The Chicago Way (16 page)
“You can too, Kelly. Not a sin, you know. By the way, you look hot in a tux.”
“Thanks,” I said. “You ever work with this group?”
“Nicole Andrews and you are buddies, right?”
“Yeah.”
“She didn’t tell you about my project?”
We started to walk, working our way through the room.
“What project?”
“I interview rape victims for the association. Document their stories. Just me, the subject, and a camera.”
“Who gets to see the interviews?”
“Only the subject and whoever else she authorizes. Sometimes it’s just a form of catharsis. They want to get the story out there. Let someone hear it out loud.”
“And sometimes?”
“Sometimes they want other women to watch. To see and hear what happened to them. Seems like it’s a good lesson.”
“Really. How many subjects have you taped?”
“Over three hundred women. Seven hundred hours of interviews.”
“Interesting?”
“You might say.”
“How so?”
Diane stopped and considered me for a moment.
“You really want to know?”
“I asked.”
She moved to a spot along a portable bar, waited for a moment until the crowd cleared, and then continued.
“Among other things, I have on tape at least three women describing in detail how they killed the man that raped them. In two of the cases, the man was her husband.”
“Seriously?”
“Absolutely. One made it look like a fall down the stairs. The other went down as a home invasion.”
I whistled.
“The authorities know about your project?”
“Each time the DA’s office stepped in and reviewed the footage. Justifiable homicide. No charges filed.”
“Who handled it?”
Diane pointed across the room. Toward a short, bald lawyer, holding an unlit cigar and looking very uncomfortable.
“Speak of the devil,” Diane said. “I have to go powder something. Why don’t you buy the assistant district attorney a drink?”
Bennett Davis sidled over, took Diane’s hand, and reached up to kiss her on the cheek.
“Miss Lindsay. My ten o’clock fix, two hours early.”
Diane looked even better when she was being admired by another man. And graciously so.
“Thank you, Mr. Prosecutor. If you could take care of my date here for a moment, I have to find the ladies’.”
Diane moved off. Bennett took her spot and motioned for a bartender.
“Her date, Kelly? You didn’t tell me about that. Can I get a scotch on the rocks? Thanks.”
Bennett got his drink, swirled the ice around with his fingers, and took a sip.
“No smoke?” I said.
“Not allowed. Fucking cretins. But hey, don’t change the subject. Diane Lindsay. Come on.”
“Nice lady,” I said.
“Yeah, nice.”
“Listen, Bennett. I don’t know if you had anything to do with O’Leary backing off. Nor am I going to ask.”
I held up my drink.
“But if thanks are in order, consider it done.”
“Forget about it,” Bennett said. “They had nothing, and I told them as much. Anyway, it all blew over.”
“Just like you said.”
“Exactly. You get a new girlfriend, and everyone is happy.”
“Everyone but John Gibbons.”
“Yeah, everyone but John.”
“Where is the investigation at?”
“Don’t know,” Bennett said. “The police are working it, but right now we’re hands off.”
I thought about Goshen and his visitors from the DA’s office. Then I thought about the street file and my talk with Vinnie DeLuca.
“You sure about that, Bennett? No one is working this?”
A wrinkle flew into the lawyer’s brow, and he put his glass back on the bar.
“What are you hearing?”
“Nothing,” I said.
Bennett leaned closer and I wondered if he wasn’t a bit drunk.
“Then why are you asking?”
“Easy. Retired Irish cop murdered at Navy Pier. Just seems like someone from the DA’s office might get involved.”
Bennett decompressed a bit.
“Sorry, Michael. Just a little keyed up.”
“I can see that,” I said.
“Internal stuff. Office politics, you know.”
I didn’t know and didn’t ask. Bennett Davis told me anyway.
“O’Leary loves to keep us at each other’s throat. His management style. Keeps anyone from getting too big, going after the top job.”
“Someone like you, maybe?”
“Maybe. No one ever knows who is running what in the office. So, of course, everyone tries to get an angle, cook up the next big case. A lot of bullshit.”
