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.”“Why?”“Because I don’t think Kendra Jean’s got anyone else to call for help.”“She called you?”“Yeah.And when I got there she started nagging me for taking so long, I turned around and left.”“Good for you.” Westen whispered an aside to Smith about what happened.“Are you here in Chicago?” he asked.“Why would we be?” She put the phone on speaker.“Didn’t she call you to bail her out?”“No.” Thank goodness.“So, you don’t know what’s going on with her right now?” Smith asked.“No idea.I suppose I could be a good citizen and check.Maybe stewing in a cell for a while will bring her snootiness down a few notches.”“Don’t count on it,” Smith said.Ryan laughed.“I tend to agree with you.”“Are you going back to the police station?”“Yes.I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”“Great, thanks.Bye for now.” Westen hit the End button.“So, what now?”“It’s too late to leave for Buffalo today.”“I agree.Let’s do some brainstorming and get on the road early.”“I’ll call for takeout,” Smith said.“What do you want?”They had a meat-lover’s and a vegetarian pizza delivered.They ate leaned over the coffee table drinking beer and fruit juice.An updated report about KJ at six o’clock provided no information about the painting itself but an anonymous tip had given details on KJ’s location.She was being extradited to New Hampshire sometime today.Westen stood to clear the pizza boxes.Smith brought the dishes and silverware and poured herself another beer.“I wonder who the snitch is.”“No idea.”“I think tomorrow, rather than heading for Buffalo, we should go to the museum,” Smith said.“Is that because you don’t want to drive that far, or you think we can get a clue there?”“Both.I think going to Buffalo is a wild goose chase.But I will go if we eliminate other options.”“Okay.Sounds like a plan.We’ll talk to the curator.What’s his name?” She read the notes KJ had provided.“Henderson McGee.Aged 45.KJ’s notes say he’s nice looking but really refined features.She thinks he might be gay.He lives with his father who has Alzheimer’s.In his teens and twenties he was in quite a lot of trouble with police.”“Anything that might indicate he’d steal paintings when he grew up?” Westen asked.Smith shuffled some of the papers.“Here’s an arrest report.” She read a minute then said, “No, it’s mostly drunk driving, and domestic abuse.”“Another domestic abuse? Must be a personality trait that runs in curators.”Smith laughed at something on the page.“I don’t think so.This domestic abuse was by his wife on him.”“You’re kidding.I don’t believe in men hitting women, but jeez, if a woman’s beating on a guy, I think he ought to haul off and put her in her place.”“Ha! I never woulda expected that to come from your mouth.”Westen changed the subject because she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear Smith’s views on abuse.“I want to have Mr.McGee run us through exactly what happened that night.What he did before KJ arrived.What they did after.”“I wonder if the police would let us look at the report that was filed.”“We should’ve asked the sergeant when we were there.”“Let’s stop there first thing.” Smith gave a sharp laugh.“I want to hear more about Kendra Jean, anyway.”“You think the sergeant’ll know?”“She’s the one assigned to the case, right?” Westen nodded.“So, yes, I think she’s the one to ask.”“I wonder who turned KJ in,” Westen said.Smith threw up both hands in a defensive motion.“Wasn’t me!”They dissolved in fits of laughter on the couch.Yes, Westen thought, maybe this relationship would work out.The cell phone rang, rattling across the coffee table.Smith viewed the caller ID and hit the speaker button.“Hi, Ryan.”“Hi ladies…you’re both there, right?”“Hi Ryan,” Westen said.“What did you find out?”“Nothing much.They were pretty close-mouthed.She is being brought back to New Hampshire.I couldn’t find out when or anything.I couldn’t find out if bail would be offered.I did find out one thing though, from an officer on duty in the front office.Apparently KJ had a visitor—somebody named Brett Hartshorn.”“The name sounds familiar.” Smith tipped her head up and peered at the ceiling.Then she shook her head.“Can’t think of where I’ve heard it.”“Something about the name is familiar to me too,” Westen said.“So, this Hartshorn guy visited KJ? Is that important somehow?” Smith asked.“It might be—she told him to get lost.”“So, that means he’s not a lawyer,” Smith noted.“No.” Westen snapped her fingers.“I know who he is.It’s her boyfriend.”“Are you sure? Why would she make him leave?”“I don’t think things are kosher in Denmark.” Ryan’s mix up of the clichés made them all laugh.“Call if you find out anything, or need anything.”“’Kay.G’night.”It was nearly ten o’clock.“Guess I should be going home.” Smith got off the couch.Westen followed her to the kitchen and handed over the keys.Smith put on her jacket, this one blue with yellow and white stripes.“What time should I come back in the morning?”“Neat jacket.Where’d you get it?” Westen asked.“Don’t remember.You like it?”“It works well for you.”Smith found her purse and tucked it under her arm.“Come back about eight?”“Okay.See you then.”“What’s that noise?”They stood still and listened.“It’s the cell phone,” Westen said.“Maybe Ryan found out something else.”They hurried to the living room.The phone had bounced off the table and was buzzing upside down on the carpet.Westen answered.“Who’s this—Westen?” came KJ’s voice.At least it sounded like KJ.“This is Westen.”“Oh.I’m so glad it’s you.” As opposed to it being Smith or who…police? “I need your help.” Just hers? “I’ve been arrested.”Smith hovered close.Westen hit the speaker button.“I know, KJ.What happened?”“Some cretin said I took the painting.”“People have been saying that since day one.What’s changed?” Smith said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.”