Cold Blood

Chapter 5

Rooney lolled in Lorraine’s chair behind her desk. The door buzzer went off and both he and Rosie looked towards the door. Nick Bartello lounged in the doorway, gazing down at the doormat. He wore his thick, black and unruly curly hair almost to his collar and he needed a shave.

He limped into the office. His crumpled denim shirt and torn jeans didn’t detract from his immediate attraction. He was one of those guys you knew just by looking at him had a big case history. His limp wasn’t bad, it sort of made his walk just that bit lopsided.

‘Hey, Nick, how you do in’?’ bellowed Rooney.

‘I’m fucked, I feel it an’ look it. You got some coffee brewing?’

‘Sure. Nick, this is Rosie, by the way.’

‘Hi, Rosie.’ Bartello slumped into her vacated chair. ‘Hey, man, did we tie a load on last night or didn’t we?’

‘We did, Nick, we did.’

Rosie started to brew some coffee as Nick pulled a crumpled note-pad and bits of paper out of his pocket. ‘Okay, this is how the land lies. I know I only got handed the case when our top dicks gave it the thumbs down, maybe because they’d like to stick one up my ass. Like I said last night, I get fired if I don’t get a result an’ to date I got fuck-all. And today, like ten minutes ago, Robert Caley is threatening the agency to get screwed unless we get some results.’

Rosie returned to her desk. ‘Coffee is on.’ She hovered, and he gave her a marvellous smile.

‘Thanks, sweetheart, make it strong and black.’ He turned back to Rooney, who grinned.

‘Nick’s being paid a grand a week plus expenses, Agnews is getting about five grand. They probably put out to Caley they got three of you workin’, right, Nick?’

‘Yeah, but in reality the main guys are on a new gig finding some bitch’s ex-husband. They’ll drag it out as long as possible so basically I got the Caley case solo. Company don’t wanna lose their five gee’s per week, I don’t wanna lose my job.’

Rooney cocked his head at Nick. ‘You tell ’em about us?’

Nick shrugged. ‘I didn’t say nothin’. They know you’re on the Caley payroll and, hey, Rosie, what about that coffee? This is a desperate man you’re looking at.’

Rooney snorted as Rosie checked the percolator; it was just bubbling. She liked Nick Bartello, crude maybe but there was a lovable quality to him. That smile he had was a killer.

‘Bill, I am prepared to split my fee, you gimme what you got and vice versa.’

‘But you got fuck-all.’

‘Correct.’ Nick laughed. It was as good as his smile, a lovely chortling sound.

‘So why should we pool with you? We’re on a good slice ourselves.’

‘Yeah, well, maybe I got a bit extra that bein’ drunk didn’t loosen out of me. You think I didn’t know what you were up to?’

Again Rooney snorted; for all his easygoing manner Nick was nobody’s fool. ‘It’d have to be somethin’ if you want in with us.’

Nick Bartello rubbed the stubble on his chin. ‘Well, maybe I just got somethin’ that’d be worth wantin’ to split that one million pay-off Mrs Caley promised as a bonus.’

Rosie looked at Rooney; he’d obviously been drunk enough to tell Bartello, and for a moment he had the temerity to look abashed.

She banged down the mug of coffee. ‘Don’t you think we should discuss this with Lorraine?’

Bartello laughed. ‘Look, I know her type, if Jack Lubrinski rated her, she’s cool, she’d go for this. She’s a drinker, right?’

‘Not any more,’ said Rosie angrily.

‘Okay, maybe she isn’t, but all I am suggesting is we pool info and you cut me in on the one million pay-off. I dump my job and everyone is happy and able to pay the mortgage with a few extras on the side.’

Rooney gave Rosie a frown and then turned to Bartello. ‘Okay, I agree, Lorraine will, what you got?’

‘We should wait for her to be in on this,’ Rosie interjected as she poured more coffee.

‘Come on, you only got two weeks,’ Nick said.

