting his face."

"I'll recognize him if I see him," said Rozier.

"Right," said Lieberman. "The memory. Can I get you a Coke, coffee, something?"

"Coke, diet, with caffeine."

Lieberman picked up the phone on the table and hit two buttons.

"Bobby, you got someone up there can bring a Coke, diet, with caffeine, and a coffee, black, with even more caffeine, down to the library?"

"You got Rozier down there?' asked Bobby Arango.

"Yes," said Abe.

'Then I'll be right down. I want to get a look. Morbid, huh?" asked Arango. "You think he whacked her, paid someone to do it?"

"Bobby, one Coke, one coffee, no questions," said Lieberman.

"You got it. Guess who we got up here?"

"Maury Povich," said Lieberman, looking at Rozier.

"Come on, get real, Abe," sighed Arango.

"Wilma Rudolph."

"Who's Wilma…?"

"Who've you got, Officer Arango?"

"Chuculo Fernandez," Bobby answered.

"Charges?"

"Ghost rider on a Clark Street bus wreck. He was with a new girl, Leona something. Seems he wanted to play rough after the event. Celebrate his good luck. She didn't want to."

"And?"

"They played rough," said Bobby. "She turned him in on the ghost scam when Fernandez put her in the hospital."

"How badly is she hurt?" Lieberman asked, looking at Rozier, who was looking out the window at a rapidly graying day.

"Not too bad. She'll live. Want to talk to Fernandez? He asked for you."

"Later. Coffee and Coke, Bobby," Lieberman reminded and hung up.