LOOKING FOR SOFIA .5.

They agreed to have a policeman watching Mary's place. She said she was working at home online, and wouldn't go anywhere today. Brown had been adamant about her not leaving her place for whatever reason that would arise. Driving to the BPD headquarters with Grimes by his side, he shook his head in pity remembering the poor young woman's face. Brown and Grimes were to meet Higgins and decide about how to handle the rendez-vous at Loews Theater. Brown looked at Grimes sideways: she seemed deep in thought.“What is it?” he asked.
“I do wonder about Wilson. I wish Solomon would tell us something soon,” she said after hesitating a little. “I wish we knew the cause of death, and if it's really linked to Sofia.”
“Believe me, it is,” Brown said grimly. “But we need a confirmation, you're right.”
The large grey building of the BPD was in sight, and he parked in a very narrow space between two other cars along the sidewalk with a maestria he knew Grimes admired. He heaved his big body out of the car with a grimace of pain, though. His bad knee gave him some worries those days, he reflected darkly. Well, 47 is not 27 and he was getting older each day. He chased the depressive thought by taking some time to purchase the very strong coffee he'd been needing all day, from the vending machine downstairs. It was not terrific, but it would have to do, he thought, swallowing the first sip. Grimes had tea and was about to taste it when they heard an imperious voice coming from upstairs.
“Hey detectives, just take your time!” Higgins had her hands spread wide and was leaning over the balustrade. Two other detectives looked at them, winking and shaking their heads. The boss disappeared into her office so fast they remained stock-still looking at each other.
“Better hurry,” Brown said. “ She can be a real pain in the ass.”
Grimes nodded silently while sipping some tea anyway. She threw the rest into the trash bin and so did Brown with his coffee. They climbed up the stairs, Grimes in front and Brown behind, holding hard onto the handrail. His mood was getting worse by the second. He was deserving that coffee, and Higgins could have had the decency to wait for them a few more minutes. The woman was gorgeous all right, but if she thought yelling was the good way to handle him, she was wrong.
Okay, he sighed inwardly a few seconds later. He'd gladly show her the right way to handle him, he thought as he took in the sight of her, leaning back against her chair, her eyes green and sparkling, looking up at him when he entered her office. This nice mouth of hers, the pale freckled carnation of her skin and the cascading dark red hair framing her pretty face had him holding his breath again. She wore a light shirt that was opened low down her splendid neck and he had to look away not to watch the swell of her breasts under the green fabric. He chided himself silently, he didn't want to go this way: the lady was not smiling at the moment. And he resented her for his wasted coffee.
“So where are we in now?” the boss asked, her arms now resting on her desk.
Brown took his time to sit uninvited into one of the chairs and motioned for Grimes to do the same. He couldn't help but see Higgins was holding back a smile.
“Well, we told you most of it on the phone, Chief. Two people are dead, but we're still investigating the motives and COD is unclear for the homeless guy so far. Sofia's Anderson's sister, Mary, is to meet her at Loews theater tonight and we must decide how to handle this,” he summarized briefly.
“You have Mary watched, have you?” she said, looking at Grimes now, and Brown felt deserted without her eyes on him. She was getting on his nerves, he reflected, he was being too stupid indeed.
“We have two guys there in a patrol car,” Grimes answered.
“It's Joan, remember?” Higgins said and Grimes nodded, her face blank. “Look, Detectives, I'm sorry for the coffee thing,” Higgins added, sighing.
“Actually it was tea,” Grimes said, her voice showing nothing.
“Okay, okay, anyway I'm sorry. I had a call from Sawyer a few minutes ago and he really pissed me off! So you had to suffer my temper, I do apologize, detectives,” Higgins said tightly.
“Oh? What did Sawyer say?” Brown asked, genuinely surprised and forgetting his bad mood. And so did Grimes, who shifted position on her chair and bent her head toward the desk. They were now looking like three conspirators, Brown thought.