Rosie glared at Rooney, knowing he must have told Nick everything about their case.

‘You’re already almost one day down and I been on this for a few weeks, so I got information that’ll save valuable time.’

‘You got nothing,’ Rooney said flatly.

‘Okay, I’ll come clean, I got something I didn’t tell you last night, but no way am I gonna spill the beans unless we shake hands.’

Rooney looked at Rosie and she shrugged. ‘Okay, we got a deal.’

The two men shook hands. Then Bartello sipped his coffee. ‘Right, try this for starters, I got from a very reliable source that Elizabeth Caley is into drugs in a big way. So maybe, just maybe, the disappearance of her precious daughter is connected.’

‘Fuckin’ hell, is that true?’ Rooney asked.

Nick sipped his coffee. ‘Yep, it’s true, like she’s got a habit of over three thousand dollars a week. I’m checkin’ into dealers, I mean, she might owe some shit that got nasty with her daughter. I got the name of her doctor as well. He’s like top drawer for the stars, but he’s also known on the street for passing on dodgy prescriptions.’

‘Is it cocaine?’

‘Apparently the lady will take whatever she can lay her pretty hands on. She’s been in two drug rehab centres, the type with a lot of glamour.’ Nick passed over some crumpled xeroxed medical sheets, stuck together with a safety pin. ‘Got those from a sweet-faced nurse for a hundred bucks. By the look of the docco I’d say this angel could make a few thousand bucks on the side passin’ this kind of stuff to the tabloids.’

Rooney looked over Elizabeth Caley’s medical sheet. ‘Says the woman is called Maureen Sweeney.’

‘Yeah, well, she’s not likely to put her real name on their register, is she? But it’s substance-abuse routine...’

Rooney finished reading and then passed it to Rosie. ‘That it?’

Nick rocked back in his chair. ‘Well, for starters. What you got?’

‘Lorraine went to see this psychic,’ Rosie said, and got a kick from Rooney.

Nick stared at Rosie. ‘Juda Salina?’

Rosie frowned. ‘Er, I’m not sure.’

Rooney turned back to Nick. ‘She give you anythin’?’

Nick shook his head. ‘Nah, she’s a fake.’

Rooney nodded. ‘Yeah, I agree, that’s why I never bothered seein’ her. Dunno why Lorraine’s so interested.’

‘So, what else you got?’ Nick waited, saw Rooney glance at Rosie, and then threw his arms up into the air. ‘Holy shit, you lyin’ bastard, you got fuck-all.’

‘Rooney did whut?’ Lorraine yelled into the receiver of her mobile phone.

‘Now calm down,’ Rosie said, quivering.

‘Culm down? Are you crazy? You tell me that stupid fat bastard has brought on some half-assed guy, not only told him everything we got, but even offered him a share of the one million bonus and you tell me to calm down?!’

‘They were trading information,’ Rosie stammered.

‘I don’t give a shit what they were trading.’

‘But Nick’s information was good—’ She was interrupted.

‘It stinks. You think I didn’t already know Elizabeth Caley was stoned out of her mind? Jesus Christ, Rosie, I knew it the first time we met her.’

‘Well, I didn’t.’

‘You’ve never met her,’ Lorraine snapped.

‘Well, maybe we can sort it out,’ Rosie said nervously.

‘Oh, yeah, the bastard works for Agnews, doesn’t he? Yes? Yes? And don’t you think he’sgonnngo stmight buck there and tell them?

‘I don’t think he will,’ Rosie said nervously.

‘You don’t think, full stop, and nor does that stupid son-of-a-bitch Rooney. How could he do this?’ Lorraine thumped the dashboard in frustration. ‘Where are they now, Rooney and this Bartello character?’

‘At home.’

‘I’ll see you there.’

It took Rosie about twenty minutes to walk from the office to the main Orange Grove junction, then she headed down Marengo Drive. She saw the rental parked at a bad angle, right under the no parking zone plaque. She also saw Rooney’s car across the road from the apartment.

