A Good Killing (7 page)

“And you say you’re a
prosecutor
?”

“Yes, but not for this case. I’m the defense attorney on this case.”

“But there is no case yet.” The secretary’s skepticism was clear. Another phone was ringing in the background. “I’ll run this past a lawyer. If you don’t hear back from anyone, call again next week.”

Anna hung up, knowing she wouldn’t get much help from them. No one in Detroit had much to spare. The public defenders’ resources were stretched thin just taking care of their own cases.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. She looked down. It was Jack. She wanted to talk to him. She would probably start crying if she did. She hesitated, then sent the call to voice mail.

She followed the scent of coffee to the kitchen. Cooper stood at the stove making scrambled eggs, while coffee brewed in a French press. He wore green running shorts and a white undershirt, which hugged his torso in a way the concert T-shirt yesterday hadn’t. His shoulders were broad, with muscles forged from labor rather than a gym. With his back to her, Anna allowed her gaze to travel down to his leg. It ended just under the knee and was tucked into a rubber sleeve inserted into a silver-and-black prosthesis. The artificial leg looked high-tech, like it could be the underskeleton of the Terminator. The prosthetic foot was encased in a running shoe. Cooper’s other leg was long and muscular, and his other foot was bare. Standing in his kitchen, he looked both very strong and very vulnerable. Anna understood his mother’s instinct to protect and coddle him. She understood his need to refuse coddling.

“Morning,” she said.

“Hey.” He looked over and smiled. “How’d you sleep?”

“Meh. I have a hard time sleeping when I’m worried. But your bed is comfy, so thanks for the few hours of shut-eye that I got. Sorry you had to sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t apologize—you did me a favor. It’s more comfortable than my bed. I might switch to the couch permanently.”

She looked at sofa, which sagged in the middle like an old sway
back horse. She smiled at him. “That’s chivalry. Can I steal some of your coffee while you’re at it?”

“’Course. Milk? Sugar?”

“All of the above.”

He pulled out the fixings, then pressed down the plunger on the press. She fixed herself a cup. The first sip was so delicious it made her groan.

“This is great coffee,” she said.

“Roasted right here in Detroit,” Cooper said. “Great Lakes Coffee Roasting Company, on Woodward Avenue. You should check it out sometime; it’s a great space. Nice food and wine, too. Small batch, locally sourced. They buy me out of kale every season.”

“I didn’t know Detroit had such a good local food scene.” Anna took another sip. “But what I really need is a local criminal lawyer for Jody. Do you happen to know a good one?”

“Seriously? Didn’t you go to Harvard Law School? You’re a federal prosecutor. And you love Jody. Who could give her better legal advice?”

“I’ve never
defended
a case. It’s a different animal. I have no idea what I’m doing on the defense side.”

“You’re one of the smartest people I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine anyone who’d do better than you.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. But she needs someone who knows the lay of the land here.”

“I know the lay of the land. Plus I make a mean scrambled egg.”

He set a plate in front of her. Anna took a bite. “Wow. What’s the secret?”

“The eggs were laid this morning.”

She smiled. “We’d have to have a contract. You’d officially be my ‘investigator,’ then anything we talk about would be protected by attorney-client confidentiality.”

“Pay me a dollar to make it official. The rest you can work off in farm chores.”

“Let’s try it today, see how it goes.” They shook hands with mock formality.

After breakfast, Anna called her boss, Carla Martinez, the chief of the Sex Crimes unit at the U.S. Attorney’s Office. She asked to take a weeklong vacation. “Sure,” Carla said. “You’ve been working too hard, with the MS-13 trial and everything else. You deserve a break. Go somewhere beautiful.”

Anna looked out Cooper’s back window, at the shattered warehouse behind rows of cherry trees. She wasn’t sure this qualified.

When she went upstairs to shower, Jody was still sleeping. Anna tried to be quiet, but as she shuffled around, Jody sat up, sleepy and disheveled. “Hey, Annie.”

“Hey, Jo. Welcome to the world. How’s your wrist feeling?”

Jody looked at her bandaged arm. “Okay. But I don’t think I can work today.” Her job on the GM assembly line involved physical labor and repetitive motions.

“Call in a sick day?”

“Yeah. Want to help me buy a new phone?” Jody asked. “I need to go back to my house and check out the mess the police made. I have a plumber coming at four.”

