The Dead Room (28 page)

He checked the time. When he punched Nash’s office number into his cell phone and reached his assistant, Gail Emerson, he told her that he had two stops to make but would be in as scheduled following lunch.

It would be a morning of putting out fires—suppressing his anger. If he couldn’t douse the flames and kill them, at least he would confront them.

Teddy forced the issue with the warden at Curran-Fromhold. Holmes had been quoted in the
Daily News
. Someone had gotten to him at the prison, and Teddy demanded an explanation and a look at his client’s cell. The warden protested. Teddy struck the visitor’s list with a closed fist. No one from the paper had made a trip out to the prison. No one other than Teddy had signed in. The warden finally agreed, calling the request unusual and escorting Teddy up to the quarantine pod in building B himself.

Teddy had expected to find the inmates locked in rows of cells behind steel bars. As he entered the pod, he was surprised to see this wasn’t the case. It was a large, open room that reminded him of a cafeteria in a high school. Twenty or so modern tables with stools were set into the floor. A short set of steps led down to a sitting area where a TV hung from the ceiling. Beyond the chairs were a row of ten steel doors. Each cell door was painted a bright yellow and included a small window. Teddy noted a stairway off to the side leading up to an open level above and another set of ten yellow doors.

Two guards sat at a table within the pod by the entrance. As Teddy followed the warden over and checked in, he looked for Holmes among the fifteen inmates milling about. His client didn’t appear to be in the pod. When he heard the sound of a basketball, he turned to his right and saw two inmates shooting hoops on the other side of a glass wall. Holmes wasn’t with them either.

Well aware that the inmates were keeping an eye on him, Teddy followed one of the guards down the steps to a cell in the far corner by an open shower stall. The guard pointed at the yellow door, saying it wasn’t locked and that Holmes rarely came out of his cell or mixed with the others.

Teddy glanced at the inmates and saw the uneasy looks on their faces as he reached for the door handle. The leak at the DA’s office was in play even here. Holmes was no longer a common murderer. He was the Veggie Butcher now.

Teddy swung the door open and found Holmes sitting on the floor with a piece of charcoal and a sketchbook. Holmes seemed more than a little edgy by the interruption.

“If I need help,” Teddy said to the guard, “I’ll scream.” Then he gave the man a hard look and slammed the door closed.

Holmes dropped his piece of charcoal on the floor. The cell was the size of a closet, and without bars, the space felt particularly confining. Two beds were bolted into the wall overtop one another. There was just enough room left in the cell to fit a stainless steel bench and a john. Although there was a narrow window over the beds, the glass was frosted and didn’t offer a view.

Teddy noticed the newspapers spread out on the top bunk—each paper folded to the crossword puzzle. Holmes had filled the words in using a crayon. On top was today’s copy of the
Daily News
.

“You like crossword puzzles, Holmes?”

Holmes nodded, but didn’t say anything. His eyes were bloodshot, his face wasted like he’d been driving all night without rest or stopping for gas.

“Well, at least you don’t have a cellmate,” Teddy said, glancing at the john and taking a seat on the bench.

“I read the paper,” Holmes said. “They’re saying I did things.”

“That’s why I’m here. Who have you been talking to?”

Holmes looked through the window at the guard staring at them from the other side of the door.

“Not him,” he said in a voice that wouldn’t carry. “There’s others who come in at night. They’re taunting me.”

“With what?”

“Steaks,” Holmes said. “And real coffee.”

Teddy didn’t understand and gave him a look.

“The prison only serves turkey,” Holmes said. “You know how you feel after Thanksgiving dinner?”

“Sleepy,” Teddy said.

“It’s the tryptophan in the meat. Turkey’s cheap and has lots of tryptophan. It works like a natural tranquilizer. That’s all they serve here. Three meals a day. And nothing with any caffeine.”

“So at night,” Teddy said, “they bring in the steaks and real coffee.”

Holmes nodded. “When I told them I’m a vegetarian, they laughed and called me names.”

“That won’t happen again, I promise you. But you need to do me a favor, Holmes. Don’t talk to the guards. Don’t say anything at all, no matter what, okay? And watch who you’re with. You don’t know who’s who in here.”

Holmes nodded as if a child.

“May I look at your sketchbook?” Teddy asked.

“Why?”

“Because I need to.”

Holmes seemed reluctant, but finally passed the sketchbook over. Teddy flipped through the pages until he reached the beginning, carefully examining each drawing. After a moment, he realized Holmes was recreating the view from the sun porch at his apartment in the city. His art studio. He could see the park outside, figures moving down the sidewalks like shadows.

“Have you ever done any portraits?” Teddy asked.

“I’ve tried, but they don’t come out right.”

“You still having nightmares?”

“Only when I sleep,” Holmes said.

Teddy caught a faint smile on his client’s face. The first he’d ever seen. His sense of humor was subtle, but there. Teddy handed the sketchbook back.

“What about your memory of the day Darlene Lewis died?”

Holmes face went blank again. “That’s the nightmare. The day she died.”

“What about before this, Holmes. Before Darlene was murdered. How’s your memory? Are there any other blank spots?”

Holmes thought it over as if he hadn’t considered it before. After a moment, he shook his head at the discovery.

“Tell me about that day,” Teddy said.

“No,” Holmes said.

“How bad can it be if you don’t remember what happened?”

“I remember touching her,” Holmes said. “Doing things to her with my hands.”

“What’s her face look like in the dream?”

