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Chapter 46
About forty minuteslater, I found myself on a park bench, looking at my friend Roberta Herring. I liked the sun on my face.
We both ate gyros bought from a street vendor. Roberta said, “This guy has the best gyro I’ve eaten in DC. Still not as good as the guy near Claremont Park in the Bronx.”
I agreed the food was good, though it had taken a stack of napkins to stem the flow of tzatziki sauce.
Roberta looked at me and said, “So your whole interview with the justice’s wife was a bust?”
“Not a complete bust. I didn’t have to eat that shitty food. But she shut me down pretty quick.”
Somehow Roberta had kept her blue business suit spot-free while munching on her gyro. All I could do was look at her and think how far she’d come from working a foot patrol in the Bronx.
Our bench was next to a running trail. I felt a pang of guilt every time a runner darted past us. Each giant bite of the gyro seemed to calm me down.
I said, “Harry Grissom told me to come home.”
“Will you listen?”
I cocked my head at her and said, “What do you think?”
Roberta started to speak in a stream of consciousness. She said, “I wonder if there are politics involved. Are agencies guarding their turf? Even though the kid from the FBI is working with you, is he telling the truth? Is that why the DC cops talked to you? I wonder if you’re close to something.”
I said, “I don’t feel like I’ve gotten far.”
“Compared to what? You’re used to working mostly drive-by shootings. You can solve those with a few interviews. This one might take some time. There’re just too many factors. Hell, for all we know, Emily Parker’s murder could be random.”
I liked this sort of spitballing. It helped me form my own ideas. But when Roberta suggested Emily’s murder might be random, I said, “What about Michelle Luna’s death? They were in the same social circles. They died by similar methods.”
Roberta said, “What angle are you looking at? You think it could be a lover? If you think someone’s going to let you talk directly to the justice, you’re crazy.”
“I don’t know why this investigation feels so different to me.”
Roberta said, “I know why. I can’t believe you don’t see it. You’re used to working cases in New York. No matter how bad a serial case can be or how bloody a domestic murder is, you still go home to the kids and Mary Catherine every night. I think you’re overwhelmed. You don’t get to take a break. All you hear is information about Emily’s murder all day and all night.”
I just stared at my friend. “Oh, my God, I think you’re right.”
“You, of all people, need your family. You’re a classic ‘family man.’ Don’t try to run from it. Embrace it.”
I swallowed the last of my gyro. “Thanks,” I said. “You always seem to know what’s bothering me.”