“Actually, first I want to go out and investigate,” Anna said. “Talk to witnesses and stuff. The first few days are important.”

“Ugh. Fine. I’ll get dressed and come with.”

“No. You need to keep a low profile, talk to as few people as possible. The fewer statements you make in the next few days, the better.”

“Annie, it’s not a good idea for you to be going around Holly Grove all by yourself.”

Anna was touched by Jody’s worry. If anyone were at risk here, it was Jody.

“Cooper’s coming in case I need a gunslinger. Let’s do this: You go buy your phone. I’ll do my lawyer stuff. We’ll meet at your house at four. Maybe you can call Kathy for company?”

“Nah. She’s always working double shifts, then going to visit her mom at the nursing home. What can I do to help you?”

“Go online and print out your cell-phone log. All your outgoing and incoming calls over the last six months. Do the same for
your credit card bills. Any prosecutor worth her salt will get those eventually. I’d like to see your text messages, but those died when your phone fell in the toilet. Print out any e-mails between you and the coach. Don’t delete anything. That’ll give me a head start on what the prosecutor might subpoena. And read all the local papers, front to back. Cut out any story about the coach’s death. I want to read them tonight.”

Jody nodded, seeming glad to have something to do.

“Right now, draw me a map of the houses around yours, with the names of all your neighbors,” Anna said. “I’ll do some door knocking. You don’t by chance have any video cameras mounted outside your house? Anything that would show people coming and going?”

“What do I look like, a Chuck E. Cheese?”

“You were always good at skeeball. How about your neighbors?”

“It’s not that kind of neighborhood.”

12

A
nna knew what Jody meant. As Cooper drove his motorcycle into Jody’s subdivision, she held tight to his waist and looked at the neat rows of houses. Homes were ranchers on quarter-acre plots. Tidy landscaping spoke of pride of ownership without frills. This was not one of the gated communities of wealthy Bloomfield Hills, which installed video cameras for the same reason they had swimming pools: so they could advertise an amenity that was rarely used. Nor was it inner-city Detroit, where no shop would be wise to open without a video camera. These were blue-collar workers who mowed their own lawns on Saturdays and knew one another’s names. This was the middle of the middle class, at least what was left of it. Over the last few decades, as one auto plant shut down after another, crops of foreclosure signs sprouted on these green lawns.

Cooper parked at the curb across the street from Jody’s house. Anna took off her helmet and leather jacket and stowed them on the bike. She glanced at the map Jody had drawn and went up to the house next door. A pretty, tired-looking young mother opened the door.

“Oh, hi! Jody’s sister! Anna.”

“Hey, Tammy,” Anna said. “Nice t’see ya.”

She found her midwestern accent coming out. She introduced Cooper to Tammy.

“Come on in,” Tammy said, giving him an appreciative once-over.

Inside, a toddler played in the living room. He waved a sticky hand at her. “Hi, Jo Jo!”

Tammy laughed. “Billy thinks you’re Jody. You do look alike. He loves her. She’s great with him.”

Tammy lifted the child and handed him to Anna, who had no idea how to hold him. Billy didn’t seem to mind as she shifted him about, figuring out how to perch him on her hip. The toddler patted her cheeks with sticky hands.

Tammy said, “I’m dying to hear what’s going on at Jody’s house.”

“Funny, I was hoping you could help me figure it out.”

“Absolutely. Want a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

“Jo Jo! Jo Jo!” Billy yelled.

They went into the little kitchen. Cooper held out the chair so Anna could sit at the table. She set the little boy on her lap while Tammy poured coffee.

“Thanks.” Anna said. “So were you home two nights ago?”

“Yep.”

Billy stuck a tiny finger into Anna’s ear. She let out a ticklish yelp, which made the boy giggle. Cooper smiled too and took Billy from her arms. He put the little boy on his shoulders and galloped around the house like a horse. The boy held on to Cooper’s black hair and squealed with delight.

“Did you notice any activity around Jody’s house that night?”

“I did see her leave around eight. She was dressed to kill.” Tammy clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d obviously heard the rumors. “I didn’t mean that. She just looked—nice. Hair all curled into pretty waves, and high heels. Ready for a night on the town.”

