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“The boss is asking for you,” he said.
“I’ll be right up.”
CHAPTER 6
BRADY STOOD UP and opened his office door for me.
“Sit, Lindsay. You must be… How are you doing?”
I didn’t know. I said, “Too soon to tell, but I’m glad you were there this morning.”
He said, “If you need anything… You want some time off?”
“No, thanks. I have to work this case.”
He shook his head vigorously. No.
“You’re too close to this one. You can’t be neutral about your father’s murder, Lindsay. I don’t have to tell you that.”
I dug in. “I’m already working it.”
“Wait a minute. That’s my call, right? Make sense.”
The Cavanaugh connection had unlocked recollections I had about an old unsolved case with a similar MO. The pieces were still crystallizing in my head, but I stood up and opened the door, calling Cappy McNeil in to join us. He’d been lead on that unsolved case.
When Cappy made his way over, I told them about the day I’d heard my father’s name. “I was walking out of MacBain’s about two months ago and I heard someone say the name ‘Marty Boxer.’ I looked around and within the crowd at the bar, I swear I saw Goose Cavanaugh.”
“Who?” asked Brady.
“Bruce Cavanaugh,” said Cappy. “Also goes by Goose. He’s a PI, but a shady one.”
“Tell Brady about the Joanna Lake case,” I told Cappy.
Cappy didn’t need more encouragement. “Back in the day, Cavanaugh and his wife were going through a messy divorce, one Goose in no way wanted. He even threatened to kill his wife’s attorney, Joanna Lake, if she didn’t drop the case. Lake said Goose appeared out of nowhere one night as she was leaving work and told her, ‘Drop Jodi Cavanaugh’s case if you want to see forty.’ Joanna Lake wasn’t the type to back off. She filed the papers anyway.
“Not too much later, Lake leaves her office for the day. Next thing we know, she’s dead. Shot in the back of the head on Harriet Street. She was thirty-nine when she was shot. Nobody saw the shooter. No witnesses. No surveillance footage.”
Brady’s phone rang. He picked up and said, “I’ll get back to you in a few.” To Cappy, he said, “Go on.”
Cappy continued, “So, Joanna Lake’s death happened two blocks from here. Warren Jacobi and I were partners on it, and we worked the case hard. Our only real suspect was Cavanaugh. All we had were his threats against Lake, but we couldn’t place him at the scene. He had an alibi. The bullet didn’t match his gun. The DA said we couldn’t indict let alone convict. So the case went cold.”
Brady moved some objects on his desk. He’d already made up his mind, and I wasn’t going to accept “No.”
“Cold, but not dead,” I said. “My father’s murder reopens the Lake case.”
“Because?”
“The connection between Cavanaugh, Lake, and Marty Boxer. Both Marty and Lake were killed a block apart, same means and manner of death. I have to check it out.”
Brady was scrutinizing me and Cappy, who nodded. No doubt asking himself if I was even stable enough to have this conversation. He stopped staring at me and looked through his window at traffic on Interstate 80.
He said, “That’s all you’ve got?”
I pushed on. “Brady, I’ve got to do this. Maybe I’ll solve both cases.”
Brady’s expression had changed from doubt to sympathy.
“I’ll give you two weeks,” he said, “to make me a believer. Don’t make me regret this, Lindsay. You, Cappy, Conklin, and Alvarez work Marty Boxer’s murder. Don’t get hurt.”
