Suspect by Scott Turow

Author:Scott Turow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2022-09-20T00:00:00+00:00

23. In His Cowboy Boots and Blue Jeans

When I leave the bathroom and walk back out into the main space, Walter Cornish in his cowboy boots and blue jeans is strutting through the front door. That stops me in place.

Cornish also jolts and points at me. He asks Tonya, “What the fuck is she doing here?” I guess he noticed me in the courtroom. One thing about the nail: People usually do.

“Same thing as me,” says Tonya. “Police business.”

“And what the fuck are you doing here?” I say to Cornish.

“I said he could come up,” says Tonya. “You’re the property manager, right?” she asks Walter.

“True. Got a voice message to come over here from one of the tenants.”

“That was like literally yesterday night,” Tonya says.

“It’s after hours, hon.”

Talk about being off-key. Calling Tonya ‘hon’ is like poking her with an ice pick, and I watch her take a beat or two. Walter can see the same thing and wants to justify himself.

“Tenants here, they have what I call a high bitch ratio. I don’t just come runnin when they call. I’d be here every day.”

“Any chance you were here yesterday?” Tonya asks.

“None. Haven’t been in the building all week.”

“Any idea what he”—she nods to the corpse—“was doing here?”

“Some. I leased him the apartment maybe two years ago. Well, ‘lease’ puts it nicely. It’s month to month in a building like this.”

“And why does Fabian Blanco, churchgoing dad of three, need a studio apartment in Shitsville?”

“Well, he didn’t tell me, but you ever hear of a stabbin cabin? I just assumed, you know.”

This time it’s a lightning flash: Here’s what the Ritz had on Blanco. Blanco was keeping a place—and a person—on the side. Yet again, the same lesson: With sex, you should never be surprised.

“Did he come to you to find the apartment?” Toy asks.

“Kinda. I was still on the job. We were working together and I was probably talking about my side hustle with Vojczek and he said, you know, the usual baloney, ‘A friend of mine needs a really cheap place.’ I think I brought him over here the same day. He didn’t want his name on anything. I let him slide on signing the rental agreement, because his ‘friend’ needed to keep this super-duper secret.” Cornish shows his teeth like a hungry wolf and rolls his eyes. “He never even said out loud to me that he’d be the one using it. But I mean, Jesus, talk about don’t bullshit a bullshitter. His ‘friend’ paid by money order every month.”

“Did he mail that in, or did you come by to collect it?”

“I haven’t set foot in here since he rented. No call to. The money order, with the address here typed in, showed up in my mail at the Vojczek office every month, and I was damn glad to get it that way. Collecting the rent here, man, I literally put on my Kevlar and bring backup.”

I mouth to Toy to ask if the rent was up-to-date, and Walter answers that the most recent money order arrived earlier this week.

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