here to join the police, and I have every right to take the test.’ ” She sank back down. “I assumed I wouldn’t pass, but a week later, they called me to come back in for the interview. I wasn’t sure whether or not I should go. I hadn’t even told Bill. But I showed up for the interview, and I guess I passed that, because they told me to report to the academy the following week.”
Amanda couldn’t imagine such brazenness. “What did Bill say?”
“He said, ‘Have fun and be careful.’ ” She held out her hands in an open shrug. “And that’s how I became a police officer.”
Amanda shook her head over the story. At least it was better than Vanessa’s, who’d seen a sign on the bulletin board inside the jail, where she was being processed for a DUI.
Evelyn said, “I wasn’t sure I could go back after Zeke.” She took a deep breath. “But then I thought about how good it feels when I roll up on a call and a woman sees that I’m in charge, and she sees that her boyfriend or husband or whoever’s been whaling on her has to answer
Amanda had never thought about it that way, but she supposed it made sense.
“I want to do this. I really want to do it.” Evelyn took her hand. There was an urgency to her tone. “Those girls. Kitty, Mary, Lucy, Jane—rest her soul. They aren’t very different from us, are they? Someone along the way decided that they don’t matter. And that made it true. They
Amanda didn’t respond, but Evelyn had gotten good at reading her moods.
“What is it?”
Amanda told her, “It wasn’t Jane.”
“What do you mean? How do you know that?”
“I type all of Butch’s reports. It wasn’t Jane who jumped off the building. The woman’s name is Lucy Bennett.”
Evelyn looked confused. She took a moment to process the information. “I don’t understand. Did someone identify her? Did her family come forward?”
“They found Lucy’s purse in apartment C on the fifth floor.”
“That’s Jane’s place.”
“Butch’s notes say that the victim was the only inhabitant. Her purse was on the couch. He found her license and made a positive ID.”
“Did they do fingerprints?”
“Lucy doesn’t have a record. There are no fingerprints to match up.”
“That doesn’t add up. She’s a whore. They all have records.”
“No, it doesn’t add up.” Unless she was new to the game, there was no way Lucy Bennett had avoided an arrest. Some of the girls voluntarily gave themselves up to spend the night in jail. It kept them safe when their pimps were mad.
“Lucy Bennett. Her license was in her purse?” Evelyn thought it through. “There’s no way Jane would leave a license lying around like that. She said those girls have been missing for months, Lucy for a full year. Jane was trying to get their government vouchers. Either Lucy’s license is in Jane’s possession or it’s in a cardboard box at the Five.”
Amanda had already considered this. “Butch always gives me evidence receipts so I can note them in the report.” The purse had been taken to central lockup, where the desk sergeant catalogued every item that went into storage. “According to the receipt, Lucy’s purse didn’t have a license.”
“The desk sergeants never lie about that. It’s their ass if something goes missing.”
“Right.”
“Was there cash in the wallet?”
Amanda was relieved not to be the naive one for a change. Every purse or wallet homicide checked into lockup was miraculously absent any cash.
“Never mind,” Evelyn allowed. She repeated the girl’s name. “Lucy Bennett. All this time I assumed it was Jane.”
“Does the name mean anything to you? Do you remember a Lucy Bennett from any of the missing persons reports?”
“No.” Evelyn chewed her lip. She stared blankly at Amanda. Finally, she said, “Do you mind if I introduce you to someone?”
Amanda felt a familiar sense of dread. “Who?”
“My neighbor.” She got off the couch. She took Amanda’s beer can and put it beside hers on the table. “She’s worked with APD for years. Her husband’s been banished to the airport. Drinks too much. A real piece of work.” She walked toward the sliding glass door. Amanda had no choice but to follow her. Evelyn kept up her chatter as she walked across the backyard. “Roz is a bit grumpy, but she’s a good gal. She’s seen her share of dead bodies, believe you me. Does it bother you that she’s Jewish?”
Amanda couldn’t figure out which tangent to start with. “Why would it bother me?”
Evelyn hesitated before she continued her trek across the yard. “Anyway, Roz is a crime scene photographer. She develops all the photos at her house. They won’t have her at headquarters because she’s too mouthy. I think she’s been doing the job for ten years now. I’m sure your father’s mentioned her?”
Amanda shook her head when Evelyn glanced back.
Evelyn continued, “I saw her earlier this morning and she was already in a state.” They made their way past a green Corvair parked in the carport. The home was set up similar to Evelyn’s, except there was a screened porch between the carport and house.
Evelyn lowered her voice. “Don’t say anything about her face. Like I said, her husband’s a real piece of work.” She pushed open the screen door and tapped her fingers on the kitchen window. “Hello?” she called, her tone upbeat. “Roz? It’s Ev again.” After a few seconds without a response, she told Amanda, “I’ll go around to the front.”
“I’ll be here.” Amanda rested her hand on the washing machine that took up half the porch. Her sense of discomfort started to amplify as she thought about what she was doing. Amanda had never been inside a Jew’s home before. She didn’t quite know what to expect.
Evelyn was right; Amanda didn’t get out much. She hadn’t been to a party in years. She didn’t drop in on neighbors. She didn’t sit around plush living rooms listening to records and drinking alcohol. There were very few dates in her past. Any boy who wanted to ask her out had to go through Duke first. Not many had survived his scrutiny. There was one boy in high school who’d managed to persuade Amanda to go all the way. Three times, and then she couldn’t take it anymore. She’d been so terrified of getting pregnant that the whole ordeal was only slightly more pleasant than getting a tooth drilled.
Evelyn was back. “I know she’s here.” She knocked on the kitchen door this time. “I don’t know why she isn’t answering.”
Amanda looked at her watch, praying she could think of a good excuse to leave. Standing next to Evelyn Mitchell only heightened her sense of mortification. She felt like an old maid. The clothes Amanda was wearing—a black skirt, short-sleeved white cotton shirt, heels and pantyhose—exemplified the difference. Evelyn looked like a carefree flower child. Kenny must have taken one look at Amanda and pegged her for exactly what she was: a square.
“Hello?” Evelyn knocked on the door again.
From inside the house, a voice called, “Hold your horses, for God’s sakes.”
Evelyn grinned at Amanda. “Don’t let her get to you. She can be nasty.”
The door swung open. An older woman dressed in a brown housecoat and slippers glared at them. Her face was a mess: broken lip, blackened eye. “Why’d you knock on the front door, then run around to the side?”
Evelyn ignored her question. “Roz Levy, this is my friend Amanda Wagner. Amanda, this is Roz.”
Roz narrowed her eyes at Amanda. “Duke Wagner’s girl, right?”
Normally, people said this with respect. There was something close to hate in the woman’s voice.
Evelyn said, “She’s a good gal, Roz. Give her a break.”
