Trip Wire_ A Cook County Mystery - Charlotte Carter [61]
I had them all spread out, looking in vain at each face for a clue as to why they were in that bag. One of them began to speak to me a little. I flipped his photo over and looked at the data on him. And yes, there was a DD doohickey for him, too.
A sourness shot up from my stomach then. I could feel the poison in my throat. I leaned forward, sick and rattling like a teacup on its saucer.
3
“Drive faster,” I said.
“No, I’m not gonna drive no faster. You better get a grip on yourself.”
“I’m in a goddamn grip,” I said. “I’m just about being strangled.”
“Dig, Cassandra. The guns, that writing and stuff—looks to me like you found proof everything the police say is the gospel truth. Your boy Wilton was in with those people. They had ah arsenal in there. Of course they the ones who took all the money his daddy had in that safe. Of course they woulda offed him if he was gonna inform on them. Just like the cops announced.”
“Yep, so it seems.” I was not going to argue with him. “As a matter of fact, I was wrong to blame the department for a lot of the stuff that’s happened. They’re just a bunch of choirboys really, trying to keep the city safe.”
“What you looking like that for? You sad ’cause it turns out your boy was a bad motherfucker?”
“Yes,” I said. “And no.”
4
Sim parked in front of our building.
“You’d better not come upstairs with me,” I said.
“Why? I thought—”
I saw the disappointment on his face. He had been expecting another afternoon of dynamite sex, dynamite reefer, and Motown sounds.
“I know. You thought you’d be grooving with me. Not this time.”
“Oh. Okay. But why you was in such a hurry to get back?”
“A funeral,” I answered. “I didn’t get to go to Wilt’s. Wouldn’t want to miss this one.”
“Say what?”
“Nothing, Sim. I better go.” I kissed him then. “Thanks for all your help.”
“Cassandra, you are one crazy broad.”
“Bye, Sim.”
“Look here. Where can I get some smokes around here?”
“Turn left at the corner. There’s a store next to the Cuban restaurant.”
After he was gone, I stood in the street, looking up at the apartment window above the commune. The room where Wilt and Mia died. It was just as Cliff had said: Soon we’d all be leaving the big noisy apartment on Armitage. No matter what was waiting for me down the line, I knew that the six months in the Armitage Avenue apartment would loom large, stay with me for all my life. I ached and sorrowed for my friends Wilton and Mia, and even for Barry.
The apartment was warm and friendly-feeling when I finally went inside. Cliff and Jordan were drinking cocoa and playing dominoes at the kitchen table.
Cliff rose to give me a kiss, proprietary hand running down my arm. He even unbuttoned my coat for me. “I missed you. Why’d you take off like that, before I got up?”
“I was shopping for your Christmas present,” I told him. “It’s a surprise.”
“You’re kidding.”
I shook my head. “No,” I said, and placed the glossy photograph of Lieutenant Cary Tobin, Cliff’s older brother, on top of the domino game.
I watched the smile on his lips fade to nothing. “Where’d you get that?”
“What happened, Cliff? Why did you do it?”
“Jordan,” he said woodenly. “Go back with your dad now, okay? I’ll come get you in a while, buddy.”
I watched in silence as he argued and cajoled and finally barked at the kid to make him go. Jordan was blubbering, but finally he did leave, the front door slamming shut behind him.
He wasn’t the only one crying. Cliff was leaking tears as well.
I walked over to him and slapped him with all my strength. “You killed them, didn’t you? You slit their throats. And somehow it’s all tied up with your brother. Isn’t it?”
When he didn’t answer, I walloped him again. “You fucked me, Cliff. You killed my best friend and then you fucked me.”
“I love you.” Voice atremble.
“You say that again and I’ll kill you. Tell me what this is all about. Now.”
“They murdered Cary,” he said.
“August 4, you mean. They killed your