questions about Davi, her friends and family, her state of mind, her life.
“She has no enemies. Not one. Which, in a competitive business like this, is amazing. She’s just a nice girl.”
“You called in a missing person’s report yesterday.”
“Yeah. She missed a shoot two days ago. Davi never missed a shoot. I called her. Even dropped by her place. She just disappeared. Jesus, who could have done something like that to her?”
Pulitzer had to take a time-out to reschedule his afternoon appointments. While he was on the phone, Herb and I conferred.
“Davi was a celebrity. She may have had stalkers.”
“We’ll call Sure-a-Tex.”
I added it to my notes.
“We also need to call Davi’s parents, check with her friends, and try to pinpoint her movements for the last week.”
Pulitzer finished his call and asked where he could get some water. I pointed him to the washroom.
Herb took a sip of coffee, then reached for more sweetener. The pile of pink wrappers on his desk was almost as high as his cup.
“If it’s someone who knew Davi, where do your handcuffs come in?”
“Coincidence? They could have fallen out of my pocket, someone picks them up and pawns them?”
“I don’t buy it.”
“It’s thin. But the only people with access to my office are cleaning people and cops.”
The maintenance staff was carefully screened during the hiring process, and cops were, well, cops. I didn’t know anyone working out of the two-six with a grudge against me, and I especially didn’t think I had any murderers on my squad. The process to become a police officer included psych profiles, mental evals, and endless personality tests and interviews. Wackos were supposedly weeded out early on.
“Maybe someone pinched them.”
That seemed more likely. I didn’t carry a purse, and most of my outfits had oversized pockets to hold all of my essentials, cuffs included. Even a mediocre thief could have gotten them from me without much effort.
“But why me?”
I used Herb’s phone to call Fuller back into the office. He’d been particularly helpful on the Gingerbread Man case, and I needed an extra man.
“Officer, I’d like you to cross-reference my previous case files with the names from County’s sign-in book. You know how to build a database?”
Fuller snorted.
“You think because I can bench three-fifty I can’t work a spreadsheet?”
“You can bench three-fifty?” Herb asked. “I almost weigh three-fifty.”
“It’s not that hard. Just a combination of diet, exercise, and supplementing.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m not getting results. I’m not supplementing.”
I thought of a hundred things to say, but managed to keep a lid on them.
Fuller walked next to Herb and leaned against his desk. The desk creaked. “I stack to boost my metabolism. Plus I use chromium, L-carnitine, CLA, and I protein-load before working out. If you want, I could take you through my NFL routine sometime.”
Herb beamed in a way that he usually reserved for chili dogs. “That’d be great! Can I get a list of those supplements you’re taking?”
“Sure. See, an ECA stack is a combination of—”
“Officer Fuller,” I interrupted, “we could really use that database.”
“Gotcha, Lieut. I’ll get right on it.”
Fuller left. Herb gave me a frown.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“I wanted to stop the conversation before the two of you started flexing.”
“Too much guy talk, huh? Sorry, didn’t mean to exclude you.”
Herb said it without sarcasm, but the comment chafed. Being a woman in the CPD meant constant, unrelenting exclusion. It didn’t matter that I was the number-one marksman in the district. It didn’t matter that I had a black belt in tae kwon do. Herb wouldn’t ever think to ask me about my workout routine. Unconscious sexism.
Or perhaps I was just being overly touchy because of the situation with my mom.
Pulitzer returned, looking a little better.
“I thought of something, but
“She has no enemies. Not one. Which, in a competitive business like this, is amazing. She’s just a nice girl.”
“You called in a missing person’s report yesterday.”
“Yeah. She missed a shoot two days ago. Davi never missed a shoot. I called her. Even dropped by her place. She just disappeared. Jesus, who could have done something like that to her?”
Pulitzer had to take a time-out to reschedule his afternoon appointments. While he was on the phone, Herb and I conferred.
“Davi was a celebrity. She may have had stalkers.”
“We’ll call Sure-a-Tex.”
I added it to my notes.
“We also need to call Davi’s parents, check with her friends, and try to pinpoint her movements for the last week.”
Pulitzer finished his call and asked where he could get some water. I pointed him to the washroom.
Herb took a sip of coffee, then reached for more sweetener. The pile of pink wrappers on his desk was almost as high as his cup.
“If it’s someone who knew Davi, where do your handcuffs come in?”
“Coincidence? They could have fallen out of my pocket, someone picks them up and pawns them?”
“I don’t buy it.”
“It’s thin. But the only people with access to my office are cleaning people and cops.”
The maintenance staff was carefully screened during the hiring process, and cops were, well, cops. I didn’t know anyone working out of the two-six with a grudge against me, and I especially didn’t think I had any murderers on my squad. The process to become a police officer included psych profiles, mental evals, and endless personality tests and interviews. Wackos were supposedly weeded out early on.
“Maybe someone pinched them.”
That seemed more likely. I didn’t carry a purse, and most of my outfits had oversized pockets to hold all of my essentials, cuffs included. Even a mediocre thief could have gotten them from me without much effort.
“But why me?”
I used Herb’s phone to call Fuller back into the office. He’d been particularly helpful on the Gingerbread Man case, and I needed an extra man.
“Officer, I’d like you to cross-reference my previous case files with the names from County’s sign-in book. You know how to build a database?”
Fuller snorted.
“You think because I can bench three-fifty I can’t work a spreadsheet?”
“You can bench three-fifty?” Herb asked. “I almost weigh three-fifty.”
“It’s not that hard. Just a combination of diet, exercise, and supplementing.”
“Maybe that’s why I’m not getting results. I’m not supplementing.”
I thought of a hundred things to say, but managed to keep a lid on them.
Fuller walked next to Herb and leaned against his desk. The desk creaked. “I stack to boost my metabolism. Plus I use chromium, L-carnitine, CLA, and I protein-load before working out. If you want, I could take you through my NFL routine sometime.”
Herb beamed in a way that he usually reserved for chili dogs. “That’d be great! Can I get a list of those supplements you’re taking?”
“Sure. See, an ECA stack is a combination of—”
“Officer Fuller,” I interrupted, “we could really use that database.”
“Gotcha, Lieut. I’ll get right on it.”
Fuller left. Herb gave me a frown.
“What’s wrong, Jack?”
“I wanted to stop the conversation before the two of you started flexing.”
“Too much guy talk, huh? Sorry, didn’t mean to exclude you.”
Herb said it without sarcasm, but the comment chafed. Being a woman in the CPD meant constant, unrelenting exclusion. It didn’t matter that I was the number-one marksman in the district. It didn’t matter that I had a black belt in tae kwon do. Herb wouldn’t ever think to ask me about my workout routine. Unconscious sexism.
Or perhaps I was just being overly touchy because of the situation with my mom.
Pulitzer returned, looking a little better.
“I thought of something, but
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