Rosie could hear them arguing from the street.

‘I told you, Bill, that I was running this case, not you. Me.’

‘Okay, okay, I’m sorry, but no way is Nick gonna report back to his agency.’

‘Oh yeah? You know that for sure, do you?’ Lorraine was shouting.

‘I fucking know Nick Bartello, an’ I’m telling you he’s on the level.’

‘Oh, you’re telling me, are you?’

‘Yes! An’ if you’d just get off your box for a second and calm down—’

‘Don’t tell me to calm down, Bill, because I am steaming!’

Rosie banged in but neither Rooney nor Lorraine even glanced at her. Rooney was red-faced and looked guilty.

‘Nick’ll be here any minute and we can talk this through.’

‘No way am I splitting this four ways!’

‘Shouldn’t we put this to the vote?’ Rosie interjected, and then wished she hadn’t.

Lorraine glared at her as she unbuttoned her blouse, heading for the bedroom. ‘When are you two gonna get this together? This is my case, mine, no fucking votes, I make the decisions!’

Rosie was on a carb meal of pasta and salad and had actually lost four pounds since they started on the Caley case. She had surprised herself, and she decided that she really would cut out cup cakes and pastries between meals. The no-fat regime was making her feel a lot better — physically and mentally.

‘What is this?’ Lorraine asked, jabbing a spiral piece of pasta with her fork.

‘It’s just fusilli with garlic and tomato sauce. You don’t like it, there’s more for me and Bill.’

Lorraine took a mouthful and grimaced. ‘My God, you went heavy on the garlic’

‘You wanna cook, then the kitchen is all yours,’ Rosie said.

‘So what time is this Nick guy arriving?’

‘Any time now,’ Rooney said.

Lorraine got up and fetched her note-book. ‘Okay, Juda Salina told me nothin’ apart from the fact she was hired not by Robert Caley but by his wife. She wouldn’t say much because of her so-called client confidentiality shit, and Mrs Caley is prepared to withdraw the bonus if we make contact with her again. I’m gonna have to have another talk to Mrs Movie Star who is hooked on so-called pain-killers. Robert Caley admitted his wife is hooked on drugs, and to my mind she seemed scared of her husband, or if not of him, maybe of me finding out she’s a druggy. Anyway, he was pretty straight, but as a possible suspect his motive could be that if his daughter is out of the way, he stands to inherit the fortune as he’s the main beneficiary. That’s just supposition because Mrs Caley said that they both named their daughter in their wills, so whoever should go first, bingo, the other’s a hell of a sight richer.’ She looked up as Rosie lifted her plate, about to fork her leftovers on to her own. ‘Shit, Rosie, I haven’t finished.’

‘Sorry, but I thought maybe the garlic—’

‘No, it’s great.’ Lorraine drew her plate closer and took a mouthful.

‘He a suspect then?’ Rosie asked.

‘Right now maybe, I need to know the financial—’

They turned as Nick Bartello opened the screen door and peered in, having overheard the last few lines of their conversation.

‘I’d say it’s a motive, the will. Elizabeth ex-movie star Caley is worth about fifty-five million dollars.’

Rooney pulled his napkin out of his shirt collar and rose to his feet. ‘Hi, Nick, lemme introduce you, this is—’

‘Lorraine Page of Page Investigations,’ Nick said, smiling, his hand outstretched. Lorraine did not take it, but lifted her glass of water.

‘So you’re Nick Bartello?’

‘Yep, that’s me.’

‘Have we met before?’ Lorraine continued to eat.

‘Nope, but you got one hell of a reputation.’

‘Have I?’ Lorraine said.

Nick looked at Rooney, puzzled by her coldness. He drew up a chair and Rosie poured him a glass of water.

‘What’s your reputation, Nick?’ Lorraine said sarcastically. ‘Or is “the Limp” sufficient?’

