It was already getting dark by the time Maggie and Detective Pakula started walking the streets. There were crowds gathered at the ice rink and around the outside mall that stretched several city blocks long. Tonight was the lighting ceremony when hundreds of thousands of lights in trees and bushes and along rooftops would be turned on, marking the beginning of the holiday season.
“We’ve pulled in everybody on this, looking and talking to people since five this morning,” he told her as they strolled the cobblestone streets, looking more like an old married couple than a couple of cops.
Pakula wore an old camouflage parka but nothing on his shaved head. Maggie kept on her leather jacket and added a red Huskers ballcap that Pakula had given her.
“It’ll help you fit in,” he told her about the cap.
She didn’t argue. She was getting restless. Exhaustion had given way to the adrenaline that had taken over. Too much time had passed. Why did she ever believe they’d find this guy? It was like looking for a needle in a haystack.
She and Nick had wasted two whole hours pouring over the security tapes only to come up empty handed. At one point they saw Gino enter the frame. According to Nick it looked like he was headed around the corner to the front door where he always came to meet Pete, the Rockwood Building’s night security guard.
But then Gino stopped and turned as if someone had called to him. The camera didn’t record sound. They watched Gino cock his head. He grinned and said something before walking back in the direction of whoever had stopped him. He disappeared from the frame. Maggie didn’t say it but she knew Gino had most likely headed right over to his killer.
Nick was taking this man’s death personally and she didn’t quite understand. Maybe it was because it happened outside one of his buildings. He had wanted to come with her and Pakula but they stopped him. He told them he had a license to carry. Pakula told him to go get his hand looked at.
“You should have had stitches,” the detective told him, pointing to the wrapped hand that Maggie had noticed immediately but stopped herself from asking about. “You already bloodied up one of my crime scenes.”
Pakula bought a hot chocolate for Maggie and a coffee for himself. The steam felt good on her frozen cheeks. She wrapped her hands around the cardboard cup and let it warm her fingers. She only had thin knit gloves. Why did she always come to this part of the country unprepared for the weather?
“You two married?” An old woman came up from behind them. She was trying to push a shopping cart filled with an odd assortment of junk.
“No, we’re not married to each other,” Pakula answered. “How are you doing tonight? Do you have someplace warm?”
The woman didn’t look like she heard him. Instead she muttered something to herself. She struggled to hike the cart over the curb that was still snow covered. Pakula grabbed the front end and lifted it easily onto the sidewalk for her.
“They’ve got some extra beds over at Saint Gabriel’s,” he tried again.
This time she blew out a raspberry at him. “I don’t need no Saint Gabriel. Lydia and I have been taking care of each other for years.”
Both Pakula and Maggie looked around at the same time, looking for someone named Lydia. There was obviously no one with this woman. People went around them, even stepping into the street to do so.
“Can I help you find Lydia?” Pakula asked.
This time the woman stared directly into his eyes, her brow creasing under her dirty gray cap. She looked from him to Maggie then back at Pakula.
“You a cop?” she whispered.
Pakula was good but Maggie heard him clear his throat to cover his surprise.
“It’s okay,” the old woman reassured him, her face softening. She reached up and touched his arm, almost a grandmotherly gesture. “We’ve all heard about Gino.” She shook her head. “A damned shame.” Then she straightened and waved her hand like she was swatting at a fly. “Oh stop it, Lydia. You know who Gino was.”
Pakula looked over at Maggie and raised his eyebrows.
The woman probably shouldn’t be left on the streets. She obviously needed help but Maggie liked her feistiness and her spirit. As long as she had the shopping cart she was probably safe from their killer. He’d never be able to bump and slice her without having the click-clanking of that shopping cart in the way. It would draw too much attention.
Pakula was pulling out what looked like a business card. He handed it to the old woman.
“You know Danny at the coffee shop on the corner?”
Another raspberry but she took the card. “My God, who doesn’t know Danny. That son of a bitch will talk your damned ear off. I take the coffee he gives me just to shut him up.”