When he returned, styrofoam cup clutched in his hand like a holy grail, Stacy Carter was waking up, eyes still glazed from whatever sedatives the doctors had injected her with. Kendall stuck his head into the hall and called for a nurse. He slammed his coffee as the nurse brushed past him to check on Stacy Carter.
"How are you feeling, dear?" The nurse looked much to hard-faced to be calling anyone 'dear'.
"I-I'm numb. Why am I here?" Stacy Carter's voice was shaky and high-pitched.
"You were brought in and had to be sedated because you were hysterical."
That was Kendall's cue. He dropped his cup in the trashcan and took a couple of slow steps forward, not wanting to scare Stacy Carter anymore than she seemed to be. "Ms. Carter?"
She looked away from the nurse and looked at Kendall. "Who are you?"
"I'm Detective Layton." He kept his voice steady and smooth. "I was called to your place of employment this morning. Do you remember flagging down a partrol car around 3:20 this morning?"
"I think so." Her brow furrowed, making her look younger somehow. Kendall was sure she wasn't much older than twenty.
"You flagged down a patrol car..." He trailed off, hoping she could finish off his thought.
"Esmerelda." Stacy Carter blanched, her hands started shaking. She looked away from Kendall and concentrated on the nurse. "Esmerelda."
~Fuck. She's gone.~ Kendall ignored the warning glare he was getting from the nurse. "Ms. Carter, I need to ask you a few questions when you're ready, but I need to step outside for just a minute, okay?" She nodded, still not looking at him. Kendall slid out the door. He found a payphone and called in, hoping the Lieutenant had made it back to the office.
"Twelfth Precient."
"This is Detective Layton. I need to speak to Lieutenant Caldwell."
"Just a moment."
Kendall drummed his fingers against the plastic side of the phone as he waited to be connected.
"Lieutenant Caldwell."
"It's Layton. Stacy Carter woke up, but she started to freak out again. They're probably going to sedate her again."
"Double-check if they are, then come back here if they do. We'll all compare notes."
"All right." Kendall hung up the phone and walked back down the hall. Stacy Carter was sleeping the sleep of the drugged, and the nurse was waiting at the door for him. "How long will she be out?"
"Six or seven hours." The nurse was glaring at him like he'd waltzed Esmerelda's body in and put it on display to send Stacy Carter off the deep-end.
Kendall pulled one of his cards out of his pocket and handed it to the nurse. "I want a call as soon as she wakes up. I have questions." The nurse gave him a disgusted look but took the card. Kendall tipped an imaginary hat at her. "Thank you." He turned to leave and glanced at his watch. It was coming up on five o'clock. Stacy Carter wouldn't wake up until eleven or twelve. Kendall wondered if he could get a nap before then.
*
If anyone had looked in Lieuteant Caldwell's office at quarter of six that morning, they could have mistaken the four people inside for drunks getting over a binge. The three men, Kendall, Patrick, and Nickolas, all had their ties undone, wore wrinkled pants, and had a good showing of stubble. Nickolas's stubble, being black, looked much worse than the faint blonde bristles Patrick and Kendall were sporting. Emilie, the lone woman, wasn't looking much better with her hair tangled around her face and her bare feet on the rug next to her shoes. They all clutched at their coffee cups desperately as they broke down what they knew.
"We have a dead, law-studying stripper." Nickolas watched the faint nods of agreement he got. "Our only witness is hysterical." More nods. "And we only have a vague idea about a murder weapon." Nodding. "Any early, easy to blame, suspects?"
"Stacy Carter's out. She's to short." Emilie sipped her coffee. "You have to be taller than someone to brain them."
"Are we sure about Zucker being innocent?" Patrick looked over at Kendall. "You said he didn't seem broken up."
"He didn't, but he wasn't off-balance, either."
"You didn't have a warning flag for that?"
Kendall raised his eyebrows at Emilie. "A flag for what?"
"You're asking about a dead employee, and he seemed calm and collectred. This doesn't make you wonder?"
Somewhere off in the distance, Nickolas and Patrick could hear the faint but distinctive sound of horns locking.
"This guy runs a strip joint. He proabably spends half his week with cops checking IDs and liscenses. I'm guessing he's figured out that the easiest way to get rid of cops is to tell the truth."
"Or lie convincingly."
"Just because you think everyone in the world has to be a lying bastard doesn't mean they are."
"Take off your blinders, Doll. Evryone *does* lie. Being able to convince you just proves they're good at it."
Kendall felt something in his brain snap. Everytime he did something, everytime he said something, Emilie rode his back. And that goddamned nickname irritated him like no other. "My name's Kendall or *Detective* Layton, and I'm tired of this pseudo-macho bullshit you pull. You want to be a man in this world, get a fucking set and quit busting mine!"
"If there were anything to bust, I *would* quit."
