I was surprised she knew my name. I watched the back of her legs as she walked away. My face felt hot and I turned to look out the window.
***
I’d had enough of looking through the file and milling around the library. I figured if there were anything worthwhile in either place, Steele would already be out. It was time to poke around and see what else might be out there.
Sergeant Wilson of the LAPD had been the first one to Steele’s house on the night of the murder. His signature was on the initial police report. He was now Detective Wilson, and although I doubted he’d have anything to say to me, I decided to track him down. It couldn’t hurt to ask. He seemed amused by the phone call. Fortunately, he was kind enough to let me buy him lunch.
He met me in a crowded place in Chinatown where most people get take out. Detective Wilson had a salt and pepper buzz cut and a stern expression — vaguely military — and I knew he was a cop the minute I saw him. He was lean and fit, and walked into the room like he owned it. I was sitting at one of the small tables by the windows and Wilson picked me out immediately. I guess that made him a good detective.
“I don’t have much use for lawyers,” he said, as soon as he sat down. “But I figure we can both do each other a favor. I’ll try to keep you from wasting your time so you don’t waste any of mine.”
“Pardon?”
“You want to talk about Steele, I’ll tell you everything about him. But you need to understand something, son, that guy’s as guilty as they come. I’ll bet I’ve been a cop longer than you’ve been alive. I know what I’m talking about.” He leaned back and waved to a guy behind the counter, who immediately came over to take our order. Wilson was obviously a regular. He was also used to people paying attention to him.
I ordered the chow mein and wondered where to start. I was beginning to regret calling him. I was also wondering why he’d agreed to meet with me. I said, “I’ve read your report, so I think I’ve got a good sense of what you saw that night. I guess I’m interested in why you’re so sure it was Steele.”
“Son, when you do this as long as I have, you can just tell when people are lying. When you walk into a house and find a dead woman and a man covered with blood, you don’t have to be a genius to put the pieces together.”
“But he moved the body.”
“Sure he did. You don’t think she just sat still while he stabbed her, do you? Come on. I’ve seen hard cases in my time, but this wasn’t one of them. What mystifies me is why so many people have such a hard time believing this guy killed his wife.” Wilson shook and scratched his head at the same time, grinning with disbelief.
“But what was the motive?” I heard a pleading quality in my voice, and I didn’t like it. I sounded desperate. Probably because I was.
“Sometimes people just get pissed off and get carried away. It wasn’t like these two had a perfect relationship. They’d separated before.”
“And gotten back together.”
“Yeah,” Wilson grinned, “that was her biggest mistake.”
The waiter brought our food and we ate quietly for a few minutes. There was an arrogance to Wilson’s conviction that galled me. It was as though he could not accept even the suggestion that the world was not exactly as he saw it. I watched Wilson mow through half his plate of food. Something seemed to be simmering inside him, and he struggled to contain it for a moment, then he finally leaned in and spoke with a voice as unwavering as any I’d ever heard.
“Look, kid, you weren’t there that night. You didn’t see it. It was indescribable. His wife’s blood was everywhere, all over the walls, sprayed up across the ceiling. I mean everywhere. And that son of a bitch Steele, he sat there in that bathroom, with the water running in the tub, and scrubbed the blood off the kitchen knife he used while his wife lay there dying. Don’t forget, he’s a politician, he made his living pretending to be a good guy. Don’t be fooled. He’s a cold blooded killer if there ever was one. I knew