Foxy Roxy (28 page)

Roxy thought about getting out of the car to throw up on the reporter’s shoes, but she talked herself out of it.

After half an hour, Bug returned to the car. He’d given up his crutches in favor of a cane. He got in behind the wheel even though he hadn’t been the one who drove.

“What a mess,” he said to Roxy.

“In so many ways.”

The sun had disappeared and a soft rain began to fall, speckling the windshield with tiny droplets that caught the streetlight. More fickle autumn weather. The Channel 2 girl opened a striped golf umbrella and lit a cigarette, clearly intending to spend some time hunkered down at the crime scene.

Bug’s car was cold, and Roxy had to concentrate to quell her shivering.

“You okay?” Bug asked.

“I’m better off than Kaylee.”

Bug nodded and pulled a notebook from his pocket. He seemed glad not to have to cope with an emotional female, so Roxy marshaled her feelings.

Playing the unflappable cop, he said, “You want to tell me what she was doing at your place?”

“I already explained to the officers who got here first. And to the Homicide cop.”

“Well, tell me, too, and then we’ll all know.”

It was routine, she knew, so she didn’t make a fuss although the exasperation of it was pressing behind her eyes. Roxy told him most of the truth—including what she knew about Kaylee being shot at the day before.

“You think it was the Delaney brothers who did that?” Bug asked, making it obvious that he’d already gotten the gist of things from his colleagues.

“I don’t trust a lot of what the Delaneys have to say, but yeah, I think they were paid to intimidate Kaylee.”

“Paid by a dead man?”

“That part I will quibble with.”

“So they lied to you?”

“What a surprise, huh?” It was hard to say, but Roxy blurted it out. “Look, Bug, you should know I took a gun away from the Delaneys.”

Bug didn’t seem surprised. “Where is it?”

“Back at my yard. In my desk drawer.”

“We’re going to need that, like, an hour ago.”

Roxy handed him two keys off her ring—one for the office door, the other for the drawer.

He took them. “We sent a car around to pick up the Delaneys,” he said. “Those two shouldn’t be on the street to begin with. But they’re not anywhere we can find them right now. Know where they might hang out?”

“They’re not my best friends.”

“We’ll keep looking. Shouldn’t be hard to find a pair of idiots like those two.” Bug craned around in the seat to look out the back window. “Where’s Nooch?”

Although he’d seen where Nooch was, Roxy said unnecessarily, “Waiting in my truck. He’s got an armed guard.”

“Where’s he been all day?”

“With you guys and Marvin. I picked him up just an hour ago.”

“What about the Cleary kid?”

“He has nothing to do with any of this. He was here to see me. He’s dating my daughter.”

“Well, thank God for small favors. I don’t have to tell the chief his kid is in trouble.” Then Bug grinned fleetingly. “Abruzzos and Clearys. There’s a match made in heaven.”

From outside the car, a man approached Bug’s window and knocked with one knuckle. Bug put the window down, revealing a uniformed cop who said, “Marx says to remind you they have to cut Hyde loose in four hours.”

Bug, the back of his head to Roxy, made a cutting motion across his throat with his thumb, but said, “Hey, thanks. Is there any coffee?”

The uniform missed the point and leaned down to see who was in the passenger seat. He had no expression as he studied Roxy. “No, not any we’ve found yet.”

Roxy waved at the cop using her fingertips.

Bug rolled up the window. “Sorry about that.”

“You’re just sorry you got caught. Which Hyde do you have in custody?”

“No custody. We’re interviewing Trey.”

Roxy’s experience was that the cops could “interview” someone for twenty-four hours, after which time the person needed to be charged with a crime or turned loose. The fact that Trey was coming up on his twenty-four-hour deadline was a matter of urgency to the investigators, she could see.

Bug said, “I can’t talk about Trey with you.”

“You think he did it? Killed his brother?”

“You think he didn’t?”

“He didn’t kill Kaylee,” Roxy pointed out. “If he’s been with you for a whole day, he couldn’t have chased her around my house and shot her on my heart-of-pine stairs. If you think Kaylee was killed to cover up Julius’s murder.”

Bug sighed, unhappy. “Yeah, Trey being with us today put a wet blanket on one theory.”

“Trey was your new best suspect? What happened to the homeless guy?”

“We’ve been corroborating everybody’s stories.”

