Everyone filed back into the courtroom, but didn't stay long. Libby's cross-examination of Fuller was a study in brevity.
'Mr. Fuller, I understand you were in the drama club at Southern Illinois University. What plays did you perform there?'
'I did Death of a Salesman, Merchant of Venice, and Waiting for Godot.'
'I bet you were excellent.' Libby sat down. 'No further questions.'
Judge Taylor adjourned for the day, with closings to begin tomorrow.
When I got back to my office, Benedict was nowhere to be found. We hadn't spoken since yesterday, and I didn't like any bad blood between us. I called his cell.
'Where are you?'
'I'm meeting with my lawyer.'
'Can it wait? The trial is going to end any day now, and we have to finish cross-reffing these missing persons.'
'No, it can't wait. Some of us haven't gotten a day off in the past three months.'
I bit back my response, and hung up. I'd told him to file for reassignment out of anger, but now I was thinking it might be a good idea. I didn't like the person Herb had become.
I tackled the project solo. Ruled out some names. Followed a few leads to nowhere. Cleared a small section of paperwork off of my floor.
By dinnertime I had a headache. I called home and spoke to Alan, who was getting together with some old friends over at Mirabell's, a German place on Addison. Did I want to come?
I didn't feel very social, but I agreed because I'd blown off Alan for the past few nights. Maybe being around company would help get me out of my funk.
I couldn't have been more wrong.
Chapter 40
'Hi, Jack.' Alan had been waiting in the bar, and gave me a hug when I entered the German place. He looked good, in black slacks and a gray cardigan. When I pecked him on the cheek I could tell he'd just shaved.
'I'm not in the best of moods,' I said.
'It'll be fun.' He took my coat and led me through the restaurant. 'This is an old friend of yours.'
'What old friend?' Then I saw.
Harry McGlade winked at me from his seat. He wore the standard Harry outfit: a wrinkled brown suit and a stained tie.
'Hiya, Jackie. This is my new squeeze, Nora.'
'It's Dora.' Dora was half McGlade's age, blonde with a streak of pink in her bangs, and the blouse she wore would have been tight on a Barbie doll.
'Yeah, Dora. Sorry, honey.'
'Harry called earlier.' Alan beamed like a schoolboy after his first kiss. 'He wanted to thank you for something. Since you've been in a funk lately, I thought it would be nice if he thanked you in person. He's the guy who was in that made-for-TV movie with you, right? I mean, his character and your character?'
'Yeah.' I tried to sound upbeat and enthusiastic. I failed.
Harry didn't have to fake it. 'I just got my PI license in the mail this morning. The Illinois Department of Regulations takes their time, but you made good on your word, Jackie. Dinner is on me.'
'Great.' That sounded even worse.
The waitress came by, a woman in her sixties dressed in a dirndl. Her English was heavily accented with German. She made the mistake of starting with Harry.
'Something to drink, sir?'
'Got any German beer?'
'We've got the largest selection of imported beer in Chicagoland.'
'How about Schlitzkreig?' asked Harry.
'We don't have that.'
'Krautweiser?'
She shook her head.
'He'll have a Beck's,' I told the waitress. 'And so will I.'
'Make it three.' Alan held up three fingers.
'Diet cola with an orange slice, a lemon slice, a lime slice, and a cherry,' Dora said.
'Why not just order a fruit salad?' asked Harry.
Dora giggled. I shot Alan a pained look, but his nose was buried in the menu and he didn't see it. I suppose I couldn't blame the guy. Alan didn't know Harry, and I'd never had any reason to mention him.
'Would you like an appetizer?'
'Swastikabobs.' This from McGlade, naturally.
