Ed Gorman - Cold Blue Midnight

She wanted to find something with the man's name on it. Runyon.

'And did you hear about Sally Wasserman?'

'No,' Doris said, trying to stay alert as she talked and searched. 'But she's such a decent person, I hope it's good news.'

'New breasts.'

'Sally Wasserman? That must be just a rumor.'

'No rumor. I've seen them with my own eyes.'

'Maybe she's just wearing padded bras.'

Amy chuckled. 'No bra's this padded, believe me. Plus, they sit straight out.'

'Maybe I should look into it myself.'

'You? You've got great charlies, Doris.'

'"Charlies?"' Doris laughed. 'God, where did you hear that?'

'That's what my ten-year-old calls them when he thinks I'm not listening to him talk to his totally sexist little friends. I think we're raising a generation of male chauvinist pigs.'

'Well, is there anybody we haven't worked over?' Much as Doris had always liked Amy, she always felt slightly degraded after talking to the woman. They had a tendency to make uncharitable remarks about other people and that wasn't exactly the image Doris wanted of herself. Living at home with a dominating mother didn't exactly make her an ideal person herself, so she shouldn't criticize others for the way they chose to live their lives.

Amy said, 'And how about Robert Fitz'

But before Amy could launch into a job on hapless fat Robert Fitzgerald, Doris said, 'Did you hear about Helen?'

'McGiver?'

'Uh-huh.'

'No, what? Her husband dump her?'

'No. She got promoted to chief of staff at her hospital in Florida.'

'And that's it?'

Doris laughed. 'Oh, right, I guess I forgot to add that she's figured out a way to have sex while she's operating on a patient. She's sleeping with all these sexy young interns and'

Runyon!

Name, address, telephone number neatly typed on a sheet of letterhead.

But that wasn't the most surprising thing.

It was who the letterhead belonged to that shocked Doris.

Third desk drawer, left side.

'You all right?'

'Fine.'

'You sure, Doris?'

Doris tried to recover. 'I just looked up at the clock.'

'You have to go?'

'I'm afraid so. I just remembered that I promised my mother I'd help her with something.'

Pause. 'How is your mother?' Amy's voice always got very tight whenever she mentioned Mrs. Tappley.

Doris knew that whenever Amy discussed her, she clucked about Evelyn. Old shrew. Keeping her daughter a prisoner like that. So selfish. That was the funny thing. Doris knew that Amy really liked her. They'd always been something like best friends, and yet Amy completely disapproved of how Doris let Evelyn control her life.

'Oh, she's fine. Getting older. You know.'

But for once Amy didn't deliver a cryptic speech about how much a prisoner Doris was in her own house.

'It's sad, isn't it?' Amy said. 'Seeing your folks get old. I looked at my mother the other day, and I suddenly realized she's becoming this little old lady. It really scared me, how vulnerable she looked. I wanted to hide her somewhere, so Death couldn't find her. You know?'

'I know exactly.'

'Oh hon, I'm sorry I run people down all the time. I know how much of a gossip I am, and I know how much that bothers you.'

'I don't hang up, do I?' Doris said. 'And I gossip just as much as you do.'

'Thanks for saying that, hon, even though you know it's not true.'

'This time, I owe you the call.'

'Take care of yourself.'

'You, too, Amy.'

Doris sat back and stared at the letterhead. Two other names were typed on it, further down the page:

ADAM MORROW

RICK CORDAY

The names were followed by the same Chicago address and phone number.

But it was the name on the letterhead that held Doris's attention.

ARTHUR K. HALLIWELL

ATTORNEY AT LAW

Arthur Halliwell was one of the most successful attorneys in Chicago, and had been the family's personal lawyer since the days that Doris' father had selected him to guard and administer the Tappley fortune.

Arthur Halliwell was one of the most respected men in the state. And the wisest. And the most conservative.

Doris couldn't imagine him ever helping her mother do something as illegal as get Jill Coffey into some sort of trouble…

'She'll get her comeuppance,' her mother had said earlier.

Still so bitter. Still so angry.

Doris could easily picture her mother contriving some kind of plan to ensnare Jill but Arthur Halliwell helping her…?

Doris slid the letterhead back into the drawer and closed it quietly.

She wanted to see her mother pass on with as much grace as possible. She did not want Evelyn to waste her remaining years pursuing some insane dream of vengeance.

Of his own free will, her brother Peter had crossed the state line into Indiana where, on three different occasionsand perhaps more that nobody knew abouthe'd murdered and eviscerated three young women. And the state of Indiana had put him to death.

Jill Coffey had had nothing to do with any of it.

It was time Evelyn was made to understand that.

And understand it once and for all.

She left the den, climbing the grand staircase to the second floor and her mother's room.

Rick Corday watched the man knock on Jill's ground-floor door. He wondered who he was. This was his second visit tonight.

He waited until Jill appeared silhouetted in the yellow light of the doorframe and invited the man inside.

Rick then got out of his car and crossed the street. He had parked almost a block away from Jill's.

He walked up to the man's car and shone his light inside. All the forms, the nightstick and portable siren told him immediately what the man was. A police detective.

He walked back to his car. He wanted to eat something. A hamburger with lots of onions would be good. And he wanted to think about what this meant, that Jill Coffey had a friend who was a police detective.

The call came just a few minutes after Mitch got to Jill's apartment. The kettle had just started to whistle. Jill poured water into her cup then made the long stretch to grab the phone.

Just before she heard a voice coming from the other end of the phone, Jill remembered something that Mitch had told her a long time agothat Lieutenant Sievers did his best interrogation work on the phone. Sievers felt that a phone was much more relaxing for most people, and that they therefore tended to tell you more than they might have in person. Lieutenant Sievers, Mitch said, had received more than half a dozen murder confessions over the phone during his twenty-some years on the force.

'This is Lieutenant Wayne Sievers.'

'Good evening, Lieutenant.'

A pause. When he spoke, he sounded irritated. 'Our mutual friend Mitch Ayers told you I'd be calling, I assume.'

'Yes. Yes, he did.' She put her hand out and Mitch took it.

'You know about Eric Brooks?'

'Yes, I do. I'm still having a hard time making myself believe it.'

'Why's that?'

'I saw him just a few hours ago and he was alive. I still can't believe'

'Were you two alone?'

'Yes.'

'What was his mood?'

'Oh, he wasEric. You know.'

'No, I guess I don't know, Miss Coffey.'

'There was always something Eric wanted, and he always seemed agitated when he couldn't have it.'

'Was there anything in particular he wanted this evening, Miss Coffey?'

'Not that I know of.'

'Did he want you, Miss Coffey?'

She looked at Mitch. He made a big Happy Face, indicating she should do the same.

'I've already talked to some of his co-workers, Miss Coffey. They told me that he had always been interested in you romantically.'

'I wouldn't say "romantically."'