Patterson, James - Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman

All of that seemed like a week ago.

I rejoined Jacobi in my office and had just ordered a meatball pizza, extra large, when Sonja Engstrom returned my call.

She, too, was pulling a late night at her office in the hospital.

“We’re going through the dispensary computer’s history, byte by byte,” she said in her crisp, self-assured tone. “The hospital is completely invested in getting to the truth.”

“Glad to hear it.”

“If Dennis was screwing with the computer system, he’s a killer and he was acting alone. The police can have him,” she said. “We’re happy to help.”

We still had no proof that Garza had killed anyone at Municipal. I wished we could subpoena the hospital’s computer records ourselves, but I knew what the DA would tell me.

You want us to scrutinize three years of Municipal’s computer records? With what staff, Lieutenant? We don’t have the time, the money, or the manpower to go fishing.

But with the hospital backing her up, maybe Engstrom could pin a tail on our killer.

I said, “Sonja, for God’s sake don’t burn, shred, alter, or delete anything. Call me if you detect a pattern or find anything I can take to the DA. Please.”

I’d just wished her good luck when the next call came in. It was Conklin. His voice was triumphant, almost giddy.

“Lieutenant,” he said. “I’m looking at Garza’s car.”

Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman

Chapter 134

I LEANED FORWARD in my seat, slapped the desk to get Jacobi’s attention. I put Conklin on the speakerphone.

“Garza’s Mercedes is in the Park ’n’ Fly lot,” Conklin told me. “We haven’t touched it.”

“Excellent. What do you see?”

“Car’s clean and empty, Lieutenant, except for a newspaper on the floor of the passenger side. The doors and trunk are locked.”

“Stay where you are. Don’t touch anything,” I said to Conklin. “We’re doing this a hundred percent by the book.”

I still had friends in the DA’s office, and I found one who was young, persuasive, and not afraid to call a judge after the dinner hour. Forty-five minutes later, I had a search warrant in my hand.

I called Conklin.

“Open up the trunk,” I told him. “I’ll hold while you do it.”

I heard Conklin talking to McNeil in the background, the metallic crack of a crowbar snapping the trunk lock, McNeil barking, “Oh, shit. Goddamn it.”

“Conklin? Conklin?” I was gripping the edge of my desk, white-knuckled by the time Rich got back on the line. He was breathing hard.

“There’s a frickin’ body in the trunk, Lou. Wrapped up in a quilt.”

I stared at Jacobi, not having to say what I was thinking because I knew he was thinking it, too. The missing body had turned up. But whose body was it?

“You checked for a pulse?”

“Yes, Lieutenant. He’s dead. White male. Brown hair. Looks to be in his thirties. He’s covered with blood, Lieutenant. Soaked with it.”

“Lock down the scene. Stay with that car until the ME and CSU arrive,” I said. “I want that car brought back to the lab. And, Richie, make sure it’s handled like a newborn baby.”

Womans Murder Club 5 - The 5th Horseman

Chapter 135

IT WAS AFTER 11:00 P.M. on what was turning out to be one of the longest days of my life. Jacobi and I were in the box with Garza, the three of us stinking of sweat. The flat overhead light was making shadows dance dizzyingly against the gray tile walls.

I figured that I felt like Garza looked.

And he looked like a gargoyle, a monstrous, murdering gargoyle. And like a gargoyle, he wasn’t talking.

I was this close to squeezing his purpled jaw between my fingers to make him scream. I hated the sight of him so much.

Instead, I gave him a Tylenol, a cup of water, and a bunch of ice cubes in a paper towel for his swollen jaw.

And he’d given me nothing back.

His arrogance was remarkable, stonewalling us even though we’d found a dead man inside his car.

“You should help yourself, you know, Dennis?” I was on a first-name basis with him because I knew he resented it.

“I should have an X-ray.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m pretty sure my jaw is fractured. I might have a concussion, too.”

“How’d that happen?” Jacobi asked, tapping the point of a pencil on the table. It was a faint, brittle sound. Irritating. And menacing. I thought if I left Jacobi alone with Garza he’d bounce him off the walls. Might even kill him. I pulled out a chair and sat down.

“I’m guessing this fellow came over to have a few words with you,” Jacobi went on. “What did he say? ‘You killed my son’? My little boy is dead because of you’? Maybe he clocked you with that vase. Is that what set you off?”

“I want a doctor,” Garza said thickly. “I’m in a lot of pain, and I demand to see a doctor right now.”

“Sure,” I said. “No problem. But you ought to know that we found blood on the soles of Maureen’s shoes,” I said, lying my face off.

“As soon as the DA gets here, Maureen is going to talk about what went down at your house this morning. She’s going to say how she walked in on you doing a murder. She’ll plead to accessory after the fact and testify for the prosecution, Dennis.

“She’ll get a year or two in minimum security, and you’ll get the needle. Is that what you want?

“Or do you want to tell us now how you acted in self-defense. Because if you talk to us now, you’re cooperating. And that’s your best chance to save your sorry life.”

“Is that right?” Garza croaked.

“Yeah. That’s right, asshole.”

I thought about Martin Sweet, that bereaved father crying out to me in agony, This is fucked-up! I want to kill someone, Lieutenant!

Dennis Garza had beaten him to it.

“’Scuse me,” Garza gurgled. He stood up and looked around.

I was about to grab him by his collar and drag him back to his chair, when he went down on his knees and barfed into the trash can.

Long, retching moments later, he lifted his gigantic head.

“I want my lawyer,” Garza said.

Jacobi and I exchanged disgusted looks.

The interrogation was over.

I stood up, shoving my chair away from the table. It snagged on the table leg, so I pulled at the chair, wrestling with it noisily, banging it until all four legs were on the ground.

I knew my anger was running away with me, because I didn’t care who was watching from behind the glass.

I leaned forward, hands on my knees, stuck my face right up to Garza’s stinking snout and gave him everything I had left.

“I knew that man you stabbed and slashed to death, you murdering piece of shit. We talked right after his little boy died of a broken arm.

“Did you see that child when he checked into the ER? A cute little guy. Weighed about fifty pounds. He was found dead with a pair of buttons on his eyes.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Garza said.

“He doesn’t know anything,” I said to Jacobi as Garza stood up, walked weakly to the chair, hands cuffed in front of him.

“He doesn’t know anything about the button murders. He doesn’t know anything about Martin Sweet’s body in his trunk. He certainly doesn’t know how tenacious we are.

“He doesn’t know us at all.”

“I’ll call an ambulance,” Jacobi said wearily.

I slapped my cell phone down on the table under Garza’s nose.

“Here. Phone your lawyer. Tell him that you’re under arrest for the murder of Martin Sweet. Tell him he can find you at Municipal Hospital’s emergency room, cuffed to a gurney under police guard. Tell him that we’ve got enough evidence to convict you a hundred times over.