with the big boys. I worked twice as hard as the men, for only half the respect. To compensate for this, whenever I had any downtime, I worked cold cases. Murder had no statute of limitations, and unsolveds were never officially closed.
A particular case commanded a good deal of my attention; the rape/murder of a fifteen-year-old girl in Grant Park. Witnesses claimed to have seen her talking with a homeless man in a red baseball cap half an hour before her death. This angle had been extensively followed up, and led nowhere.
I chose to look closer at her ex-boyfriend. Straight-A student, no record, plenty of friends. His alibi for the night of the murder was shaky, but no one could believe he was a killer.
He did, however, collect baseball caps. He had samples from every team in the Major League, with two notable exceptions: Boston and Cincinnati. I thought it a little funny, that an avid collector would be missing the only two hats in MLB that were red.
It took a year, and cost me my marriage, but I pieced together a good case against the kid. Before I sought a warrant, I shared my findings with my partner, to get his opinion.
Harry repaid my trust by getting a warrant first, then arresting the suspect himself on my day off.
Not only did Harry get credit for the collar and a subsequent promotion, but when I complained to my lieutenant, McGlade trumpeted that he made the arrest to protect me.
'He was a dangerous murderer. Sending a woman after him would have been really stupid.'
The department rallied around him, and the chauvinism in my department plumbed new depths. All of my hard work, all of my fighting to be treated as an equal in a male-dominated profession, gone because my partner was a sexist, backstabbing jerk.
It was years before I earned back the respect of my squad. But I couldn't ever forgive Harry.
I took a deep breath, unclenched my fist, and put on a big smile.
'Remind me again why you were kicked off the force, McGlade.'
His smile lost some wattage. 'I wasn't kicked off. I quit.'
'You mean you quit after you were forced to take a leave of absence. Something to do with taking bribes, wasn't it?'
'I wasn't on the take. Someone set me up.'
'And who'd want to do that to a sweet guy like you?'
He frowned. 'Was it you, Jackie?'
'No, Harry. But I wasn't too sad to hear about it. Whatever happened to those bribery charges?'
'Dropped when I left.'
'Isn't your PI license up for renewal soon?'
McGlade folded his arms and scowled.
'I take one bust from you fifteen years ago and you want to mess with my livelihood?'
'No, McGlade. I want you to help us catch a murderer. Now sit, and tell us about your investigation of Talon Butterfield.' I forced a tight smile and added, 'Please.'
Harry weighed my sincerity, then sat down.
'Not much to tell. Nancy pretended to go out of town for the weekend, had me follow him to see what he did. He went barhopping, picked up some little honey, and took her straight back to their place. Did it right on Nancy's bed. I had to climb the fire escape to take pictures.'
'And how many times did you see Nancy after that?'
'I don't know. Three or four. I think she used me to help get over Talon. I was happy to be of service.'
'Did you have sexual relations with Nancy Marx?' Herb asked.
'I don't kiss and tell.'
'Yes you do.'
'Oh yeah, right. I shagged her a few times. In fact, we shared a room the night of the Trainter show.'
'The Trainter show?'
'Yeah. That was the first time.'
'What about the Trainter show?' I asked. What did any of this have to do with the local talk show?
'When you're on the show, they give you a free hotel room the night before. Nancy shared her room with me.'
'Nancy was on The Max Trainter Show?'
'Sure. She and Theresa both. A show about cheating fiances. You guys didn't know this? Some detectives you are.'
'Think carefully, McGlade. Who else was on that show?'
'I don't remember, Jackie. It was five, six months ago. The show was about women who were dumping their men because they cheated on them. There were one or two other girls, I think. It was a wild show, even for Trainter. They had to bleep most of it. Max and I are old beer buddies. I'm the one who persuaded them to go on, dump their guys on TV.'
'Look at the picture again, McGlade. Was this woman on the show?'
