Audrey brought the coffee she’d made from the kitchen. Everyone took a cup except for me. I just couldn’t feel like eating or drinking while Lotty slept off the blows that had been meant for me.
I told Rawlings everything I knew—my visit to Chamfers five days before, Bruno the dockman, the tail, switching cars with Lotty. “I think the attack was meant for me. Especially because they kept telling her that maybe this would teach her to mind her own business. She said they abandoned the car—whose was it?”
Rawlings made a disgusted face. “That’s one thing we do know. It belonged to an Eddie Mohr, who reported it stolen this morning. He lives south, near Kedzie.”
“Anyone can report their car stolen,” I said.
Before Rawlings could answer, Max asked how.
I shrugged. “You just call up and say it was stolen. It could be anywhere—at the bottom of a gravel pit where you pushed it, or being used by your pals—even by yourself—to attack people.”
Max smiled sadly, depressed by this view of human nature, and slipped away to take a look at Lotty.
“Give me a break, Ms. W.,” Rawlings protested. “First thought on my mind. But the guy is seventy-two, retired, looking after his begonias or whatever they do down there, and the car had definitely been hot-wired. No, they must have realized you were wise to the tail. They wanted a car you couldn’t ID when they managed to pick you up again. But they didn’t know you personally. So that lets out this Bruno you talked about.”
I hunched a shoulder impatiently. “He doesn’t know me—I was just another dumb broad to him. And it’s true I’m eight inches taller than Lotty, but compared to him we both look like shrimp. I wouldn’t discount him.”
Audrey gave a sharp nod of agreement; Officer Galway, who’d been mute through the interchange, suppressed a smile and made a note. All women have known guys who treat us like so many interchangeable parts.
“Anyone else on your case these days?” Rawlings asked.
I gave a bark of laughter. “Yeah, my ex. He’s peeved at me, but then that’s a chronic state with him.”
After all, Dick had been laying down the law with an iron fist this afternoon. He’d even told me to mind my own business, the same words the thugs used to Lotty. For an evil minute I was tempted to present a damning case against him to Rawlings, just for the inconvenience of having the cops rooting around his life for a few days. But really, I didn’t hate him—it wasn’t worth the energy to be so spiteful.
“You know what they teach us at the academy, Ms. W—stay out of domestic quarrels unless you absolutely can’t avoid ‘em. You never told me what you were doing to get this Chamfers so agitated.”
“Oh—that was Mr. Contreras.” I explained about him and Mitch. “Terry Finchley’s handling the case for Area One. I haven’t talked to him for a few days. Maybe he’s found someone who saw Mitch go into the canal.”
“If the Finch is on it, don’t you think you could leave it in his hands?” Rawlings asked dryly. “He’s quite capable, you know.”
Finchley and Rawlings were active together in an African-American police fraternity. Each took a D’Artagnan-Athos view of slights toward the other.
“Your turn to give me a break, Sergeant. I know Finchley’s a good detective, but I do wonder how much time he has to investigate a drunk rolling. And that seems to be how the department has tabbed it.”
“And you don’t?” Rawlings asked sharply.
“I don’t have any evidence, Sergeant, of any kind, about anything.”
But I had a lot of nagging questions, with the attack on Lotty heading the list. I was desperate to find some lever for prying Chamfers’s mouth open. Someone down there had seen Mitch, someone knew what he was mumbling on about. Something they didn’t want me to find out bad enough that they’d hire thugs to beat me up? Something so potent they knocked Mitch on the head and rolled him into the canal?
I looked up to see Rawlings staring at me narrowly. “You’d better not be concealing something I want to know.”
“I know you well enough to like you, Sergeant, but not nearly well enough to figure out what kinds of things you want to know.”
“Yeah, bat your baby blues at me. I think I’ll just check in with the Finch, see what he’s dug up on Kruger.”
He busied himself with his lapel mike; a couple of minutes later Lotty’s phone rang. Max, on his way back from the bedroom, reached to answer it. His face registered annoyance when Rawlings snatched the receiver from him, but he moved over to Audrey without saying anything.
Max and Audrey kept up a low-pitched conversation while Rawlings told Finchley about the attack on Lotty. Officer Galway got up to look at Lotty’s books. With Rawlings’s attention on his phone conversation much of her stiffness left her; she seemed young and rather frail for the weight of her equipment belt.