"Not other times either, I bet. Crying is for the weak; she isn't weak, so she doesn't cry." He thumped a gnarled fist against his chest. "I cried like a baby, like a baby, I tell you, when my Rosa died."
Celluci nodded slowly in agreement. "I cried when my father died."
"Celluci? Italian?"
"Canadian."
"Don't be a smart ass. We, my Rosa and young Frank and me, we came from Portugal just after the second World War. I was a welder."
"My father's family came just before the war. He was a plumber."
"There." Mr. Delgado threw up both hands. "And if the two of us can cry, you'd think she could manage a tear or two without loss of machismo."
Vicki's voice drifted into the hall. "Mr. Chen? Perhaps you can help me, I'm looking for a young man, early twenties, named Tom Chen... "
Mr. Delgado's shoulders sagged. "But no. No tears. She holds the hurt inside. You listen to what I'm saying to you, Officer Celluci. When that hurt finally comes out, it's going to rip her to pieces."
"I'll be there for her." He tried not to sound defensive, Vicki's inability to deal with this wasn't his fault, but he didn't entirely succeed.
"What about the other guy? Will he be there, too?"
"I don't know."
"Humph. None of my business? Well, maybe not." The old man sighed. "It's hard when there's nothing to do to help."
Celluci echoed the sigh. "I know."
Back inside the apartment, he leaned against the closed door and watched Vicki hurl the Kingston phone book across the room. "No luck?"
"So he doesn't have a listed number, or a family in town." She jabbed at the bridge of her glasses. "He's probably a student. Lives in residence. I'll find him."
"Vicki... " He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "You're looking for a fake name. Anyone with the brains to pull this off also had the brains to work under an alias." That he had to keep telling her this was a frightening indication of how deeply she'd been affected both by the death and the loss of the body. It was a conclusion any first-year police cadet would come to and should never have had to be pointed out to "Victory" Nelson. "Tom Chen is... "
"All we've got!" A muscle jumped in her jaw as she spat the words at him. "It's a name. It's something."
It's nothing. But he didn't say it because behind the challenge he could hear her desperate need for something to hold onto. I suppose I should be happy she's clutching at this instead of at Fitzroy. What would it hurt to go along with her? At least it would keep him close and in time she might decide to hold onto him. "All right, if he lives in residence, where's he keeping... " Not your mother. There had to be something better to call it. "... the body?"
"How the hell should I know? First thing tomorrow, I get my hands on the university registration lists."
"How?" Celluci crossed the room and dropped onto the couch. "You don't have a warrant and you can't get a warrant. Why don't you let the local police take care of it? Detective Fergusson seems to be positive it's med students so I'm sure he'll check the university."
"So? I don't care what Detective Fergusson checks. I don't care if the whole fucking police force is on the case." She stood and stomped into the tiny kitchen. "I'm going to find this son of a bitch and when I do I'll... "
"You'll what?" He surged up off the couch and charged into the kitchen after her, forgetting for the moment that Tom Chen was a name and nothing more. "Why do you want to find this guy before the police do? So you can indulge in a little more participatory justice?" Grabbing her shoulder, he spun her to face him, both of them ignoring the coffee that arced up out of the mug in her hand. "I closed my eyes last fall because there wasn't a way to bring Mark Williams to trial without causing more damage than he was worth. But that isn't the case here! Let the law deal with this, Vicki!"
"The law?"
"Yeah, you remember, what you used to be sworn to uphold."
"Don't bullshit me, Celluci. You know just how much manpower the law is going to be able to allot to this. I'm going to find him!"
"All right. And then?"
She closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again they were shadowed, unreadable.
"When I find him, he's going to wish he'd never laid a finger on my mother's body."
The calm, emotionless tone danced knives up Celluci's spine. He knew she was speaking out of pain. He knew she meant every word. "This is Fitzroy's influence," he growled. "He taught you to take the law into your own hands."