“When?” Mike asks. “When did you break in?”
Drysdale shakes his head frantically. He looks a little younger than his age, uncommon in a man who spends so much time outside. And he does not appear mentally incapacitated, aside from his aversion to speaking out loud. Once dressed in a suit, he will look presentable at trial. That could work for him or against him, Lu decides. If she were his attorney, she’d try to have him ruled incompetent to stand trial, given his history of hospitalizations. She wouldn’t win on those grounds, but she’d at least try. Rose—what was the surname, oh my darling, oh my darling—Darling doesn’t even seem to realize it’s an option. She’s the one on the verge of boxing him into a certain set of dates. Drysdale at least seems to realize that the less said about timing, the better.
He leans in to whisper to her again. Rose Darling says: “My client is not admitting he broke in and he says he cannot be sure of when he was there. He doesn’t keep a calendar.”
“Did you know Mary McNally, Rudy? Had you seen her at the Silver Diner? Or around the neighborhood?”
He shakes his head no, but only after a long pause.
“Why were you in her apartment?”
He whispers in his lawyer’s ear then, and the lawyer says: “He’s not admitting that he was in her apartment.”
“He already did,” Mike says.
More whispers. “He can’t be sure he was in her apartment because he doesn’t know who she is. He doesn’t know Mary McNally, has no knowledge of her whatsoever. He entered an apartment in the Grove. He doesn’t remember when and he doesn’t know who it belongs to. If there was a body in there at the time, he might not have entered that room.”
“Buddy, we got fingerprints. You’re all over the place. On the door that was open, which was inches from her head, and on the door that was closed. You’re on the thermostat. So, what, you climbed up on her balcony, saw the open door, stepped over her body, went to check the thermostat, then left by the other door, which you carefully closed? Is that the story you want to tell?”
Rudy stares at the ceiling as if the conversation has begun to bore him. His affect is like a teenager’s, checking out as his parents discuss his failings at the family dinner table. Asked how he got into the apartment, he continues to stare at the ceiling. Asked how Mary McNally died, he makes eye contact only with the light fixture over his head. Asked if he can account for his whereabouts over the past week, he smiles and shakes his head, as if the detectives are being silly. Fine, don’t speak, Lu thinks. The fingerprints put him at the scene, he’s been IDed in a lineup. He’s going straight from here to a judge, who will almost certainly order him held without bail.
“I almost feel sorry for that public defender,” Lu says to Mike when just that scenario plays out. She has sent Andi to the bail review, an easy bone to toss.
“Yeah, she’s a mess. Jury might end up feeling sorry for her, too. And him. What a sad sack. Local guy, went to Wilde Lake Middle and High School.”
“That’s where I went,” Lu says. “Also my brother.”
“Really?” Mike is too polite to note that the school’s reputation is lackluster these days. The original “villages” of Columbia are now called the “inner villages,” and the pejorative echo of inner city is not accidental. The money has marched west, and the desirable school districts are in what were cornfields and wilderness in Lu’s lifetime. “Still, he has an almost plausible story. All he has to do is claim that the sliding door in the second bedroom was unlocked—we can’t prove he was the one who pried it open—that he came in that way, noticed it was cold, checked the thermostat, then—”
Lu holds up a hand. She’s not a superstitious person, anything but. Yet she has no patience with worst-case scenarios. Bad news will out soon enough, why put it in the universe? When the twins were six weeks old, there were a couple of bad nights with Justin, the smaller of the two, and Gabe kept trying to bring up the possibility of colic. She wouldn’t let him say the word out loud and she would hold the screeching baby as if his screams didn’t grieve her. Lu believes that you must will yourself not to dwell on all the bad things that can happen, only the good. She imagined herself as state’s attorney and here she is. The bad things still find a way to happen.
And if she’s honest with herself, there were days when Gabe was forever on planes and corporate jets and traveling to far-flung places that she wondered what life would be like if he just didn’t come back. Now she knows. Now she lives it every day. She had thought she was doing everything, that he contributed almost nothing to their children’s daily care. But gone is not dead. She had to learn that the hard way.