WMC - First to Die

Chapter 51

KATHY AND JAMES VOSKUHL were having their first dance- and to break with tradition, it was a rocker. The driving beat of "La Bamba" jolted through the brightly lit atrium of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. "Everybody!" the groom shouted. "Rock and roll! Join us!" Hip young girls with dyed hair and wearing shiny green and red prom dresses- sixties style- swung around on the dance floor, their partners in retro silk shirts, Travolta like. The bride and groom, having changed into party garb, joined in, butting thighs, whooping, arms in air. It almost ruined everything, Phillip Campbell thought. He had wanted her in white. And here she was, sweaty red-streaked hair, cat-eye- shaped glasses, a tight green dress. This time, Kathy, you've gone too far. Forty tables, each with the likeness of some rock and roll icon as a centerpiece, filled out the Great Hall of the museum. A glittery ba

Chapter 52

I WAS IN EARLY Monday morning, feeling a little nervous about my first contact with Raleigh after our dancing and-dining experience, wondering where all this was going to go, when one of the task force inspectors, Paul Chin, rushed up to me. "Lindsay, there's a woman in Interrogation Room Four I think you should check out." Ever since a physical description of the assailant had hit the airwaves, people had been calling in with fake sightings and dead-end leads. One of Chin's jobs was to follow them up, no matter how unlikely. "This one a psychic or a police buff?" I asked with a skeptical smile. "I think this one's the genuine article," said Chin. "She was at the first wedding." I almost leaped out of my chair after him. At the front of the squad room, I spotted Raleigh coming in. Chris. For a moment, a tingle of pleasure rushed through me. He'd left about eleven, after we ended up polishing off both bottles of wine. We ate, chewed over our separate stints on the force, and the ups and downs of being married or single. It had been a sweet evening. Took the heat off from the case. It even got my mind off Negli's. What scared me a little was the tremor inside that it could be something more. I had caught myself staring at him Friday night, while he helped out with the dishes, thinking, If times were different… Raleigh ran into me, carrying coffee and a paper. "Hey." He smiled. "Nice vest." "Chin's got a live one in four," I said, grabbing his arm. "Claims to have a physical sighting. You want to come along?" In my haste, I was already by him, not even giving him a second of recognition. He put down his paper on our civilian clerk's desk and caught up on the stairs. In the cramped interrogation room sat a nicely dressed, attractive woman of about fifty. Chin introduced her to me as Laurie Birnbaum. She seemed tight, nervous. Chin sat down next to her. "Ms. Birnbaum, why don't you tell Inspector Boxer what you just told me." She was frightened. "It was the beard that made me remember. I didn't even think of it until now. It was so horrible." "You were at the Brandts' wedding?" I asked her. "Yes, as guests of the bride's family," she replied. "My husband works with Chancellor Weil at the university." She took a nervous sip from a cup of coffee. "It was just a brief thing. But he gave me the chills." Chin pushed down the record button of a portable recorder. "Please, go ahead," I told her soothingly. Once again, I felt close to him- the bastard with the red beard. "I stood next to him. He had this graying red beard. Like a goatee. The kind they wear in Los Angeles. He looked older, maybe forty-five, fifty, but there was something about him. I'm not saying this right, am I?" "You spoke to him?" I asked, trying to communicate that even though she didn't do this every day, I did. Even the male detectives admitted that I was the best at Q and A on the floor. They joked that it was "a girl thing." "I had just come in from the dance floor," she said. "I looked up, and there he was. I said something like, "Nice affair. bride or groom?" For a moment, I thought he looked kind of appealing. Then he just sort of glared at me. I took him for one of those arrogant investment-banker types from the Brandt side." "What did he say to you?" I said. She massaged her brow, straining to recall. "He said, in the weirdest way, that they were lucky." "Who was lucky?" "Melanie and David. I may have said, "Aren't they lucky?" Meaning the two of them. They were so stu