As a Favor by Susan Dunlap

cases separated out. I can’t come up with a good reason why. Effield said they might be waiting for address changes.”
    “Could be. Welfare clients move much more frequently than the average. These clients, were they heads of families or single adults?”
    “Both. Twelve adults—all women—and five families. So far I’ve checked on four of the adults.”
    “Good. Deal with the adults first. Facts get muddled in families. The adults will save time.”
    I was tempted to add that some of the adults I’d run into—Delehanty in the forefront—were pretty muddled. “The intriguing thing is that of the four women who were listed as living in the Ranier Hotel off Telegraph, not one of them is there now and a long-term tenant claims none of them ever did live there.”
    “And this Effield says they moved?”
    “He says probably. He’s cagey. He put up a fuss about breaking confidentiality, but finally agreed to let me talk with one of the twelve, the one of my choice.”
    “So, Smith…” He sat, stroking his moustache. “So what do you make of all this?”
    “These clients were paying off Anne Spaulding.”
    “Because?”
    “They were breaking the rules. Excess income. It’d have to be excess income to make it worth her while. General Assistance clients only get two hundred a month. If that were their total income there wouldn’t be much for Anne to go after. So they must have unreported income, enough to bribe her.”
    His eyes half closed again; his hand went back to the moustache. “It hardly seems worthwhile bribing a worker to keep getting two hundred a month.”
    “They also get food stamps and MediCal.”
    He nodded. “And a good cover for any illicit income.”
    I waited while he added this input.
    “So you are assuming that one of these clients attacked her and then disposed of her corpse and clothes?”
    “Tentatively.” I had gotten caught before, agreeing too wholeheartedly. Don’t develop theories too soon, the lieutenant had said, they box you in. “It all seems rather penny-ante for murder, but—”
    “Nothing’s too small to kill over.” There was an unfamiliar note of weariness in his voice. “Check with Sex Crimes, Smith. See if these ladies are theirs.” He paused again, as if awaiting the final printout. “I would like to take you off this case. There’s no way you can avoid being too close, divorced or not. No matter how a marriage ends, your emotions don’t shift back to neutral.”
    “I’ve got a statement from Nat, my ex-husband.”
    The lieutenant shrugged, discounting that.
    I leaned forward, aware that the blood was coming to my face. I wished I had a fine brown skin like his, one that didn’t flush so obviously. “If you’re not sure, send someone to check his alibi.”
    He rubbed the wiry hairs of his moustache.
    “It’ll save manpower.”
    I waited. Why was I so anxious to hang onto this case? I hadn’t mentioned the pewter pen. Although Lt. Davis had read about it in my report, he would have no way of knowing the pen’s value to Nat. Was I protecting Nat? I knew he was lying, but I didn’t know why. Still, another officer wouldn’t even realize that. No, my knowledge of Nat was an advantage here. And there was more than Nat involved now. I didn’t want a case, any case, taken from me with a vote of no confidence. And, I wanted to know what had happened to Anne Spaulding. And, I wanted to find that out myself.
    Still, I waited. There was no more to say.
    “Smith,” he said, putting out his words with care, “I am counting on your professional competence. I am assuming if you cannot be objective you will let me know immediately. You understand?”
    “Yessir.”
    “Howard will check the alibi.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “You, of course, will say nothing.”
    “Yessir.” I was surprised how automatic my agreement was.
    “And Smith—”
    “Yes.”
    “We could have Spaulding’s body turn up any time. When that happens this case will be in Homicide.