Anna blinked. That didn’t sound like her sister. “Did you notice when she came home?”

“I’m early to bed and early to rise these days. I’m sure I was in bed long before she got home.” A note of longing tinged Tammy’s voice. “But I did notice something strange.”

“What was it?”

“Look, I feel weird about this. I don’t want to get anyone in trouble. I love Jody. But I don’t want to lie. I heard Jody yelling in the middle of the night.”

Anna’s stomach clenched.

“What was she yelling?”

“I couldn’t tell. I’m not even sure it was her. Maybe it wasn’t! But it sounded like it was coming from her house.” She looked down. “It sounded like her.”

“Definitely a woman?”

“Yeah.”

“Was there a man’s voice too?”

“I didn’t hear one. But I was groggy. Billy had a cold and he was fussy. The yelling next door only went on for a few minutes, and I heard it in between my own cranky kid.”

“What did it sound like? Someone in distress? Calling for help?”

Tammy sighed and looked uncomfortable. “It sounded like a fight.”

“What time was it?”

“I’m not sure. Probably somewhere between two and four in the morning. That’s when Billy gets up for his feeding.”

“Did you happen to see a blue classic Corvette in the neighborhood at any point?”

“Coach Fowler’s car? Nope.”

Anna asked a few more questions, then thanked Tammy and wrapped up. Outside the house, Anna turned to Cooper. “Shit.”

“Yeah. But you know there’s a reasonable explanation.”

Anna nodded. But any theory that would explain everything was becoming less reasonable.

Cooper pulled a green bandanna from his pocket. “Billy got some sweet potato on you.” He wiped Anna’s cheek. His touch was gentle and surprisingly comforting.

They knocked on the next door, which opened with another warm greeting and invitation for coffee. This was a different experience than a knock-and-talk in D.C., where more doors were slammed in her face than opened. Here, she wasn’t an authority figure—she was just the sister of a neighbor. Folks invited her in, offered her danishes, wanted to chat. The challenge wasn’t getting in, but getting out.

By one o’clock, they had covered all of Jody’s neighbors. Many gushed about how much they loved Jody. An older couple described how she shoveled their driveway whenever it snowed. A single mom said that Jody bought ten boxes of Girl Scout cookies from her daughter every year, then gave them away to coworkers in her lunchroom. Many people asked how they could help. No one had seen the coach coming or going. No one besides Tammy had seen or heard anything strange two nights earlier.

Their next stop was the bar. Screecher’s was Holly Grove’s favorite watering hole. On the outside, it was unremarkable, just a big section of a strip mall. Inside, it was a shrine to what the town was most proud of: its football team. The walls were covered with pennants, signed jerseys, and pictures of the teams over the years. Coach Fowler smiled from many of the pictures. He was a handsome man: golden haired, athletic, notably good looking even in middle age.

At two in the afternoon, the place was almost empty. A few men sat drinking at the dark wood bar. In the dining room, a couple ate cheese fries and watched a Tigers game on the big screen. Most of the tables were empty.

Behind the counter, a bartender ran a cloth over the polished surface. Anna immediately pegged him as Jody’s type. He was tall and ripped. Tattoos covered his arms. His nose had been broken, a few times. He looked like a great party that ended with a night in prison.

“Hey, Grady,” Cooper said.

“Hey, Coop.” The bartender’s eyes went to Anna with interest.

“I’m Anna Curtis.” She reached over the bar. “Jody’s sister.”

“I coulda guessed that.” He wiped his hand on a clean cloth and shook hers. “Grady Figler. Where’s your sister today?”

“Just hanging out.”

“Tell her I said ‘hey.’”

“I will.”

Grady went back to wiping out glasses. “What can I get you?”

“A Coke, please.” He filled up a glass and handed it to her, pop
ping a maraschino cherry on top. She set a five on the bar. “Thanks. Actually, I was hoping to ask you some questions. About two nights ago.”

“Police beat you to it.”

Cooper glanced at the men nursing their drinks and said, “Can we have a minute with you in private?”

Grady turned to a waitress in the dining room. “Lakisha! Can you cover the bar?”

“Again?” The waitress rolled her eyes but set down a tray and came into the bar area. Grady led them to a back table.

“How do you know my sister?” Anna asked.

“I’ve seen her around. She’s hard to miss.”