“Save that crap for the media. While you guys focused on the wrong guy, the real killer kept going.”

The thought had clearly occurred to Bug a long time ago, but he said, “Maybe Kaylee was killed by somebody other than the guy who whacked Julius.”

“Even I know there are too many connections for that theory to work. Unless you think it’s a coincidence that a burglar broke into my house and Kaylee stopped him from stealing my underwear.”

“Ballistics will tell.”

“Not unless you have all the guns you need.”

“What does that mean?”

“I have Trey’s gun, too.”

“Jesus Christ, Roxy. What are you doing?”

“I took it from him the night Julius was killed. Trey was acting all crazy, so I took it. It’s in the same drawer with the Delaney piece. We can go get both guns now, if you want.”

“Roxy—”

She said, “Look, it was stupid, but I’m coming clean now. Let’s get going. I’d like to get home to Sage, if you don’t mind. She’s going to see this on the news. I don’t want her to get upset about a shooting at her mother’s house.”

Bug shook his head. “Sorry. I’ve got to take you to Major Crimes. Some other guys want to talk to you. And they told me that before you said you have a gun collection.”

Roxy wasn’t surprised. But she said, “I’m not a part of this thing, Bug.”

“No?” Suddenly he turned on her, and he was pissed. “You just happened to be at the scene of Julius Hyde’s murder, and now his girlfriend is killed in your house? And you took firearms, then kept them a secret from me?”

“It looks sketchy, I know.”

“Sketchy? You’re up to your eyeballs in shit, in case you haven’t noticed. The guy in charge of this investigation wants you to spend the night in an interview room! Me, I just want to punch your lights out.”

“So I’ll confess to something I didn’t do?”

Bug pulled himself together. “Roxy, I’ll be straight with you, since we went to school together. You need a lawyer. And not a mob lawyer, one of your uncle Carmine’s friends. Not somebody you’ve slept with, either.”

“Screw you.”

“Nobody’s going to take you seriously if you’re banging your lawyer.”

“If a man sleeps around, he’s a hero. But a woman is automatically a stupid whore. I’ve heard that all my life.”

Bug looked away. “I’m trying to be your friend for as long as I can. Get on the phone and hire yourself a good lawyer.”

“Will Loretta do?”

“She’s better than nothing.”

Roxy made a call, and when Bug pulled out, she rolled down the cruiser’s window to speak to Zack Cleary.

“Look after my dog,” she said as the car went past him.

The kid’s eyes bulged at the thought of taking care of Rooney.

“And you’d earn a few points with Sage if you call and tell her everything’s okay.”

Half an hour later, Roxy walked into the building on the North Side that headquartered Major Crimes. Within twenty feet of the front door, she spotted two cops she’d had sex with. One of them was Marty O’Brien, though, who’d been so drunk at the time he didn’t remember her. The other guy had later admitted he was married, so Roxy had punched him in the gut and told him she’d better not see him ever again. She’d erased his name from her memory. He obviously remembered her, however, because he ducked his head and looked busy as she went past his desk.

Bug escorted her as far as an interview room, which had a linoleum floor, a mirrored wall, and furniture that looked as if it had been bought secondhand from a community college.

He left her alone in the interview room, and a few minutes later a couple of Homicide cops came in, offered her a can of pop, and tried to be her pals. Roxy declined, saying she’d wait for her lawyer. Disappointed, the cops went away.

In a while, her lawyer showed up.

The middle-aged cop who unlocked the door and let Loretta inside looked at her like she was a delicious slice of pie. He said, “A few years ago, we used to see you around here a lot, Loretta. Was it something we said?”

“I gave up being a court-appointed.”

“Old people slipping and falling is more lucrative, right?”

She gave him her most twinkly smile. “Give us a few minutes, okay? And turn off the camera, will you, Dave?”

“Sure.” Dave closed the door, maybe to go in search of a fork.

Loretta’s twinkly look vanished. By the time she set down her leather briefcase on the table and folded her raincoat beside it, she had a warrior’s glitter in her eye. But her hair was fluffy, her nails perfect. Her suit had gold braid, and her high-heeled shoes made her ankles look delicate despite the size of the rest of her.

She cocked one fist on her hip. “It’s a good thing I already had my temper tantrum today, or you’d be dead meat.”

“I’m innocent.”

