Death Angel (18 page)

His timing was perfect. The jogger moved
from the open field into the darker woods, unaware of the approach of another
runner until the two were only a foot apart. The first blow of the cane caught
the jogger on the bridge of the nose, shattering his glasses. He staggered
forward, stunned by the force of the attack. The second blow crashed against
the back of his skull. The muscles in his legs gave out, and he collapsed.

Before his body hit the ground, the
jogger was dead.

***

After a quick shower, Kate put on a green
jersey sheath and green sling backs. Downstairs she grabbed her raincoat and
scribbled a note for Richard. She didn’t feel comfortable telling him that she
was meeting Chris so she just said she was running errands. It was vague enough
to salve her conscience.

Dave’s Place was only ten minutes from
the house. As she got out of the car, it started to rain. Although she hadn’t
been expecting much, the restaurant was surprisingly nice inside. The garden
theme was pleasing with an abundance of plants and painted latticework on the
walls. Cushioned booths circled the room and the lighting was discreet. The
atmosphere amused her because it looked like a movie set for an illicit
rendezvous.

It was just five and since Chris hadn’t
arrived, she chose a booth and ordered a white wine. There was little point in
guessing why he wanted to talk to her. Leaning her head against the padded back
of the booth, she sipped the wine and let her mind wander.

“Forgive me, my dear, for being so
dreadfully late.”

Kate had always loved the mellow tones
of Chris’ voice. His phrasing was old fashioned, almost formal, and his speech
had the slightest suggestion of an English accent. She didn’t know if he
consciously cultivated such an affectation but to her mind the end product was
very pleasing.
 

“You look lovely.” He leaned over to
kiss her cheek. “God! Traffic was truly nasty.”

She smiled at the drama in his voice. He
did look harried. His thick, black hair, usually styled to perfection, was
matted down by the rain, the white at his temples muted. His cheeks were red as
if he’d been outside in the wind and rain. When he shrugged out of his belted
raincoat, even the shoulders of his jacket were wet.

“You’re soaked, Chris. Is it raining
that hard?”

“No, but it looks like we’ll have quite
a storm this evening.” He hung his raincoat over the back of an empty chair and
then sat down in the booth. “I got wet changing a flat.”

“On the Porsche?” The red convertible
was his prized possession.

“Heavens, no!” He looked shocked at the
suggestion. The waitress came and he ordered more wine for Kate and a double
martini. “I need a pick-me-up. If it had been my car I’d have called a tow
truck. A young woman was pulled over on the side of the road, so naturally I
stopped to be of service. It’s been several years since I’ve changed a tire,
but I eventually got the blasted thing done.”

The drinks arrived. Chris saluted her
with his glass before taking a sip.

“I won’t waste your time building up to
the subject,” he said. “I have a great deal of respect for you, Kate, so I’ll
tell you straight out. I’m going to ask Richard to take a leave of absence.”

His words shocked her, and the emotion
must have shown clearly because he reached across the table and awkwardly
patted her hand. His face was troubled, but there was an air of determination
beneath the compassion. He waited until she had digested the news before he
continued.

“You are probably damning me as a traitor,
but hear me out.” He pulled his hand back, running it over the side of his
head. “Richard hasn’t done much work since Jenny died. You must forgive me for
being blunt. I don’t mean to add to your pain, but you must understand what is
happening.”

“Don’t keep apologizing, Chris. You have
always been our friend. I’ve never doubted that. I was just stunned for a
moment, and now I’m getting my second wind.”

He nodded. “I am Richard’s friend, and
it is in his best interests to take some time off. He’s always had a fine
reputation in the advertising business. His judgment, his work ethic, his
creativity are all impaired at this point. He’s no good at his job right now.
And worst of all, he knows it.”

“But he loves the work. He needs it,”
Kate said. She winced at the pleading tone of her voice.

“If Richard only had to deal with a
death in the family, I would expect a return to normality in a short time. But
as you are well aware there is a cloud of suspicion hanging over his head.
Richard knows people are talking about it and making guesses as to his guilt or
innocence.” He paused, tipped his head to the side as if taking her measure,
then continued. “Two clients have asked to deal with someone else.”

Kate closed her eyes to hold back the
sudden rush of tears.
 

Poor Richard. It must be hell going in
to work each day, when he knew people were talking about him. When she felt
bad, she stayed in bed, pulling the covers over her head to block out the
world.

“Don’t cry, Kate,” Chris said. “God, I’m
a beast.”
 

Kate took a deep breath and wiped her
eyes with the tips of her fingers. “I’m all right. A momentary sinking spell. I
can see why you think Richard should leave. Not just for his sake, but for
yours.” When he started to speak, she raised her hand to forestall him. “I
hadn’t really thought about the impact all of this would have on your business.
Have you lost clients?”

“No. And I don’t think it will come to
that.”

“I suspect more people are uncomfortable
with the situation than you are aware of. I’ve noticed the same kind of
polarization among our friends. Do you want me to talk to Richard?”

“No. I’ll handle it. I didn’t ask you
here to turn over the problem to you. I needed you to understand and support my
decision. Richard trusts your judgment. If he sees you are not troubled by this
and don’t see it as some sort of personal betrayal, neither will he.”

“I understand.” And she meant it. “You
and Richard have been friends long enough that I don’t think he’d ever question
your loyalty. It was a lucky day when he met you.”

He laughed, his face alight with
mischief. “If you’d seen him then, Kate, you’d never have married him. He was
in his college rebellious stage. Scruffy clothes, long hair, and a beard. Sort
of the wild-man-of-Borneo look that was all the rage. You’d automatically judge
him as a burnout. He was drawing when I first saw him. It was a very droll
caricature. We got to talking and ended up at some god-awful workers’ tavern
drinking rotgut wine until dawn. Mostly we talked about art. With the difference
in our ages, you can imagine our tastes were poles apart.”

