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She shed her rain slicker, hung it on a rack by the door, said hello to Doris, and plopped down opposite Bruce.
“From your expression, all the world’s not gay and bright today,” said Bruce, looking up from his newspaper.
“You mean besides the storm?” she groused. “Okay, so my mood’s not the best.”
“Personal stuff? The homicide? Your illustrious leader? If it’s the Seahawks’ loss to the 49ers last Sunday, I can understand the funk.”
“I think it’s the case. We’re getting nowhere. Spent the last weeks questioning everyone who knew, might have known, or was even rumored to have known Toompas. If he’d had a fish tank, we’d have questioned the pet store owner and the fish. Nada. I’m sure the Lincoln people are gearing up to shut down the investigation. Maybe not officially but practically. They’ll simply spend less and less time on it, and everyone will forget about it in a few months.”
“I know that you know all cases aren’t solved. I’ve certainly warned you about it enough times.”
“Yeah, yeah. But knowing it and living with it are different.”
Doris appeared. “Coffee or decaf, Greta?”
“Better make it decaf, Doris. I think I’m wired enough for today. And how about a two-egg ham-and-cheese omelet, wheat toast, no butter, and a large orange juice?”
“You got it,” said Doris.
Greta looked again at Bruce. “You had cases in Philadelphia that took time, didn’t you? Did you solve them in the end?”
“A few. When we did manage to solve them, it was for one of two reasons. Sometimes we beat our heads against a wall, and suddenly everything dropped in our laps. The perpetrator committed another crime, and we tied him into the first case, sometimes by an outright confession. Other times, we grunted and ground on details until we put it together. Those are more like you might see on TV, the clever detective sifting through data and witnesses and coming up with a brilliant deduction. Only in real life, it was endless tedium in checking things out for weeks or months, instead of sixty minutes. One of our main frustrations was that we could have solved so many more cases if we’d had the resources. There were always more murders, and the higher-ups would push us onto new cases if older ones didn’t show quick progress. As much as I hated giving up on slow cases, I’ll have to admit the bosses weren’t wrong. Looking at it logically, we could spend weeks on a case we had no guarantee of solving or could switch to several easier cases that were solvable. Like everything in the real world, it gets complicated.”
Greta grunted. “In my case, I’m fortunately not inundated with more homicides, although I have some pretty hot cases about a missing cow and a peeping Tom.”
Bruce guffawed. “Told you those would be your main crimes around here.”
“A few more burglaries than you mentioned and more drug possessions.”
Bruce’s humor subsided. “We saw more and more of those my last few years. The two were connected. The more drug users, the more they needed to come up with cash to keep themselves supplied. It seems to spread out from Portland farther and farther each year. Not sure where it’s going to lead, but the trend worries me. So far, no serious gang activity on the coast, though who knows what will come?”
“So, what do I do with this Toompas case? Let it go?”
“You’re the one to decide that. This one’s so hard because it’s your first major violent crime. If you want to keep at it, you’ll have to figure out how to do the rest of your job and still keep this one active.”
“In other words . . . you’re no help at all.”
“Glad to be of service.”
Greta smiled and patted Bruce on the forearm. “You are of service, Bruce. Even if only to tell me it’s up to me. Sometimes I just need to bounce things off someone else.”
“As I said, glad to be of service.”
Doris stopped at their table with Greta’s breakfast. “Anything else right now, Greta?”
“No thanks, Doris.” The owner nodded and walked away. “Okay, so let’s say I decide to continue spending time on this case. What’s your sage recommendation?”
“Patience. There are only three possible outcomes. One is the case solves itself. The killer confesses, is turned in by an accomplice, evidence appears that connects the dots, or whatever. Two is that by carefully going over the case and following up every possible lead, you finally ferret out the details. Three is you never solve it. Options one and three happen no matter how much work you put into it. Option two only happens if you put in the time, and it’s up to you to determine if you have the time.”
The four members of the investigation team met the next day, Friday. It had been two weeks since their last meeting. With no progress to share, they had no reason to meet more often. All four wore glum expressions.
A resigned Connors started off. “It appears to me like we’re at a dead end. Both my boss and Adam’s are pressing us to return to other duties. Unless we can tell them something positive, I’m afraid we’ll have to put it on the back-burner.”
“But this is a murder,” Greta complained. “Do any of us have duties more important than finding the killer?”
“Of course not,” said Tomasek, annoyed. “But there are other cases. They may not sound as exciting, but they still have to be handled.”
She bridled at his implication: that she was interested only because of the excitement of a murder investigation.