“If you were guilty, I’d hang you myself.”

“What was your earlier temper tantrum?”

“Somebody tried to steal my briefcase on the bus. I knocked him down the stairs to the curb. That’s one purse snatcher who will think twice before he tries to steal something from a menopausal woman. What does he think? After fifty we turn invisible? That it’s okay to bully us? Take our things? Pretend we don’t exist? I may be middle-aged, but I can still—”

“I’m not the enemy, you know.”

Loretta sat down and picked up the can of pop. She pressed the cold aluminum to her neck to cool off. “At least you didn’t fall for the full-bladder trick. That’s got to be the easiest way to get people to spill the truth.”

“When I’m ready to drink something, it won’t be pop. Did you tell Sage I’m okay?”

“Yes. She’d already talked with her boyfriend. Was he with you? Maybe he’s a nice boy after all.”

Loretta put the can on the table and gave Roxy a steely, parental glare. “Bug Duffy says they sent officers to your place to pick up some guns.”

“Yes.”

“Roxy, what are you doing with weapons? First of all, you hate guns. Second, you’ll jeopardize Nooch’s probation hearing. Not that I care about that.”

Roxy had been sitting there wondering if a good cry might help her feel better about everything. Seeing Kaylee dead, primarily. But Loretta’s brisk manner helped her choke back the urge. “I was at the Hyde house a few minutes before Julius was killed—saw him, talked to him. And I met up with his little brother Trey later the same night.”

Loretta didn’t miss a beat. “For what reason?”

“He had an itch he wanted me to scratch.”

“And did you?”

“Not that night, no. But a few months back, yes.”

Loretta’s mouth tightened. “A few months back, you were seeing the John Donne professor.”

“Him, too.”

“Roxana Marie, this self-destructive behavior of yours has got to stop. Your friend Adasha called me.”

“What? When?”

Loretta reached into her briefcase for a notebook and a fancy ballpoint. “She’s concerned. She says you need to get over what happened with your parents. You can pretend it’s done and doesn’t mean anything, but here you are almost thirty-five years old and still acting like…”

“Like what?”

Loretta stiffened her spine. “Like sleeping with a lot of men is going to solve your problems.”

“I don’t have any problems.”

Loretta clicked her pen. “Well, Pittsburgh’s finest seem to think you do, so tell me everything before they start their interview.”

Roxy knew how hard it had been for Loretta to express her concerns, so she gave her the lowdown without further resistance. About Trey and the Delaneys and the guns. Loretta took notes in an illegible scrawl and asked a few pointed questions. Then she repeated the facts back to Roxy and asked for corrections.

Roxy did not tell her about the statue or where she’d moved it. The only reason she’d told Bug where to find the guns was that she’d spent part of her day hiding a naked man where few people would notice him.

Finally, Loretta tapped her pen on the notebook. “How much of this are we going to tell the nice police officers?”

Roxy leaned forward on her elbows and managed to keep her voice level. “Let’s get one thing straight. I want to help catch whoever did these two murders, Loretta.”

“You need to protect yourself, too.”

“That’s what you’re here for.”

“Normally, I get three hundred dollars an hour, you know.” Loretta reached around to rap her knuckle on the mirror behind her.

Two detectives came in and treated Loretta as if she were the Queen of England.

With Roxy, they weren’t so polite.

Three hours later, Loretta walked Roxy out of the building.

“You did good,” Loretta said. “I’ll drive you home.”

“I need to pick up my truck.”

Loretta narrowed her eyes. “Whatever you have in mind for tonight, young lady, you can forget it. You need to see your daughter. You need to assure Sage you won’t get arrested for anything.”

“I’ll go see Sage,” Roxy insisted. “But I need to pick up my truck first.”

“I’ll take you to your truck. And then I’ll follow you home.”

Roxy stopped on the sidewalk. “I’ve got to do something else before I go home.”

“Roxy—”

“Trey didn’t kill Julius.”

Loretta looked relieved that she wasn’t going to go looking for a man to blow off some frustration with. “You know that?”

“He was with the cops today, so he didn’t kill Kaylee.”

Roxy hadn’t liked the teeth pulling, but she’d answered all the questions posed by the police. The whole time, she’d been thinking about Kaylee—a girl who’d lived her short life using the assets God gave her to get out of the neighborhood.