“He was angry big time because his wife had called him and said police officers asked for an interview at her place.”
“We told him we'd go.We are to go there early this afternoon!” Brown exclaimed.
“He said he didn't understand why you'd meet her and blah blah blah she was not his wife anymore but he didn't want his children or her troubled by you... He was most insistent,” Higgins said.
“To hell with him!” Brown said, “I'm beginning to think this guy's not clear at all, I hope you didn't say we wouldn't go!”
“Of course I didn't, Peter!” Higgins's voice was like steel now. “I'm not used to be given orders in my office,” she added sternly.
“Right!” Brown said, relieved. “I'm sorry, Joan,” he said, tentatively trying her name on his lips, “I've a bad feeling about Sawyer, don't you Grimes?” He looked at his partner whose eyes tried to hide a mischievous light right now he saw, annoyed.
“Yes, indeed, Peter,” she said, meaningfully using his first name. Then she turned her eyes to Higgins, “Sawyer's hiding something. A family matter maybe.”
“ Only a gut feeling?” Higgins asked.
“Well yeah, but he seemed uneasy when the conversation came to his children and...” Grimes bent down and opened the leather attaché-case she always had with her.
Higgins looked at Brown while his partner was busy opening her files. He felt his heart fall freestyle all the way down to his groin in a nanosecond. He looked back at his boss whose searching eyes seemed to read through him with a frightening accuracy, and swallowed hard.
“Would you please look at this ?” Grimes said, handing the pictures of Sawyer's home and children to Higgins.
The boss shuffled through the pictures. “I see. You mean those children look unhappy enough, don't you?” She looked back at one of the pictures. “Unhappy, afraid even... I understand, Detectives.”
She handed the pictures back, “Anyway, it's only a gut feeling so far, right?”
Brown was amazed at how fast Higgins had switched from such a tease to the professional officer. Sweat ran down his spine and he felt his face was flushed. Grimes stared at him with a puzzled look, so he said, “Yes, gut feeling–you bet!–but Sofia's been abused as a child, remember? so all of this could well be tied together.”
“ See what his ex-wife has to say this afternoon, no matter what he says. And now...” Higgins went on, “What do we do tonight?”
Brown wanted to groan what he wanted to do to her tonight but remained impassive, and Grimes said, “We follow Mary Anderson from afar, and wait until her sister makes herself known.”
“ We can have the guys watching her follow her, just in case something happens on the way, and we can be there in the place waiting. The guys let her come in and we take charge after this... More discreet maybe?” Brown said, wondering aloud. “And then when we meet Sofia, we have her right in here and her sister as well and we will see from this on,” he added.
“Works for me,”Higgins said. “I'll call the guys in the patrol car and explain to them. You can go now,” she added. She waited until Grimes was out and called back,
“Peter?”
He stopped short and turned back.
“I see you have trouble with your leg? Nothing serious I hope?”
He was downright furious again at her noticing his weakness, “Nothing serious, thank you for your concern. Goodbye, Chief,” he added, hoping his eyes to convey only coldness as he closed the door.
Burning with rightful outrage, he strode to his place in the open space where Grimes was already seated, facing him across their desks.
She looked at him with inquiring eyes. “No trouble?” she asked, her light-brown eyes still dancing.
“Nothing at all.” Brown answered tightly and sat at his desk with a small grimace he couldn't hide.
“You hurt today?” Grimes asked, her voice concerned.
“Oh my! I'm okay, I'm a big boy, don't patronize me!” he exclaimed.
“Oh well, I won't anymore!” she snapped back, and busied herself with her computer, her mouth tight.
He shuffled through some files on his desk for a while, looking up at his partner from time to time. She seemed intent on her work and wouldn't look at him at all. He sighed several times and finally offered, “D'you want me to get you some tea now?”
“No thanks,” Grimes answered without raising her eyes from the screen.
“Look Grimes, I'm sorry. Excuse me, this case is getting on my nerves. I need some coffee anyway, you sure you don't want one?”
