The Cold Room by Robert Knightly Page B

sheet metal boxes and tubes. There was even a cracked toilet. I didn’t have to guess where the debris came from. The squat brick warehouse on the eastern side of the yard had been long abandoned and long ago looted. Whether or not it was also unoccupied remained to be seen.

TWELVE
    A t one time in the not too distant past, I was good-old Harry Corbin, friend to all. My favorite hang-out was a cop bar in Brooklyn where my drink was waiting before I took off my coat, where no one had a bad thing to say about me. That all stopped when I busted Dante Russo and his cronies. Now it was just Adele Bentibi and Conrad Stehle, and Conrad was somewhere off the coast of Alaska with his girlfriend.
    Any port in a storm. When I finally arrived home at eight thirty, the first thing I did was pick up the phone and call Adele. I was riding a high which had yet to crest and the urge to blow off steam was too great to resist.
    â€˜Corbin, I’m glad you called. I thought you’d forgotten me.’
    Adele sounded weary, almost resigned, the effect so pronounced I came close to asking her what was wrong. But I didn’t want to go there. I didn’t want any distractions.
    â€˜I caught a break, Adele. I’m gonna nail the case.’
    â€˜You did? Wait, wait a second. I want to take this in my room.’ A moment later, she said, ‘Okay, I’m alone. Let’s hear the story.’
    It was as if she’d become another person, engaged now, interested, and I realized, suddenly, that engagement was what I had to offer. Life on the street, where it mattered.
    I laid it out for her, taking my time. Sister Kassia, Father Stan, Aslan and the women, Domestic Solutions, the Eagle Street Roofing warehouse. Adele didn’t comment until I finished. Then she said, ‘You know, Corbin, your victim wasn’t killed in that warehouse.’
    â€˜No refrigerator, right?’
    â€˜Ah, you’re already there.’
    â€˜Look, starting tomorrow morning, I’m gonna put Domestic Solutions under surveillance. There’s an abandoned building across the street. I’ll set up shop inside and see what develops. Remember, without the man Clyde Kelly saw at the disposal site, there’s no case. So, if he doesn’t live in the building or come there to do business, I’ve still got a long road ahead of me. Sister Kassia told me that she hasn’t seen the man in two weeks, which was when he tried to put Jane’s body in the water. Did he take off? He had plenty of reason.’
    Adele laughed. ‘You wouldn’t be telling yourself to slow down, would you?’
    â€˜It’s that obvious?’
    â€˜Corbin, you’re stoned out of your mind. But don’t worry. I’m not putting you down. In some ways, you’re at your best when you smell blood in the water.’
    â€˜And you? When you were still a detective? How did you feel when you finally got a break?’
    â€˜High as a kite.’
    â€˜Do you miss it? That high?’
    â€˜More than I can say.’ She hesitated, her voice dropping off at the end of the sentence. ‘But I know I can’t get it back. I can’t be a cop again. I put that behind me when I left the job.’ Another hesitation, then, ‘What the nun said about the women. Where are you going with that?’
    â€˜Women and children, Adele.’
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜I looked in the van they were driving. There were a pair of car seats in the back.’
    â€˜That only makes the question more urgent.’
    Something in her voice warned me to tread softly, but I was too revved up to listen. ‘I don’t wish those women any harm,’ I said, ‘but I don’t speak for them. I don’t represent them. Besides, how do I know one of them didn’t kill her? Or play a part in what happened to her after she was killed? And even if you eliminate them as suspects, they might still be witnesses. Down the line,