Page 71 of Fade Out

“This is absurd,” Tony said. “I’m leaving.”

“Well, if he’s leaving,” Gardner said. “So am I.”

“This is nothing but an attempt to muddy the water,” Tony whined. “You’re trying to get away with murder.”

White said, “Let’s go upstairs and make sure that’s true.” He at least knew it might solve an active murder investigation. Two actually.

Tony looked uncomfortable. Of course he did. I now knew Sanchez was pressuring him to get something out of this for them.

“Do you have a search warrant?” Elber asked.

“Jesus Christ,” my lawyer said

“We don’t need one,” I said. “You’re going to let us in.”

“Don’t take legal advice from him,” Tony said. “He has no legal background.”

“So, I can’t just let you in?” Elber asked. “You do need a search warrant?”

“Well, no,” Tony admitted. “If you have the authority to let us in…”

“Mr. Porter is in Europe,” I pointed out. “We’ve just told you there might be someone in his apartment. Don’t you have a duty to check?”

“Do I?” There was fear in Elber’s eyes. I was right, of course. He did have that duty. Then he asked, “But what if thereissomeone in the apartment?”

“There isn’t,” Tony said. “All you’d be doing is invading a man’s privacy—”

“We’re right here, Mr. Elber,” White said, “with you. You’ll be fine.”

None of that made Elber any more comfortable. Using a key from a well-stocked key ring, he reopened the metal gate behind him. He held it wide so we could all walk through.

Once the six of us were in the elevator, Owen said to Tony, “The doorman is a witness. He’s seen Rita Lindquist.”

“He’s seen a dead woman?” Tony asked snidely.

Owen pressed thirty-five and the doors closed.

“The description matches,” I said.

“What description did he give?”

“Short dark hair—it makes sense that she’s dyed it—pretty eyes, big tits.”

“That’s it? You know she’s not the only woman in Chicago with a big bosom.” The word bosom sounded funny coming out of Tony’s mouth. Like he was trying it out to use in front of a jury someday.

“She was seen with a guy named Mike Mazur, AKA Possum.” I said. “He’s a friend of Bill Appleton’s. He made a withdrawal from Mr. Porter’s account with Peterson-Palmer.”

Tony’s face had turned sour. This was a bit more concrete.

“If you’re so smart, who the fuck is the girl in the box?” Gardner eloquently asked.

“A girl named Hillary Buckman. Her parents were involved in 618 North Wells and may have had something to do with Gunner Lindquist’s death.”

“You have all the fucking answers, don’t you,” Gardner said, as though it was a bad thing.

“I don’t enjoy being accused of murder,” I said, just as the elevator doors opened. “But it does tend to make me curious.”

Not surprisingly, the hallways in Marina City were round. We curved our way around until we found unit 3535. The six of us stood in front of the door. Nothing happened for a moment.