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Authors: Laura Resnick

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“Esther, you’re—”

“I’ll reserve the right to change my mind.” Just in case Lopez was right. “How’s that?”

“Not good enough,” he said.

“But it’s the only answer I’m going to give you,” I said. “At least for now. So let’s not keep arguing about it.”

He looked like he really wanted to argue, but he evidently realized it wouldn’t accomplish anything. So he said, “All right. I’ll let it go for now. But you keep your cell phone with you at all times, and you keep my number on speed dial.
Promise
me.”

“Okay.” I nodded. “That’s a good plan. I promise.” When he didn’t say anything else, just sat there looking glum, I asked, “So that’s the talk? I mean, it’s what you came here to say?”

“Huh? Oh. No. Not entirely.”

I sighed. “Well?”

“I want to go over everything you saw last night. Until I figure out what the missing piece is.”

I groaned as I folded my arms on the table and rested my head on them.

“We need to do this,” he said, sounding tired again. “Right now, you’re suspected of obstruction, at the very least. And my captain would ream me a new one just for coming here to talk to you alone, never mind sleeping with you.”

“We didn’t
do
any—”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t be involved with someone who’s a suspect in an open investigation.”

That
statement certainly had a sobering effect. We’d been in this situation before. During his investigation of Golly Gee and the other disappearees.

“Then why did you even come here this morning?” I grumbled.

“Because I don’t want this thing to go bad for you.” After a moment, he added, “Or for us—you and me, I mean.”

With my head still on my arms, I waited for him to continue.

He said, “Napoli wants to get a material witness warrant for you.”

“What?” I sat up. “Why? All he has to do is ask me to come in again. I haven’t refused to answer his questions.”

“He says you did. He says you refused to keep talking last night and you walked out.”

“Well, of course I did! At the time, I mean. It was late, I was tired, and he was just saying the same idiotic, accusatory crap over and over!”

“That’s what cops do. We wear you down until we get the whole story.”

“He
had
it,” I insisted. “I was fed up. That doesn’t mean I’m an uncooperative witness! Even a saint would have walked out by then. Napoli’s a jerk.”

“He’s good cop, though.”

“He’s a
jerk
.”

“Okay, I don’t like him either,” Lopez admitted. “Not that he’d be heartbroken by that, since I think he loathes me. And I’ve only been assigned to his team since yesterday,” he added morosely. “So the new job’s off to a rocky start.”

“Look, I’m sorry last night was embarrassing for you. I
am
. But it’s not my fault,” I said. “I didn’t plan to witness a mob hit!”

“I know,” he said soothingly. “But now we have to straighten this out before it gets any more complicated.”

“I told you everything I saw.”

“Then I need to figure out what you haven’t remembered or don’t realize was significant. That’s why Napoli was going over and over this until you wanted to throttle him. He was trying to decide whether you were lying or just not remembering something.”

“Well, all he did was piss me off.”

“As long as he thinks you may be lying, we’ve got a problem, Esther,” Lopez said.

“And what do
you
think?”

“Like I’ve already told Napoli two dozen times, I think that seeing someone killed right in front of you really shook you up,” he said. “So there’s something important that you just don’t recall yet.”

I frowned again. “Like what?”

“I’m not sure. But the crime scene doesn’t add up. Not at all.”

“I know. Napoli said so. While accusing me of lying.”

“Someone must have moved something. Or changed something. Or lied about something.”

“I haven’t li—”

“I believe you,” he assured me. “Okay? But I think what happened was traumatic for you, so what you’re saying isn’t accurate, it’s just what you can remember right now.”

“Well, I can’t argue about it being traumatic,” I admitted with a shudder as I remembered watching Charlie die.

“The only thing we know for sure,” Lopez said, “is that the shot fired through the window couldn’t have killed Charlie. Based on where he was sitting and where he fell, the trajectory is impossible. But that’s still the only shot we can account for.”

“It’s the only one I heard,” I insisted.

“I’m sorry to do this to you, Esther, but we have to go over it again. And again. Until I figure out what your memory is leaving out.”

“I am
so
tired of talking about this,” I told him.

“I know,” he said gently. “But it’s important.”

I sighed and looked at the ceiling. “And I guess my only way of avoiding another dance with Napoli is if you bring him something that satisfies him.”

“That’s right.”

I eyed Lopez. “But then you’d have to tell him you were here.”

“Yeah, but if he realizes I was here to question you effectively, he’ll get over it. And he’ll get off your back. Mine, too.” He shrugged. “Everybody wins. And then I can do something in your bed more fun than
sleeping
without worrying about a conflict of interest or a breach of ethics or getting suspended.”

“Oh.” I blinked. “Okay.” I sat up a little. “When you put it that way, I guess I can muster up the energy to talk about last night.
Again.
”

He smiled. “Glad you see it my way.”

Unfortunately, though, it didn’t do any good. I was positive that my consistent description of Charlie’s murder was complete and accurate; Lopez was positive it wasn’t, but none of his questions produced any new information or potential leads.

After almost an hour of this, he rubbed his hands over his unshaven face and then sat staring silently into thin air, frowning as he considered the puzzle.

Wondering if I should risk bringing up Max’s theory, I tested the waters by asking, “What about Charlie’s fears that he’d been cursed?”

“Huh?” Lopez looked startled, almost as if he’d forgotten I was in the room. “Oh. All that babbling about seeing his perfect double and being marked for death?”

