Moment of Truth (26 page)

“Thanks.” Lou picked up the pink pamphlet, which read
SERVICES WE PROVIDE
. It would be useful and it was less embarrassing than
YOUR BREASTS
. “I’ll study up.”

“Feel free to take a seat. You can wait for your daughter, and when she gets here I can make an appointment for her.”

“Sure, okay, I knew that. I’ll just wait.” Lou nodded and looked around the lavender sea for a seat. The last time he felt this funny was when he went to Rosato’s law firm for the first time and all he saw everywhere was women. Now he was used to it; it had only taken him a year. He saw a chair near the reception desk and sat down, straining to overhear what Paige was saying to the receptionist. It sounded to Lou like, “lsisinwn sjduudun?” He’d had the same problem in the Four Seasons and was thinking it might be time to break down and get a hearing aid.

Paige finished her conversation with the receptionist and sat down in a chair a few away from his, against the same wall. If she recognized Lou from the Four Seasons, it didn’t show. She opened her pea coat, crossed her legs in her black skirt, and picked up a
Seventeen
magazine. She began to read it, baseball cap bent over the glossy pages, as if she were memorizing it.

Lou’s experience on the job told him to take it slow. The girl was here for a very personal reason and part of him felt bad prying into her life. Far as he knew, the girl was the daughter of a murder victim and had been through hell in the past few days. So what if she messed around with her boyfriend in the coatroom? It wasn’t his business, and if her emotions were all confused, he could understand that. But why was she here?

He considered it. If she needed birth control pills or had some plumbing problem, she probably had a real gynecologist. One of those classy ones around Pennsylvania Hospital, closer to where Mary said she lived. No reason for a rich girl to come to Planned Parenthood in a half-assed disguise, unless it offered something she couldn’t get anywhere else.

Lou had a guess, but he wasn’t certain. He opened the pamphlet and read: “
We offer reproductive health care for women and teens. Every FDA-approved birth control method, gynecological exams, walk-in pregnancy testing, testing for sexually transmitted disease, and first trimester abortion.
” The girl could get all of the services at a regular doc, without a baseball cap, except one.

Poor kid. She must be in trouble, big-time. Lou glanced over at her to see if she looked pregnant, but he couldn’t tell. She looked skinny and gorgeous; maybe she wasn’t showing yet. He had two sons, both grown and moved away, and didn’t remember much about pregnancy except that anchovy pizza was a definite no. It was a different time then. He wasn’t there when his kids were born; the nurse brought them out like UPS.

Lou had to confirm his theory. He got up, crossed the room, and picked up another pamphlet from the counter. It was white, entitled,
WHAT TO EXPECT IF YOU CHOOSE ABORTION.
The receptionist was on the phone, and on the way back he smiled at Paige, letting her see the pamphlet. He eased into the chair with an audible groan and opened the bifold. “This is amazing, what they do here,” he said, to no daughter in particular.

Paige didn’t reply, but continued with her magazine.

“It looks like they really know their stuff.” He turned to Paige. “You think they do?”

“I don’t know.” She looked noncommittal under the
GUESS.

“I mean, I’m kinda worried. My daughter, she’s thinking she might have to have an abortion.”

“Oh,” Paige said, and her face flushed. Lou was struck by the fairness of her skin.

“I don’t mean to get personal, it’s just she’s my only girl. She has lots of questions. She can’t decide, and I don’t want her to … to … well, it’s not like this is a hospital, you know.” He returned quickly to the pamphlet. “Well, sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to you.”

Paige returned to her magazine with a quick swivel of her long neck.

Lou pretended to read the pamphlet and let the silence fall. If she had something to say, she’d come to him. He had seen it over and over when he questioned younger witnesses, on the job. Young girls, deep inside, just wanted to please. Sometimes silence proved the best weapon. So he didn’t say anything.

Neither did Paige, who read her magazine.

Lou rustled his pamphlet.

Paige studied her magazine.

Lou worried that silence might not be the best weapon.

“She needs a counselor,” Paige said, finally looking over, and Lou nodded.

“A counselor? Not a doctor?”

“No, not doctors. Counselors don’t do exams or anything.” Paige’s expression had softened and she suddenly looked to Lou like an ordinary teenager, instead of a model. “They’ll answer all your daughter’s questions. They’ll help her decide what to do. They’ll just talk to her.”

Lou waited, taking it slow. “They just talk to her?”

“Yeah.” Paige nodded, the cap brim bopping up and down. “As many times as she wants, and they’re really nice.”

“They’re nice?”

“
Really
nice.” Paige broke into a smile. It seemed to Lou as if she wanted to talk to him, but part of her held back.

“So you think they’ll help her decide? I mean, she’s kinda confused.”

“Oh, sure, that’s their job. I mean, they don’t push you one way or the other. They just listen and help you decide.” Paige smiled again, with her eyes, too, this time, and Lou felt how young she was, how vulnerable. She knew too much about this process not to be in the same position herself.

There was a loud intercom beep at the receptionist’s phone, and both Lou and Paige looked up at the sound. The receptionist put her phone call on hold, stood up, and picked up a manila folder from the desk. “Ms. Stone,” she said to Paige. “You can go in now. I’ll buzz you in.”

Ms. Stone. Lou wasn’t surprised at the use of the alias. This girl played it so close to the vest he wondered if anybody else knew she was in trouble. He watched as she squared her shoulders in her man’s pea coat and followed the receptionist out of the waiting room. She was so in control for her age it reminded him of the young gangbangers he met on the street. Kids, with no mother and no father to speak of, who raised themselves. They got older but they never really grew up, and they stayed hollow at the core. And this girl, who musta had every advantage, didn’t seem any better off.

