After a trip to a stall, I washed my hands. Still damp, I ran them lightly through my hair. Wukowski had liked to ruffle my former short spikes. I hoped the new style would appeal to him. I applied lipstick and headed back to wait.
Chapter 6
Find a place inside where there’s joy, and the joy will burn out the pain.
Joseph Campbell
A bit after eight, the conference room door opened and I swung around to face Captain Salina Cortés of Internal Affairs. Even though I knew the orders had come from higher up, she would be forever etched on my mind as the one responsible for mandating the involuntary separation of me from the man I loved.
“Ms. Bonaparte,” she intoned, “before Detectives Wukowski and Ignowski return, I’d like to talk with you.” The hesitancy in her voice told me that she clearly recalled our encounter of nine hundred and forty-eight days ago, although I doubted she’d been counting. “Unless you feel you need legal representation.”
“I’ll let you know if the conversation turns in that direction,” I said.
After seating herself opposite me, she folded her hands on the table and leaned forward, earnestness evident in her face and body. “First, I apologize again for the circumstances that dictated Detective Wukowski sever your relationship.”
“Oh, he didn’t sever it,” I purred. “He just postponed it. For two years, seven months and fourteen days. Twelve to go, Captain Cortés.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes. As to that.” With a deep exhale, she said, “We have a situation.”
“We?”
“The MPD. You see, there’s a serious shortage of qualified homicide personnel at present.”
“So I heard from Wukowski this morning.”
“And,” she continued, “we can’t easily reassign our few remaining personnel to accommodate the, um, the agreement reached with Detective Wukowski concerning yourself.”
I kept silent, enjoying the way she squirmed in her chair.
“So I need to know how you are involved in this recent homicide.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m involved, Captain. I knew the victim on a professional level, as an artist from whom I bought three metal panels. I was there this morning to pick them up, and my friends and I came across his body in his shop.”
“And you never socialized with Mr. Swanson?”
“I ran into him at the galleria’s annual customer appreciation get-together. One of the other shop owners invited me. That’s when I met Mick and got the idea to order the metal artwork that I plan to hang in my bedroom. A surprise for Wukowski. You know, once he retires and is free to associate with whomever he chooses.”
With a cut of her right hand, she said, “Okay. I get that you’re angry about the situation with Detective Wukowski, and I don’t blame you. Can we set that aside for the purposes of this discussion?”
“Maybe if I knew what this discussion was actually about.” I crossed my arms and leaned back.
“I’ve convinced the deputy chief that we need to let Detective Wukowski off the hook on that non-association contract. I plan to ask him to reconsider his retirement plans or at least extend the date. But I must be able to assure my superiors that there is no risk of his becoming entangled in an organized crime scenario.”
I snorted. “The only entanglement of that sort was when persons who owed my father provided information that helped the MPD close a case.” Then the implication that I’d engaged in an “organized crime scenario” made my Sicilian American blood boil, and I slapped my hands on the surface of the table that separated us. “Because neither Wukowski nor I would allow that to happen. I hope that’s clear.” God help us if this murder did involve the Family, but I wasn’t going to bring it up.
“Eminently. And I honestly never thought so, but I was pressured by those above me. Who are, incidentally, no longer part of the MPD. Based on your assurances, I will release Detective Wukowski from the restrictions placed on him. He is free to engage with you, but for the sake of the investigation, I hope that you will be circumspect until this case is closed.” She rose and rounded the table, her hand outstretched. “Paz?”
“Peace,” I agreed as I stood and we shook.
***
At 9:08 by my phone, Wukowski and Iggy arrived. The officer at the back gave Wukowski a wave and handed him a folded sheet of paper, which he read at his desk and then showed to Iggy. Big grins split both their faces as they turned to look at me. Iggy made a thumbs-up gesture and ambled into the captain’s office to interview Bram York.
Wukowski stuck his head in the door and passed me the note. “I’ll talk to Bobbie and then come back to you, if that’s okay. I think we have more to discuss than just this case, moja miłość.” He gently closed the door.
I slumped back into the chair and let out a long, shaky breath, suddenly aware that a simple Polish phrase—my love—had dissipated the tension of this odd reunion. All those days and nights of wondering if he were still mine faded into a deep sense of the rightness of things. I opened the note and read:
Detective Wukowski
Upon my recommendation and with the unreserved concurrence of Deputy Chief O’Reilly, the restrictions upon your association with Ms. Bonaparte are hereby lifted with a finding of no probable cause. I realize the workload you are shouldering in the absence of your colleagues in Homicide but would like thirty minutes of your time once you have completed initial interviews with the persons who were present at this morning’s homicide scene.
Captain Salina Cortés, Internal Affairs
Only the fear of being caught on video or by the officer’s cell phone prevented me from dancing a giga.
Chapter 7
How much of human life is lost in
