Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [40]
“He had it,” I insisted. “I was fed up. That doesn’t mean I’m an uncooperative witness! Even a saint would have walked out by then. Napoli’s a jerk.”
“He’s good cop, though.”
“He’s a jerk.”
“Okay, I don’t like him either,” Lopez admitted. “Not that he’d be heartbroken by that, since I think he loathes me. And I’ve only been assigned to his team since yesterday,” he added morosely. “So the new job’s off to a rocky start.”
“Look, I’m sorry last night was embarrassing for you. I am. But it’s not my fault,” I said. “I didn’t plan to witness a mob hit!”
“I know,” he said soothingly. “But now we have to straighten this out before it gets any more complicated.”
“I told you everything I saw.”
“Then I need to figure out what you haven’t remembered or don’t realize was significant. That’s why Napoli was going over and over this until you wanted to throttle him. He was trying to decide whether you were lying or just not remembering something.”
“Well, all he did was piss me off.”
“As long as he thinks you may be lying, we’ve got a problem, Esther,” Lopez said.
“And what do you think?”
“Like I’ve already told Napoli two dozen times, I think that seeing someone killed right in front of you really shook you up,” he said. “So there’s something important that you just don’t recall yet.”
I frowned again. “Like what?”
“I’m not sure. But the crime scene doesn’t add up. Not at all.”
“I know. Napoli said so. While accusing me of lying.”
“Someone must have moved something. Or changed something. Or lied about something.”
“I haven’t li—”
“I believe you,” he assured me. “Okay? But I think what happened was traumatic for you, so what you’re saying isn’t accurate, it’s just what you can remember right now.”
“Well, I can’t argue about it being traumatic,” I admitted with a shudder as I remembered watching Charlie die.
“The only thing we know for sure,” Lopez said, “is that the shot fired through the window couldn’t have killed Charlie. Based on where he was sitting and where he fell, the trajectory is impossible. But that’s still the only shot we can account for.”
“It’s the only one I heard,” I insisted.
“I’m sorry to do this to you, Esther, but we have to go over it again. And again. Until I figure out what your memory is leaving out.”
“I am so tired of talking about this,” I told him.
“I know,” he said gently. “But it’s important.”
I sighed and looked at the ceiling. “And I guess my only way of avoiding another dance with Napoli is if you bring him something that satisfies him.”
“That’s right.”
I eyed Lopez. “But then you’d have to tell him you were here.”
“Yeah, but if he realizes I was here to question you effectively, he’ll get over it. And he’ll get off your back. Mine, too.” He shrugged. “Everybody wins. And then I can do something in your bed more fun than sleeping without worrying about a conflict of interest or a breach of ethics or getting suspended.”
“Oh.” I blinked. “Okay.” I sat up a little. “When you put it that way, I guess I can muster up the energy to talk about last night. Again.”
He smiled. “Glad you see it my way.”
Unfortunately, though, it didn’t do any good. I was positive that my consistent description of Charlie’s murder was complete and accurate; Lopez was positive it wasn’t, but none of his questions produced any new information or potential leads.
After almost an hour of this, he rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and then sat staring silently into thin air, frowning as he considered the puzzle.
Wondering if I should risk bringing up Max’s theory, I tested the waters by asking, “What about Charlie’s fears that he’d been cursed?”
“Huh?” Lopez looked startled, almost as if he’d forgotten I was in the room. “Oh. All that babbling about seeing his perfect double and being marked for death?”
“Yes. Do you think there could be something to that?”
“I think it sounds like he was off his meds,” Lopez said absently.
“What?”
He looked at me. “Charlie was bipolar. It sounds to me like he was having a weird manic episode. That’s what Napoli thinks, too.”
“Bipolar?