“And I know how Richard loves trying to
make converts to the cause of modern art.”

“He was eloquently profane in his
arguments. I asked him if he was planning to be an artist. He said no, he was
good, but didn’t have the talent to be great. I was struck by his answer,
surprised that at such a young age, he should be so self-aware and practical.”

Kate found it difficult to swallow
around the lump in her throat. It pleased her that Chris would share his
remembrances with her. She knew that Richard had that kind of effect on people.
The first time he spoke to her, she had been under his spell. She smiled warmly
at Chris who seemed slightly flustered that he’d been so forthcoming.

“Well, I certainly do run on,” he said.
“I guess it’s an emotional time for everyone. I can’t begin to imagine how
you’re surviving such an ordeal. Richard said over the weekend the police asked
him to come into the station for another interrogation. Was it bad?”

Kate shrugged. “I assume so. He wouldn’t
let me go. He called the lawyer and she went with him. All he’d say was that it
was more of the same. Nothing new.”

“It must be infuriating that the police
are handling the case like idiots. The thought that Richard could hurt anyone
is positively ludicrous.”

“You’ll get no argument from me.”
 

He cleared his throat. “Now, Kate my
dear, is there anything
you
need?”

“I appreciate your asking, but there’s
nothing that I can think of.”

“Promise you’ll let me know if there
is?”

Kate promised. They finished their
drinks. Outside, the rain had gotten heavier. Despite the fact she had a
raincoat, Chris insisted she wait until he got an umbrella out of his car.
Sheltering her from the rain, he walked her to her car, waiting until she was
inside with the motor running before he returned to his own. She honked as she
passed the red convertible, wondering how he got his long legs into the little
sports car.

All the way home Kate worried how
Richard would take Chris’s suggestion of a leave of absence. Even if Richard
agreed with the reasoning, he’d be crushed.

It was almost seven o’clock. She hadn’t
realized how long she’d been gone. There weren’t many lights on in the house,
so she was surprised to see Richard’s car in the garage. She hurried through
the rain, fumbling with her key in the darkened doorway.

“Richard?”
 

No answer.
 

She looked in the living room and then
Richard’s studio, but he wasn’t there. She checked the kitchen and the family
room, but he wasn’t there either. Back in the front hall she stopped long
enough to hang up her wet raincoat, then started up the stairs.

“Richard?”

The stench of alcohol cut through the
darkness, warning her of his presence before she made out the figure sprawled
on the bed. Crossing the room, she turned on the bedside lamp.

Richard was fully dressed, lying on top
of the comforter. His mouth was open and an occasional snore punctuated the
heavy breathing. Kate leaned over him, reaching out her hand to shake him
awake. When she touched his shoulder, she drew her hand back in dismay.

Besides being drunk, Richard was soaking
wet.
 

She couldn’t leave him in such a state.
He’d catch pneumonia. It took awhile to undress him. His body was as limp as
raw liver and, by the time she finished, she was sweating and feeling less than
charitable toward him.

Returning downstairs, she put away the
dinner she’d planned and fixed an omelet. She read for a while but had trouble
concentrating. Finally at nine, she turned off the lights and locked up. She
slipped under the covers, trying not to wake Richard. He rolled toward her,
mumbling drunkenly.

“Never meant to hurt you, Kate.”

“Hush, Richard,” she said. “Go to
sleep.”

“Shouldn’t have gone tonight. Shouldn’t
have gone.”

In the darkness, she could feel him
shake his head back and forth. She reached over to stroke his cheek. He nuzzled
against her hand, still mumbling.

“Had to go. He was going to tell.”

Thirteen

The phone might have been ringing for a
long time before the sound woke Carl. Blindly he reached for the receiver.
 

“There’s been another murder in the
forest preserve, Chief.” The watch commander’s voice came distinctly through
the phone.
 

Carl rolled to the side of the bed and
sat up, shaking the sleep from his brain. “A kid?” he asked.

“Thank the good Lord, no. An adult male,
Caucasian, maybe forty-five.”

Carl let out the breath he’d been
holding. “Is that you, Jack?”
 

“Yes, sir. By the way, it’s 6:12 and
after I hang up I’ll make some Chicago coffee, not that watery piss your suburban
cops drink.”

Carl snorted. Jack Witecki had worked
the Chicago streets for fifteen years before following Carl out to Pickard.
Nothing surprised the sergeant. He could be counted on to run things until the
crisis team arrived.

“Call Bea and tell her I want her to
cover the station. I want Squint at the scene and Bob Jackson. Tell Tony and
Diego to work with Bea.”

“Got it.”
 

“Details?”

“Old fart walking his dog found the body
and flagged down a squad car. Dennis Zack called it in. He says the skull’s
been bashed in. First stiff he’s seen. Think he tossed his cookies. Had that
thick voice sound.” Jack chuckled. “Hope he didn’t contaminate the crime
scene.”

Carl swore. “Ease up. This is Pickard,
not Chicago. Most of my cops haven’t seen shit, but that doesn’t mean they
can’t handle it.”

“Sorry, Chief. Just gallows humor.”

“Where’s the body?”

“Not far from where the Warner kid was
found. Park on the north side of the Devon entrance to the forest preserve.
You’ll see the lights.”

“Any hope the press hasn’t got wind of
this?”

“We’re clear for the moment. The
Advocate
comes
out today, so this is Blake’s day to sleep in.”

“Make the rest of your calls. I’m on the
way.”