Lou didn’t get up from his chair, even though it was his chance to slip out of the place. He felt tired suddenly. He didn’t know when kids had changed, but they had, in his lifetime. They got to be empty inside; they didn’t care about anything. They listened to one-hit wonders, watched movies that weren’t funny, and didn’t read enough books. They didn’t play ball in the street; they collected guns and shot each other. Lou didn’t understand how it had happened, but it had, and it happened to Paige Newlin, too. There was something missing at her heart, and Lou worried that there was nothing in the world that could set it right.

It took Lou a few minutes before he could get up from the chair, but get up he did.

Kovich studied the criminalistics report, resting it against the steering wheel of the car, which idled at the curb. Temple students going to class flowed in front of the car but Kovich didn’t notice. “The earring back is from a man?”

“That’s what it says.” Brinkley leaned over and pointed on the report with a cold finger. The heat still hadn’t warmed up in the beat-up Chrysler and the tall buildings on Broad Street blocked the sun. “Contained sloughed-off skin cells from a male.”

“Okay, so?” Kovich looked over, and Brinkley edged back into his seat.

“I don’t know. Let me think. It’s a surprise.”

“Only because you figured it was the daughter’s, which it ain’t.”

Brinkley collected his thoughts. “Take it step by step. We find an earring back next to the body, which suggests it came off after a struggle with the doer.”

“The location suggests a
possibility
it came off during the struggle with the doer. It coulda come off anytime at all. Fallen off a rug cleaner who wears an earring. A gay decorator who wears an earring. Every guy in Philly wears an earring nowadays, maybe two. My brother wears one, for fuck’s sake. Coulda been anybody, anytime.”

“Okay, but it’s possible that it came off in the death struggle.”

“It’s possible.”

“Good. At least it’s possible.” Brinkley looked out the windshield of the car at the Temple students. Boys and girls flooded into the buildings in parkas, lugging backpacks like tanks. A couple of the boys had their arms around the girls, but the backpacks got in the way. Brinkley watched them idly. “I thought it could have been the daughter’s because I’m working on the theory that she’s the doer, and the father is taking the fall, right?”

“Also you are dumber than you look, in contrast to me. But yes. Right.”

Brinkley was thinking too hard to ask Kovich what he was talking about. “If the location suggests the earring back came off during a struggle with the killer, then the killer was a male. So if you combine my theory with this physical evidence, it suggests that a man was at the scene with the daughter.”

Kovich nodded. “Unless Newlin wears an earring, and he don’t.”

“Also, remember that there was dirt on the coffee table, put there by someone’s shoe, and it had to be someone who put it there Monday after the maid cleaned. It’s consistent with a male, since lots of women don’t put their feet up on coffee tables.”

“Mostly but okay. So what we got?”

“We got a man at the scene, brought there by the girl. Because I don’t believe Newlin is the doer and there’s no male in the picture he would protect, except a man he didn’t know was there. A male his daughter brought in.” Brinkley’s heart quickened and he kept staring out the window. Two of the Temple students kissed. Young love, he could barely remember it. And then suddenly he could. “The daughter has a boyfriend.”

“How do you know?”

“You saw her. She’s a knockout. She’s gotta have a boyfriend.” Brinkley gestured out the window to the kids eating face. “Girl like that, she’s gotta have a ton of boyfriends.”

Kovich grew quiet, but Brinkley didn’t notice.

“So let’s say she goes over to dinner with the boyfriend and they kill the mother together. Or the daughter does it and the boyfriend helps, one way or the other. We got the wrong guy, Stan. We have to talk to the daughter again and find out if she has a boyfriend.”

“No.”

“What?”

“We’re not bothering that kid again.” Kovich shoved the report at him, and Brinkley knew he was in trouble.

“Why not?”

“Because she’s a kid, Mick.”

“So what? We question lots of kids. This kid’s not from the projects, so we don’t question her?”

“Don’t go there, Mick. You know me too well for that.” Kovich raised his voice a notch. “The girl lost her mother and now her father. You wanna find out if she has a boyfriend, find another way.”

Brinkley thought about it. “Okay, let’s go. Turn around.”

Kovich leaned over and released the emergency brake. “Fine,” he said, and Brinkley heard the winter wind in Kovich’s voice.

It was never fine when Kovich said it was fine.

* * *

Brinkley scanned the lobby of Colonial Towers. Black marble, cushy tan chairs, and a classy security desk with a young white kid sitting behind it. His hat had slid back on his forehead and his neck sprouted like a stem out of his collar. Brinkley introduced himself and Kovich to the kid, who sat up straight when he saw the badges. “Homicide detectives? Sure, sure. How can I help you?”

“I wanna ask you a few questions about one of your tenants here. Paige Newlin.” The guard’s face changed immediately from fear to familiarity.

“You know who I mean.”

“Sure, the model.” The guard frowned. “I read her dad killed her mom. That’s heinous.”

Brinkley didn’t comment. “We’re investigating that murder, and I need background information about her comings and goings.”

“She comes and goes, nothing regular, for her job. But you notice her, you know.” The guard smiled shyly. “She’s totally hot.”

“You ever see her with guys? You know, like boyfriends.”

“Uhm, yes. She sees some guy, a prep, since she moved here.”

Bingo. “She’s dating him?”

“Looks that way.”

“He stay over?”