I headed home and slept in my own bed. I woke up about ten p.m. It was quiet in my apartment. Nothing but the tick of the clock and the muffled sounds of traffic from the street below. I thought about my bunkmate in Cook County, how close I had come to a permanent berth there. Not a good thing to think about, so I stopped. Then I thought about the Sheehan’s and the document I had prized out of its binding. Both were now sitting in front of me, looking up at me, asking what I planned to do next. I picked up the document and felt its weight. Read through it for the fifth or sixth time, drinking in each word, then rubbing my thumb lightly along the faded print.
After a while, I folded up the document and put it under lock and key. Then I made a pot of coffee and pulled out the prints Fred Jacobs had sent me a night earlier. Laid them on the table beside the Sheehan’s. I picked up the phone. Rodriguez answered on the first ring.
“You just sit by the phone all night?”
“Heard you were out, Kelly.”
“There was a guy I shared a cell with,” I said. “First name is Marcus.”
“He’s in Cook County hospital. Three broken ribs and a busted spleen. Nice work.”
“He’s a killer. You want the case?”
Rodriguez did, so I gave him the details.
“He told you he killed this woman in 1998?” the detective said.
“Somewhere around there. I got the idea she was an old girlfriend. You should be able to find her in the cold files. When you do, tell Marcus it was courtesy of me.”
“You guys really got along, huh?”
“Best of pals. If you can, drop the tip to Fred Jacobs before you go public. I owe him.”
“Okay. What else you got for me?”
“Are we still working together?”
“Depends. Did you kill Woods?”
“What do you think?”
“I think no. Course, doesn’t help that you were playing around with the dead guy’s wife.”
“You heard that too, huh?”
“Half of Johnny Woods’ block saw you two. Duking it out at six in the morning.”
“It’s not what you think.”
“I told you. I don’t believe you killed him. Let’s leave it at that.”
“I need a favor.”
The detective paused. “Is it about Dan Masters?”
“What do you know about Dan?” I said.
“I know enough. What I don’t know is why.”
Rodriguez knew Masters had pulled the gun that killed Johnny Woods out of Evidence. I wasn’t sure how. But I wasn’t surprised either.
“The whys might have to wait,” I said. “Maybe a day or so.”
“Have you talked to Masters?”
“This afternoon. I’m waiting on a call back right now.”
Rodriguez hesitated, but not as long as you might think. “What is it you need?” he said.
“Remember the lift you took off my window?”
“The night of the break-in?”
“Yeah. I have a set of prints I need you to run it against.”
“The print from your flat was a partial. Not enough points to bring into court.”
“This isn’t about court, Vince.”
Rodriguez chewed on that for a while. “Think I’m going to have to know a little bit more.”
So I told him. A little bit more. Then I e-mailed him the set of prints Jacobs had sent me, along with a photo of the person they belonged to. After that I headed back to bed. Dan Masters hadn’t called back to set up my meeting with Janet. I hadn’t expected him to.