She glanced at him, “I don't know what exactly is getting on your nerves, or who...” she said, lowering her eyes back to her computer.
Brown said nothing. He felt genuinely sorry and rather ashamed his partner guessed him so well.
“You're right, let's have a coffee. But let's get out of here, it's time for lunch isn't it?” Grimes finally let out after a few more seconds and a definitive click on her key-board.
He sighed with relief. Grimes was a good partner and a good person. He should know better than to upset her. “It's on me. Let's go out and have a hot-dog around the corner.”
“Yeah great, I'll let you buy me a yoghurt there,” Grimes said and he smiled. Grimes was all for organic food, he should know this by now.
“Two or three, if you want,” he said with a smile, “as long as I can stick to my hot-dog.”
***
They sat down outside. Barney, the guy making the hot-dogs, had some small coloured tables displayed on the wide side-walk in the summer and they were mostly used by BPD policemen.
“Yum, you sure you don't want one?” Brown asked, licking his fingers and lips.
“Quite sure,” Grimes said, eating her yoghourt daintily, with a plastic spoon. “ I suggest we find some information about this Hatcher woman before seeing Mrs. Sawyer,” she added, drinking water from the bottle.
“Yeah,” Brown answered, “We should do this.”
“I did some research already while you were reflecting about who knows whom a while earlier,” she said rolling her eyes in such a funny way he couldn't help but laugh.
“Such a smart one! I'm blessed to have such a partner!”
“Yes, you are! Anyway...I didn't have to look far to see that, shortly, Sybil Hatcher is not Sybil Hatcher. The pictures on the driving license don't match with the name and number.”
“Wow. It still amazes me that they can fake driving licenses today with all the improvements that have been done! We do need to know who this Sybil is!”
“As a matter of fact, I ran the fingerprints Solomon sent us by mail on our database, and it seems Sybil Hatcher has a criminal record under the name Deirdre Brennan.”
“Sounds Irish to me,” Brown said and they exchanged a meaningful glance.
“Yes; she was indeed an Irish citizen, just as Braden Cooney. Well, Cooney is a bi-national, her mom being american.”
“Brennan didn't become an American citizen?”
“No, she came here about five years ago with a tourist visa for three months. Then she vanished God knows where and now we have Sybil instead.” Grimes said, beginning her second yoghourt.
“What was this criminal record about?”
“She's been arrested during a demonstration in Ireland and has resisted the arrest. She was very young at the time, only 18. That's why she could have this visa without trouble.”
“We need to check if we can find any connection between her and Cooney. It could be only coincidental that both of them are Irish.”
Grimes left an eyebrow at this. “Hardly, but who knows,” she took another spoon of yogurt. “Anyway I've tried already but found nothing so far.”
Brown whistled, “My, you've not been losing your time!”
“That's why I intend to have this yoghurt calmly and some tea as well, can I?” she asked smiling.
“You do deserve this at least and as for me I could use another hot-dog.”
She shook her head, her mouth twisted in a funny pout, “ You sure you don't prefer an organic yoghurt?”





LOOKING FOR SOFIA . 6 .





Brown and Grimes headed for Solomon's office. They'd decided to pay him a visit before seeing Sawyer's ex. Brown couldn't wait to know about Bobby's COD. Maybe Solomon would have some news.
“Hi, guys!” Solomon said, “I know you're worrying about the homeless guy so I rushed the work and I have the results ready, ant'I great?”
Both Brown and Grimes nodded and he went on, “ The guy suffered what looks like a massive heart attack except that––” Solomon waited a minute as if he expected the drums to roll, Brown thought, only giving him a stern look. He was certainly in no mood of joking about Bobby Wilson's end, feeling this death was at least partly his fault. Solomon seemed to read his bad mood and went on quietly, “ except that this heart attack was not natural at all.”
