“I know,” Mike said, “but there’s no other explanation. Anyway, the kidnapping was a success. They made off with the money. But that wasn’t the end of the story. I don’t know exactly why Mario set out to get Tony. Maybe he was afraid he would talk. Maybe he didn’t want to split the loot. At any rate, Manny and Charlie lured Tony out so they could kill him. They couldn’t have known two frat hoods would make their job all the easier. They probably followed Tony and the two frat boys out of the club and watched while the beating took place. By the time the frat boys left and they got to him, strangling Tony was a cinch. Delivering his corpse to the frat house was an obvious way to divert suspicion.”

“But why was Manny killed?” Christina asked.

“Now there I can make a much more accurate guess. We found fifty thousand bucks hidden in Manny’s rental home after he was killed. We checked the numbers. The cash didn’t come from the ransom money, at least not directly. Roma must’ve laundered it somehow. The way I see it, Manny was making demands, threatening to talk unless he got paid immediately. Unless I miss my guess, Charlie the Chicken joined in the ill-considered extortion attempt.”

“And then?”

“And then, after paying Manny a little something to keep him quiet, Mario decided to tie up the loose ends. With an electric drill. This was not only safer, it would allow him to keep all the money for himself. Once he took out Charlie, he must’ve thought he was safe.” He paused. “Till he tuned in to Ben’s idiotic press conference.” He shook his head. “Roma must’ve left the club the second he heard that. Tied up Jones and Loving and shoved them in that closet where we found them. Took out your lame attempt at security, poor Boxer Johnson, who was lucky to get away with nothing worse than a concussion. And then Roma came after you.”

Mike pursed his lips. “Let me tell you, Ben. Of all the stupid things you’ve done in a lifetime of stupid things, this one is the worst.”

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” Ben said defensively. “I didn’t think he’d move that quickly. I thought maybe he’d come that night, perhaps the next morning…”

“You were dead wrong.”

“And in any case, I had a security guard watching. We were in radio contact and-”

“And it was a bad idea.”

Ben sighed. “Well, it worked out in the end.”

“It only worked out because I got undercover security assigned to your sorry little butt without telling you-since you refused it when I offered it. Not that easy to find a cop with a law background, either, let me tell you. Vicki Hecht is her real name. Graduated Northwestern Law School, 1992. Practiced law for five years, didn’t care for it. Became a cop. And saved your miserable little life.” Mike leaned in close. “But if you ever do anything like that again I will personally wring your neck.”

“Why, Mike, I didn’t know you cared.”

Mike bristled. “About you, I don’t. But I’ve gotten used to Christina.” He gave her a wink. “She’s cute.”

“You should have told me what you were doing.”

“Nah. If you’d known, you’d have blown it. Or kept Vicki out of the loop. Or sent her away.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do, Ben. I know how stupid you can be. It’s staggering.”

Christina gave Mike a stern look. “You told Vicki to put that stuff in her résumé about speaking French, didn’t you? You knew that would reel me in.”

Mike spread his hands. “What can I say?”

Christina feigned a hurt expression. “I feel so used.”

“If I may, ladies and gentlemen,” Judge Lacayo said, easing forward in his black leather chair. “I hate to interrupt a delightful conversation just because this is my chambers, but could we talk about the case at hand?”

Ben tucked in his chin. “Sorry, your honor.”

“Major Morelli, are you absolutely certain about this?”

“With some regret,” Mike answered. “Because I hate it when Ben and Christina are right and I’m wrong. But yes, I’m certain.”

“Then Johnny Christensen-”

“Did not kill Tony Barovick. Hurt him badly, yes, and should be tried for aggravated assault. But not murder.”

The judge glanced at the prosecutor. “Mr. Drabble?”

Drabble did not look happy, but Ben couldn’t fault him for that. “Your honor, my people are saying the same thing. We want to drop the murder charge and refile for aggravated assault, if double jeopardy permits.”

Lacayo nodded thoughtfully. “Very well. The clerk will so enter it into the court record. Ms. McCall, for the time being your client is free to go.”

Christina closed her eyes, a smile spreading across her face. “Thank you, your honor.”

“By the way-”

“Yes?”

“Am I right,” the judge asked, “in thinking that this was your first trial as lead counsel?”

Christina nodded.

“You picked a hell of a case to start out with. Talk about trial by fire.” Judge Lacayo fell back into his cushioned chair. “Well, ma’am, I hope Mr. Kincaid gives you a raise for this, because you handled it like a pro.” He smiled. “You’ll be welcome in my courtroom anytime.”

Mike was not surprised to find Special Agent Swift and Sergeant Baxter waiting for him outside the judge’s chambers.

“Congratulations, tiger,” Swift said. “You hit the jackpot.”

He bowed his head with mock modesty. “Aw, shucks.”

“You came through like a champ. You solved the case.”

“Yes,” Baxter said, inching forward. “We did.”

“And I want to thank you for doing it,” Swift added. “This kidnapping has been a burr in my side for far too long. You can’t imagine how pleased I am to finally have it removed.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

“You know,” Swift said, a smile dancing playfully on her lips, “I don’t normally do this-well, never, actually-but I think I could get you in at the Bureau without any trouble. Especially now, after this case.”

“That’s nice, but-”

“Now think about it, sugah. You might get tired of chasing down trailer trash liquor store shooters someday. You might want to move up to the big time.” She sidled closer to him, an eyebrow arched, a finger tugging at his belt. “And if you joined the Bureau, we’d see a whole lot more of each other.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Mike said. “Really. But I like it in Tulsa. With my friends.” He paused a moment. “And my partner.”

Baxter’s face turned a bright crimson.

“Well, ain’t that sweet?” Swift took a tiny step back. “But I’m not entirely surprised. You two be good, hear?”

“We’ll do our best,” Baxter said, the frost melting fast.

“You do that. And Mike?”

“Yes?”

She smiled. “Parting is such sweet sorrow / That I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

Part Four. The Return of the Stranger

50

Two things happened this week in the bar. Two bad things. And I’m not sure which of them disturbs me the most.

We had our first hate crime. It wasn’t against me-but it could’ve been. It was against a friend of mine, Brian Meadows, the leader of the South Chicago Gay & Lesbian Alliance. He was here to conduct a meeting and three black street hoods got wind of it somehow. They drove into town in their pickups, hauled him outside to the back parking lot, threw a noose around his neck, tightened it, and dragged him around, humiliating him. They hit him a few times, cracked an egg over his head. One of them even peed on him. “We’re gonna have us a lynching, boys!” That’s what one of them said. The irony of the situation was, I’m sure, totally lost on him.

I eventually got a cop over to break it up. The punks were arrested; they spent two hours in lockup and then went free. Charges were never brought. Brian didn’t want the bad press he knew would result. I was scared to death. I went to Mario and demanded that he hire security for the back parking lot. It’s so big and dark and unfenced, anyone could get away with anything back there, especially in the wee hours of the morning. I didn’t want what happened to Brian to happen to anyone else.