She gave a little smile that was half crafty, half embarrassed. “When they brought me in I was unconscious on account of the smoke. And they found my heart was kind of acting up. High blood pressure, high fat in my blood— you name it, I got too much of everything. Except money. So I’m kind of dragging it out, you know, until I can get me a place to stay.”
“I see.” I’d come across worse crimes in my time. I stood up. “Well, I’m glad the baby’s okay, anyway. Cerise disappeared around noon today and I’m not going to put a lot of energy into hunting for her. But if I see her again, I’ll let her know her kid is at Maisie’s.”
She grunted and got slowly to her feet. “Yeah, okay, but I got to call Maisie and tell her Katterina don’t go off with Cerise again. You take it easy, girl. What did you say your name was? Vic. And you stay those three thousand bottles behind Elena, you hear me?”
“Got it.” I walked slowly down the hall with her to her room door before I said good-bye. Back in the lobby I checked my wallet. The cash was gone and so was my American Express Card. The only thing left was my PI license and that was because it was stuck behind a flap. They’d even lifted my driver’s license. I ground my teeth. Cerise might have cleaned me out while I was hiding out in my bedroom this morning. But for all I knew Elena had robbed me when I was struggling with Cerise in the kitchen. I felt my shoulders tighten from futile rage.
I found a pay phone in the lobby and called my credit-card companies to report the cards as stolen. At least I’d memorized my phone card number so I didn’t have to stop all my phone calls. I usually keep an emergency twenty in the zip compartment of my purse; when I checked the black bag I found I’d left one in there. On my way out I used it to buy flowers for Zerlina. It wasn’t enough, but it was all I could afford.
12
Firing Up the Arson Squad
Before leaving the hospital I tried to reach Robin Bessinger at Ajax. I was hoping to cancel our meeting with the Bomb and Arson Squad now that I knew the baby hadn’t been in the Indiana Arms, but I was too late—the insurance receptionist told me he’d already left for the police department. I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and headed back to Ellis Avenue and my car.
It used to be you could go to Central Police Headquarters anytime day or night and park with ease. Now that development mania has hit the Near South Side, downtown congestion has clogged the area. It took me half an hour to find a place to park. That made me about ten minutes late for the meeting, which scarcely helped my frayed mood.
Roland Montgomery held court in an office the size of my bed. A regulation metal desk crammed with papers took most of the available space, but he squeezed in chairs for me, Bessinger, Assuevo, and a subordinate. Papers were stacked on the windowsill and on top of the metal filing cabinet. Someone should have told him the place was a fire trap.
Montgomery, a tall, thin man with hollow cheeks, gave me a sour look as I came in. He ignored my outstretched hand, pointed to the empty chair in the corner, and asked if I knew Dominic Assuevo.
Assuevo was bull-shaped—thick neck and wide shoulders tapering into narrow hips. His graying sandy hair was cropped close to his head the way the boys used to wear it when I was in third grade. He greeted me with a jovial courtesy not reflected in his eyes.
“Can’t stay away from fire, huh, Ms. Warshawski?”
“Good to see you again, too, Commander. Hiya, Robin. I tried to get you a little bit ago but your office told me you were already here.” I skirted my way past his long feet to the vacant chair.
Robin Bessinger was sitting in the opposite corner of the tiny room. He seemed a little older than he’d struck me when I first met him, but of course the hard hat had kept me from seeing that his hair had gone gray. He smiled and waved and said hello.
I squeezed in next to the uniformed man and held out a hand. “V. I. Warshawski. I don’t think we’ve met.”
He mumbled something that sounded like “firehorse whiskey.” I never did learn what his name really was.
“So you think there was a baby in the Indiana Arms, Ms. Warshawski?” Montgomery pulled a folder from the stack in front of him. I had to believe he’d practiced it, that he couldn’t know offhand what fire which folder referred to.
“I did when I spoke to Mr. Bessinger this morning. That was before I tracked down the baby’s grandmother. I just finished interviewing her in the hospital and she says she had already sent the child to its other grandmother before the fire broke out.”
“So we’re wasting our time here, is that what you’re telling me?’ Montgomery’s eyebrows rose to his sandy hairline. He made no effort to hide his contempt.
I gave a tight smile. “Guess so, Lieutenant.”
“There were no babies in the Indiana Arms when it burned down?” He swung his neck cranelike across the desk at me.
“I can’t say that categorically. I only know that the one I’d been told was there—Katterina Ramsay—had left the building earlier in the evening. For all I know there might have been others. You should check with Commander Assuevo here.”