how’s his leg doing? Is he still out of commission?” he asked.
“Um, he’s better, almost one-hundred percent. Look, this really is police business. Can we talk somewhere private?”
He looked around at all the faces watching our exchange. “What’re we, chopped liver?” one guy asked before turning away.
“Have a doughnut, Shaughnessy,” he said. “Show’s over guys.”
We went towards the interview rooms, and I hesitated when Ty held open the door for me. He smiled. “We can leave the door open if you like,” he said.
“That would be good, thanks.” I went in and sat in the chair opposite the usual “prisoner” side, and that made me feel better. I’d been held here for questioning after finding Neville Carstairs’ body, and it had seemed like one of the longest nights of my life.
I put my gifts to the side of the table and took out the card. Leaving it in the plastic sandwich bag, I briefly explained the scenario to Ty and handed him the card.
“So, we were wondering if you could look into it, maybe check for prints or something?” I asked.
Ty pulled some gloves from his pocket and took out the envelope, then looked at the card. “There’s nothing threatening about this,” he said. “What basis do I have to spend taxpayer money running tests on an innocuous greeting card?”
“Oh,” I said. I leaned back in my chair. “The fact that this person doesn’t exist isn’t interesting to you at all?”
“It seems like a practical joke. Maybe from one of Michael’s old school friends or something,” Ty said. “I don’t think there’s anything I can do for you.”
“Is there something I can do?” I asked. He frowned. “No, I mean, is there a lab where a private citizen can get something like this tested?”
“Are you planning on becoming some kind of private investigator? Is that what this is about? You got a taste of it and now you think…”
“No, I don’t think anything,” I said. “Remember, I got hurt by that case, too. I just want to do a favor for my friend. He’s worried about this. It’s weird. Don’t you agree that it’s weird? And he was a little freaked out about it. So I told him I would talk to you, and here I am. Talking to you.”
“I see that,” he said.
“You know, this is kind of what I do,” I said. He cocked his head to the side. “I mean, as a researcher. I am a trained investigator. As an art historian, I used to track down the provenance of pieces and research the history of the time and place in which they were produced. That’s what a Ph.D. is for.”
“Oh,” he said. “I always thought it meant ‘piled high and deep.’ ”
We looked at each other.
“Funny. So, no dice on the analysis, then,” I said, breaking the silence.
He shook his head and handed the baggie back to me.
“Any suggestions about a lab?” I asked.
“I’ll ask around, see what I can find. How’s that?” he replied.
“Great, that would be helpful,” I said. I indicated the packages. “These are from Michael. He insisted that I bring you some Hanukkah gelt. I’m driving him up to visit his mother for the holidays this afternoon.”
“Oh, that’ll be nice,” he said. “Have fun.”
I stood up. This had clearly been a bad idea, I realized. I’d better get out of here before we used all the air in the room.
“So, you have a nice Christmas, then,” I said. “And thanks for taking the time to talk with me. I know you probably didn’t want to see the likes of me in here again…so I’ll get out of your hair now.” I turned to go, and felt his hand on my shoulder.
“Wait,” he said.
I turned back and looked up into his deep blue eyes. “Yes?”
The door opened wider and hit me square in the back of the head. I saw stars. Ty lowered me down into a chair.
“Gardner, did you ever hear of knocking?” he shouted. “Cassie, are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?”
“Geez, why would she need an ambulance? I just tapped her a little with the door,” Gardner said. “What is she, made of porcelain?”
“Titanium, actually,” I said. I looked at him. “They put titanium in my spine, and some cement, but no porcelain.” I turned to Ty. “I’m fine. I just got a little wobbly.”
“What did you come in here for anyway, Gardner?” Ty asked.
“Oh, yeah, thought you would like to know. They just brought in a perp on a robbery charge, a crash and grab in the jewelry district. Young one, quite a little fighter. Sort of reminds me of the doc here. And I happen to hear, coincidentally, that she’s claiming to be Thornton’s sister. Maybe you want to go down and post bail, Doc?”
Ty looked at me, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. “A sister?”
“Not mine,” I said. “I’m an only child…as far as I know.” I stood up. “Let’s go meet this kid, find out where she comes from. Maybe I will bail her out, just for laughs. You know, it can be a little Christmas gift.”
Ty barked at me. “Don’t you dare,” he said as he followed me down the hall.
Gardner brought up the rear, opening the candy box. “Look, guys, Mrs. See’s!”
When I spotted the girl in the cell, my heart did break a little for her: She was such a mess, but so determined to put on a good show. Her thick mane of hair had probably not been properly washed or brushed for quite a while as it was clearly matted with knots underneath the gleaming chestnut surface. Her face, beneath a veneer of street dirt, was rosy with cold and her lips were badly chapped. And her clothes, a hodge-podge of Goodwill pickings, might be entertaining in a magazine layout but barely covered her thin frame.
“Can we get her one of the doughnuts?” I whispered to Ty. “I bet she hasn’t had a decent meal in days.”
He shook his head. “Let me see what they have on her. Stay here. Do not talk to anyone,” he said.
I sat on a bench, leaned against the wall and did my best disappearing act, pulling up my collar and donning my seldom-used glasses. I studied my cell phone for a few minutes and then allowed myself to return to my perusal of my “sister.” To my surprise, she was no longer seated on the bench in the cell, and I did a quick scan of the other female prisoners before I came upon her again, standing in the opposite corner, looking directly at me.
I met her stare with my own, and we sat this way for several minutes. Gardner interrupted the contest when he came and planted himself in front of me. “So, do you recognize her?” he asked.
“No, I’ve never seen her before,” I said. “Would you move out of the way? Have you got an ID?”
“Friday is talking to the officer who brought her in. She was yelling about getting her phone call, kicking and screaming, and then once she got inside, she clammed right up. Said she would just wait for her sister to come and get her, and that was the end of the story. What do you think about that?” he asked.
I shifted, trying to see around him. “Would you sit down, or step aside, please?”
“Oh, am I in your way?” he asked. He scratched his crotch. “I’ll just move over here.”
I hit him with my bag and he finally stepped aside. When I looked back in the holding cell, she was gone.
“What did you do with her? Where did she go?” I asked. “What were you trying to stop me from seeing? Jesus, what is