TWENTY-EIGHT
‘So, have you come to apologize?’
Anna Friedrich lounges back in her expensive white leather sofa and crosses her impossibly long legs. Doyle tries not to let himself be distracted by those legs, but it’s difficult when they’re so naked and exposed. Not that she’s indecent in any way. She is wearing a baggy woolen sweater and a band of black material that at least has pretensions of being a skirt. But those legs do tend to dominate the view. He thinks it must be like being an umpire at a tennis match for nudists. How the hell can you be expected to keep score?
‘Apologize for what, Ms Friedrich?’
‘For the way you treated Andrew? For the way you tried to label him as a criminal?’
‘We were doing our job. You know better than most that we had to ask him those questions.’
‘There are ways of asking.’
‘He was linked with two murder victims. It was important that we got to the truth.’
‘Yes, well, you didn’t, did you? Because if you had, Andrew would still be alive.’
Doyle didn’t come here for an argument. To curtail it, he drags his gaze away from Anna Friedrich and her legs, and sets it free to wander around the room. In response, the room shouts money back at him. Doyle doesn’t think he could even afford the wallpaper: it would probably cost less to paper the room in hundred-dollar bills. There’s enough scarce hardwood in the furniture here to make conservationists weep. And the carpet is so plush it makes him feel as though he has bath sponges tied to his feet.
‘Your boyfriend working today?’
‘Yes. In Saudi Arabia.’
‘Boy, that’s some commute.’
She doesn’t smile. ‘He’s in the oil business. He’s over there a lot.’
‘Shaking it with the sheikhs, huh? I bet it’s hot out there right now.’
‘Detective, do you really want to get into a discussion about climates, or is there another purpose to your visit here this afternoon?’
‘Actually I came to ask you about your ex-husband.’
‘Why? Are you still trying to pin the earlier murders on him?’
‘No. But I do want to find out who killed him.’
‘Really? Then I suggest your time would be better spent elsewhere. I have already been interviewed by the police. Several times, in fact. I have told them everything I can.’
‘Everything?’
‘Everything. No, Andrew did not have any enemies. No, he was never threatened to my knowledge. No, he did not have any financial worries. No, he did not tell me of any meetings arranged at his apartment on the night of his murder. No, he-’
‘Did he know any Indians?’
She stares at him. ‘What?’
‘Did he know any Indian people? I’m thinking psychologists here. Indian psychologists.’
She continues to stare. ‘Are you trying to be funny, Detective? Throwing out random questions like that just to prove a point? What’s next? Are you going to ask me if he ever ate pistachio ice cream on a Friday? If you’ve come here just to piss me off, then I should warn you-’
‘Actually I’m serious.’
She is silent for a moment while she searches Doyle’s face.
‘You’re serious?’
‘Deadly.’
‘You really want to know if Andrew knew any Indian psychologists?’
‘Yes.’
Another pause. ‘All right. Well, then, I guess the answer is probably yes.’
‘Only probably?’
‘Andrew was a renowned and well-connected psychotherapist. He attended many conferences and worked with many people. My guess is that he probably had professional dealings with people who were from India.’
‘But nobody specific that you can think of? No close friends that you were ever introduced to?’
‘No. Not that I can recall.’
Damn, thinks Doyle.
‘Okay, I got another one for you. Mount Sinai Hospital. Did your husband ever do any work there?’
‘No. I don’t know. Why are you-’
‘What about Indian doctors at Mount Sinai?’
‘Enough! Detective Doyle, what the hell are you doing here? I am on the edge of picking up my phone and calling your superiors. What the fuck is this?’
Doyle thinks he should go now. This is getting him nowhere. What’s stopping him is that he has more questions in his pocket. The problem is, Anna Friedrich isn’t going to supply him with answers. Not as things stand. She’s a lawyer. She knows how cops work. With most people, Doyle could get away with claiming that he’s merely pursuing something that cropped up during the investigation. But that won’t wash with this lady. She’s too smart and too savvy for that.
‘I. . I’m trying to make a connection.’
‘Well you’re going the wrong way about it, Detective. You really think this is the way to establish a rapport with me?’
Doyle almost cracks a smile. ‘Uh, no. I don’t mean a connection between us. I mean between the victims.’
Friedrich waves a hand as if to say,
‘I thought we already discussed your fanciful connection. In your interrogation room. Back when Andrew was still alive and you still had someone you could harass.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, I know. But. . but I still think there’s something.’
‘We’ve been through this. The only concrete thing you had was that the murdered ex-cop was once a client of Andrew’s for a very brief time. And before you say anything, I still don’t believe that the Mellish girl ever even met Andrew, let alone had some kind of secret liaisons with him. He told me he didn’t know her, and I believe him. So that’s it. That’s all you have. And what it doesn’t do is get you any closer to finding my ex-husband’s murderer. So now, if you wouldn’t mind. .’
She uncrosses her legs, starts to rise. She’s about to show him the door.
‘That’s not all,’ he says, and he surprises himself by how loudly and firmly he says it.
‘What?’
‘It’s not all I have. I think there’s more to it.’
She lowers herself onto the sofa again. ‘What do you mean?’
Doyle says nothing.
‘Detective? What do you mean, there’s more to it?’
Go now, Doyle tells himself. Get out of here. Before you say something that will land you in deep shit. This woman’s a lawyer. A good lawyer. One false move with her and she’ll have you licking her shoes.
But he finds himself unable to get up from his chair.
He says, ‘I think it goes wider than most people think. Beyond the three victims you’ve just mentioned.’
She shakes her head, clearly mystified. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘There have been other murders recently. You may have read about them or heard about them on the news. All over the city. Totally different MOs. Nothing to tie them together. Nothing obvious, anyhow.’
‘Okay, so all the more reason for you to get one off the books by finding my husband’s killer, wouldn’t you say?’
‘That’s not what I mean. I think there’s someone. . someone out there.’
‘Someone out. . Who? Detective, you’re making absolutely no-’
