Rita Alvarez stood as we came in. The reporter shook hands with both of us, smiling brightly, but focusing mostly on the detective. Rodriguez answered the unasked question.
“This is Michael Kel y. He’s a private investigator, attached to the task force. If it’s al right with you, he’s going to sit in.”
Alvarez nodded. I didn’t know the name, but I recognized the face. She’d been one of the media throng at the CTA shooting in the Loop. I’d thought she looked smart back then. Now I’d get to see if I was right.
“I know who Mr. Kel y is,” Alvarez said. “And yes, by al means, I think it would be good for him to be here.”
The three of us sat. We were in a smal room used by cops to question suspects and potential witnesses. In Chicago, the questioning often continued until the latter became the former, so it al seemed to make sense. Alvarez had brought a slim buff-colored folder with her. She laid it down on the table and folded her hands over it as she spoke.
“Thanks for seeing me on such short notice. And so early in the morning.”
Rodriguez didn’t respond. Like any good cop looking to extract information, he’d let Alvarez do most of the talking.
“As I indicated on the phone, I have some matters I’d like to discuss in connection with the recent sniper shootings.” The reporter dropped her eyes briefly to her folder, found nothing there, and looked back up. “I’ve come across some information that may be relevant to your case. I’m happy to share it with you before we go ahead and publish. In fact, I’d prefer to. But I’d like to get some assurances.”
Alvarez waited. Rodriguez waited. I watched. Final y, Rodriguez spoke. “We’re not in the business of giving assurances, Ms. Alvarez.”
“Rita.”
“Rita. I can get someone from County in here if you want. But if this is relevant evidence, I’d suggest-”
“Save it, Detective.”
I smiled to myself. I liked Rita.
“If you don’t want to talk, off the record, I leave and go with what I have. Then you can cal in the state’s attorney, subpoena me, or whatever else you want. But the information wil be public…”
I shuffled my feet and shifted in my chair. Alvarez turned on cue.
“And we may not want that?” I said.
Alvarez let the question hang, then moved her attention back to the detective.
“What sort of assurances are we talking about?” Rodriguez said.
“I want an exclusive on this story. Inside the task force. Access to the key players. Any breaks in the investigation before the competition, and a ful, exclusive debrief after the case is put to bed.”
“The case is already closed,” Rodriguez said.
“Maybe you should take a look at what I have before you go too far with that.”
That brought a grimace from the detective and a reluctant nod of the head. “Let’s see what you got.”
Alvarez pul ed a single sheet of paper out of her folder and slid it, facedown, across the table. Rodriguez left the item untouched for the moment.
“How many people know about whatever it is we have here?” the detective said.
“Myself and my managing editor know about the letter’s contents. This is a copy. I have the original in a safe place, including the envelope it came in.” Alvarez shrugged. “It showed up sometime yesterday. We learned about it last night. There’s no stamp, no postmark, and we’re not exactly sure how it was delivered. We used gloves once we realized what we had. Stil, you’re gonna get my prints and probably prints from the mailroom. At least.
”
Rodriguez turned over the page. It was just a few lines, printed in block letters.