“Yes. Do you think there could be something to that?”

“I think it sounds like he was off his meds,” Lopez said absently.

“What?”

He looked at me. “Charlie was bipolar. It sounds to me like he was having a weird manic episode. That’s what Napoli thinks, too.”

“Bipolar?” I was startled. “Charlie was manic-depressive?”

“Yeah.”

“Lucky said Charlie had always been strange. Moody.” I now remembered that when I’d told Lucky that Charlie had sounded crazy right before he died, the old gangster had replied that it wouldn’t be the first time. “But he never mentioned bipolar disorder.”

Lopez was still frowning in thought as he replied, “I doubt Lucky knows. It’s the sort of thing Charlie would keep secret. Not good for business. Not socially acceptable among his cronies.”

“If he kept it a secret, then how do
you
know?”

“Hmm? Oh. About a decade ago, Charlie did time for income tax evasion.” Lopez shook his head in disgust. “He probably committed enough violent felonies to get sentenced to two hundred years in maximum security. But the only thing anyone ever caught him at was cheating on his taxes.” He shrugged. “So Charlie’s medical condition wound up on his summer camp forms.”

“His what?”

“Uh, all his records from the detention facility he was in for nonviolent criminals,” Lopez clarified. “Which is how we know he was manic-depressive. And if he went off his medication recently . . .”

“Then his delusions about seeing his own perfect double and being cursed might have been some sort of manic episode?”

“That’s my guess. But maybe
your
guess was right,” Lopez added.

I blinked. “
My
guess?”

“Napoli says you thought Charlie was having a ministroke, or maybe not getting enough oxygen to his brain.”

“Oh! Right. Yes. That was my guess.” I decided to keep silent about the doppelgänger theory.

He shrugged again. “Maybe the autopsy will reveal that the murderer was just one step ahead of Mother Nature when it came to taking Charlie’s life.”

“Hmm.” Now
I
stared off into space.

If Charlie had stopped taking his psych meds and was having a manic delusion about seeing his perfect double, then Max was wrong, and Charlie’s death was an ordinary Mafia hit—albeit a very puzzling one. Could mental illness also explain his behavior a few nights ago? Maybe Lucky and I hadn’t seen Charlie’s perfect double that night after all. Maybe we just saw a gangster whose psych disorder was out of control . . .

While I was pondering this in silence, Lopez glanced at his watch and muttered, “I have to go.” When I looked at him in silent query, he said, “Home, shower, shave, Mass, work.”

“You have to work this evening? After the shift you just pulled?”

“I’m the new guy,” he said by way of explanation. “But if nothing new turns up, I’m going to leave early. I been rode hard and put away wet.”

He finished his second cup of coffee in a long gulp, and went into the bedroom for his shoes, wallet, gun, and belt. Then he came back into the living room for his jacket.

“I’m going to tell Napoli that we talked,” he said.

I looked at him. “Are you sure you want to do that? You
are
the new guy, after all. Maybe you shouldn’t—”

“It would be easier to convince him I know what I’m doing if I’d already been there a few months,” he admitted. “But it’s obvious to me that there’s no point in Napoli squandering his time, your patience, and my love life by harassing you. You’ve told us everything you know.”

“I hope he agrees,” I said morosely.

“I’ll be emphatic,” Lopez assured me. “And I trust you to tell me if you remember anything else.”

“I will,” I promised, though I didn’t believe there was anything else
to
remember.

“So after I deal with Napoli . . .” He tilted his head. “Want to take another stab at doing this like normal people?”

Still thinking about the problems surrounding Charlie’s death, I said, “Huh?”

He smiled. “I’ve got tomorrow night off. I could put on my black silk shirt again and make a new reservation at Raoul’s.” Dark lashes lowered over blue eyes as he added, “And maybe you could wear something that gives me sinful ideas . . .”

“Oh!” I smiled, too. “I like this plan.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

As a recent crime scene, Stella’s would still be closed down, and I wouldn’t be working. So I nodded. Then I brushed self-consciously at my face and added, “I’ll try not to still be blue.”

“I like the blue, it flatters your eyes.” He stopped by the kitchen table to give me a quick kiss good-bye, then headed for the door. But he paused there and said, “Is there any point in asking you to stay away from Max and Lucky?”

“Will you stay away from Napoli and your mother?” I replied.

“That’s what I thought.” He left.

I
got two phone calls late the following afternoon, both of them important.

An old buddy from the Actors Studio called and told me about a role that he’d heard had just unexpectedly opened up after the actress who’d been cast in it had gone parasailing on Saturday and wound up in traction.

Naturally, I phoned my agent.

And while I was on hold on my landline, Lucky called my cell phone.

“We got a big problem, kid,” he said. “There’s another doppelgangster on the loose.”

“What?”
I sat down with a thud. “Who? How do you know?”

“We can’t talk on the
phone,
” he said. “Don’t they teach you nothin’ at acting school?”

“But
you
just said there’s another dopp—”

“Meet me in an hour at the place we met before.”

I frowned. “The place we met bef . . . Oh! You mean the church?”

He sighed in exasperation. “Yeah. The church.”

“In an hour?” I glanced at the clock and thought about my date this evening. “How long will this take?”

“It’ll take as long as it takes.” Lucky sounded terse. “And bring your friend.”