Bennett leaned his mouth down to his glass and took another hit on his drink. His eyes moved around the room and back to mine. The prosecutor smiled, pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket, and wiped his face.
“I don’t do well at these things,” he said. “Haven’t had hair since high school and didn’t look good then.”
“You make your living in front of a jury, Bennett.”
“Completely different animal. I’m in control there.”
A couple cruised by. Bennett Davis smiled a hello and continued talking out of the side of his mouth.
“Out here, I’m working without a script.”
“One more business thing, Bennett. Then we put it away.”
“Sure.”
“I ran across an old rape case you worked. Victim’s name was Elaine Remington. Ring a bell?”
“Remington, huh? Can’t say that it does. How old is it?”
“Nine years,” I said.
Bennett shook his head.
“Goddamn, Michael. Nine years ago. Did we go to trial?”
“No.”
“Pled out, huh? Sorry, pal.”
“Actually, it wasn’t a plea, either. More like the suspect just disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yeah. Forget about it. Just saw your name on a piece of paperwork and thought you might remember.”
“Not a problem. Tell you what, I’ll look it up on Monday. See if I have anything in the files.”
Beyond Bennett, I could see Nicole and caught her eye. She took Rodriguez by the hand and started over.
“Nicole’s heading over,” I said.
Bennett craned his neck around for a look.
“Where?”
“Right behind you. Walking across the room.”
The prosecutor’s head snapped forward.
“Shit. She with someone?”
“Bennett.”
“Is she with someone?”
“Yes.”
“I gotta go.”
Bennett Davis finished his drink, slid away from the bar and into the shadows. I’d say one thing. For a portly fellow, the assistant DA could really slither when he had to.
CHAPTER 32W hy the rush?”
Diane had returned from wherever. Just in time to see the back of Bennett Davis’ bald spot.
“Long story,” I said. “By the way, are we a couple tonight?”
“What do you think? Say hi to Nicole.”
A group of chattering men drifted away. Nicole moved into the void and drew close.
“I’m so glad you came,” she whispered. Then she hugged Diane, pulled back, and looked at both of us in that “I approve of this coupling” sort of way. Rodriguez loitered to Nicole’s left: smooth, chilled, and waiting to be opened.
“Vince,” I said and offered a hand.
“Nice to see you again, Kelly.”
The handshake was dry, the look sincere. I wanted to hate the guy. He was making it difficult. Nicole introduced the detective to Diane.
“I know this face,” Rodriguez said. “Nice to finally meet you, Ms. Lindsay.”
“Feeling’s mutual, Detective Rodriguez. I certainly have heard the stories.”
Everyone laughed at that except me. I wondered what the stories were about Rodriguez, and why I didn’t know anything about them. The conversation moved right on past.
“Did you meet Judge Swenson?” Nicole said.
“I saw her on the way in,” I said. “Rather, she picked me out of a crowd. Thanks a lot.”
Nicole laughed.
“You’re not hard to describe, Michael. When we were growing up, his nickname in the neighborhood was Irish. Big ears, crooked smile.”
“Isn’t that cute,” Diane chimed in. “Do tell us more.”
Nicole was about to oblige when Rachel Swenson mercifully moved to the podium and adjusted the mic. The crowd grew quiet, and the judge began to speak.
“There are more than one hundred million women in the United States. Almost twenty percent of them, roughly eighteen million, have been raped. The majority of those, more than once.
“You have a daughter getting ready for college. Consider this. One out of every four students can expect to be attacked by the time she graduates. Of that number, eighty percent will know their attacker.
“Overall, this country sees more than eight hundred thousand sexual assaults each year. That’s thirteen times higher than Great Britain. Twenty times higher than Japan.
“During the two hours we gather here tonight, more than one hundred and fifty women will be assaulted. During the minute and a half I’ve been speaking, two women, somewhere in this country, have been violated.
“Do we have a problem, ladies and gentlemen? I think so.”
