left Illinois under a cloud after accusations of physical violence and alleged child abuse. At least one of the violent incidents involved Carstogi, but none of the alleged charges against the group were subsequently proven.
“”Interviews with Suzanne Barstogi prior to her death gave no hint of any dissatisfaction or disagreement within the Faith Tabernacle organization. She expressed gratitude that the entire congregation had stood by her during the period of the loss of her child.
“”An unidentified airline revealed that Carstogi was a passenger on a flight that arrived at Seattle’s Sea-Tac International Airport Sunday night, where he was reported to have been inebriated. He was overheard making threatening statements regarding Brodie. Carstogi allegedly held the minister responsible for the loss of his wife and child.
“”He reportedly left the airport in the company of two homicide investigators, Detectives Ronald A. Peters and J. P. Beaumont, who are assigned to the murder investigation of Carstogi’s daughter.
“”Funeral arrangements for Brodie and Barstogi are pending with the Mount Pleasant Mortuary, where a spokesman indicated the bodies will probably be returned to Chicago for burial.“”
Peters folded the paper when he finished.
“There’s more,” said Carstogi. “Look on page seventeen.”
Obligingly Peters reopened the paper. “The top corner,” Carstogi said.
Peters glanced at me over the top of the paper. “It’s Cole’s column,” he said.
“Read it.”
“”Who is the Lady in Red? The mysterious lady, although that may be a title she doesn’t deserve, first appeared in a red dress, driving a red Porsche, and carrying a red rose at the funeral of Angela Barstogi, Seattle’s five-year-old murder victim. The lady has since been seen several times in the company of Detective J. P. Beaumont, the homicide investigator assigned to the case.
“”Seen last in a red sweatsuit in an area restaurant, she became verbally abusive when questioned about her connection to the case. She was accompanied by Detective Beaumont at the time.
“”Because you, my faithful readers, are the eyes and ears of Seattle, I would appreciate knowing about this lady and why Seattle’s finest are keeping her under wraps.“” Peters handed me the paper. Next to the column was a picture of Anne Corley as she had appeared at the funeral, tears streaming unchecked down her face.
“Who is she?” Carstogi asked. “What does she have to do with all this?”
“Nothing,” I said. “We’ve checked her out. She’s collecting data for a book on violent crimes with young victims.”
“But he says you’ve been seen together.”
“We happened to hit it off, just like you and that girl did the other night, except she’s not a professional. Understand?”
Carstogi looked chagrined. “Yeah, I understand.”
I was furious at Maxwell Cole. It was one thing to keep my professional life under the bright light of public scrutiny. It was another to expose my personal life, to make my relationship with Anne a topic of casual breakfast conversation.
“I think you’d better hurry up and remember anything you can about that date you had the other night,” Peters was saying to Carstogi. “We’re looking for a needle in a haystack, but with what you’ve given us, we don’t know what kind of needle or which county the haystack’s in.” He shook the folded newspaper in Carstogi’s direction for emphasis. “Detective Beaumont may not think you’re the one who killed Brodie and Suzanne, but he’s going to have one hell of a time convincing us.”
“I already told you. Her name was Gloria. That’s all I know,” Carstogi said, caving in under Peters’ implied threat.
“Try to remember where you went.” Peters pressed his advantage, finally getting through Carstogi’s reluctance to a bedrock of fear beneath.
“I was kind of drunk. I think we drove over a long bridge.”
“In a cab, a car?”
“A cab. I think I came back in the same one the next morning.”
“Pickup-and-delivery prostitution,” Peters muttered. “Where did you go?” he continued. “A motel? A house?”
“It was a house, I guess. I didn’t pay much attention. A man came out to the cab and took my money, then Gloria and I went inside, into a bedroom.”
“What about the cab?” I asked. “Do you remember anything about it?”
“No. It was blue or maybe gray. The guy chewed gum. He was a big guy, dark hair, kinda oily. That’s all I remember.”
“Nothing other than that?”
“No.” Carstogi shook his head.
I looked at Peters. “What say we take him for a spin and see if he can lead us back to the little love nest?”
“You do that,” Peters said. “Drop me at the department. I’ll see if vice has been able to dig anything up.”
Carstogi came with us reluctantly. There had been some photographers outside the hotel when we went in, and we attempted to avoid them by leaving through the garage. We weren’t entirely successful. Maxwell Cole’s sidekick from the funeral caught us as Carstogi climbed into the backseat.
Once in the car Carstogi seemed more dazed than anything. “Why does everyone think I did it?” he asked.
“For one thing, your alibi isn’t worth a shit,” Peters told him. “And the place where the bike was found is well within walking distance of the Warwick. But most important, you’re the guy with the motive. Our finding your friend Gloria is probably your one chance to avoid a murder indictment. You’d better hope to God we can find her.”
“Oh,” Carstogi said. From the look on his face, Carstogi was beginning to grasp the seriousness of his situation.
After dropping Peters off, Carstogi and I headed north on Highway 99. Aurora Avenue, as it is called in the city, has its share of flop-houses and late-night recreational facilities. Carstogi recognized the Aurora Bridge, but that was all. He had no idea where they had turned off. He and Gloria had apparently played kissyface in the backseat. He said he dozed on the way back, that he didn’t remember any landmarks. We wound through the narrow streets around Phinney Ridge and Fre-mont, to no avail.
“If I could just remember something about that cab,” Carstogi said, more to himself than to me.
“I wouldn’t count too heavily on that,” I countered.
“Why not?”
“Prostitution is illegal in this state. If they say you were with them, they’ll blow their little business wide open. I’d guess, from the sound of it, that they’re probably a group of free-lancers, independents. If we don’t get them, the Mafia will.”
“You mean they’d lie and say I wasn’t with them?”
I looked at Andrew Carstogi with some sympathy. The young man seemed ill-equipped to deal with the real world.
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
Carstogi hunched miserably in the front seat. “But I didn’t do it. I would have taken her back. I wanted to kill Brodie, but never Suzanne. I still loved her.”
I shook my head at my own stubbornness. “Alibi or no, I believe you.”
“Thanks,” Carstogi said, his voice crackling over the word.
“It’s cold comfort,” I acknowledged. “That and fifty cents will get you a cup of coffee.”
“Not at the Warwick.”
I laughed at his small joke, and he did too. I think he felt a little better when I dropped him off, but I didn’t. I figured it wouldn’t be long before the room at the Warwick would be traded for somewhat plainer accommodations in the city jail.