‘I’m a real lovable motherfucker, how’s that for starters?’ The smile that had smitten Rosie cut no ice with Lorraine. She’d come across a lot of Nick Bartellos, invalided out of the Force or not, and he didn’t even have that much of a limp.

‘What division were you in?’

‘Mine, well, at one time, when I was with the drug squad,’ Rooney said flatly.

‘Really? So you an’ Bill are old friends?’

‘Yep, in so much as I got a leg full of lead courtesy of this fat fucker sending me out on a domestic, but not informing me that the coke-head had a personal armoury that’d make the US artillery think twice before they sent in tanks.’

Lorraine nodded. ‘So you reckon Bill here owes you?’

Suddenly Nick Bartello quit the jokes. ‘I got nobody but myself to blame, Mrs Page, nobody owes me nothin’. What I did was my business and I got a pension to prove it. Bill and me are just old buddies.’

Rooney, feeling very uneasy, thought he’d better get it in before Nick blurted it out. ‘Nick partnered Jack Lubrinski for a few weeks. When I moved I took Jack with me.’

‘Yeah, thank Christ, he was a mad fucker.’

‘My, my, you must have been some double act.’

Nick hesitated. ‘Yeah, we were, Mrs Page, for ten minutes.’

She turned away. ‘And now you work for Agnews Investigation Agency? Lubrinski would be real proud of your progress.’

‘Yes, ma’am, I most sincerely do work for them and maybe I know what Jack would think a whole lot better than you. Way I heard it, you were quite a lush.’ He lifted the glass to his lips, trying to fathom her out. She was cool, he’d give her that, because she didn’t rise to the cutting remark.

‘So, have you informed Agnews about us?’

‘No.’

‘You haven’t? Really? Not even tipped them off we been offered a big bonus?’

‘No, I’ll tell them fuck-all, especially not if I get a cut.’

‘Does that mean you will tell them or you won’t, Mr Bartello?’

‘Nick.’

‘Okay, Nick, why should I believe a word you say?’

He put his glass down carefully. ‘Because I’m just a hired hand and a cut of the bonus would mean the finger to Agnews and all who sail in her. What is it with your You want a fucking resume? Hasn’t Bill told you we worked together?’

‘Yes, but limping around is not what I’d call a really good recommendation, Mr Bartello.’

‘Fuck you! Hey, Billy, what is this? What’s with this broad?’ He was angry, and his eyes glinted at Rooney as he tried to control his temper.

‘She’s the boss, Nick.’

He turned and stared at Lorraine. ‘My, my, my, haven’t you cleaned up your act. Lady Boss now, huh?’

‘My, my, my, Mr Bartello, haven’t I just, so why don’t we cut the bullshit and you tell me why we should cut you in if we find Anna Louise Caley? Because what Bill here got from you about Mrs Caley I already knew, and it’s not worth enough to give you a slice of our possible bonus.’

He leaned closer to her. ‘Maybe, bright eyes, I got something else.’

‘I’m all ears, Mr Bartello. Can you match what we got?’

He smiled that killer smile again. ‘Oh yeah, what you want me to do, give you a round of applause? So far you got shit...’

‘You’ve not come up with much better,’ she said, and she was warming to that smile. As Rooney and Rosie watched their interaction they could almost see the sparks between them.

Nick rocked back in his chair and took out a crumpled pack of Kool cigarettes. He flicked one out and flipped open his lighter, then gave Lorraine a hooded look. ‘You got Robert Caley ear-marked as a suspect? Well, you might be close. Way I see it is, with his daughter dead, he’s the main beneficiary, isn’t he?’

‘Yep, but he’d have to kill the old movie star to get his hands on her cash.’

‘Maybe he is planning it.’

‘Maybe he is.’

‘You think a guy who has bumped off his own daughter wouldn’t go to those lengths? The top agencies were hired not by Mrs Caley but her husband, so the same reasoning could apply to her. She might want his dough.’ Nick waited for the comeback.

