“How do you know this?” I ask.
“Her credit card records.”
“Ah … another blurry line.”
Sam puts on a fake frown. “Damn those things.”
Andy comes in carrying six large pizzas. Four of them are for Marcus; he doesn’t talk much but he sure can eat. “Here we go,” Andy says. “Is the K Team planning on reimbursing me for the pizzas?”
“As the team treasurer,” I say, “I can pretty much rule that out. But I do have a legal question.”
“Uh-oh.”
“If we skip our investigation and I just strangle Kline with my bare hands, can you get me off?”
Andy thinks for a moment. “I could, but would choose not to.”
With that he goes to get Ricky, Laurie and Andy’s eleven-year-old son, so he can share in the pizza. While I have never been a big fan of Andy’s, going back to that cross-examination, Laurie and Ricky are crazy about him, which I consider pretty significant.
And as long as he keeps buying the pizza, we might even become buddies.
THERE’S a memorial service for Lisa Yates at a funeral home in Elmwood Park today.
It was listed in the paper yesterday. It drives the cop in me nuts; public announcements like that are an invitation to burglars to rob the house of the deceased and close family members, since it’s a sure bet that no one will be home. It happens all the time.
For us, the service is a good way to find out who was close to Lisa; it will serve as an early guide for who we should be talking with. We’re looking to see who is invited up to give remarks; passing acquaintances don’t get that honor.
I’m also looking to see if Gerald Kline shows up. It certainly wouldn’t prove anything either way, but it will give me a chance to renew my hatred firsthand.
I scan the room when we arrive, but I don’t see Kline among the eighty-one attendees. I have this weird mental need and ability to count things in clusters or groups; I can do it quickly and accurately. I also can instantly count the number of letters in spoken sentences. I used to do it in an attempt to amuse people at parties, which may well be why people stopped inviting me to parties.
The first person to speak is clearly a member of the clergy. I don’t have any idea what religious faith he represents; he’s not wearing a uniform with the team name on his jersey.
He talks about Lisa in general terms, occasionally throwing in a meaningless specific. I would bet anything that he never met her, and that he did a quick cram course with a member of her family a few minutes ago. It bugs me; someone who lived for almost four decades should not have a stranger speaking about her.
When he’s done, Lisa’s sister, Denise, takes her place at the podium. She talks movingly about their growing up together; Lisa was Denise’s “big sister” and was apparently protective of her. She says that Lisa gave her great advice about everything, including men. She smiles ruefully and says, “I should have listened.” This gets a good laugh from the crowd; in my experience crowds will look for pretty much any excuse to laugh during funeral services.
Next up is Una Loge, who tearfully talks about Lisa, describing her as “my best friend.” Una reveals that she was the one who had dinner with Lisa that horrible night, accurately describing the events as senseless and horrible. She talks about how her faith teaches her to forgive and forget, but when it comes to the person who did this, “I will never forgive, and I certainly will never forget.”
Una seems to have much more to say, but she keeps breaking into tears, and another woman comes up and leads her off the stage.
The last speaker is Susan Redick, a coworker of Lisa’s. It is clear that she was not as close to Lisa as were the previous two speakers. She talks of Lisa as a good friend; someone who kept things lively and happy in the office. You could always count on Lisa, according to Susan, no matter how hectic or tense things got.
Once she is finished, an announcement is made as to where the funeral will be, and that everyone is invited. We have no intention or need to go there; we’ve learned all we’re going to learn.
Laurie and I head to the exits; we’re going to try to follow Susan Redick and Una Loge to their cars. We’ll get their license plate numbers, which will in turn give us their addresses and phone numbers. It’s likely that Lisa’s sister, Denise, will be in one of the funeral home cars, but we’ll still get her address later.
I also watch for Gerald Kline again, just in case I didn’t see him in the chapel. There’s still no sign of him. He’s not here, probably too deep in mourning for the woman he smacked around.
I hate that I can no longer bring Simon everywhere.
When we were cops, we were joined at the hip. He was my partner, and rarely did I not have him with me on the job. That night at Lisa Yates’s house was an unfortunate, notable exception. If Simon had been there that night, he would have disliked Kline as much as I did. In a perfect world he would have taken a juicy bite out of his leg.
As a large German shepherd, Simon could be intimidating, especially since he did not do much smiling when he was working. That intimidation usually worked in our favor, but it would be counterproductive at a time like this. I’m going to talk to Denise Yates, Lisa’s younger sister. Laurie has set up the meeting; she has a way of getting people to be willing to talk.
I take Simon for an extra long walk before leaving, as a way of making it up to him. It doesn’t work; he is clearly
