Rodriguez was sitting in a no-parking zone, sunglasses on, engine running. I slid into the passenger’s side. “How’d it go?” he said.
“About what you’d expect.”
The detective nodded and took a look in his rearview mirror. Then he wheeled away from the curb. “I’ve been up to see her a couple of times.”
“Her nurse told me. Told me it was a big help.”
“I know a little bit about this. From Nicole and everything.”
“I remember.”
Rodriguez sighed. “If you got a problem…” He glanced across the car.
“It’s okay, Vince. Anything you can do to make her better. I appreciate it.”
We drove for a while in silence. Rodriguez turned on the radio, then snapped it off. “You okay to talk a little shop?”
I looked over. “Sure.”
“Wilson cal ed me in this morning.”
“How is the mayor?”
“Happy as the proverbial pig in shit. He told me about your train crash. About Transco and CMT Holding.”
“Probably figured I’d fil you in anyway. What do you think?”
“I think our mayor owns the cardinal, lock, stock, and altar boys.”
“Nice to keep the mayor happy,” I said. “By the way, what ever happened with Alvarez?”
Rita Alvarez had gotten her exclusive. Scooped both Chicago dailies on the scene inside Cabrini and was promised an “inside look” at the task force that hunted down and kil ed Jim Doherty.
“Funny you should ask.” Rodriguez smiled lightly.
“Date tonight?”
“Dinner at the Chop House.”
I leaned back in my seat and thought about my friend and the reporter. Maybe not such a bad thing. Rodriguez hit his blinker, took a left, and pul ed up to a red light at the corner of LaSal e and Chicago. “There was something else that came up.”
A young woman was screaming at a young man at a bus stop. The man grabbed the woman’s arm. She shook him off and stalked away.
“What’s that?” I said.
The man started to fol ow the woman across Chicago Avenue and almost got hit by a bus. He stepped back onto the curb, then found a bench and lit a cigarette.
“Dispatch took an anonymous cal last night. A woman shot down in the subway.”
“Hadn’t heard about that,” I said.
“You won’t. It was Katherine Lawson. They traced the cal to her cel phone. Found her body down by the tracks where Maria Jackson was found.”
I felt my head snap around. “Her body?”
Rodriguez nodded and hit the gas as the light turned. “Shot three times with two different guns. A thirty-eight in the leg and a couple of twenty-two slugs to the head.”
“Strange.”
“Yeah. By the way, you stil got that cold thirty-eight I gave you before Cabrini?”
I could feel the heavy gaze of the homicide cop walk its way across the car.
“Probably not,” I said.
Rodriguez grunted and we drove a little more.
“When you talked to the mayor this morning,” I said, “did he tel you about Lawson?”
The detective looked over again. “You mean how she was shaking down the church?”
I nodded.
“Yeah, he mentioned it. When did you turn up that part of it?”
“Just the last day or so. I would have told you, but…” I shrugged.
“Some things I’m better off not knowing.”
“Probably. You gonna pul her case?”
Rodriguez shook his head. “Feds usual y handle it when one of their own dies.”
“Which means what?”
“Lawson was dirty. If it was Chicago PD, the whole thing would get buried. My guess is the Bureau’s no different. We’re holding the evidence, but I’m betting it never gets touched.”
“So we’re done with that?”
“Looks that way.” The detective tapped two fingers lightly against the steering wheel. “Where you headed?”
“Home.”
“Good idea.” Rodriguez turned up the radio and steered his car toward Lake Shore Drive. I didn’t say another word.