Chatham’s Chief of Police pulls into the hospital parking lot just as I snap my cell phone shut. I race across the slippery lot to the Thunderbird, grab my camera and a fresh roll of film from the glove compartment, then head back to the ER. I hurry through the automatic doors again, maneuver around the crowded waiting area, and run down the long tube of fluorescent light. I can’t get there fast enough.
Sonia Baker is reciting her litany all over again, this time to the X-ray technician. Her voice has grown hoarse, though, and she’s lost some volume-a small improvement. I wish I had a muzzle.
I find Maggie in the waiting area first and pull her to her feet. “Forget everything I said about talking to the police,” I tell her. “Don’t answer any questions. Not for the cops. Not for anybody else. Do you understand me?”
Maggie nods her head yes, but her terrified eyes say no. Of course she doesn’t understand me.
“Maggie,” I tell her, “give them your name. If they ask who you are, answer. But that’s it. Nothing else. Tell them those are my instructions.”
She nods again, but says nothing.
I rush into the X-ray suite and lean over Sonia while the technician scolds me from his booth. “Hey,” he yells out, “what are you doing? You can’t be in here. Where the hell did you come from?”
I ignore him.
“Sonia.” My hand moves above her stitched lips to stop her recital. “Be quiet. I mean it. Don’t say another word.”
Sonia stares at me while I load my camera, her expression suggesting she’s never seen me before. “I provoked him,” she mutters, the word sounding through her damaged lips as if it has a b in the middle. “He wouldn’t have done it if I hadn’t proboked him.”
“Shut up,” I tell her. “For God’s sake, shut up.”
“Sonia Baker?”
The sound echoes through the hallway, a voice I know well. It’s Tommy Fitzpatrick, Chatham’s Chief of Police. The dead man was an insider; the Chief’s handling this one personally. Two uniformed Chatham detectives are with him, but only Tommy Fitzpatrick speaks. “Sonia Baker?” he repeats.
“This is Sonia Baker,” I tell him. “She doesn’t want to answer any questions. She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
The Chief gives me a friendly nod with his full head of strawberry blond hair. He’s more comfortable with my new job than I am. “Okay,” he says, “but she needs to listen.”
I know what’s coming. I wish I’d warned her.
“Sonia Baker,” the Chief recites, towering over her on the X-ray table, “you’re under arrest for the murder of one Howard Andrew Davis.”
Sonia gasps and raises her upper body from the table. She looks at me, shaking her head back and forth, disbelief creeping into her eyes. I nod at her. She pulls herself to a seated position, holding the hem of her hospital johnny with her good hand.
“You have the right to remain silent,” the Chief continues. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
Maggie Baker leans through the doorway, dwarfed behind the uniforms, her eyes as big as their badges. She stares first at her mother, then at the Chief’s back.
“You have the right to talk to a lawyer and have that lawyer present with you while you’re being questioned.”
I drop my hand to my side and wave Maggie out of the room. She hesitates for just an instant and then disappears before the Chief wraps it up.
“If you can’t afford to hire a lawyer, one will be appointed to represent you before you’re asked any questions.”
Sonia shakes her head at the Chief, her mouth open.
I hope no one noticed Maggie. We’ve had enough casualties for one day. No need to add her to the list.
The X-ray room is full of hospital personnel; white coats are everywhere. And not just technicians. Nurses and doctors came to see the show too.
“We’ll get out of your way,” the Chief tells them. He takes a closer look at Sonia. “We know you’ve got work to do.” He gestures toward the two uniformed detectives. “But when you’re finished, she’s to be released into police custody.”
He turns his attention to me and points toward my camera. “You on this one?”
“I guess I am.”
“When she leaves here, she goes straight to lockup. Arraignment’s tomorrow morning. Judge Gould says eight o’clock sharp, before the regular docket.”
“No waiver,” I tell him. “Don’t even ask her what time it is unless I’m with her.”
“Don’t worry.” The hint of a smile flickers in his Irish eyes. “We know better.”
Sonia leans forward and stares at me while I photograph her face, focusing first on her stitched lip, then on her swollen right eye. “Howie’s dead?” she whispers.
“Be quiet,” I instruct her, refocusing on her contorted arm.
Her eyes fill and I regret my tone at once. “I’m sorry, Sonia,” I tell her, lowering the camera. And I mean it. The anguish in her eyes now is far worse than anything I saw when her pain was just physical. During my years with the District Attorney’s office, I saw enough of these cases to know she probably loved him. No matter what he did to her-no matter what she did to him-she probably loved him.
One of the uniformed detectives returns to the small room with a blue surgical scrub suit and hands it to me.
“We’ll need to take her clothes,” he says.
I take the scrub suit and hand him the plastic bag containing Sonia Baker’s clothes. The cops expect to find more than one person’s blood on her stained white blouse.
“There’s a child,” the Chief says, sorting out his paperwork on the bedside tray. “A young girl. She’ll need to go to the Service for a while.”
I scan the room, relieved to see no sign of Maggie Baker. No child should be entrusted to the Massachusetts Department of Social Services. A child from Chatham would be safer on the streets.
“I don’t know where she is,” I tell the Chief. “But I’ll find her, and she can stay with me. No need to involve the Service.”
“You a relative?” the Chief asks, not looking at me.
“Yes. A second cousin.”
The Chief snorts at his paperwork. “Sure you are. And my cousin’s the Queen of England.” But he balls up the Department of Social Services referral form and tosses it into the wastebasket. He and the uniform leave the X-ray suite without another word.
I’m relieved and grateful. It’s good to know that on some issues, at least, Chief Tommy Fitzpatrick and I are still on the same side.