‘Has he got any? Old newspaper articles say he was just selling real estate when they married.’

‘That was more’n twenty years ago. Now he’s got a lot of real estate, I checked up on that too, so he’s not short of cash. Anythin’ else?’

Rosie and Rooney were out of it, watching Lorraine and Nick as they concentrated on each other across the table like chess players.

‘If you only have Robert Caley as a possible suspect then you are in a very small canoe, Mrs Page, and you got no paddle.’

‘Why?’

‘Because if I had done my own daughter in, I wouldn’t hire half of LA’s top private dicks, myself included... But your problem is, if Caley is our guy, he would hire the world an’ its mother but only if he was goddamned sure there was not a shred of evidence to prove his guilt. With me?’

‘Not really.’

He smiled. ‘Oh, I think you are, Mrs Page, I think you have sussed me out by now.’

He was knocked sideways by her husky laugh. He was beginning to like everything he saw about Lorraine Page. At the same time he would not give her any indication that he did. He reckoned this lady ate Nick Bartellos for lunch.

Rooney lit a cigarette. ‘So, we together on this or not?’

Nick looked at Lorraine and cocked his head to one side. ‘Up to the lady.’

‘What you got, Nick?’ Lorraine asked bluntly.

He dug into his pocket and brought out a quarter. ‘Toss you for who goes first.’

She took the coin. ‘Okay, heads or tails.’

‘Your call.’

‘Heads.’ She tossed it on to the table and prodded it. ‘I guess it’s me first.’

Nick watched her get up. He was aware of every line of her body as she seemed to uncoil from the chair. She lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. He liked the way her mouth pursed up, how it hung half open as she let the smoke trail out.

‘I think the girl is dead, trail is too quiet, no sightings, et cetera. There again, people have been found after a much longer time on a few cases, but my gut feeling is Anna Louise is long dead.’

Nick nodded. ‘But Bill said the million dollars still stands, dead or alive, right?’

Lorraine hesitated. ‘That mean you agree with me?’

‘Yeah, I do, and Bill’s of the same opinion.’

Rooney looked at Lorraine. ‘Yeah, I think she’s a goner.’

Nick lifted his hand. ‘Chick’s dead, we all agreed?’

‘No,’ said Rosie. ‘I’m not sure she is dead, well, not until we’ve got more information. She could have just taken off. Kids of her age do. I mean, I know kids that have taken off and years later resurfaced, maybe Anna Louise is one of them.’

Lorraine met Nick Bartello’s bright blue eyes and there was mutual understanding; they both believed Anna Louise was dead.

‘Yeah, I guess you may be right, Rosie.’ Lorraine kept looking at Nick. ‘You talk to this Juda woman?’

Nick nodded. ‘There’re a lot like her, all she needs is a fuckin’ crystal ball and a tent. She’s full of bullshit and the money rolls in ’cos we got a town full of desperate people. I’d say she’s been cleaning up with Elizabeth Caley, you know how these movie stars get into this kind of psycho stuff. Her rap about client confidentiality sucks, and it’s bullshit about her being used by the cops for their enquiries, I checked it out. She more’n likely read it in the National Enquirer. From police records she never came up with anything they could use, she just got in the way and got publicity for herself.’

Rooney felt he should put his ten cents in. ‘You want to see her again? Mrs Caley doesn’t want you to see her.’ He looked at Nick. ‘She told Lorraine she would withdraw the bonus...’

Lorraine interrupted. ‘We’ve gotta get to New Orleans. Robert Caley offered me a trip in his private jet. I’ll accept, it’ll give me more time to talk to him.’

Nick smiled. ‘Oh yeah, gonna join the mile-high club, are you?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Nick ran his hands through his unruly mop of hair. ‘No offence, but he’s a looker and... Come on, just a joke. Is this all you got so far?’

‘If you and Bill here have talked it over, you know we got fuck-all.’

‘Yeah, I hear that, but what are you holding out on?’