Rachel stepped back from the podium and the crowd simply breathed. No applause, no chatter. Just a lot of quiet. I wasn’t sure what the tuxedoes expected, but this wasn’t your typical Gold Coast fund-raiser. The judge moved back to the mic.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming. My name is Rachel Swenson. I am the chairperson for the Rape Volunteer Association and your host for the night.”
CHAPTER 33W hat do you think?”
Rachel Swenson was wrapping up her talk when Diane moved close, a cup of ice in hand.
“I think it’s powerful.”
“You should see some of the interviews I’ve got.”
“I’d like that.”
Diane jiggled some ice into her mouth and crunched down.
“I believe you, Michael. I’m just not quite sure if you’d approve.”
“Of your interviews?”
“Of the content. The confessions. Woman sits in front of my camera and explains how she gutted her husband like a fish. Man raped her every night for a lifetime. That is, when he wasn’t raping her children. Self-defense? Revenge? Most of these women would tell you it doesn’t really matter. As long as the guy is dead.”
“You’re a journalist, Diane. How does it make you feel?”
“At first it bothered me.”
“Bennett appears to be giving you some cover.”
“That’s true. Even so, as I listen, as I get to know the women, I see their point.”
“You could pick up the knife yourself?”
“Didn’t say that. But I can see it. At least from where they sit.”
“Those tapes would make one hell of a story.”
“Maybe,” Diane said. “But that’s not going to happen.”
Then she leaned over and kissed me softly.
“Enough of that. It gives me a headache. This is nice tonight. I like it.”
“Like what?” I said.
“This. Being here. With you. Your friends. It feels good. Feels a little bit like home.”
She spoke the final words reluctantly, with a haunting sort of sadness; delicate, yet indelibly etched in the cast of her features. A sadness that trembled at the precipice of some deep well I could guess at but probably preferred not to. Diane slipped her hand in mine.
“I have to call the station. After that, let’s go.”
I nodded. She kissed me again, lightly on the forehead, then the cheek. I watched her melt into the crowd. There was something going on in this relationship. I just wished someone would clue me in as to what it might be.
“Hey.”
I turned. Nicole drew an arm through mine and we headed across the ballroom floor.
“What did you think of the night?” she said.
“What am I supposed to think?”
We found an empty spot, near a set of floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a river of headlights flowing north and south along Lake Shore Drive.
“I wanted you here,” Nicole said. “I wanted you to understand.”
“You thinking of telling your story, Nicole?”
She moved away from the window. I held out an arm to stop her, but she didn’t need it.
“Not to worry, Michael. This girl isn’t talking.”
“It’s all right, you know.”
“Is it?”
“Diane told me about her project.”
“The interviews?”
“Yeah.”
“She asked me a couple of times if I wanted to participate. Just like that. Didn’t ask if I’d been assaulted. Just seemed to know and moved right to it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really. She’s a sharp one, Michael. If I were you, I’d keep her.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Seriously, what exactly could be wrong with that woman? She’s smart as hell. Drop-dead gorgeous. Down-to-earth. Funny. Dedicated. Want me to keep going?”
“A little too intense, maybe?”
“The commitment thing, Michael. It’s really a problem.”
“It’s not a commitment thing, Nicole. I like her. Okay. Maybe I’ll like her a lot. Let’s just wait and see.”
“You wait too long, the world moves right on by.”
Nicole stepped close and drew both arms around my waist.
“I’m sorry, Michael. I’m being a pain, but I just love you. A lot. I know you hate to hear that, but I do and I always will.”
“I don’t hate to hear it, Nicole.”
“Okay, you like it.”
“Didn’t say that, either.”
“Damn, we have some great talks.”
She laughed. I laughed.
“I’m happy, Nicole. Not incredibly happy. Not yet. But that’s going to be there. I just want it to be real. To be right. Most of all, I guess I want to deserve it. You understand?”
“No.”
“But you trust me.”
“Unfathomably and irrationally so.”
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