The cabbie dropped me in front of my flat. I carried Her Highness upstairs and put her down just inside the front door. The as-yet-to-be-named pup took a look around and another look back at me. Then she made her way into the bedroom. I followed. She was sitting on the floor and staring up at my bed. I shook my head no. The pup had other ideas. She got a running start, bounced off the side of my box spring, and landed, snout first, on the floor. I laughed. The pup yelped. She might have considered it a bark, but, trust me, she was kidding herself. I leaned against the door frame and watched as she took another go at the promised land, otherwise known as a soft mattress. The pup came up short again, hitting the ground, butt first this time, with a thud. She got up a bit slower, walked over, and sat down in front of me.
“What do you want me to do?”
She cocked her head, wagged her tail, stretched her paws out in front of her, and wiggled her butt in the air. I’d discover later this was a signal. The pup wanted to play. At the time, I thought she was probably going to go to the bathroom. Instead, she yelped again. Once, twice. Then a whole series of them. Finally, I did what any new parent would do. I caved, picked up the pup, and set her down on the bed. She ran around in circles for half a minute or so, then found a spot on my pillow. Thirty seconds later, she was asleep again. I turned off the light and closed the door. What the fuck.
I was back in the front room of my apartment, thinking about the cold beer in my fridge, when I heard a light tap on the door. I forgot about the beer, picked up my gun, and thumbed off the safety. I had been home less than five minutes and figured my visitor to be no coincidence. Whoever it was had been waiting, watching, as I came in. The only encouraging sign, they were knocking at my door. Not knocking it down. I was half hoping for a certain female federal judge named Swenson to be on the other side. What I got was nothing close.
“Kelly, can I come in?”
Dan Masters was wearing a Lucky Strike T-shirt and smelling like fast food and cheap hotels. One hand held a cigarette cupped against his palm. The other rattled a set of keys to a rental car. The detective wasn’t wearing a badge and I didn’t see a gun.
“When was the last time you slept, Masters?”
“Don’t worry about me. Can we come in?”
Masters stepped back and I looked down the hallway. Janet sat on the stairs and looked at the wall less than two feet away. Taylor stood nearby, staring at nothing out the window. I leaned back in the doorjamb.
“My two friends,” I said, and turned back into my apartment. Masters followed, closing the door behind him.
“You want a drink?” I said.
“No, thanks.”
I opened up a drawer and pulled out copies of three insurance policies Vince Rodriguez had dug out for me.
“A hundred and a half in coverage on Johnny Woods,” I said, and threw them on the table. “Most of it taken out in the last three months.”
Masters turned his head sideways to look at the policies. Like he was looking at one of those modern paintings no one could ever understand or even know which way to hang. Then he straightened up and looked at me.
“You got a glass of water?”
I walked out to the kitchen. The detective got his drink while I waited. I was thinking about the two women in my hallway. I suspected Masters was as well. I don’t think either of us was happy about any of it.
“I knew about the insurance,” Masters said. “At least some of it. Two days ago, Janet tried to cash one of them in.”
I nodded and got that beer from the fridge. “Let me guess. There was a hold on payment.”
The ghost of a grin played at the corners of Masters’ eyes. “They told her the Chicago PD had been making inquiries. Then they told her if she had any questions, she should follow up here.”
“I bet she was pissed.”
Masters finished his water and filled up again. “Slightly. I figured it was you and Rodriguez. Wanting to flush her back to Chicago.”
“Looks like it worked,” I said, and walked back into my living room. “Maybe we should bring the ladies in and hash things out.”
“One more second.” Masters took a seat on the couch. I leaned against the wall. He took a final hit on his cigarette and rubbed it into an ashtray.
“I need this settled,” he said. “Tonight.”
“They killed him, Dan. Used my gun to do it. Then they sent me over there. Probably tipped the police to the house right after I left them. I’m telling you and I’d know better than anyone. I didn’t shoot Johnny Woods. I don’t know anyone else who could’ve.”
“And they would have expected you to lie down and take the rap?”
“Hell, no. But who’s going to believe me? Neighbors saw me trading fists with Woods outside his house. I’m talking from a jail cell. And it’s my gun. If you hadn’t come along and deep-sixed the evidence, they’d have been free and clear.”
Masters nodded. The skin looked thin around his eyes, and there was a sudden quiver making a living just below his lip. “Janet’s not what you think, Kelly.”
I thought of her. At a wonderful place called twenty years old. Enjoying her youth, her looks, her life. Waiting for the rest of it to happen. And here it was.
“You don’t know what I think about Janet Woods,” I said. “Let’s keep it at that.”
“Fair enough. What happens after we talk?”
“What do you want to happen?”
Masters shrugged. “Leave town again. Probably best for them. Either way, I need to go.”
“Downtown knows you grabbed the gun?”
“They know it, but can’t prove it. Still, it would be tough. I can drop a word before I leave that you had nothing to do with it. Or the murder.”
“Don’t bother. I’m good with the mayor. We all are.” Then I told him about the deal I had cut.
“So Johnny Woods is forgotten?”
“Forgotten,” I said.
“Why’d you do that?”
I thought about the night Dan Masters came home from the job early and found his wife. The night his life ended. Then I thought about Janet Woods’ face and her daughter’s future.
“Seems to me like no one’s getting a free ride,” I said.
The detective rubbed a hand across his lower lip. “You think I’m crazy to run with them. Maybe I am. One thing, though, I know for sure. If I try to go it alone, it’s a short walk to the gun.”
I couldn’t say he was right. But I wasn’t ready to take the weight if I was wrong.
“It’s your play, Dan. But if I were you, I’d sleep with one eye open.”
“You think Janet would come after me? For what?”
“Not Janet.”
I turned over one of the insurance policies. Highlighted in yellow was the name of the policy’s beneficiary: Taylor Woods.
“If I were you, it’s the kid I’d worry about.”