Lorraine laughed at him. ‘Who says I’m holding out, Nick?’

‘Call it intuition, sweetheart. You got a gut feeling the girl is dead, what else is your gut saying?’

Lorraine sat down, drawing her chair close to him. ‘There is something going on in that palace the Caleys call home. Elizabeth Caley is scared, maybe of Robert Caley, I dunno.’

‘But you intend flying out on his private jet?’

‘I intend to try.’

Nick smiled at her again; it was too intimate and she turned away. He rested his hand on her arm. ‘Don’t get uptight, he’s a great-lookin’ guy. If I was in your shoes, I’d try and get in his pants.’

‘For chrissakes, back off me.’

‘No, you do what you have to.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ she snapped.

‘If you can get information, fuck him. Like I said, if I was in your position, and a woman, I’d maybe do the same thing because the three of you haven’t got much, and not a lot of time either. An’ screwing the guy is just a way of cuttin’ corners. However, that said, maybe I have...’

‘Have what?’ Rooney asked, leaning forward towards him.

Nick lit a cigarette from the butt of his last and rocked back in his chair. ‘Okay, is that it? All you got to date? So I guess it’s my turn, right?’

‘Right,’ said Lorraine, annoyed and yet slightly embarrassed by his innuendoes, because it was as if Nick Bartello had read her mind. Robert Caley was attractive to her. But he’d also hit the nail on the head on another matter — she or Page Investigations had little to go on so far. Maybe a few hunches but she never mentioned those. ‘Well, we’re waiting, Mr Bartello,’ she said, cocking her head to one side mockingly. ‘I’m sure you must have so much more. You’ve been on the case a while, so stop fucking around.’

He took a drag on his cigarette and then slowly removed a crumpled mess of paper from the back pocket of his jeans. He carefully straightened out a couple of pages, taking his time. They looked like pages torn from a small note-book, the edges ragged.

‘I’ll check my files, see if there’s anything I can cross-reference,’ Nick grinned, indicating his scruffy bits of paper.

‘Why not start with the drugs?’ Rooney prompted. He felt tired and in need of a drink.

‘Okay. I picked up a guy called Gerry Fisher ’bout ten years back. Anyway, he turned out to be married to one of the officers on the drug squad, not my team, but I kind of got a hint to go easy, you know the game. I let Fisher off the hook, so he owed me, right? And then I pick the bastard up again eighteen months later, still running drugs, and I say, “I’m gonna bust you an’ I don’t care if you’re married to the President.” Fisher was a kind of middle man. He scored from his main dealer and then did back-door deals with a society-type doctor called Hayleden with a lotta high-profile patients who didn’t want straight prescribed drugs. He didn’t know who he was dealing for, he’d just take the orders then deliver to the surgery. In fact, he said he rarely even saw Hayleden. I was gonna do somethin’ about it but then I got a leg full of lead an’ was invalided out. So Fisher—’ He was interrupted.

‘What’s this got to do with the case? Get to the point, Nick!’ Rooney banged the table.

‘Okay, okay, right. Now, before I was even working on this Caley thing, I was doin’ a search for another movie star’s kid. His family reckoned he was dealin’ because he was loaded all the time and they hired the company to tail him and sort him out, you know, before the law did, put a bit of a squeeze on him. And bingo, I meet up with Fisher who still owes me, right? So he tips me off that this kid is scoring from him an’ dealin’ to college kids.’

‘Anna Louise Caley?’ Lorraine asked, suddenly interested.

‘No, wait a second. I do the business, put the hand on the kid’s collar, et cetera and we cop a nice fee for the agency. Next thing Fisher’s scared shitless, thinks it’s gonna be an arrest, but the family don’t want that, just a rap over their asshole kid’s knuckles. So Fisher bargains with me, telling me that he’ll give more info on a lotta high-profile people if I don’t hand him over to the law. I tell Fisher to fuck off and, to cut a long story short...’

