The Dead Room

gone ballistic.

He thought about Michael Jackson.

Not the dancer, but the detective who’d worked with Andrews from the beginning and came off like Dr. Gloom. The man who had given Teddy the tour of Holmes’s apartment, following him around from room to room as he chained cigarettes and gagged on the smoke.

Teddy wasn’t sure why the man popped into his head, but remembered that old gun he saw clipped to the detective’s belt. The ominous feeling that hit him the moment they met. Jackson was another nightcrawler and looked like a real drinker. The kind of guy who walked into a bar, picked a seat away from the lights, and made sure he faced the door. Had he been the one, he probably would’ve brought a flask. Not for courage, but to keep warm.

Teddy checked his watch. It was seven-thirty, his breakfast meeting with Carolyn Powell just fifteen minutes away. Slipping the press release into his briefcase, he left Jackie at her desk and told her he’d be back soon.

THIRTY

She was waiting for him at a table on the other side of the open dining room at the Marathon Grill. As he moved toward her, he caught her black suit. The material was tight fitting and carefully tailored, rolling with the smooth contours of her body instead of hiding them. She wasn’t wearing a blouse beneath her jacket, just a thin gold necklace. When her blue-gray eyes popped over the menu, he saw them still reaching out at him and couldn’t believe that they’d made love last night. She was gorgeous, the most striking woman he had ever seen, let alone been with.

As he reached the table, her eyes rose to the cut just above his eyebrow. Teddy had removed the bandage deciding the wound needed air and light.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“We can talk about it later.”

He sat down across from her and picked up the menu. He could smell her skin, the faint sent of body lotion and shampoo. He was hungry, ravenous, though he probably could have skipped the food.

“Tell me what happened right now,” she said.

“I ran into a tree.”

She lowered her menu and gave him a look. She wasn’t buying it.

“Do you often run into trees?” she asked.

“Okay,” he said, deciding to spill it out. “I went over to Barnett’s last night to bring some things back to the hospital for his wife. When I got there, I realized that it hadn’t been an accident. Someone deliberately ran over him. I even found an antique shot glass made of Sterling silver that someone had left behind in the snow. But I didn’t know the guy was still there. When I turned, he hit me over the head with something and knocked me out.”

She started laughing.

She looked good when she laughed. And either it was contagious, or hearing himself say what happened aloud was so convoluted, Teddy began laughing, too.

“Every word of it’s true,” he said.

“And I suppose when you woke up, the antique shot glass had vanished.”

He nodded slowly. She started laughing again.

He didn’t want to say anything, but when you fall for someone, it doesn’t really take a lot of work. You don’t have much choice in the matter. It sort of just hits and then you know. He looked down at the menu, his mind reeling to the point where the entrees looked as if they’d been written in a foreign language.

“I’ll bet this silver shot glass had something unique about it,” he heard her saying. “Some sort of ornate design.”

“As a matter of fact it did.”

“I thought so. What was the design?”

“Tall ships and whales,” he said.

When she finally stopped laughing, he looked at the warm smile on her face, took the hit and just knew.

“Em,” she said. “My advice would be to keep your eyes open in the future and stay away from the trees.”

Had she not been the prosecutor in the Holmes case he would have yanked her out of the chair and pulled her into his arms. Had he not been the defense attorney, he would’ve stood up and kissed her on the spot. But they were professionals, keeping a secret Teddy knew anyone watching them could guess.

He closed the menu thinking he was dyslexic. He still knew what breakfast was, and when the waiter filled their cups with coffee and took their order, Teddy ordered from memory. Bacon and eggs, over easy with whole- wheat toast.

At this hour, more than half the tables were full, but it was a big room with a thirty-foot ceiling. They could talk freely without worrying much about being overheard through the din.

“So how’s Barnett?” she asked.

“I called the hospital before I came in. They say he’s gonna pull through. It’ll take a while though.”

He stirred a packet of sugar into his coffee and tasted it. It was strong and hot, and he began to relax. On the walk over he’d had a chance to think about Barnett’s accident, and the possibility that Andrews may have played a role. He’d only touched on it before, and Powell laughed. Still, he felt the need to press the issue with her. Other than the murderer, the only one who gained anything by running over Barnett was Andrews. Teddy was fully aware that it could have been an attempt to just scare Barnett. An errand given to Michael Jackson that got out of hand when Barnett fell down on the ice and couldn’t get out of the way. Andrews had proven himself an asshole at the autopsy yesterday. And Jackson seemed more than capable of carrying out anything that he might be asked to do.

“How well do you know Andrews,” he said.

“I’ve been a prosecutor for ten years. Why?”

Teddy leaned closer. “I guess what I’m asking is how far do you think he’d go to win a case.”

She set her cup down and looked at him without saying anything. She wasn’t laughing anymore and he could see her wheels turning at high speed.

“A case like this,” Teddy said. “Andrews has political ambitions. This case is a godsend. You saw the way he acted at the autopsy. What do you think he’d do to win?”

The reach had vanished from her eyes. Just distance now.

“It sounds like you’re asking me if I think he’s capable of running over Barnett. I hope that’s not what you’re asking, Teddy.”

He cleared his throat and looked at her. “I guess I am,” he said.

She sat up in the chair, straightening her back. She was upset but trying not to show it. Her voice was quiet, just above a whisper, but steady and strong.

“Listen to me,” she said. “Andrews may be a phony. That goes with the territory. He may even have made one or two mistakes in his past. Who hasn’t? But there’s no way he had anything to do with what happened last night. He didn’t run over Barnett, and he’s not responsible for that bump on your head. I thought you were joking.”

“But I wasn’t, Carolyn. Someone was out there. When I found the shot glass, someone hit me.”

She looked down at the table, her voice sarcastic. “Maybe it was Dawn Bingle.”

Teddy pushed his coffee aside, ignoring her attitude. “This time it was a man,” he said. “At least I think it was. I couldn’t really see.”

She shook her head without a response like he was crazy. As Teddy thought it over, he realized that he couldn’t be sure of what he’d seen last night. Not sure enough to testify under oath. It had been dark. As he lay in the snow, he saw a figure and assumed it was a man. But maybe it wasn’t.