Guilt By Degrees - страница 28

better. In fact she was the best, and she knew it. If she didn’t find anything on this target, it would be because there was nothing to find. But the past two years had taught her one thing above all: no one was completely clean. No one. There was always dirt somewhere. You just had to know where to look. “Give me what you’ve got on him. I’ll see what I can do.”

He handed her a file, and they negotiated the price. It was a brief negotiation that ended with an even higher seven-figure payout than the last job. The lobbyist left, and Sabrina kicked off her shoes, lay back on the couch, and opened the file. It didn’t take her long to get through it all. The lobbyist was right: he hadn’t made much headway.

When she’d finished, she locked the file away and reached for her cell, eager to get started. This one would be fun. She always loved taking down the Bible-thumpers.

“The bank?” Bailey asked as we walked out into a thin, gray afternoon that offered little contrast to the grim pallor we’d just left in the county jail.

I agreed and we got into her car. The postlunch wad of traffic forced us to inch along Broadway at a pace so slow it was maddening.

“Would’ve been faster to walk,” I groused.

“Fine with me. I can park it right there.” Bailey nodded to a steelworking yard that was dominated by a tower spewing out a river of smoke.

It wasn’t the kind of place you’d leave your own car, but we were in a county car that hadn’t seen better days in quite a while-it wouldn’t be a tragedy if it did get stripped or stolen. But I looked down at my feet and shook my head. I’d worn a pair of new, très chic, black suede ankle boots I’d scored at a half-off clearance sale. I’d treated myself to them today as consolation for having to go to the jail. They were comfortable enough, but if they got messed up, I’d lose it.

“Never mind,” I said.

But Bailey was fed up with the traffic too. She looked in her rearview mirror, then swung around to the right, passing the line of cars stopped at the light. She got to the limit line just as it turned green and flew through the intersection in a burst of speed. A man in an orange nylon jacket and work boots who’d been about to cross against the light jumped back onto the curb and grabbed the pole of the street sign as she roared past.

“But I’d still like to get there alive,” I remarked. “If that’s all right with you.”

We’d just passed Temple Street when Bailey’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her jacket pocket, announced herself, and listened for a moment. “Okay, when’s Newman going to have the blood?”

A few seconds later, she hung up. Her tight-lipped expression told me this hadn’t been good news.

“Still nothing on our vic,” she finally said. “He’s never been printed for any job, and if he’s ever been busted, it’s not showing up in any database.”

“Unbelievable. No ID on him and no prints on file. What are the friggin’ odds?”

Not being able to identify a victim is a serious stumbling block in any case, but it was a particularly gnarly obstacle in this one, where there was no obvious motive and the suspect in custody was looking less suspicious by the minute.

“What’s the coroner say about his physical condition?” I asked.

“Still waiting for him to return my call,” Bailey answered in a voice that told me she was equally aggravated. “But we should be hearing about the blood on Yamaguchi’s sleeve pretty quick.”

Half good news anyway. I mulled over the situation.

“You don’t have the autopsy report yet?” I asked.

Bailey shook her head. “Stoner told me the cause of death was ‘sharp force injury,’ known in English as a stabbing, but we don’t have any details about what kind of knife was used or the nature of the wounds.”

“Let me try Scott,” I said. Scott Ferrier, the coroner’s investigator, was a friend of mine who’d risked his neck to get me information in the past. My end of the bargain required that I reward his bravery with free meals at Engine Co. No. 28, his favorite restaurant. And since I loved the restaurant too, it was a win-win. I pulled out my cell and dialed, glad to have something to do besides fume over the gridlocked traffic. I got his voice mail and left a message.