Stephen Cannell - At First Sight

"You're certain?" Demetrius asked, a little disappointment creeping into those two words.

"I said it, didn't I? You think I'd lie?"

Shit, Chick thought.

"I don't know, Miss Best, I just met you. Your mother was murdered. You don't seem very upset."

"I just woke up!"

Chick thought it couldn't possibly be going much worse, but that was Melissa. She hated both of them. Forgetting for the moment that he had pulled the trigger, Chick was irritated that Melissa wasn't at all bothered that the woman who had given birth to her and raised her had just been brutally murdered. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Demetrius and Watts exchange a private look.

"Look, give me a lie detector test if you don't believe me," she suddenly blurted. "The cops never believe anything I say, anyway. They always think I'm lying."

Of course they absolutely believed her confession about the crystal meth when she was lying, but that's another story. The idea of a polygraph test was the last thing Chick wanted to introduce into this conversation. Next thing, the cops would want him to take one too. He was hoping they'd find the Mercedes, find the gun, get Delroy's prints off both, and solve this thing quickly, put it behind him before anybody started asking for a polygraph.

"A lie detector test might be a very good idea," Demetrius said. "Would you also agree to take one, Chick?" Now using his first name like they already owned him. "Just to get this part of the investigation behind us?"

"I guess," Chick said, thinking he'd like to strangle his daughter. But killing both members of his immediate family on the same night was probably a bit much, even for him.

Demetrius's cell phone rang and he answered it.

"Yeah. Yeah. Okay, good. Have them call a unit from Valley impound, but don't hook it up. Notify CSI, and get a forensics team to the site. I'll be there in twenty." He hung up. "We just found your wife's car," he said, watching Chick closely. "It was ditched up in the mountains above Glendale."

"Is that good?" Chick asked, trying to sound like a confused citizen who had just lost his wife and didn't know his ass from a pound of Philadelphia cream cheese. Too much? He didn't know-couldn't read anything in their blank expressions.

"The car is the crime scene," Demetrius finally said. "It could be very important. I'll set it up for you both to take those polygraph tests. How's tomorrow sound?"

"Uh… well, Thursday would be better…,, "Why?" Demetrius asked, looking at him coldly.

"I'm very upset right now, that's why."

"We both want to catch this guy, don't we, Chick?" Demetrius was smiling slightly, as if he'd just caught Chick in a criminal inconsistency. After a moment's hesitation, Chick nodded.

"Good. How 'bout we just set it up for the first available time tomorrow, then," the handsome detective said. Watts closed his spiral pad and both of them stood. As they walked toward the door, Demetrius spun around unexpectedly and faced Chick. "Everything between you and your wife okay, Mr. Best? No fights? No problems?"

"No. Everything was fine."

"Who's this Mickey D person your daughter just mentioned?" Watts asked.

"That's Mickey DePolina. He's a family friend. Our personal trainer?'

"Nothing going on between your wife and her trainer?" Watts persisted.

"Of course not. Evelyn and I were very much in love."

Behind him, Melissa groaned theatrically. Maybe he'd throw caution to the wind and just go for the double H with these two cops as eyewitnesses.

"I've already asked for a technician to come out here and give you a GSR test," Demetrius said. "He should be along any time."

"A what?" Chick was confused.

"It's a Gunshot Residue Test. We use paraffin to check your hands for barium and antimony to establish if you've fired a gun recently. Don't take it the wrong way. It's standard procedure. We always start by eliminating family members first. We'll hang around till he gets here:'

"You gonna test me?" Melissa said, her eyebrow studs climbing her forehead like fishhooks in two furry caterpillars.

Then Chick heard a car pull up out front.

"That won't be necessary," Demetrius said coldly. "We'll get back to you tomorrow." When they opened the door, Chick saw a plain sedan parked at the curb. A lab tech got out and unloaded two boxes from his trunk.

"We're very sorry for your loss," Demetrius said without much sorrow.

"Thank you for your sympathy," Chick said stiffly, and watched as they walked down the steps to their car, pausing to talk to the technician on the way. Chick turned and saw Melissa smiling at him.

"Caught a real break with this carjack, didn't ya?" his angry daughter said. "Looks like somebody went ahead and did it for you."

"PAIGE, I DESPERATELY NEED TO TALK TO YOU," A MAN'S voice said, without an opening hello or even identifying himself.

I was standing in my living room. "Who is this?" I asked, trying to pick the voice out of my memory bank of old friends.

"It's Chick," he said, his voice so small, so sad, I could barely hear him.

"Chick?" Why on earth would he be calling me at nine in the morning-six A. M. L. A. time?

"You're the only one I could think of to call," he whispered. He seemed to be sobbing. Then he said, "Evelyn was murdered… car-jacked. Friday night, somebody put a gun… they put a gun in her car window and then… and then they just shot her." Another sob followed this horrible news.

"Oh, my God, Chick… I'm so sorry." My heart went out to him. I remembered the desolation of waking up the morning after Chandler died, knowing something was wrong. Then, as the memories returned, having to come to grips with his death all over again.

"These first days are the toughest, the absolute worst," I said. "Waking up to the loss each morning, it's impossible. I know exactly what you're going through, Chick."

"Nobody else understands. Nobody I know has been through this, except you."

He sounded devastated. Lost and broken. I took a breath and tried to come up with the best way to handle this.

"Do you want to talk? Would it help if we spent some time right now and talked about your feelings?" I didn't quite know what the best form of therapy might be. We shared an almost identical tragedy, but I didn't know Chick and Evelyn that well so I wasn't sure I should be spewing out a bunch of helpful hints with no intellectual perspective.

"Evelyn really loved you, Paige:" he suddenly said unexpectedly.

"That's so sweet:' I answered. But what I was thinking was, how could that be? We barely knew one another. I'd always felt there was something strange and sort of self-absorbed about Evelyn Best.

"We had so much together:" Chick was saying. "Evelyn and I always knew what the other was feeling. She knew what I was thinking even before I would say it. I can't believe she's not here, not with me anymore?' A sob followed this, then he went on, "And the way she was with Melissa… such a wonderful mother."

"I don't mean to start giving a lot of unsolicited advice, Chick, but if I were you, I'd make sure that Melissa talks to someone. Children deal with these things in different ways from adults. You don't want her to bury it. Her emotions over this need to come out."

"You mean, like a psychiatrist?"

"A psychiatrist or even a good friend who she trusts and will open up to. Somebody to help her get in touch with her feelings?'

"I just… I just… " and he stopped.

You just what?"

"I just… I wanted… "

"Whatever you want, I'm there, Chick:'

"It's not fair," he said, his voice almost a whisper. "It's too much to ask."

"If you don't tell me, we'll never know. What is it, Chick?" "I want… what I want is to talk to you."