“Just luck of the draw, I guess.” I tried to brace myself against his sudden braking as he cut back into the right lane. “You said you had my aunt. Where did you find her? Down in one of those abandoned buildings on Cermak?”
He laughed. “She was right under my nose. Can you beat that? Right around the corner in my own neighborhood. Eileen had seen her and told my mother and Mother mentioned it to me at supper last night. She’d gone to hide out with one of her old cronies, but her thirst got to her— she just had to go get herself a bottle. I knew sooner or later, if she wasn’t dead, she wouldn’t be able to put up with that thirst anymore. I just didn’t expect it to be around the corner from me. So I hung out all afternoon and sure enough, round eight o’clock, there she came. I just helped her into the car. She tried sweet-talking me. It was loathsome.”
He did sixty through the park to Lake Shore Drive. I suppose the beat cops knew his license plate, or at least called it in and saw it belonged to a detective. The local traffic didn’t have that inside track and honked ferociously as they had to swerve out of his way.
“Was she loathsome because of her age or her drinking or both?” I asked.
“Women who think they’ve got sexual powers that they don’t are disgusting.”
“She appeals to some guys. Just because she’s not your type doesn’t mean everyone finds her repulsive.”
He turned onto Lake Shore Drive so fast I was flung against him. When I was upright again I said conversationally, “Touching you seems loathsome to me, but I’m sure some women would disagree.”
He didn’t say anything, just took the Corvette up to ninety, diving in and out of lanes around the other cars, making them seem to stand still in a blur of light. I was afraid I was going to throw up when he braked into the curve at the Michigan Avenue exit. He slowed down then—the traffic was too thick for him to keep up so mad a pace.
“You’re cracking, Michael. You’re leaving a trail a mile wide. Even if Roland Montgomery’s your clout in the department, he can’t protect you from the mayhem you’re manufacturing tonight.”
In the streetlamps along the Drive I could see sweat beaded on his forehead. He made a violent gesture with his right hand but the car swerved; he fishtailed and got us back in our lane by a miracle.
“What is it that Roland owes Boots?” I kept my tone level. “And why did he get you to set the fire—why couldn’t he do it himself?”
Furey bared his teeth at me. “You’re not that fucking smart Vic. I went to Montgomery. I found him for Boots. All he had to do was get me the accelerant and make sure no one investigated too closely.”
“What a good boy,” I said marveling. “Is that when they gave you the Corvette?”
“You don’t understand anything, do you? I was prepared—I was willing—you could have lived like LeAnn and Clara—had whatever you wanted—but you—”
“I have what I want, Michael. My independence and my privacy. You’ve just never understood it, have you, that all those things, those diamonds and stuff, just don’t turn me on.”
He got off at the Grand Avenue exit and whipped around the curves to the Rapelec complex. He parked the Corvette well away from the street, behind one of the wooden walls blocking the site.
He jumped out and came around to the passenger door. I had thought I might be able to kick him as I got out of the car but he’d handled a lot of rough arrests in his time—he stood well away from the frame and waited for me to wrestle with the seat belt and get my legs out myself. He put an arm around me in a savage mockery of chivalry and hustled me into the building.
I shivered involuntarily when we moved into the inky corridors. We were on the plank-covered ramp I’d walked three weeks earlier up to the management offices. Beyond the naked bulbs lay the gaping hole of the complex. I wondered where my aunt was, if she was still alive, what tragic end was destined for us.
Furey hadn’t said a word since we’d gotten to the site. I began to feel boxed in by the silence as much as by my cuffs.
To regain my composure I said conversationally, “Was it because McGonnigal told you I had the bracelet? Is that why you came to get me tonight?”
He bared his teeth again in a violent parody of a smile. “You left your scarf at the Alma offices, Vic. I saw you unwrap it when Eileen gave it to you the day we met. You don’t remember it but I do because I thought you were the hottest little number I’d ever laid eyes on. I do want my bracelet back, but I’m not in any hurry.”
“That’s good,” I said calmly, even though my cheeks burned at the idea of being a hot number. “I left it in my apartment. You’re going to need a wrecking crew to get in there. You don’t get it, do you? Not even being a cop can cover your tracks for you when you’ve created this much carnage. Not even Bobby will do it. It’ll break his heart, but he’ll let you go.”