One of the cops searching through Rebecca's things said, "Hey, Frank, check this out."
Glazer and Romero went over and the cop showed them a pair of Rebecca's shoes. Glazer examined the shoes closely, then said, "Looks good." The cop put the shoes in a plastic bag, and then another cop showed the detectives one of Rebecca's jackets.
As the detectives and the cops continued to talk, I tried to absorb the fact that for over a year I'd been living with a cold-blooded killer.
Rebecca had told me that I didn't really know her, and now I knew what she meant. Then I started to imagine what could've happened on Thursday night. I'd thought Rebecca had been asleep when I left to meet Charlotte at the bar, but she could've been awake. She could've followed me downtown, maybe in another cab, and seen me with Charlotte. She could've assumed that Charlotte was Angie, then followed her home and killed her.
Romero and Glazer returned to their seats on the couch.
"So you really had no idea about what happened in L.A.?" Romero said to me.
"If I knew, why would I stay with her?"
"Unfortunately we might have some more bad news for you," Romero said, and then he turned to Glazer.
"Charlotte O'Dougal," Glazer said to me, "the woman who was killed, was a junkie and a prostitute. She lived with a guy named Ricardo Alvarado."
Glazer showed me a picture of Ricky. This photo looked much more recent than the one of Charlotte. Ricky's scruffy face and dark, wolflike eyes looked painfully familiar. Somehow I managed to stay calm.
"Alvarado and O'Dougal had a history of domestic abuse," Glazer said.
"On Thursday morning he was found dead from severe head injuries in front of the building where he and O'Dougal lived. It was just a few feet away from where we discovered O'Dougal's body."
"Jesus," I said, still looking at the photo. I realized that my hands were tensing, and I had to consciously try to keep them still.
"Initially we thought Alvarado's murder had been drug-related, or maybe a botched robbery attempt," Glazer said, "but now that his girlfriend's dead it looks like there could be more to it. Do you have any idea what Rebecca's connection to these people was?"
"Nope," I said, shaking my head.
"Are you sure?" Glazer asked.
"Positive."
"Look at the pictures again," Romero said.
I glanced at them, then said, "Sorry, I've never seen these people before. I'm absolutely positive."
They seemed to believe me.
"Do you have any idea at all how Rebecca Daniels could've come into contact with them?" Glazer asked.
"Nope," I said, shaking my head. "I mean, Rebecca used to go out a lot I mean, dancing at clubs downtown. She also went to raves sometimes in the East Village and Alphabet City. Maybe she met them at a club or something."
"You know which clubs she went to?" Glazer asked.
I gave him the names of several clubs I knew Rebecca had gone to Vivid, Carbon, Chaos, Twirl. The way Glazer was writing in his pad I could tell he thought he had a serious lead.
"You told Detective Romero that Rebecca took various drugs," Glazer said. "What about heroin?"
"What about it?"
"Alvarado and O'Dougal were hard-core addicts," Glazer said. "Did your girlfriend shoot up?"
"Not that I know of."
"Where were you Thursday night?" Romero asked.
"Thursday, lemme think," I said, as if I had to remember. "I think I was home."
"You think?"
"I'm positive. What difference does it make where I was?"
"We got Rebecca Daniels's autopsy results in yesterday. She had Ketamine in her system as well as extremely high levels of GHB, otherwise known as liquid Ecstasy. She could've ODor somebody could've slipped the drugs into a drink."
"Hold up," I said. "If you think I had anything to do with Rebecca's death»
"You admitted having your hands around her throat, and we got two witnesses, Raymond Ramirez and Carmen Stappini, who say you and Daniels had been fighting a lot lately."
"I want a lawyer," I said.
"You're not under arrest," Romero said.
"I don't care," I said.
"Look, if you want to know the truth, I don't think you killed your girlfriend," Romero said. "But until we're sure who killed Charlotte O'Dougal and Ricardo Alvarado, all options are open."
"I'm telling you," I said, "I don't know anything about any of this, and that's the God's honest truth."
"Did Rebecca mention anything unusual happening in her life lately?"
Glazer asked.
"Unusual?" I said.
"Maybe someone had threatened her or tried to blackmail her?"
I had to catch my breath, but I coughed into my hand to cover it up.
"No," I said.
"Did Rebecca ever mention a guy by the name of Kenny Farrini?"
"Who?" I asked.
Glazer repeated the name.
"Nope, never heard of him," I said believably. "Why? Is he dead too?"
I prayed the answer would be yes.
"Farrini's alive and well," Glazer said. "He was I guess what you'd call an associate of Ricky's. They were smalltime con artists, and they both have long rap sheets. We've been questioning Farrini, but so far he hasn't given us much."
"I have absolutely no idea who he is," I said.
The cops seemed to be finishing up searching the apartment. I breathed deeply, hoping this would signal to the detectives that it was time to wrap things up, but Glazer and Romero didn't budge.
"There's another theory we're toying with," Romero said. "As I'm sure you recall, Rebecca's friend Raymond Ramirez claimed that Rebecca had told him she thought you were having an affair with that girl Angie Lerner."
"So what does that have to do with anything?" I said.
"I already spoke with Ms. Lerner, and she confirmed she wasn't having an affair with you," Romero said, "but maybe Rebecca somehow mistook this Charlotte for Angie and killed her in a jealous rage."
"I guess it's a possibility," I said.
"But the questions remain," Romero said. "Why did she go down to the East Village to kill this woman? How did she get the idea she was Angie? And how does Ricardo Alvarado figure into all of this?"
"Maybe you're better off with your drug theory," I said.
"Maybe," Romero said. "But Charlotte O'Dougal wasn't a dealer she was a heroin addict, and there wasn't any evidence of heroin in Rebecca Daniels's system. It's hard to see how drugs could connect them."
I shook my head, as if stumped. Romero and Glazer exchanged I guess we should go now looks, and then they both stood up.
"Sorry if we interrupted your grieving," Romero said, maybe sarcastically. "We'll definitely be in touch."
After the cops left I bolted the door and remained in the foyer, listening to hear if they were going to talk to Carmen again. I didn't hear a bell ringing or any voices, and I was satisfied that the detectives had left the building.
The apartment was a mess. Drawers and closest doors had been left open, and some of Rebecca's stuff was still strewn on the floor. I figured I'd clean later. I'd sweated a lot during the past hour and needed a shower desperately.
I turned on the water as hot as I could stand it, and I used the shower's massage mechanism, but I couldn't relax. There had definitely been sarcasm in Romero's voice he knew I wasn't grieving as much as I should be after my girlfriend's suicide, and he suspected I was somehow involved. I imagined the detectives going to talk to Kenny again and accusing him of killing Ricky. If they put enough pressure on him, or even took him in and started beating the crap out of him, he'd turn over the pictures of me, and that would be it.
Then I started replaying the events of Thursday night. I remembered how Charlotte's phone call had awakened me on the couch. Rebecca could've listened in on the conversation on the bedroom extension. Then Rebecca wouldn't have needed to follow me downtown, because she'd have known I was going to the Holiday Cocktail Lounge. When I came home, I'd seen Rebecca in bed, but I recalled how after I left the bar I'd walked for a while in the rain. Rebecca would've had time to kill Charlotte, then return home before I did.