“Why?”“Because I don’t think Kendra Jean’s got anyone else to call for help.”“She called you?”“Yeah.And when I got there she started nagging me for taking so long, I turned around and left.”“Good for you.” Westen whispered an aside to Smith about what happened.“Are you here in Chicago?” he asked.“Why would we be?” She put the phone on speaker.“Didn’t she call you to bail her out?”“No.” Thank goodness.“So, you don’t know what’s going on with her right now?” Smith asked.“No idea.I suppose I could be a good citizen and check.Maybe stewing in a cell for a while will bring her snootiness down a few notches.”“Don’t count on it,” Smith said.Ryan laughed.“I tend to agree with you.”“Are you going back to the police station?”“Yes.I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”“Great, thanks.Bye for now.” Westen hit the End button.“So, what now?”“It’s too late to leave for Buffalo today.”“I agree.Let’s do some brainstorming and get on the road early.”“I’ll call for takeout,” Smith said.“What do you want?”They had a meat-lover’s and a vegetarian pizza delivered.They ate leaned over the coffee table drinking beer and fruit juice.An updated report about KJ at six o’clock provided no information about the painting itself but an anonymous tip had given details on KJ’s location.She was being extradited to New Hampshire sometime today.Westen stood to clear the pizza boxes.Smith brought the dishes and silverware and poured herself another beer.“I wonder who the snitch is.”“No idea.”“I think tomorrow, rather than heading for Buffalo, we should go to the museum,” Smith said.“Is that because you don’t want to drive that far, or you think we can get a clue there?”“Both.I think going to Buffalo is a wild goose chase.But I will go if we eliminate other options.”“Okay.Sounds like a plan.We’ll talk to the curator.What’s his name?” She read the notes KJ had provided.“Henderson McGee.Aged 45.KJ’s notes say he’s nice looking but really refined features.She thinks he might be gay.He lives with his father who has Alzheimer’s.In his teens and twenties he was in quite a lot of trouble with police.”“Anything that might indicate he’d steal paintings when he grew up?” Westen asked.Smith shuffled some of the papers.“Here’s an arrest report.” She read a minute then said, “No, it’s mostly drunk driving, and domestic abuse.”“Another domestic abuse? Must be a personality trait that runs in curators.”Smith laughed at something on the page.“I don’t think so.This domestic abuse was by his wife on him.”“You’re kidding.I don’t believe in men hitting women, but jeez, if a woman’s beating on a guy, I think he ought to haul off and put her in her place.”“Ha! I never woulda expected that to come from your mouth.”Westen changed the subject because she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear Smith’s views on abuse.“I want to have Mr.McGee run us through exactly what happened that night.What he did before KJ arrived.What they did after.”“I wonder if the police would let us look at the report that was filed.”“We should’ve asked the sergeant when we were there.”“Let’s stop there first thing.” Smith gave a sharp laugh.“I want to hear more about Kendra Jean, anyway.”“You think the sergeant’ll know?”“She’s the one assigned to the case, right?” Westen nodded.“So, yes, I think she’s the one to ask.”“I wonder who turned KJ in,” Westen said.Smith threw up both hands in a defensive motion.“Wasn’t me!”They dissolved in fits of laughter on the couch.Yes, Westen thought, maybe this relationship would work out.The cell phone rang, rattling across the coffee table.Smith viewed the caller ID and hit the speaker button.“Hi, Ryan.”“Hi ladies…you’re both there, right?”“Hi Ryan,” Westen said.“What did you find out?”“Nothing much.They were pretty close-mouthed.She is being brought back to New Hampshire.I couldn’t find out when or anything.I couldn’t find out if bail would be offered.I did find out one thing though, from an officer on duty in the front office.Apparently KJ had a visitor—somebody named Brett Hartshorn.”“The name sounds familiar.” Smith tipped her head up and peered at the ceiling.Then she shook her head.“Can’t think of where I’ve heard it.”“Something about the name is familiar to me too,” Westen said.“So, this Hartshorn guy visited KJ? Is that important somehow?” Smith asked.“It might be—she told him to get lost.”“So, that means he’s not a lawyer,” Smith noted.“No.” Westen snapped her fingers.“I know who he is.It’s her boyfriend.”“Are you sure? Why would she make him leave?”“I don’t think things are kosher in Denmark.” Ryan’s mix up of the clichés made them all laugh.“Call if you find out anything, or need anything.”“’Kay.G’night.”It was nearly ten o’clock.“Guess I should be going home.” Smith got off the couch.Westen followed her to the kitchen and handed over the keys.Smith put on her jacket, this one blue with yellow and white stripes.“What time should I come back in the morning?”“Neat jacket.Where’d you get it?” Westen asked.“Don’t remember.You like it?”“It works well for you.”Smith found her purse and tucked it under her arm.“Come back about eight?”“Okay.See you then.”“What’s that noise?”They stood still and listened.“It’s the cell phone,” Westen said.“Maybe Ryan found out something else.”They hurried to the living room.The phone had bounced off the table and was buzzing upside down on the carpet.Westen answered.“Who’s this—Westen?” came KJ’s voice.At least it sounded like KJ.“This is Westen.”“Oh.I’m so glad it’s you.” As opposed to it being Smith or who…police? “I need your help.” Just hers? “I’ve been arrested.”Smith hovered close.Westen hit the speaker button.“I know, KJ.What happened?”“Some cretin said I took the painting.”“People have been saying that since day one.What’s changed?” Smith said [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]