Good Morning, Killer - April Smith [78]
“You sound like a prosecutor,” I said, half joking.
“That’s what you’re going to face.” Galloway inclined his head and caught me in a penetrating stare. “I wish you’d come to me first.”
I didn’t answer. Then, “How long have you known?”
Galloway looked down at the cigar. You could smell the bitter wetness, like a puddle of dead leaves.
“There have been telephone calls across the top.”
Now I stared at him, deadpan.
“Santa Monica Police Department didn’t want to embarrass us, because we could turn around someday and embarrass them, so a political decision was made. When the arrows started lining up, a discussion took place above the investigator level. Their commander called me and explained the way it was starting to look to them, how they wanted this to stay confidential, but still keep the Bureau in the loop. At that point we were all stepping pretty lightly.”
“Until?”
“Well, until forensic evidence from the gun.”
“How did you know it was mine?”
Galloway looked impassive. “As I say, your name had come up.”
“From Andrew?”
“We don’t need to get into that.”
“I’d like to know.”
Galloway and Rick exchanged a look.
“Your attorney will be able to tell you,” said Rick.
I folded my arms. We had hit a wall. Now I understood why they were ready and alert. A bulletin was out for my arrest and they had been waiting for the call that my car had been located.
Galloway said, “How did you think you would get away with it?”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“You were reacting?”
“Look, guys, I would never say this to anyone else … This is really hard … but, okay, I just thought … It sounds pretty dumb now … I thought we had a lovers’ quarrel, I mean, a big lovers’ quarrel, but that at the end of the day, Andrew wasn’t going to give me up,” and sat there, slumped and miserable.
Rick’s body flinched against the wall.
“He didn’t give you up, Ana.”
“He didn’t?”
“The tip came from a female employee of the Santa Monica Police Department.”
“What’s her name?”
Before Galloway could intervene, Rick said, “Margaret Forrester.”
I laughed. I just laughed.
“She have a hard-on for you?”
I shrugged. How do you describe someone who gets herself banned from a dry cleaner?
“She’s very pretty and very crazy.”
“That could work to your advantage.”
It was hard to listen. Hard to think.
“How is Andrew doing?”
“He’s awake and talking.”
“Really? That’s fantastic!”
“Well,” said Rick, scratching his cheek, “maybe.”
“Oh come on, you think he’s going to flip? Tell me you don’t believe in true love.”
Rick just chuckled. “My impression of him was that he had a major chip … But I can see what you saw in the guy.”
“Thank you.”
After a moment Galloway said, “There are always two sides, Ana. We want to hear yours.”
“With respect, I think I need an attorney.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What attorney,” I said, “would you recommend?”
“Devon County.”
County was a former cop turned lawyer who represented law enforcement personnel, all the big high-profile cases. Police corruption. Murder.
“You must think I’m in big trouble.”
They were waiting.
“I’ll give Mr. County a call.”
“We’ll do our best to cooperate with him.”
“Thank you.”
“And get you out of here ASAP.”
“Thank you.”
“Get you a doctor.”
“Great.”
Now Galloway paused. “You know you can’t come back to work until this is resolved?”
I nodded.
“We have to take your weapon and credentials.”
“I understand.”
Galloway drew the pad closer. “Are you ready to make your statement? Want to take a break?”
I hung my head.
“I just want to apologize for whatever disgrace I have caused the Bureau.”
Galloway smiled gently. “Don’t give away the store.”
Over here,” said Pickett, when they had left. We stood before an old wooden cabinet. He pulled a slip from a drawer.
“Special handling,” he told the custody assistant. “The lady is an FBI agent.”
Her eyebrows went up.
“Special handling,” I said. “Is that good, or bad?”
Pickett didn’t answer, concentrating on the form. The pen paused.
“Any ‘observable physical