The Fifth Floor Read Online Free PDF Page B

blood. It wasn’t pretty. Then again, it wasn’t supposed to be.
    “Why don’t we cut the bullshit here, Kelly. Tell us all about your client. Starting with why they’re so interested in Johnny Woods.”
    I hadn’t figured on Woods’ name coming out of Masters’ mouth. I think he enjoyed the moment.
    “So you know about Johnny.”
    “We know,” Rodriguez said. “Again, we don’t understand.”
    I was in a bit of a spot and my two cop friends knew it. Johnny Woods appeared to be a key to whatever was going on. Throw in the fact that he was one of the mayor’s guys and the stakes rose considerably all around. Masters and Rodriguez wanted answers. I had plenty. Problem is, none of them were going to be what you might call good.
    “What exactly do you know about me and Woods?”
    “You’ve been asking about him,” Rodriguez said.
    The image of Fred Jacobs flickered through my head. I should have figured as much.
    “Okay, I’ve been asking. It’s a personal thing.”
    “Personal?” Masters said. “Just so we’re all clear. You’re telling us Johnny Woods had nothing to do with your presence at 2121 North Hudson yesterday.”
    The corner I was in seemed to be getting tighter by the minute. “I didn’t say that.”
    Masters got up from his chair and clasped both of his hands on top of his head. “Maybe we need to take a statement from this guy, Vince.”
    “I don’t think so,” Rodriguez said, and looked at me. “I think we can get what we need and still make Kelly feel good. Right, Kelly?”
    “I’ll tell you what I know,” I said. “You keep my client’s name out of it.”
    Rodriguez looked at Masters, who shrugged, then smiled. “As long as Mrs. Woods is not our killer, you won’t have any problems, Kelly.”
    “Fuck off, Masters.”
    “So that’s it, then.”
    Some days you just can’t win. Inside a Chicago cop shop, make that most days.
    “Yeah, that’s it,” I said. “Woods’ wife asked me to help her out, so I tailed hubby to the house on Hudson. Just wanted to talk to the guy. See what his day was like. Woods rang the doorbell. No answer. He looked around, rang again. Then he pushed the door open.”
    Rodriguez was taking notes now. Masters was asking the questions.
    “Did he force the door?”
    “No. Looked like it was ajar. He just pushed it open. Like I said, he was nervous.”
    “Then what?”
    “He went into the house. Less than a minute later, he came out. White face, big eyes. Scared. Ran right by me. Got himself a cab and never looked back.”
    “Then you went in,” Rodriguez said.
    “I went in. Saw the body. Didn’t touch anything and left.”
    It went on for a while longer. Details of the body. The house. The Johnny Woods angle one more time. Just to see how many different lies I could tell. It wasn’t hard. Never is when you didn’t do anything and are mostly telling the truth. Finally, they were done. The big question, of course, remained unanswered.
    “So why was Woods there?” Rodriguez said.
    “No idea.”
    Rodriguez held up a photocopy of the title page to Timothy Sheehan’s book. “You didn’t see one of these in there?”
    I shook my head.
    “Johnny Woods didn’t walk out with one?”
    “Not that I saw.”
    “You ever talk to Woods about his wife?” Masters said.
    “What do you know about that?”
    “We’ve had a couple of calls out to their house. Domestic stuff.”
    “Let me guess,” I said. “No one ever filed a report.”
    “Janet Woods didn’t want any paperwork filed,” Masters said. “We accommodated her request.”
    I looked from one cop to the other and back. “Sounds like you know as much about my client as I do.”
    “Wasn’t hard to figure out how you might be involved, Kelly, if that’s what you mean.” Masters picked up the Bryant homicide file. “Either way, when you talk to Janet Woods, you leave this out.”
    “Leave what out?”
    “The house on Hudson. Leave it out. And don’t talk to any of your