Holmes lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Her eyes are bulging,” he whispered after a moment. “She’s dead.”

THIRTY-NINE

Teddy stood on the sidewalk beside his car, smoking his first cigarette of the day and keeping an eye on the building. His fuse was burning. Once he saw Carolyn Powell, he was afraid he might explode.

He crossed the street, ditching the smoke and entering the building lobby. Security in the district attorney’s office was tight. Three male receptionists worked the desk behind bulletproof glass. They looked like ex-cops, real bruisers. Beside the desk on the left were the metal detectors. You couldn’t pass without going through.

He pulled his cell phone out and entered her number. When her assistant picked up, he gave her his name and told her he was in the lobby. A moment later, Powell came on and said she’d be right down.

Benches were set up like church pews off to the side. Teddy took a seat and waited, unable to appreciate the ornate wood paneling or moldings that lined the walls of the old building. There had been a leak and it came from this office. Although Teddy had let Barnett make his point from his hospital bed without a response, the evidence seemed less important than what he was packing in his gut. District Attorney Alan Andrews had the wrong man. And now Holmes was tarnished beyond resurrection, his ability to defend himself ruined.

Powell entered the lobby carrying a file folder. When she spotted him, she passed through the security gate and walked over.

“You want to come up?” she asked, handing him the file.

“I don’t have time.”

“It’s the toxicology report,” she said. “Let’s go in here.”

He followed her into the empty press room and watched her close the door without switching on the lights. She looked upset as she crossed to the window. It read like guilt.

“We didn’t leak the story, Teddy.”

“If it wasn’t you, who else is there?”

“We’re trying to figure that out,” she said. “We’ve been working on it all morning.”

“Let me give you a hint. His name’s Alan Andrews and he’s a politician. Now you can stop wasting your time and get back to work on making the biggest mistake of your life.”

She took the blow and looked disappointed. Teddy didn’t move.

“We’re back to this,” she said after a moment.

“Not Andrews himself. He’s smarter than that. You know who’s working the case better than I do. You’ll have to figure out who’s talking yourself. Maybe it’s his scary cop friend, Michael Jackson. By the way, Jackson drinks from a flask. Not the one I saw the night Barnett was run over. He’s got another one now.”

She gave him a look and sat down. “Do you know what you’re saying?”

“I know what it looks like, Carolyn.”

She turned to the window without responding.

“It was in the papers before the Lewis murder,” he said. “An overzealous prosecutor with political ambition screws up and needs a big case to get himself out of a deep hole. That’s the context. The specifics get better. The lead defense attorney is in a hospital bed and may not walk again. Details of the crime scene have been leaked to the papers killing the jury pool. Prison guards working the night shift are taunting the accused and trying to get him to talk.”

She was staring at him, her eyes burning in the dim light and measuring his anger. “The evidence against Holmes is overwhelming. What you’re implying is ridiculous. You’re spending too much time with Nash.”

She stood up and turned to the door, reaching for the handle. She’d written him off and was ready to leave. Teddy pushed the door closed and could feel her breath on his face.

“What about Rosemary Gibb?” he said.

“Refresh my memory.”

She didn’t know who Rosemary was. He tried to get a grip on himself.

“You said you spoke with Ferarro in missing persons,” he said. “There’s another girl and I can’t even get a look at the missing persons report.”

She flashed a reluctant smile, remembering. The kind of smile that said Rosemary hadn’t made the cut. Even worse, it seemed clear that she’d written off Teddy’s motives as some sort of cheap defense tactic. Teddy felt his pulse smack the ceiling and steadied himself against the door.

“You said at breakfast the other day that you regretted what happened between us,” he said in a low voice. “I’m sorry we did it, too.”

She was staring at him. She was dressed in a turquoise suit that brought out the color of her eyes. Teddy ignored what he felt for her. He tried to, anyway, and moved on.

“You’re dangerous, Carolyn. You’re just like Andrews. Maybe you’re in it with him. Is that what happened? Were you keeping me busy that night? Did we get drunk and fuck so the hatchet man could get a clean shot at Barnett on his own?”

She seemed stunned. Her eyes suddenly looked glassy. What he was saying was outrageous, even vicious. Still, he needed to break the flow. One way or the other, he needed to change things.

“You really fooled me, you know it?” he said. “I thought it was more than that. I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since it happened. But you’re playing on another level. You’re in another league. You and the city’s next mayor. You don’t give a fuck about anybody just as long as you chalk up another conviction. Another win for the record books. You want it so bad you’re blind to what’s really going on. You can play follow-the-leader all you want. But keep your guards away from my client. We’ll deal with the leak next time we’re before a judge.”

She didn’t say anything. She didn’t move. Teddy opened the door, leaving her in the empty press room where the lights were out.

FORTY

Her tits were too big.

Eddie checked his canvas, then peered back at Rosemary slumped in the chair before him in his basement studio. The light was right, the sun hitting the greenhouse and feeding the room with a soft, steady haze that glowed. It was her body that was wrong. She didn’t match the others. She seemed too voluptuous. Even with her eyes closed, she radiated too much beauty, too much life.

He looked back at her and wondered if she might not be moving. She’d been sleeping for the past three hours—in a stupor since they’d become friends and partied on the
Love Drug
.

Eddie moved in for a closer look. He couldn’t really tell. Maybe she was moving, but maybe she wasn’t. When his eyes fell across her naked body, his dick got hard again and he swore. It was a pitfall that went with the job. A wrong turn up a dead end alley if he wanted to become famous.