I moved restlessly to the bedroom to look at Lotty myself. She was breathing evenly, if deeply; her skin felt a little hot to my touch. When I came back to the living room Rawlings was still on the phone.
“So you want to check on this guy, this Simon, whose last name Warshawski doesn’t know? What’ve you dug up down there?”
The next few minutes were a series of grunts. Before he hung up I tapped him on the arm.
“Mind if I ask a question, Rawlings?”
He covered the receiver with one large palm. “I’ll be glad to pass it along, Ms. W.”
Even good cops like to play power games. I curled my nose and turned away. “It’ll keep until morning. Tell him I said hi.”
Rawlings tapped my arm. “Don’t get on your high horse, Ms. W. Enough bad will around here tonight already… Terry? Vic Warshawski wants a word with you.”
“Hi, Terry. How’s it going? Did you locate Mitch Kruger’s son?”
“You feeling good tonight, Vic? I did ask—beg—you to leave the investigation to me. Now that Dr. Herschel’s been hurt, can’t you understand why?”
I stiffened, but kept the anger out of my voice. “I didn’t authorize the attack on her, Terry. You change your mind about Mitch? He didn’t fall drunk into the canal after all?”
“I told Rawlings what progress we’d made on our investigation. If he wants to pass it along to you that’s his decision.”
“A citizen gets attacked and you guys turn ugly on me. I guess there’s a connection, but it’s not especially attractive. Before you hang up all hot and bothered, did you ever locate Kruger’s son?”
Finchley breathed heavily. “He’s been gone thiry-five years. I didn’t think we needed to invest resources into tracking him down. Are you working on a theory that he came back to Chicago and killed his old man in a fit of rage over some hurt that happened all those years ago?”
I couldn’t help laughing a little at the idea. “Gosh, I don’t know. It’s neat—I like it. If it was Ross Macdonald I’d even believe it. Just wondering. You want to talk to your buddy again before I hang up?”
Rawlings snatched the phone back from me. After a few more grunts he finished with, “You’re the boss, Finch,” and hung up.
“So what have the police found out about Mitch Kruger?” I asked.
“They’re following some leads, Ms. W. Give them time.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Rawlings. I’m not the local news. They haven’t done anything, for the simple reason that his death doesn’t seem important. Why can’t you spit it out for a change? Have they even canvassed the neighborhood?”
His brown eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything.
I smiled. “A week of my pay against a week of yours that they haven’t talked to the neighbors.”
His face loosened into a reluctant smile. “Don’t tempt me. Terry talked to your boy Chamfers. Chamfers acknowledges that Mitch had been around trying to cadge some odd jobs, but said he’d never seen him himself—just heard from the foreman. Even if they were hiring, he says he wouldn’t take on a guy as old as Kruger and a drunk in the bargain. The Finch is going to follow up on this dockhand who got so pissed at you, but he doesn’t see a tie-in between the attack on the doc here and the plant.”
“So why did he chew me out over it?” I demanded.
“Maybe he doesn’t like you riding his tail. None of us enjoys it too much.”
“Well, there’s just one of me and ten thousand of you, so I think you guys can hold your own.”
A quiet snort behind us from Officer Galway made Rawlings turn around. “You want something, Officer?”
She shook her head, her small oval face so devoid of expression that I thought I’d imagined the snicker.
Audrey patted Max’s hand and came over to me. “And I think all of you can look after yourselves too. Vic, will you bring Lotty over to Beth Israel in the morning for X rays and stuff?”
“She okay? She felt feverish to me.”
“She probably is a little. If she seems to get really hot or terribly restless in the night, give me a call. Otherwise I’ll see you in the morning. Say around ten?”
I agreed and saw her to the door. Max decided to escort her to her car—Lotty’s street isn’t the most savory place to be alone in the dark.
I watched from the window with unseeing eyes, wondering who had gone to Mrs. Poker’s posing as Mitch Kruger’s son. Even if Finchley hadn’t tried locating him the son might still have heard about Mitch’s death some other way. Maybe through Jake Sokolowski. Since Jake and Mitch had lived together recently, Jake might have known how to get in touch with Mitch’s old family. Even so, the son would have had to work some travel miracles to get to Mrs. Polter’s so fast.
“What’s on your mind, Ms. W.?” Rawlings said sharply.