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"No. But one of them had your friends card on her person at the time of her death."
"Were they found together?"
"I will only answer your questions if you answer mine," Kirk said.
"Fair enough."
"What is your interest in these women?"
"I’m trying to find a missing person and I have, or should I say had reason to believe that these women may be able to help me find him."
"Jake Rollins, he the one you’re looking for?"
"Were the two of them found together?"
"Answer his question!" Richards yelled.
"What’s with him, Kirk?"
Richards came at me again, but good cop held him back. "They were found about two weeks apart. Now, Jake Rollins, is he the one you’re looking for?"
"Yes."
"Who’s your client?" Richards asked.
"What’s your interest in two women that died of a cocaine overdose?"
Kirk smiled. "These weren’t your everyday overdoses."
"What do you mean?"
"Who’s your client?" Richards asked again.
"That comes under the heading of privileged information." This time Richards swung on me, so I put him on his back.
Kirk grabbed me.
"Get out of here, Richards!" He picked himself off the floor and left the room. Once he was gone Kirk smiled at me like a kid who knew a secret. "What makes these different is that they had all the symptoms of a cocaine overdose, but there wasn’t any trace of cocaine in their systems. And there are more just like them. We just found this one last night. Now, what do you know about that?"
"I don’t know anything about it, Kirk. I’m just looking for Rollins. I found that picture in his apartment, and I thought they might know where to find him. I don’t know anything about any cocaine." I knew from the start that this had a cocaine flavor to it and it wouldn’t be long before Kirk connected Jake to Mrs. Childers and then to Chilly. But now wasn’t the time for me to tell Kirk that. Right now, I had to get out of here and talk to Mrs. Childers.
"Okay, Nick, you’re free to go. But I need answers."
"Can I have my picture back?"
Mrs. Childers had the answers we both needed.
* * *
Chapter Nine
I left a message on Mrs. Childers voice mail, telling her to meet me at Jimmy’s on Fordham Road, "Now!" I drove straight ther
e and waited. She arrived two hours and forty-three minutes later. I’d had dinner, barbecue ribs with onion marmalade, autumn salad with raspberry vinaigrette and read over the transcript of lunch at Aureole, with the Childers and the Hispanic couple, while I waited. The food was good, so the wait, although long, wasn’t too bad. Mrs. Childers arrived dressed impeccably, as usual. Her makeup was flawless, but in good taste. Her eyes were ablaze as she came toward me. Each step she took was taken to send a message. She was mad at me.
"So what’s with this now business?"
"You want to start telling me the truth now, Mrs. Childers?"
