“What do you want to know?” The kid was all business now. Tony wondered if he’d been through this before.
“Where were you early Monday morning? Early like 6 to 10.”
“That’s easy. I spent the night with Angie and had a 9:00 class.” Tony made a note. Stuckey watched him closely.
“Angie?”
“This chick.”
“Angie have a last name?”
“Arkwright. You want her phone number, too? She’s pretty hot. We’re not like, exclusive.” Stuckey’s attitude took the first step toward wearing thin.
Tony flipped to a clean page and slid the notebook and his pen across the table. “And her address please.” Stuckey gave him a sullen look and started writing. “And while you’re at it, write down the class and the building and the professor’s name for the class.”
“For my alibi?”
“That’s right.” Tony folded his hands on the tabletop and watched Stuckey write, keeping his face neutral. When he was done, Sean slid the pad back…hard. It skidded off the table and onto the floor.
“Sorry,” Sean said.
Little fucking liar, Tony thought. He looked over the notes. The woman’s address wasn’t far away, maybe 15 blocks.
“History of the Cinema?”
“Yeah. Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. I’m an art major, leaning toward film.”
“And you were in class and Monday?”
“I told you that. It was a film review.” Tony nodded. “I already took this but the credits didn’t transfer. It’s a pain in the ass.”
“Transfer from where?” Tony really didn’t care. He asked the question reflexively, just making conversation, trying to get the kid at ease.
“UCLA, if it’s any of your business.” Stuckey was starting to piss Tony off. The notebook. The attitude. He wanted to get in the kid’s face, shove back some, but decided to just keep with the program, get the info he needed and move on. He made a note about the attitude while wondering how Stuckey would react to his next surprise. He pulled the finger print kit out and held it up.
“Know what this is?” Stuckey shook his head. “It’s a little kit we carry to take fingerprints with. Were you ever in the Fredrickson’s home?”
“Yeah, I was there once. We watched a football game in the basement like, last week, two weeks ago. Something like that. Why?”
“I’d like you to let me print you for elimination purposes. There were a lot of prints in the house. This will save us a ton of time.”
Stuckey frowned. His eyes started searching, left to right, like he was looking for a hole to crawl into.
“What do you mean save time?”
“Running all of the prints through the local, state, and fed databases takes a little time. It’s pretty quick now, but there were a lot of prints. We expect some of them aren’t in our system.”
Tony watched Sean working something through in his mind. Sean looked worried again, not cocky.
“Do I have to?”
“No.” It had bothered the Marland woman, the fingerprinting. She’d hesitated. She was in the system; for what, Tony had no idea. Mrs. Boom Boom hadn’t been enthusiastic either, he remembered.
“Not right now, anyway. I’ll just have to go to a judge and get a warrant if I think it’s worth the effort.” Tony wasn’t sure if he could actually do that but it sounded good. Then he had a thought. “Are you already in the system, Sean?”
“No fucking way, dude.” While Sean waved his hands Tony thought of at least a hundred gang bangers who were better at the bluff and bluster.
“Then help me out.” Sean stood abruptly and paced for a minute. Tony realized this was really a dilemma for him.
“These are just for, what did you say, comparison?” Sean sat back down but wasn’t comfortable. He kept fidgeting.
“That’s right.” Tony put on a half-smile like he’d seen Ray use, his mind churning with speculations. He wondered if the kid wanted to ask if there were prints on the murder weapon. Did he know it was a knife? Was it the knife he used and now he’s worried he might not have wiped it well enough? Okay kid, Tony thought, it’s time to raise, check or fold.
Stuckey folded. “Show me how to do it.” While Tony was working the kit Sean asked him what was next.
“Nothing really. I’ll check in with Angie tomorrow and give your prof a call so we can get on with the investigation.” While Sean was smearing the ink on his fingertips around with a paper towel Tony couldn’t help but add, “Unless, of course, you did it. Then I have to come back and arrest you.”
“It’s de Luca right? Detective de Luca?”
“That’s right.”
“Your sense of humor blows, de Luca.”
Tony got up to leave. At the door he turned and gave Stuckey his best Columbo. “I’m curious. What film did you watch Monday morning… in the cinema class?”
It worked. Tony caught him off guard. Stuckey had a cartoon question mark hanging over his head.
“Citizen Kane?”
Tony just nodded and walked away. “Falk you, kid,” Tony said to himself as he left the house.
Chapter 15
Tony sat in the idling Crown Vic flipping through the notes he’d made interviewing Stuckey. Something bothered him about the kid. His attitude was all wrong. Thoughts about Sue Ellen’s call kept intruding, blocking and checking his train of thought. He opened his phone and started to call her back to get more information on the Latin King threats, but punched Ray’s number in instead. He’d go see her later.
“Bankston.”
“Hey, boss. Have I still got time to make the meeting?”
He’d been in the house a long time. It was dark. Lights shone up and down the street. Street lights, halogen yellow, flickered behind barren branches. House lights whispered through shades and glass. There were few cars. No headlights searched the street at the moment. The foot traffic was almost gone and a chill was settling. He wanted to talk about the Stuckey interview, see if he had maybe read the guy wrong or had forgotten something.
“We postponed it until tomorrow morning,” Ray said.
“Just for me?” Tony teased. He doubted that Ray Bankston did anything with his efforts or feelings in mind.
“Yes, Tony. We couldn’t possibly solve this crime without your keen intellect and insight,” Ray teased back. The real reason was to let Kumpula and the computers do some more work on the fingerprints and to get the reports in better order. Ray also wanted Tony to sit in on the first of the sessions, get a feel for how they sifted facts and suspicions. Maybe the young detective would learn something.
“I’ve been accused of a lot of things Ray, but keen intellect?”
“Did you match up with the last roommate?” Ray asked, done with the banter.
“I did.”
“Did you clear him?”
“He says he was with a girlfriend all night and made it to class Monday morning at nine.”
“Does it check out?”
“I just got done talking to him.” Tony wanted to add ‘give me a freakin’ break’, but he didn’t.
“Well, it’s early yet.” Tony looked at his watch. 9:15.
“It’s early if you’re on the 8 to4 shift.” It had been a long day and the comment slipped out before he could catch it. Tony waited for Ray’s rebuke. He thought he deserved one.
“Whatever you think is best, detective. We’re meeting at 7:00 here in the squad room.” Tony heard Ray’s phone click off.
No rebuke. No argument. No hand holding.
Plenty of guilt though.
He started the car and checked Angie’s address again.
Angela Arkwright lived on the third floor of a small white-gone-to-gray stucco apartment building. There was no security door. No intercom. No buzzer. It was an old, tired building. The carpets probably had a color once, Tony mused. Same for the walls a few decades ago, he added as an afterthought. Now they just looked defeated. There were some kid’s toys in the hallway on the main floor and scuff marks on the mop-water colored walls. A nauseating curry smell staked claim to the airless first floor hallway. The stair treads were worn wood, grooved and smooth from years of weary comings and goings.