I was about to offer him a cup of coffee when he spoke for the first time since I'd entered the room, his voice quiet, but filled with contempt. "Bloodsuckers, and witches, and– " He looked toward the door where Aquilina had exited. "–stupid cunts who don't know their place. With those for pals, how does a human like you look at himself in the mirror?"
I shrugged, and tried for a sheepish expression. "Sometimes it isn't so easy."
The smile he gave me matched Aquilina's for nastiness. "Well, don't worry about it, Markowski. You won't have to do it much longer."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He just shook his head. "I want a lawyer."
"How about you explain what you meant, first?"
The headshake again. "Lawyer. Court-appointed lawyer."
"Uh-uh. You only get a court-appointed lawyer if you can't afford to hire one."
He gave me a shrug of his own. "Fine – so I can't afford one."
"Your wallet, which I'm sure had its contents inventoried downstairs, contained $440. Less than half of that will buy you an attorney to represent you at your arraignment."
"And how am I supposed to hire this cheap lawyer from in here?"
"Just a minute," I said. I got up and left the room. A few minutes later, I returned with a landline phone and a telephone book. Cell phone reception in here, I knew from experience, was terrible. I plugged the phone into a jack in the wall.
"I'll leave you alone for a while," I said. "You can find yourself a lawyer in the phone book. Here's a tip – look under 'A' for attorneys, not 'L' for lawyers. And if you need to take notes – here."
I tossed him a pad of paper and one of those four-inch pencils we give to prisoners. They're supposed to be too small to use as weapons.
He stared at the phone as if I had dropped a fresh warm turd on the table in front of him.
"You'll listen to the call," he said.
"No, I won't," I said. "One, because it's against the law, and two, anything we heard would be inadmissible in court, anyway. What passes between you and your lawyer is privileged."
He chewed on that for a couple of seconds. "You'll still have the number I called."
"So what? We'd be able to figure that out based on what lawyer showed up to rep you. We know 'em all, believe me."
He seemed to deflate a little. "How much time do I have?"
"Twenty minutes is customary. Should be plenty of time – all you need to do is hire the guy. You can tell him your story when he gets here. Maybe," I said, "you'll even tell him your name."
He nodded solemnly. "All right – thank you."
Thank you. That was the first thing he'd said that surprised me.
Back in the squad room, I saw Aquilina at her desk, with a cup of coffee. When I walked over, she gestured with the mug. "It seemed like good advice," she said, "so I took it, although the coffee's as bad as ever."
"Thanks for your help in there," I said. "You played the son of a bitch perfectly."
"Did it do any good?"
"Actually, no – but that's not your fault." I looked at her for a second. "Remind me never to do anything that'll get you talking to me like that."
Aquilina took a swig of the terrible coffee. "Pretty unlikely, Stan," she said. "You don't look a thing like my ex-husband."
I stopped by McGuire's office and told him what we'd gotten out of commando boy, which was exactly zip.
"Can't say I'm surprised," McGuire said. "Maybe his prints will get a hit – FBI, DOD, something like that."
"I hope so. Although there's millions of people who've never been printed by anybody, anywhere."
"Yeah." McGuire gave me a crooked grin. "What kind of police state is this, anyway, where we can't even make people get fingerprinted?"
"Maybe we'll get his name in court," I said. "He can't be arraigned as a John Doe, can he? At least, I've never seen that happen."
McGuire raised and lowered his eyebrows. "Why not? What are they gonna do – threaten to put him in jail?"
"Guess we'll find out in the morning," I said.
I was sitting at my desk, describing for Karl how Aquilina and I had unsuccessfully tried good cop/bad cop on the suspect, when Karl's head came up suddenly.
"What's up?" I asked. Even though I'd been feeling pretty damn tired, I was suddenly very alert.
"Blood," he said. "There's fresh blood close by, and a lot of it."
It took me two heartbeats to realize what that meant, then I was out of my chair, through the door, and racing down the hall.
A second later, a blur went past me, and I knew my vampire partner would get there first. When I arrived at interrogation room 2, Karl was pushing at the door and meeting a lot of resistance, by the look of it. The door was open about four inches and didn't want to go any farther. This close, even I could smell the blood inside the room. Commando boy, it would seem, had done something rash.
"He's got furniture braced up against it, somehow," Karl said. "It's a pretty tight fit."
"Fuck it," I said. "Can you tear the door off its hinges?"
He studied the frame for a second. "Yeah, probably," he said. "The gap where the door's open will give me some leverage."
"Then do it."
"One thing, Stan. Once the door's down, I've gotta get the fuck out of here. That much fresh blood around… I could lose control, and that'd be pretty embarrassing."
"Fine," I said. "Yank out the door, then take off. I'll see you upstairs."
"Right."
Karl reached into the gap and got a grip on the edge of the door. His hands were wide apart, with one set to push while the other pulled. He strained against the door, and after a few seconds the top hinge tore out of the wall. That gave Karl even better leverage, and a moment later the door pulled free with a banshee screech and slammed into the opposite wall. Karl said, "See ya," and was gone before the door crashed onto the carpeted hallway.