Lisa Black - Evidence of Murder

A completely reasonable, and completely unprovable, statement. She added some follow-up, just to keep him from getting too nervous about their conversation. “Did Evan mention what he had for breakfast? Maybe they ate the same thing.”

“I doubt it-I mean, I doubt he mentioned it. We had a lot of other things to talk about, and he doesn’t eat breakfast half the time anyway.”

“Okay. Well, it was worth a try. Thanks for your time, Mr. Graham.”

She hung up. Leo dropped into Don’s desk chair across from her, letting the air escape his lungs as if he’d been on his feet all day and might collapse. “Well?”

“Jillian Perry never made it to Monday breakfast. I bet dinner on Sunday became her last meal.”

“I meant the meeting with Stone. Do you still have a job?”

“Far as I know. That’s how Evan got Jillian’s body to Edgewater without being seen-in the middle of a bitterly cold night when not even the drug dealers would have been risking frostbite. I can check opportunity off my list. He had it.”

“Bully for you.” Her boss remained, clearly, unimpressed.

“This guy’s trying to make a fool of us, Leo.”

“He’s going to succeed if he sues the office.”

“He thinks he’s smarter than us,” she goaded further. If she could get Leo’s ego on her side, she’d be unstoppable, lawyer or no lawyer.

“If he makes you lose your job over a whore like Jillian Perry, he’s right.”

“How can you say something like-”

“On my fifth birthday,” he began, settling back in the chair with his hands clasped around the back of his neck, “my daddy got elected head of the school board in Larchmere, Ohio. The first issue on his agenda centered around a young teacher who felt that children should be taught about the birds and the bees early on so that they’d know what mistakes to avoid later. Standard practice today, but not then. My daddy agreed wholeheartedly, since he hadn’t really planned on my sister and me, talked to the board, talked to the parents, and then fired the teacher. Without severance and without a recommendation.”

Theresa frowned.

“Because if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have lasted out his term. You have to pick your battles. It don’t matter how smart or good looking or even right you are. If you ain’t going to win, then you’re only going to bloody yourself.”

Theresa considered this unquestionably wise statement, and rejected it. She had bled before. “It’s not just the dead woman, it’s her daughter. If this guy could kill a grown woman without leaving a trace, how much easier will it be for him to murder the baby?”

“That doesn’t change a thing. If you can’t prove Jillian Perry was murdered, then you’re going to have to move on.”

This would have sounded kindly, almost paternal, were it not for the warning edge to his voice. Any battles she picked had better damn well not spill onto his field.

And she had better be sure she could win.

The comic-book shop on Madison, where Drew worked, surprised her. Venetian blinds covered the windows, the shelves had been hewn from solid cherry, and the air seemed remarkably free of dust. Every last inch of space had been utilized, but neatly. Classical music tinkled from hidden speakers.

It could not be wise to show up there so soon after Evan’s accusation of collusion, but Theresa lacked sufficient paranoia to think he would have her followed, and felt a face-to-face with Drew would be more productive. He could hang up a phone too easily.

Drew was conversing with a customer at the counter, too engrossed in his topic to notice her approach. “Do you have number 437? That one was really cool because he finally really talks to Marina about her father. And he beats up Doctor Sin too. But he gets away-”

“Drew,” she interrupted, refusing to be distracted by the history of Doctor Sin.

Drew turned, saw her, gulped. “Excuse me a minute,” he said to the customer, who hitched his computer case strap higher onto his shoulder and shuffled off toward a glass display case labeled FIRST EDITIONS. “Hi, Mrs. MacLean.”

The polished wooden counter dug into her waist as she leaned toward him. “Did you tell Evan Kovacic that I told you to apply for guardianship of Cara?”

“Um.” The red had faded, mostly, from the whites of his eyes. Perhaps he had finally ceased the relentless sobbing. “No.”

“Are you sure? Because I just met with him and his attorney and they have that distinct impression.”

He pulled his knit zip-up cardigan more tightly around his thin frame, and his eyebrows crept up in an imitation of innocence. Today he seemed no more dangerous than a stray kitten.

“He’s threatening to sue me and my employer,” she added.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to! His attorney called me after I filed the papers and asked who my attorney was and when I said I was representing myself he said then I have a fool for a client and who the hell-though he said more than hell, which I didn’t think was very professional of him-did I think I was, trying to take a man’s daughter away from him?”

“Okay. And where did I come into this?”

“He said Evan had the resources to give Cara a decent life, and a loser like me had nothing.”

This situation had disastrous potential for her and she needed to stay on track, but still, she couldn’t let that go by. “Attorneys aren’t known for their tact, especially when they’re trying to get you to drop a case, Drew. Don’t pay any attention to his insults. But as for me-”

“I might have said something like, well, that you didn’t think it was such a bad idea. If I got custody of Cara.”

Oh, hell.

“You don’t, do you?”

“Drew, I never advised you to-”

“But you don’t, right? Wouldn’t it be better for Cara to have a father who really loved her, and not just her bank account? And let’s look at the facts-Evan didn’t do such a good job of taking care of Jillian.”

“Jillian was a grown woman, Drew.”

“But-”

She fiddled with the items near the cash register to take a break from his gaze, a collectible Batmobile, light sticks in a variety of colors, the “take a penny” bowl, and tiny plastic Legolases. “Look, despite the fact that your emotions seem to-fluctuate-I’m sure you would be a perfectly good father…”

“Thank you,” he said and beamed.

“But whether you would, or whether Evan wouldn’t, none of that is up to me. Your court case over Cara has nothing to do with me. I can’t help you with that-”

“Sure you can. Prove Evan killed Jillian.”

“Drew, I don’t know that he did.” Didn’t she? Then what had she been doing for days, neglecting her job and the rest of her life to retrace a dead woman’s steps? Okay, she knew it. But she couldn’t prove it.

“Sure you do.”

“You’re not listen-”

“You got in trouble at work, I get that. I promise I won’t mention your name to anyone from now on, I’ll say it was entirely my idea to ask for Cara. I’ll pretend I don’t even know you. Just put him in jail, and Cara won’t have to be raised by the man who killed her mother. I know you can do it, because you understand.”

“Understand what?” she asked, fairly certain she did not want to hear the answer.

“What it’s like to lose someone. I looked you up, in the library newspaper archives. I-I read about your fiancé dying. That was so awful.”

As always, she didn’t know what to say.

“But that’s why you understand about Jillian, why I have to know what happened to her and punish Evan for doing it. I have to.” He patted her hand and she tried not to jerk it away. “You’ll figure it out. You’re like Wonder Woman. Just pull out your lasso of truth, all your lights and test tubes and microscopes, and justice will prevail.”