Sudden Mischief

"We're going to have to toss the place," I said.

"I know."

"I'll take this office," I said. "You do the outer."

"You know what you're looking for?" Hawk said.

"Clues."

I took two pairs of disposable latex gloves from the Nike bag and gave one pair to Hawk. We put them on. There was a computer on Sterling's desk. I turned it on. It was a Mac, like Susan's. I clicked open the hard drive. There were twenty-six items on the hard drive including a folder marked "Addresses." I opened the drawers in Sterling's desk and found some blank disks. I put one in the computer and copied the hard disk onto it. I put the copy on the desk and shut off the computer. I went through Sterling's desk. I concentrated on breathing through my mouth, and on avoiding eye contact with the corpse. I found no checkbook. The bottom right drawer had a lock. I found a key for it among the ones I'd taken from Sterling's apartment. In the drawer was a narrow case made of gray translucent plastic. In the case were a dozen disks. I took the case out of the drawer and left the drawer unlocked. I added the copy of the hard disk I had made and put the whole thing in the Nike bag on the desktop. I got on my hands and knees and looked under the desk. I turned the desk chair upside down and looked at the underside of it. I rummaged through the wastebasket. I ran my hand over the door frame and felt under the edges of the rug. Feeling under the rug got me closer to the corpse than I wanted to be. I stood up and went and checked the windows. They didn't open. I paused in a corner of the office away from the corpse and surveyed the room. It was a suspended ceiling and a thorough search would include looking behind it, and in the ventilation ducts. But that was too much time invested for what it was likely to earn me. I wanted to see what I had on the disks and I didn't want any cops showing up and taking them away from me. I went to the desk and got the Nike bag and detoured around the corpse into the outer office.

"Anything?" I said.

Hawk was sitting on Patti's desk, still wearing the sanitary gloves.

"Usual stuff," Hawk said. "Invoices, receipts, letters, promotional material. Only thing interesting is what I didn't find."

"Which is?"

"Civil Streets," Hawk said. "There is nothing with their name on it. No file, no letters, no bills, nothing. You find his checkbook?"

"No."

"So wherever he went, he took it with him."

"Yep, and we know he's got one because one of those phone messages was about a bounced check."

"How you feeling?" Hawk said.

"I haven't thrown up yet," I said.

"Good to work with a pro."

"Even better to work out here where the smell isn't as strong," I said.

"Okay. There's that," Hawk said. "You want to wipe down the door knobs and the light switches."

"No. It's reasonable that my fingerprints would be there."

"You calling the cops?"

"Yes."

"Law abiding," Hawk said.

I took off the gloves and dropped them into the Nike bag. I put the spare keys in there too, except the one for the office.

"Hang onto these," I said.

"Law abiding, but not crazy," Hawk said.

"I'll be in touch," I said. "When the cops get through yelling at me."

Hawk smiled, took the Nike bag, and went out the office door, leaving it open behind him. I waited five minutes for him to clear the building, then I dialed up Martin Quirk.

chapter twenty-two

I SAT IN Patti's chair in the outer office for maybe an hour and a half waiting for Quirk to get to me. Quirk hadn't changed much since he made captain. He still showed up at most crime scenes. He spent too much time investigating and too little time managing the department, which was why it took him so long to make captain in the first place, and why a lot of the hierarchy wanted to replace him. And I knew that he cleared more cases than any commander in the department, which was why the hierarchy couldn't replace him. If Quirk knew any of this, he paid no attention to it.

Finally it was my turn.

"You know how to give a statement," Quirk said. "Christ knows you've done enough of them."

He and I were sitting together in the outer office, Quirk on the corner of Patti's desk, me still in her chair, which was too small. Quirk's employees had photographed the corpse and now were dusting for fingerprints, and measuring, and sampling, and poking, and studying. A team from the coroner's office finished getting the remains into a body bag and onto a gurney. They trundled it past us as we sat, leaving behind only the blood-stained rug, a chalk outline, and the strong smell.

"Well," I said. "First of all you'll find my fingerprints on the door and the light switches and the phone."

"I sort of guessed that," Quirk said. "And I'm also guessing that we won't find them anywhere else."

"Of course not," I said.

"Which will not mean that you didn't touch anything else."

"Boy, have you gotten cynical," I said, "since you made captain."

Quirk rarely smiled, and he didn't this time, but his gaze, which was always steady, rested on me a little more lightly than it sometimes did.

"Go on," he said. "Tell me your story."

So I did, as best as I could, since I didn't understand it too well myself. I left out any mention of searching Sterling's apartment. Quirk listened without expression. His thick hands rested quietly on his thighs. He always dressed well. Tonight he had on a blue tweed jacket and a white button-down shirt with a blue knit tie and gray slacks. He never needed a haircut. He always looked clean-shaven. His shirts were always freshly laundered. His plain toe cordovan shoes were always shined. When I got through explaining myself, Quirk was silent for a time.

Then he said, "Susan's ex-husband?"

"Yes."

He was silent again for a time. Then he shook his head slowly. I shrugged.

"And this is his office," Quirk said after a while. "To which he gave you a key."

"Yes."

"Because he thought it might be convenient for you to come here and let yourself in."

"Right," I said.

Quirk looked at me some more.

"We both know that's horseshit," he said. "But we also know that's all you're going to say until there's reason to say something else."

"Captain, you can't mean that," I said.

"I know you long enough to know how many corners you'll cut," Quirk said. "But I also know you end up most of the time on the right side of the way things work out."

I looked at him openly and honestly and didn't say anything.

"And"-Quirk almost smiled-"you got enough problems for the moment." He shook his head. "Susan's ex. Jesus Christ."

"You don't know who the stiff is?" I said.

"White male."

"Driver's license, anything?"

Quirk almost made a face.

"Coroner's people will go through the body," he said.

"Don't blame you," I said. "Coroner say anything about time of death."

"A while ago," Quirk said. "They get him to the lab, they'll be more exact."

"Cause of death?"

"Gunshot. Probably a small caliber. In the chest, doesn't seem to be an exit wound. We assume it's still in him."