Deja Who (Insighter #1)(50)
“She was? But she lived in Hollywood all those years.”
“Her mom was born here, Leah was born here. It was only after people kept telling Nellie how pretty her baby was that she hauled them to L.A. When Nellie’s career went into the shitter, she came back. And that’s important, because it might mean no bail is needed. Either way, you go to the jail, find out what the charges are, or if she’s even still under arrest—it’s too bad her phone’s broke, but there’s nothin’ to be done about that right now—and if you can bail her out, you’ve just gotta sign a bunch of paperwork. You’re legally responsible for getting her home, and for making sure she shows up for her court date. If there is one. Which hopefully not. I mean, she didn’t kill her mom, right?”
“Right.” At Cat’s long, inscrutable look, he repeated himself. “Right! She honestly didn’t, Cat. She was with me.”
“All night?”
“I wish,” he sighed. Then, “Her mom called Leah while she was dying. Leah didn’t do it.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Why?”
“Well. Who did? It wasn’t you, and it wasn’t me. You’ll have to take my word on that one,” she added dryly. “Or not . . . last night I was at the Four Seasons, and I had dinner in the hotel restaurant. The receipt will be time-stamped. Depending on what the ME decides is the TOD, that might clear me.”
“We don’t think it was you,” Archer said, horrified.
“No? That’s not very smart, Arch.” Cat’s dark gaze was cool, almost clinical. “You liked me right away, but people always do. It’s why I went into politics. Some people, they can make you like them. It’s a knack, like being able to raise one eyebrow. I can do that. But you don’t know the real me. You know what you’ve seen and heard, which isn’t much, and you know whatever Leah told you.”
“Did you really lose your job because you weren’t a bigot?”
“Yeah. Check the headlines from back then if you’ve got nothing better to do with your life. Anyway, it’s foolish to dismiss suspects because you like them. But you’re right, I didn’t do it. Although I don’t give much of a rat’s ass that she’s dead. In fact, if she’d been murdered a decade or two earlier, your would-be girlfriend wouldn’t be the fucked-up future recluse we know and love.”
“Okay.” Archer was thinking that he needed to spend a lot more time in the park listening to Cat’s Theories of Life and Politics. And yeah—he did like her. He just hadn’t known Cat had made him like her. “What else?”
“It wasn’t me, it wasn’t you, it wasn’t the agent. It wasn’t Leah. So who’d kill a has-been B-list actress? And in such a wicked nasty way? Maybe it’s the guy who keeps killing Leah. Maybe he’s trying something new this life. Or maybe he can’t find Leah, so he—no, that doesn’t make sense, if he could find It, he could find Leah.”
“Yeah.” Archer hadn’t even had time to consider any of the things Cat had instantly thought of. His respect amped up a few more notches. “Who would? And why kill Nellie at all? She was a threat to exactly nobody. Not even Leah.”
“Yeah, well.” Cat crunched a final carrot and put the bag away. “If you knew why, you’d know who. Get going,” she ordered, “and let me know if you need a wire.”
Ah, yes. I’ll let the homeless rich woman in the park know if I need a loan to bail out my future girlfriend for not killing her mother. What has happened to my life?
He didn’t know. And there wasn’t time to wonder about it now. He took Cat’s advice, and got going.
THIRTY-FIVE
Archer was more than a little nervous about walking into the CPD to pick up Leah. Or bail her out. Or maybe only visit her. It brought back memories of his childhood. Of course, his bad memories were the equivalent of skinned knees and neighborhood bullies compared to hers of shattered trust and exploitation and tampon commercials.
Shattered trust and exploitation? You’re losing it, pal.
Well, sure. That seemed about right, after the week they’d had. His inner voice always correctly deduced when he was losing it, or when he was cock-blocking himself, but the rest of the time it was unhelpfully silent.
Speaking of unhelpful: the CPD website. Nothing there about how to bail someone out; nothing about which building to go to or department to call. But if he wanted to take the Police Entry Level Exam, he was all set. And if he wanted to go to a CAPS meeting (whatever that was; the website never really explained), he was good to go. Also, if he wanted to apply for a building permit, he knew exactly how to go about it. The mayor of Boston had been much more helpful.
So here he was, after another Cat consultation, parking his car in the ramp across the street, plunging through the front doors, and nervously following signs directing him to what was euphemistically called the detainee station (which made it sound like they were all waiting together for a bus or something and no laws of any kind had been broken).
Along the way he read posters helpfully explaining that the Chicago Police Department was the second largest (after the NYPD) local law enforcement agency in the country, and also one of the oldest. And also, Sergeant Thomas is starting up another softball league so you should definitely call his cell if you’re interested. And it’s Patrolman Roger’s birthday today and there’s cake in the briefing room.