where I got it, just to see if he’d fire himself. Then he calmed down and decided to put the best face on things. He said it wasn’t a big deal because they were going to hold a press conference tomorrow anyway. He confirmed that the hospital attorneys had denied the police access to the patient records and the police in-house attorneys were going to file suit in circuit court. Then he actually gave me a decent quote:
“We do not believe these were professional hits or random killings,” Gideon said. “We believe the killer knew the victims, and knew his or her way around the building. One theory we’re working on is that thekiller may be the relative of a deceased patient who used the radiation oncology facilities or a patient whose life expectancy has been shortened by some procedure in that department. A look at patient records would help us determine the feasibility of this theory.”
By the time I finished the story and took Georgia for her treatment, it was almost twelve-thirty and I was ready to work on Leo’s story again. I stopped by the main library and checked a crisscross directory, a nifty book that listed people by phone number and address. If you had the address, you could find the name and phone number. If you had the phone number, you could find the name and address. The directory told me who Officer Friendly’s mysterious platinum blonde was.
Next, I drove to Belleville to the brick apartment complex. A rather sharp-nosed neighbor confirmed my suspicions. I now knew enough to ruin Officer Friendly’s exotic dancing career. I marched over to his front door and knocked boldly, for a blackmailer. One P.M . was a late start even for a slug like me, but it was early for a stripper. A bleary-eyed Officer Friendly opened the door in a not-so-exotic blue terry bathrobe.
I peeked in the door and saw signs of the blonde—one red spike heel flung off by the kitchen and an abandoned gold bracelet on the coffee table. In one corner was a box of toys. A little boy with white blond hair was roaring around the kitchen on a brightly colored plastic tricycle.
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“I’d love to, but I’m busy,” Officer Friendly said,starting to shove the door closed in an unfriendly manner.
“You tell me about your wife, or I’ll tell everyone else,” I said.
He turned white, then reluctantly let me inside. The little boy toddled up and presented me with a toy truck. It was slimy with saliva.
“You’re married and this is your little boy,” I said.
“Jazmin is just a friend I’m staying with,” he said, eyes darting frantically.
“You’re lying. She’s your wife. That’s your wedding picture on the wall over the couch.”
He went from frantic to defiant. “Okay, we’re married. So what?”
“So it could ruin you if it got out. Do you think those women will drive to the Heart’s Desire to watch Ward Cleaver take off his clothes? They can see a naked family man at home for free.”
“Please, don’t tell my boss. I have a family to support. ”
“Then tell me everything you know about Leo D. Nardo.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “He likes the ladies and they like him, and he hopes one day someone will like him so much she’ll take care of him permanently.”
“That can’t be all there is to him.”
“It is. Please, you have to believe me.”
I remembered the building crowds last night, and the chubby brunette eager to fill his G-string with fives. “You wanted to be a star. You had him killed.”
“No! How can you say that?” Officer Friendly looked so horrified I thought he’d pass out, right in front of me.
“Then you helped him disappear.”
“No. I swear I didn’t. I’d never do that. You got to believe me. I liked things the way they were when I was the warm-up act. I was making nice money, with no pressure. Jazmin works at a bank during the day, and I watch Tyler, then work in the evenings. I never wanted to be a headliner.
“We do not believe these were professional hits or random killings,” Gideon said. “We believe the killer knew the victims, and knew his or her way around the building. One theory we’re working on is that thekiller may be the relative of a deceased patient who used the radiation oncology facilities or a patient whose life expectancy has been shortened by some procedure in that department. A look at patient records would help us determine the feasibility of this theory.”
By the time I finished the story and took Georgia for her treatment, it was almost twelve-thirty and I was ready to work on Leo’s story again. I stopped by the main library and checked a crisscross directory, a nifty book that listed people by phone number and address. If you had the address, you could find the name and phone number. If you had the phone number, you could find the name and address. The directory told me who Officer Friendly’s mysterious platinum blonde was.
Next, I drove to Belleville to the brick apartment complex. A rather sharp-nosed neighbor confirmed my suspicions. I now knew enough to ruin Officer Friendly’s exotic dancing career. I marched over to his front door and knocked boldly, for a blackmailer. One P.M . was a late start even for a slug like me, but it was early for a stripper. A bleary-eyed Officer Friendly opened the door in a not-so-exotic blue terry bathrobe.
I peeked in the door and saw signs of the blonde—one red spike heel flung off by the kitchen and an abandoned gold bracelet on the coffee table. In one corner was a box of toys. A little boy with white blond hair was roaring around the kitchen on a brightly colored plastic tricycle.
“I need to talk to you,” I said.
“I’d love to, but I’m busy,” Officer Friendly said,starting to shove the door closed in an unfriendly manner.
“You tell me about your wife, or I’ll tell everyone else,” I said.
He turned white, then reluctantly let me inside. The little boy toddled up and presented me with a toy truck. It was slimy with saliva.
“You’re married and this is your little boy,” I said.
“Jazmin is just a friend I’m staying with,” he said, eyes darting frantically.
“You’re lying. She’s your wife. That’s your wedding picture on the wall over the couch.”
He went from frantic to defiant. “Okay, we’re married. So what?”
“So it could ruin you if it got out. Do you think those women will drive to the Heart’s Desire to watch Ward Cleaver take off his clothes? They can see a naked family man at home for free.”
“Please, don’t tell my boss. I have a family to support. ”
“Then tell me everything you know about Leo D. Nardo.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” he said. “He likes the ladies and they like him, and he hopes one day someone will like him so much she’ll take care of him permanently.”
“That can’t be all there is to him.”
“It is. Please, you have to believe me.”
I remembered the building crowds last night, and the chubby brunette eager to fill his G-string with fives. “You wanted to be a star. You had him killed.”
“No! How can you say that?” Officer Friendly looked so horrified I thought he’d pass out, right in front of me.
“Then you helped him disappear.”
“No. I swear I didn’t. I’d never do that. You got to believe me. I liked things the way they were when I was the warm-up act. I was making nice money, with no pressure. Jazmin works at a bank during the day, and I watch Tyler, then work in the evenings. I never wanted to be a headliner.
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