Page 61 of Fade Out

“Because you’re a murderer. Do I need more reason than that?”

“There’s a dead girl and you don’t know who she is. And what’s worse, you don’t seem to care. You’re willing to ignore the evidence and let Rita—an actual criminal and murderer—get away. All so you can put me in prison. How is that doing your job?”

“We know you work for Deanna Hansen.”

“But I don’t.”

“You met with her at her grandfather’s funeral. Is that why you killed Rita? Did you do it on Deanna Hansen’s orders?”

“I don’t work for Deanna. I just said that. And why would she order Rita’s death? Do you have proof they even know each other?”

“I’d say you’re the proof.”

“Two half-truths don’t make a truth.”

She smiled as though I’d just paid her a compliment. Then she asked, “Why did you turn down our deal? It was very generous.”

Owen hadn’t mentioned any deal. He was supposed to even if he knew I wouldn’t want to take it. That was strange. And it didn’t make me happy.

“Why would I plead guilty? I’m innocent.”

“He didn’t tell you about the deal, did he?”

I kept quiet.

“I’m surprised. It’s an excellent deal. We drop all charges and all you’d have to do was wear an itsy-bitsy little wire.”

“So you can bring down Deanna Hansen?”

“So we can bring down one of the biggest criminal enterprises in Chicago.”

Of course, she was saying this to me with full knowledge that if I said yes I was very likely to be dead by the end of the week. I was about to say no, but suddenly someone on the other side of the ballroom screamed.

I stood up and looked across the vast room. People were running every which way, some toward whatever was happening, some away from it. The crowd would break every so often and I’d get a good look at Elaine Kelso standing next to a table screaming. I started toward her, having to move people out of the way every few feet.

When I got closer I could see that Richard Crisp was on the floor. One of the guests, presumably one with some medical training, was attempting to help him. There was so much blood I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. Crisp’s eyes were open and already lifeless.

I walked around to the other side of the table and grabbed Elaine by the arm.

“Tell me what happened.”

She screamed again.

“It’s important. What happened?”

“Who—”

“Just tell me.”

Then she began sobbing. I stood there a moment wondering what I should do. Just as I was about to walk away, she said, “Tall.”

“Whoever did this was tall. Is that what you mean?”

She nodded. “Waiter,” she gulped and then sobbed some more.

“One of the waiters who was tall. Taller than me?”

She nodded again. Then a gentleman in a tux not unlike mine leaned over to us and said, “He just walked over very casually and leaned over the table. I thought he was going to refill Richard’s coffee. But then when he stepped away, Richard was bleeding from his neck.”