Night Work

“Alibis,” Marcowitz merely said, a cool word to let the air out of her heated digression.

“We were told that your people were taking over there. That’s why Al and I took the time to go hunting down the car.”

“The preliminary interviews are under way. I understand you yourself give Rosalyn Hall an alibi.”

“That’s right. I talked with her on the phone at about ten-forty Saturday night.”

“Did she phone you?”

“I phoned her, returning her call. On her home number, not her cell phone,” she added before Marcowitz could ask.

“Any reason to think she was actually at home when she took it?”

With an effort, Kate reined in her patience. “I heard the dog—all right, I heard a dog,” she corrected herself before he did. “But no noises to indicate she wasn’t at home. I suppose it’s conceivable that she had the call forwarded to her cell number, but the delay in ringing is usually noticeable. Does she have call forwarding on her home phone?”

Marcowitz did not bother to answer. “What had she called you about?”

“Nothing, really. Just to ask if I’d gotten a manuscript she’d left at the house, and to talk about how things were going. Just conversation.”

“At twenty minutes to eleven?”

“Roz is a night owl.”

“So she arranged for you, a friend and investigating officer, to give her an alibi on the night a man was attacked, wanting only to talk about her Ph.D. thesis.”

Put that way, the call sounded far too convenient for words, but Kate could only shrug and say, “It’s awfully elaborate. And shaky. How could she know when I would call?”

“It wouldn’t matter when you called, would it? If she was home at ten-forty, and she left immediately after you hung up, granted she would have to move fast, but she could conceivably have been present at the Traynor assault. The silent alarm was triggered at eleven twenty-seven.”

“Barely. And she didn’t know I was going to call, she wouldn’t have had any reason to wait around at home.” Unlikely did not make an alibi, and they all knew that, but Kate had done what she could. “Have you talked with Roz, or Maj?”

“I had another agent take their preliminary statements. Maj Freiling was not cooperative, and Reverend Hall seemed more interested in making a speech. My colleague decided to suspend the interviews for the time being, thinking that if a second attempt has similar results, we can bring them in for questioning.”

“I’d be very careful about that,” Kate warned him. “Roz Hall is a woman of considerable influence—I wouldn’t try to mess with her unless you’ve got a warrant in your hand. Which I don’t think you’re going to get, at this point. And dragging in Maj, who is seven months’ pregnant, could be even worse. You could find yourself knee-deep in lawsuits.”

Marcowitz might not have heard her, for all the reaction he showed. “There is one thing I had hoped you might help us with, Inspector, until you went incommunicado on us. Statements must be taken from the residents of the women’s shelter run by Diana Lomax, and she strongly requested that you be the one to take them, having been there before.”

“I’d be happy to.”

“I will accompany you.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Yes,” he said. “It is.”

“The women in there are very uncomfortable when men invade their private space,” she objected. “It really would be best if-—”

“I will go with you.”

“Don’t you at least have a woman agent you can send instead?” she suggested, trying not to plead.

“They are busy, I am not, and you need backup. Either I go with you, or Inspector Hawkin and I will do it ourselves.”

“Two men, yeah, that’d be great. Okay, but you have to let me do the talking, and if Diana Lomax refuses, then we wait for one of your women agents. When do you want to go?”

“Now.”

“Right now? I—” Kate stopped, and shrugged. “Okay. Just let me make a couple of calls first. Five minutes?”

Only one call proved necessary, since Lee was home so Kate didn’t have to hunt down Jon.

“Hi, babe,” she said. “I thought you guys’d be out shopping,” that having been the plan when Kate left the house that morning.

“Finished early, we got some gorgeous little artichokes that I’m fixing right now.”

“Hell. Will they be okay cold?”

“You’re going to be late,” Lee said in resignation. “Well, if you get a chance, give me a call later, let me know when you’ll be getting in.”

“I’ll try, but don’t wait up for me. Things may drag on.”

“You astonish me,” Lee said sarcastically.

“I try. Enjoy the artichokes. Love you.”

“Me too you.”

They hung up together and Kate looked up to see Marcowitz standing iron-spined ten feet away, having heard every word.

“Shall we go?” he said.

Kate responded by taking her holstered gun from her desk drawer, putting on gun and jacket, and following him to the elevator and the parking lot. He was driving.

Marcowitz did not ask for directions, and did not need them. He drove with watchful confidence, although as far as Kate knew he had only been in San Francisco a couple of months. She considered asking the Man in Black a question about his background, then decided against it, and sat in silence.

He pulled up near the shelter, put on the parking brake, and then said something that had Kate open- mouthed in astonishment.

“Before we go in,” he told her, “I just wanted you to know that my mother was beaten to death by her boyfriend when I was twelve. Just in case you don’t think I’m sympathetic to the women who come to a shelter.”

Without waiting for a response, he got out of the car and started walking toward the group home. Kate scrambled to follow.

“I’m sorry,” she said inadequately when she had caught up with him.

“I didn’t tell you that as a play for sympathy,” he said stiffly. “Merely so you know where I’m coming from on this.” And he turned and pressed his finger on the doorbell, then stepped back so that her face would be first at the door.

The shelter was bustling; that was apparent even on the wrong side of the sturdy door, with the children inside working off a day shut up in classrooms, their voices raised and bodies racing. One of them answered the bell, and Kate leaned forward to speak to the small face, only to have the door slammed on her nose. The sounds of an altercation arose from inside, which after a minute Kate decided was an older child giving the younger door- opener hell for a lack of caution.

She and the FBI agent waited as the shouts moved off and relative silence fell, and Marcowitz was putting out his hand to ring the bell again when a single adult set of footsteps approached. The locks clattered and Diana Lomax stood before them, thunderclouds of disapproval on her brow.

“Hello, Ms. Lomax,” Kate said. “This is agent Marcowitz of the FBI. Sorry, but we need to ask the residents some questions.”

“This is not a good time.”

“It won’t take long.” I hope, Kate added under her breath.

“All right, if you absolutely have to. But the agent can wait outside.”

“I’m afraid that won’t do,” Marcowitz said, firmly but without the body language of the affronted male, remaining behind Kate instead of pushing forward and crowding his targeted foe with raised shoulders. Kate