They all moaned but Nick held up his hand. ‘Hey, hey, wait, I’m getting there. I get pulled on the Caley investigation, so I use Fisher, ask him if the kid was dealin’ to Anna Louise. He said he’d never heard of her and didn’t recognize the photo, so I say she is Elizabeth Caley’s daughter, used to be Elizabeth Seal, the movie star.’

Nick squinted at his bits of paper. ‘Now it starts gettin’ good. Fisher ain’t dealin’ to Anna Louise Caley but her mama! Goes like this, one night Fisher gets an emergency call from Doc Hayleden who’s skiing in Aspen or some place, and he asks Fisher to deliver some quality goods to his surgery ASAP, says a nurse will pay him.’ He listed on his fingers. ‘Items required, cocaine, amphetamines, some crack and a load of downers — sleeping tabs, temazepam — like it’s obvious somebody is havin’ a party. So he takes the goods to the surgery, gets paid the usual way, then he goes back to his car. He thinks to himself, why not cut out the middle man? Fisher waits, and about half an hour later, a thin woman drives up. He sees her go into the surgery then come out and fast, and get back into her car. He follows, ’cos he knows the surgery is closed, so this chick hadda be the buyer, right? And she leads him straight to the Caley residence. She parks by the security gates and he takes his chance. He goes up to the car and she freaks and says she doesn’t know what he’s talking about, she was simply collecting a prescription, and if he doesn’t get away from her car she’ll call the police. She drives in... he reckons maybe he got it wrong but he gets a few more emergency calls and sees the same woman collecting, so he susses he was right to start with. He stops her again, and this time she is more than freaked but he calms her down and tells her he’s not the law, just—’

‘You talking about Phyllis Collins?’ asked Rosie.

‘Yep, only now she is scared that he’s gonna turn her and her movie star in, so she agrees from then on they will deal direct. Phyllis would call him, place the order, meet up in cafés or wherever. So the Doc loses his cut, Fisher is raking it in because he starts doin’ the same thing to a few more of the Doc’s customers. Then Phyllis tells him no more deals, Mrs Caley’s gone into rehab, nice earner down the drain. But somebody in that house still has a real bad habit, according to Fisher several thousand dollars a week habit.’

‘My God, Elizabeth Caley?’ Rooney murmured.

Nick shrugged. ‘Next, an’ this may or may not be connected, my friend Fisher—’

‘Can I see him?’ Lorraine asked.

‘Be tough. He was found dead three weeks ago, he’s still on the slab, they’ve got a backlog. Probably back on heroin, had a needle in his hand.’

‘Shit,’ Lorraine said as she poured herself more coffee.

Nick turned to the next crumpled page. ‘So, we know the secretary scored for her ladyship. I’d say that’s a good area we can work on, or work on Phyllis because she must know a lot more than she’s admitting to. You said you reckoned Mrs Caley’s still using, so maybe she got another dealer or is dealing with the Doc again. At the same time, we don’t want to rock the boat as Mrs Caley is the one offering the one million bonus.’

‘Did this guy Fisher ever mention meeting or dealing with Robert Caley?’ Rooney asked.

‘Nope.’ Nick stubbed out his cigarette.

‘Is that it?’ Lorraine asked.

Nick shrugged. ‘Phyllis should be pushed a bit... we could have a possible drug connection. Maybe Fisher’s dealers got pissed, or the Doc, so that’s all got to be checked out. Next, and this is good...’

Nick studied his notes, chewing his lower lip as he flicked a glance at Lorraine. ‘Right, Robert Caley. He may be cute-looking, sweetheart, but to me he’s our suspect number one, and if not him, his associates.’

‘Because of the will?’ Rooney asked.

‘That’s a good opener. We don’t know if he’s intending to bump off his drug-addled wife in a few months’ time, but with no daughter, and if Elizabeth Caley dies, he gets the lot. And believe you me, it’s a fucking fortune. We’re talkin’ in the region of fifty million. That mansion they live in is worth twelve million alone and they’ve got big property in New Orleans.’

