front of him. He looked at it, then at me, and said, 'So?'
'Victim of a burglary and homicide.'
'I know,' he said. 'I remember the case. We closed it.'
'You got the guy?'
'No, but we know who did it. Twitchy little junkie, pulled a lot of jobs the same way, over the rooftops and down the fire escapes. We couldn't make a case against him for this one, but we hung a batch of other ones on him where we had good hard evidence. His Legal Aid lawyer plea-bargained him, but he still went away for— I don't know, a few years. I could look it up.'
'But you didn't have any hard evidence against him for this one?'
'No, but it fit close enough for us to close the file. We weren't doing a whole lot with it anyway. No witnesses, no physical evidence.
Why?'
'I'd like to see the autopsy report.'
'Why?'
'I'll tell you later.'
'She was stabbed and she died of it. What else do you want to know?'
'I'll tell you later. And while you're at it—'
'What?'
I took out another slip of paper and laid it on his desk. 'Some more autopsy reports,' I said.
He stared at me. 'What the hell are you onto?'
'Oh, you know. Just working away like a dog at a bone. If I had more things to occupy me I wouldn't hang on like this, but you know what they say about idle hands doing the devil's work.'
'Don't fuck around, Matt. Have you really got something here?'
'See if you can pull the autopsy reports,' I said. 'And we'll see what I've got.'
When I got to Willa's she was wearing the white Levi's with another silk blouse, this one lime green. Her
hair was down, flowing over her shoulders. She'd buzzed me in and she met me at the door of her apartment, giving me a quick kiss, then drawing back, concern showing on her face. 'You look drained,'
she said. 'Exhausted.'
'I didn't get a lot of sleep last night. And I've been going all day after an early start.'
She drew me inside, closed the door. 'Why don't you take a nap right away,' she urged. 'Do you think you could do that?'
'I'm wound too tight. And I've still got things I have to do.'
'Well, at least I can give you a decent cup of coffee. I went out today to one of those yuppie havens where they sell fifty different blends, one more expensive than the next. I think they price it by the bean, and they can tell you where it came from and what kind of animal crap they spread on the fields. I bought a pound each of three different coffees and this electric drip machine that does everything but drink it for you.'
'Sounds great.'
'I'll pour you a cup. I had them grind it for me. They wanted to sell me a grinder so that every cup I brewed would be at the peak of freshness, but I figured you have to draw the line somewhere.'
'I'm sure you're right.'
'Taste it, see what you think.'
I took a sip, set the cup down on the table. 'It's good,' I said.
'Just good? Oh, God, I'm sorry, Matt. You had a long day and it was a hard one, too, wasn't it? And I'm running off at the mouth. Why don't you sit down? I'll try to shut up.'
'It's all right,' I said. 'But I'd like to make a phone call first, if you don't mind. I want to call Warren Hoeldtke.'
'Paula's father?'
'He should be home now.'
'Would you like me to go out while you make the call?'
'No,' I said. 'Stick around. In fact, you can listen while I talk to him. It'll save saying the same thing twice.'
'If you're sure.'
I nodded, and she sat down while I picked up the phone and dialed his home number, not bothering to make it collect this time. Mrs.
Hoeldtke answered, and when I asked for him she said, 'Mr. Scudder?
He's expecting your call. Just a moment, I'll get him.'
When Hoeldtke came on the line he said hello as if bracing himself. 'I'm afraid the news is bad,' I said.
