"And did you tell them that you have your doubts that Teddy killed your brother?"
She shakes her head.
"No, I didn't. It would just confuse things for them. They need some closure, even if it's only for the short-term."
"So why don't you think Teddy did it?"
She shrugs.
"For all the same reasons you mentioned. Gut feeling. A cop's instinct. He's just not a killer. He's not someone who could torture someone like my brother was tortured."
"OK, but if not Teddy, then who?"
"That's where I draw a blank," she says. "But that Belleville bloke might deserve a look."
"Yeah, he might. He came on all buddy-buddy with me last night."
"I noticed."
I look at her.
"Like hell you did. You only had eyes for Michael Frazer."
She smiles.
"Well, he is pretty easy on them," she says. "Matter of fact, Michael called this evening. Asked me to have lunch with him tomorrow."
"Oh, really."
"Uh-huh."
"Aha!" I say.
"Aha? Aha what?"
"Aha, so that's why you're checking into your own digs, so you can have a little love nest all your own."
Fiona makes a face, takes a swat at me.
"Let's get back to Belleville," she says. "Did I overhear you asking him where he got that gash on his face?"
"You did. But he didn't give up much in the way of details. Just said something about how he had done something stupid, a hazard of the trade."
"Could be anything."
"Could be."
"But my brother was not a lightweight. If someone tried to take him down, he'd give them a fight."
"Maybe take a poke at them, give them a gash on the face?"
"No maybe about it," Fiona says. "Plus, there's that whole thing with Belleville and Polly, how he asked her out and she turned him down."
"Yeah," I say. "There's that."
"But it's a long way from that to murder," she says.
"Yeah," I say. "It is."
We whip through a roundabout and take the road into downtown Hamilton.
"It's the Oxford House, on Woodbourne Avenue," she says. "Shouldn't be too hard to find."
Her cell phone rings. She takes the call.
"Why thanks, I appreciate that," I hear her say. "Zack is with me, that OK?"
She listens, smiles, cuts her eyes my way.
"Yes, he's that, all right. See you in a few ..."
She flips the phone shut.
"Let me guess," I say. "Michael Frazer?"
"No, it was Worley. Says he'd like a few minutes with me."
"So it's to the police station then?"
"If you don't mind."
I pull onto Front Street, looking for Parliament Street.
"What did Worley say about me anyway?"
"Why, what makes you think he said something about you?"
"Because he did. You told him I was with you. Then you listened and you smiled and you said, 'Yeah, he's that, all right.' The 'he' you were talking about was me. What did Worley say?"
Fiona smiles.
"He said, 'That Chasteen. He's a hard man to shake.' And I agreed, that's all."
"Well, you know what I've always said."
"What's that?"
"A hard man to shake is good thing to find."
She looks at me.
"Is that supposed to make sense?"
"Try not to overthink it," I say.
61.
Policemen are milling around in Worley's office when we arrive. Worley shoos them away and closes his door.
He looks at Fiona.
"I don't want to be accused of leaving you out of the loop," he says.
"I appreciate that, Inspector."
He looks at me.
"Although I've got some serious reservations about including you," he says.
"Why's that?"
"You complicate things, Chasteen."
"But, Inspector, I am just a simple man."
Worley lets it roll, carries on.
"On the one hand, you are assisting Miss McHugh in seeing to it that her brother's murderer is brought to justice ..."
"In a purely unofficial capacity."
"... and on the other, I would suspect that you might also be looking after the best interests of Teddy Schwartz."
"Why would you suspect that?"
"Because your girlfriend is the niece of the woman who is sleeping with him."
"If you don't mind, Inspector, that's really not an image that I like to conjure up."
"But you can understand why I have my reservations when it comes to speaking frankly about this case with you."
"Then we're even," I say. "Because I have some reservations, too."
"Reservations about what?"
"About exactly how good a case you've got."
Worley makes a temple out of his hands, rests it under his chin.
"It's a good case," he says.
"That right?"
"Oh yeah, matter of fact, it's about as good a case as you can get." Worley gives it a beat. "Found the murder weapon in the suspect's boathouse. At the bottom of a pile of towels, sitting just inside the door."
I lean back in my chair, let out some air. Wasn't expecting that. Neither, it appears, was Fiona. She's speechless.
"Ice pick," Worley says. "A blood match with your brother's, Miss McHugh. Found some needle nose pliers, too. In the same pile of towels. Another match on them."
He doesn't find it necessary to mention what the pliers were used for. Thoughtful of him.
"Questions, comments, observations?" he says.
"It just doesn't make sense," Fiona says.
"Now why is that, Miss McHugh?"
There's a tinge of facetiousness in Worley's voice, as if he is playing us. Matter of fact, I'm pretty sure he's playing us.
"It doesn't make sense that Teddy Schwartz would kill my brother, dump his body in the ocean, and not get rid of the murder weapons while he was at it. It's counterintuitive."
"Hrnm. Interesting observation." Worley looks at me. He seems to be enjoying himself. "How about you, Mr. Chasteen? Anything you'd like to know?"
"Yeah. Why did you decide to search Teddy Schwartz's boathouse in the first place?"
"A very astute question, Mr. Chasteen. One I hoped you might ask. The answer-we got a phone call."
"Let me guess," I say. "Anonymous?"
"But of course," Worley says. "Desk officer said the caller was a male. Beyond that, nothing."
I say, "Someone could have planted the ice pick, the pliers."
Worley raises his eyebrows.
"You think?" he says.
"I was in Schwartz's boathouse the other day."
"Sir Teddy mentioned that. And you know what my first reaction was to that, Mr. Chasteen?"