‘But this is just supposition, right?’ said Lorraine.

‘Yeah, but so is everything until we get results, and when I said earlier that our Mr Caley is not short of cash, it’s not exactly true. You know what business Robert Caley is into?’

‘Real estate,’ said Rooney impatiently.

‘Yeah, right, businesses both here and in Louisiana, and he’s making a lotta dough.’ Nick paused for effect. ‘Well, he was.’

Rooney and Lorraine glanced at each other. This area they had not as yet checked into, so they waited as Nick prodded his crumpled notes.

‘Robert Caley and his partners are trying to open a casino in New Orleans, right? Gambling is big business, it coins in the dough, and they’ve also sold it to the city on the basis that it will jack up the economy and give everybody out of work a job. But somehow, they’re being fucked over — suddenly, there’s zoning objections, architecture objections, bad for family life objections, and Robert Caley still hasn’t got a casino licence, while another local consortium has had time to crawl out from under a rock and say it ought to go to them. The reason I put my money on Mr Caley as numéro uno suspect is that he’s losing credibility and every delay makes it more likely that his partners will pull out. If he doesn’t get the green light for this casino soon, he’s gonna go down millions, because he bought the proposed site.’

Nick beamed at them; he knew he’d opened up one hell of a can of worms. He continued, ‘So we got quite a few possible motives, one is the missing daughter could have been kidnapped and connected to a drug dealer, two, she was snatched as a threat to Caley to pull out of the casino deal, maybe just removed as a warning. Caley is mixing with very heavy hitters and as far as I can make out, it’s the wife bringing in all the private dicks, not Caley...’

‘He didn’t want us hired but he sort of implied it was because he reckoned we were no-hopers,’ said Rooney, draining his coffee cup.

‘Lemme wind down, Bill. My number three theory is Caley needs money for the casino, and bad. You know what the politics is like down there — if Caley had a big enough sweetener to slip into the right civic-minded vest pocket, his problems would all just melt out of his way. So he knocks off his daughter, next comes the wife, and we got one very rich and happy guy with a licence to print money for the rest of his life.’ Nick folded his scruffy notes and stuck them back into his pocket. ‘Well, that’s what I got. May I make a suggestion? I think Lorraine or even Rosie should see what we can pump out of Phyllis Collins, I’ll do the Doc’s drugs scene and, Bill, you see if you can dig up more on the Caley casino property deal.’

‘Sounds okay to me,’ Rooney said, easing his sweaty tie up to the equally sweaty collar of his shirt.

Nick lit another cigarette and crossed to the front door. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Rosie, and so, partners, I’ll be seeing you...’ He hesitated and looked at Lorraine. ‘Seeing that Mr Smoothy has offered you a ride in his private jet, take it, because I don’t know about you but I reckon he’s our prime target.’

Rooney pushed back his chair. ‘Yeah, I’m outta here too. I’ll see what I can get from my old department. We all call in, right?’

‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Rosie said, smiling.

‘To what?’ Lorraine asked, irritably.

‘New Orleans, I’ve never been there. And with expenses we can book into a real nice hotel. And I can interview Phyllis Collins, she’ll be at the meeting tomorrow.’

‘See you,’ Rooney said, already at the door.

‘Bye, y’all,’ Nick called.

Lorraine looked up. ‘Just one thing, Mr Bartello. This is my case, I run the show, so after today you don’t tell me what to do.’

‘Hey, that’s cool.’

Lorraine caught the glance between Nick and Rooney as they left. It really infuriated her and she was angry at herself for coming out with such a crass statement. She should have played her hand better by far. She carried the dirty dishes across to the sink.

‘Maybe I’ll talk to Phyllis, Rosie.’ Rosie ran water into the sink and couldn’t hide her disappointment. Lorraine put her arm around her shoulders.

‘You can see her as well at the meeting, two heads are better than one Rosie, okay?’