Brown closed his eyes for a second, and exhaled a long guilty breath. Solomon looked at the detective with concern, but Grimes only had to nod for him to go on, “Since you told me this poor guy was to be looked at with maximum care, and that it could be a homicide, that's what I did. Not meaning that I'm not careful usually, but well, you don't find what you don't look for, do you?” The doctor said, “I searched the body for any indication of a homicide and look at what I've found,” he added with grim satisfaction.
He bent down close to the body and had the detectives look at a tattoo Wilson had on his right arm. It read Rosie and a rather nice rose stood above the name. Who was that Rosie? Brown asked himself briefly. Was it Bobby's wife, who left him some years ago. Was it someone else? He guessed he would never know. “What is there to see?” he asked Solomon, feeling at his patience' end.
“Look, right in the middle of the heart of the rose.”
And there it was, tiny, almost invisible, but unmistakably conclusive: a needle mark. Something had been injected in Bobby's body. Brown felt his heart tighten: he was proved right and didn't like it. “What do you think it was?” he asked.
“I know what that was,” Solomon answered, but his voice showed no bragging at all. “It's SUX, the almost perfect killer, and had I not been looking for something like this, I'd have missed it. The guy was no drug user. He was an alcoholic all right, but that has nothing to do with his death. The samples of blood show minutely elevated levels of succinic acid and choline, it's very little, but it's here. That's how he's been killed.”
“No way it could've been self-injected?” Grimes asked.
“No,” Brown said before the pathologist had a chance, “ It’s a wonderfully effective drug and fast acting, but the bad news is that while the drug is working, causing all the muscles to stop functioning, the person remains wide awake. It’s an agonizing death for sure. Not a death someone would choose for himself.”
“Unless he was told it was something else,” Grimes objected.
“Then why bother having the needle just at the heart of the tattoo so that it remains invisible?”
“Right, Brown. This guy was murdered, and he died very painfully.” Solomon shook his head sadly.
The two detectives stared at the poor body stretched on the gurney, then at each other with unwavering eyes. Brown could see Grimes was as angry as he at the moment and his partner's lips tightened in a firm resolute line.
“Thank you, Solomon, you've been quick and efficient as usual,” Brown said.
“You're welcome, I hope you catch the son of a bitch.”
***
Out of the morgue, Grimes took a deep breath of fresh air and followed Brown who was striding purposefully to the car. His gait was stiff a little though and it seemed his bad leg was worse today. They sat in the car for a moment, saying nothing.
“We do need to catch him indeed,” he said, slamming his hand hard onto the steering-wheel.
“As always,” Grimes said, almost in a whisper.
He started the car and looked at her, his brown eyes burning with anger, “Even more, Grimes, even more.”
They said nothing for a while as he easily found his way in the heavy traffic. Then he asked, “Could you maybe call ahead and tell her we'll be here in half an hour or so?”
Grimes didn't need to be said to whom the call was designated and the former Mrs Sawyer answered after only two rings, her voice melodious, tainted with a slight French accent, “Hello, Annette Duval speaking.”
“Detective Grimes, Mrs. Duval. I call to tell you we're to arrive shortly, thirty minutes or so.”
“I thought Bob was to call you––”
“Mr. Sawyer certainly called, Mrs Sawyer,” Grimes said, making a point of giving the lady her former husband's name, since she still tried to shelter herself behind “Bob” to avoid the interview. “We do need to see you anyway, so please, be ready to see us in a moment. Goodbye,” Grimes uttered, not waiting for an answer. “Well,” she said, turning a little to half-face her partner “The lady sure doesn't want to see us.”
“She'll see us all the same,” he answered through his teeth and not another word was said before they arrived at Duval's place in Beacon street. Brown looked appraisingly at the big brick Victorian row house. Sawyer had provided well for his ex and children, because as far as Brown knew, the lady didn't have the job, nor the background to afford an apartment in this neighborhood. He could understand she wanted to protect her current well-being. But the thought of Bobby dead and cold, of his poor dirty shoes, pathetically showing out of the sheet, made him feel heedless of Anne Duval, Sawyer or whoever's sake right now. He pressed the intercom, and a spanish voice came through.“What is it?”
