“He was in with Stoddard,” Molly said. “But I think they’re gone.”
“Okay. Kelly, I need to wrap up a few things with the scientists.”
“And I’d like to go home.”
There was a pause. I listened for other voices on the line but heard nothing.
“Stay available on your cell for another hour or two,” Danielson said. “After that, we can shut it down.”
“Fine.” I waved to the two scientists and flipped a solo digit in the general direction of our friend at the other end of the line. Then I left.
CHAPTER 14
I walked out of CDA, gulped in a lungful of air, and thought about a smoke. After my lesson in black biology, a little lung cancer didn’t seem so bad. At the short end of the block, a car began to roll. The driver’s-side window slid halfway down as the car eased to a stop.
“What are you doing here?” I said.
Rita Alvarez blinked twice. “I could ask you the same question. You got time for coffee?”
“Why not?”
I hopped in the front seat. We drove three blocks to a coffee shop called the Daily Grind. Everything was organic and good for you, even the caffeine. I got myself a regular, black, pushed a pile of books off the table, and shooed away three of the owner’s cats. Rita ordered herbal tea.
“What’s with all the cats?” I said.
Rita shrugged and picked one up, long and black, one eye green, the other missing.
“You been here before?” I said.
“Nope.”
The cat jumped to the floor and rubbed her way past us. The waitress brought over Rita’s tea in a clear glass pot. The Daily Herald reporter took off the top, leaned forward, and breathed in a small bloom of steam.
“Lavender.”
“Great. You want to tell me why you’re sitting in a car outside CDA Labs in the middle of the morning?”
Rita put the lid back on her teapot and poured herself a cup. Her skin was lush and scented with almonds. Her teeth shone when she smiled. Why she wasn’t on TV was an enduring mystery to us all.
“I like you, Michael. You’ve got a good heart.”
“Who told you that?”
“Don’t try to deny it.”
“Where’s Rodriguez?”
“Don’t know. Working.”
Rita had been dating my friend for less than a month. I liked them as a couple, which meant, of course, they didn’t stand a chance.
“What do you need, Rita?”
She took a sip of tea and offered up a delicate sneeze.
“You allergic to the cats?” I said.
“Not that I know of.”
“It’s all this dust. Dust and books. What Hyde Park does best.”
“Don’t forget the Obama tours.”
“I’m going over this afternoon to see where he gets his hair cut. So, what is it?”
“I want to hire you.”
“You can’t afford me.”
“Funny.” Another sip of tea.
“Rodriguez definitely can’t afford me.”
“Seriously, Michael.”
“You need protection from something?”
“I need you to look into something.”
“Last time I checked your business card, it read ‘Investigative Journalist.’ And then there’s your boyfriend, the detective.”
“The thing I’m working on is a little tricky.”
“And you think I do well at ‘tricky.’ ”
“You want to hear about it?”
Of course I wanted to hear about it. I always wanted to hear about it. And then I wanted to jump in with my size tens. So I nodded my head and cursed my nature.
“You know Mark Rissman?”
“I’ve heard of him.”
“Really. Because I followed him this morning, and he took me to CDA Labs. In fact, he went in the same door you came out of. With the mayor.”
“Imagine that.”
“Why were they at CDA this morning?”
“Maybe they were in the building for some other reason.”
“I checked. There’s nothing else in the building, except for a company that makes envelopes.”
“I’d look into that.”
“What are you doing for CDA?”
“It has nothing to do with Rissman and anything you might be kicking up downtown.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
“Rissman’s dirty, Michael.”
“In Chicago? I’m shocked.”
“He’s steering public contracts to certain people and taking a cut.”
“What kind of people?”
“Don’t know that yet.”
In Chicago that was like whistling in a tub full of water while you changed out the light fixtures. Just a matter of when before you got juiced. I would have lectured Rita, but she knew better. Which meant she had some idea who was on the other end of the city graft and didn’t want to share. That was okay, too. My day had already been more than full, and it wasn’t even lunch.
“What do you want from me?” I said.
“It’s complicated. Rissman is not peddling city business directly. He’s using his influence to steer contracts from the county.”
“What sort of contracts?”
“Medical supplies, mostly. Basic stuff. Surgical masks, latex gloves, syringes. Some office supplies.”
“Where’s it all going?”
“Cook County Hospital, the ME’s office. Couple of others. Rissman inserts himself, pressures the key folks, and gets the contract to go his way.”
“Your source?”
“Several.”
“Let me guess-the people inside County who are getting squeezed?”
“Yes.”
“And you have no idea who Rissman is pushing all this business to?”
“You would think I might know that.”
“I would.”
On cue, we both stared out the window. It had rained briefly, and the neighborhood was sketched in wet slashes of March. A couple stood at the corner, blurry in their thick overcoats, waiting for the light to change, then leaning against the wind as they walked. A late-model Buick took up a spot at the curb, maybe half a block distant.