"Both of you quit, *now*." Nickolas's voice was at a normal speaking level, but there was a sufficent hreat in his tone. "It's quarter to hell, so take this shit with you on the way to the parents' place. I don't want to hear any of this when you get back here." He watched them leave, making sure they didn't try to trip each other on their way to the elevator. He looked over at Patrick. "They do that when I'm not looking?"
"All the time."
"What the hell for?"
"Emilie thinks he's hiding something. It bugs her."
"Get her over it."
Patrick grinned ruefully. "Want me to switch the sun's roation while I'm at it?"
"If you wouldn't mind." Nickolas yawned. "Grab a couple of guys and start calling on the other girls Esmerelda worked with. Maybe we can start finding suspects to blame."
"All right." Patrick stood and strteched, finishing the last of his coffee and leaving Nickolas's office.
Nickolas slumped against the edge of his desk and yawned again. ~I'm geting to old for the 3:30 call shit.~ He glanced at the clock on his wall. 5:58. He grabbed the phone, punched nine, then dialed out, rubbing his eyes as the phone rang.
"Hello?" Danny's voice was raspy with sleep.
"Hey."
"Thought I heard the phone ring at an ungodly hour."
"Around 3:30. I"m going to be at the station for awhile."
"Figured. I've got an interview this afternoon, so I proabably won't see you until tonight."
"If I can escape by then."
"Call me if I ned to break you out."
Nickolas smiled tiredly. "I'll let you know."
"Okay. I'm going back to sleep."
"Bastard." There was no heat behind it.
"Bye."
"Bye." Nickolas hung up the phone and grabbed his coffee cup. He needed a refill.
*
The Twelfth Precinct was located halfway between the south edge of the city and the middle of the city. Patrolmen, when going to or from the Twelfth, would say they were headed to quarter town.
The drive from the station to the North end of the city where Esmerelda's parents lived was a half-hour long in the best of traffic. It was a silent, tense half-hour in the car as Emilie drove across town. Kendall sat in the passenger's seat, eyes on the passing traffic as he dozed on and off. They were six blocks from the parents' apartment when Emilie spoke.
"You want to tell them?"
"I'll let you have the honor." Kendall's gaze didn't leave the window.
Emilie glanced at him, then back out at traffic. "You're going to have to make a mother cry, eventually."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You've worked in Homicide for three months, and I've never heard you give the bad news to a family."
"So?"
"You've got to thicken your skin eventually."
Kendall finally looked away from the window and gave Emilie a cold, hard stare. "It's thick enough, thanks."
"Says you."
"Yeah, says me." His tone clearly told Emilie to drop the subject.
She pulled in front of the apartment building, parked, and turned off the car. She got out of the car and led the way to the door. "It's not thick enough if you can't give the news to the family. What if you get stuck with a guy who's never done it?"
"I'll pass him off to you. I'm sure you'll suck his soul out of him."
"Like I've done to you, I suppose?"
"My soul's not gone because of you. You're not that much of a heartless shrew."
Emilie was about to ask who the heartless shrew was, but they were at apartment 4G, and Kendall was knocking. The woman who answered the door was fully dressed except for her shoes. Emilie idlly marked her as an early riser before taking a deep breath and opening the gates to bad news. "Mrs. Lowenstein?"
"Yes?" She had the same dark brown hair as her daughter.
"Is your husband home?" Emilie saw Mrs. Lowenstein's eyes fixate on her badge. ~And it's all downhill from here.~
"Yes. He's having breakfast." Mrs. Lowenstein's voice was almost mechanical. "Come in." She led them into the apartment, past a warm-looking living rom and into a kitchen/dining area that was done up in blue and gray. It was a very family friendly looking room. "Honey, the police are here." Her tone was void of any emotion. E
milie and Kendall remained standing as Mrs. Lowenstein sat next to her husband and waited for the bad news. Emilie bet she'd already figured it out. "Mr. and Mrs. Lowenstein, we found your daughter, Esmerelda, dead this morning. It appears she was murdered."
Mr. Lowenstein carefully put his fork down and pushed away his plate of eggs. "Appears?"
Kendall stepped in. Emilie had given them the bad news. It was his job to handle the follow-up questions. "She was hit in the back of the head. She was found at her place of employment." He wondered for a moment if they'd known their daughter was a stripper. "She probably died around three this morning."
Mr. and Mrs. Lowenstein were silent for a few seconds, staring at nothing. Mrs. Lowenstein suddenly stood up and picked up her breakfast dishes, carrying them over to the sink and pushing them in with a loud clatter. She clutched at the sink until her knuckles were white. "Who did it?"
"We don't know that yet. We wondered if you knew anyone she may have had problems with." Kendall looked between Mr. and Mrs. Lowenstein. "Do you know anyone who didn't like her?"
Mr. Lowenstein cleared his throat. "I can't imagine anyone..." He didn't finish his sentence, obviously unable to say the words that made his daughter dead in his own mind.