“Detective Brown and Grimes, BPD, Mrs. Sawyer is awaiting us.”
“It's on the fourth floor.”
Not another word but the door opened. They came in, took the elevator in silence and when they arrived at the fourth floor, the Spanish maid, dressed like a cliché in her black outfit and white apron, was waiting for them in front of the apartment door. She nodded and had them follow her through a bright hallway into a brighter living-room that screamed “wealthy” from the rich carpet stretched on the floor to the magnificent crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Anne Duval-Sawyer was seated gracefully at the edge of a white leather sofa, her blond hair framing her pretty face, her necklace the exact shade of blue of her eyes, unless it was the contrary, Brown thought nastily. But then she smiled, or tried too, and her smile was so wan, the skin under her eyes so thin it showed all at once all the wrinkles that only sadness can give. This rich woman seemed as unhappy as could be.
“Have a seat, detectives,” she said, “I don't see why you're here, but I'll do my best to help you.”
“Thank you, we appreciate it,” Grimes said.
“Would you like to have something? Tea, coffee?”
“No thanks”, Brown declined, “We're here because a person your ex-husband knew has disappeared, a journalist named Sofia Anderson.”
“Yes. As I told you over the phone, I hardly knew her. She did interviews with my ex-husband, she had some shootings made here, that's about it.” She opened her hands and shrugged.
“Ma'am, we have reasons to think Sofia was helped from doing her job properly here and her disappearance could be linked to this.”
“I don't understand,” Anne Duval said, her skin looking paler by the minute, “She had an accident and so she could not go further here, that's it.”
“Didn't she discover something annoying in your family?” Brown said, purposely harsh.
And oh yes, the lady was annoyed with his remark, as showed her jaw working under the creamy skin of her cheek. She whispered, “Here we go again, the policemen are just like the journalists, always smelling in the wind, like dogs. Well, your flair is out and so was Sofia's,” Anne Duval said, standing erect all at once. “Now, please, would you leave my place, I have things to do.”
“We'd like to see your children if it's possible.”
“It certainly isn't possible. I don't see why you would see them and now please could you leave me alone.”
Her lips were trembling slightly, Brown noticed.“You're wrong not to talk to us, Mrs. Sawyer,” he said.
“Mrs. Duval, please.” She turned her back to them, her body stiff, wrapping herself with both arms as if she were looking for strength.
“Mrs. Duval, sorry,” Brown said in a low voice. “But your children are Sawyers.”
He got no response, but her back heaved in a big intake of breath.
“Good bye, Mrs. Duval, I'm sure we'll see you again soon,”Grimes said as they leaved the rich living-room.
Outside, the two detectives looked at each other.“We need to make progress on this case fast, so we can get a warrant and have the children interviewed,”Brown said
Time was dragging and there was little they could do before the rendez-vous in Loew's theater so they stopped again at Barney's on their way back. The cook whistled seeing them, “My, my, twice the same day, are you out of work right now?” he teased.
“We just need a short work conference in a pleasant place, with a knack,” Brown answered, grabbing some chocolate bars while Grimes stuck to her usual tea. Without even discussing it, they chose not to sit, and had their snack at the counter.
“Tell me again, how was it at Cooney's place?” Brown asked his partner.
“No one around when I went there yesterday. It's a modest townhouse with small apartments or lofts and from what I could see it must be very much occupied by single people. Anyway there's no doorkeeper, and little I could do. I knocked at some of the doors but got no answers. It was maybe not late enough for people to be back home.”
“Okay, I'm afraid all we can do right now is wait for tonight. Are you done?” He said impatiently, having swallowed two chocolate bars without even noticing the taste of them.
“Yeah, I guess we should go back to the office and do paperwork,” she sighed as they left Barney's unenthusiastically.