They Tell Me You Are Wicked by David Hagerty

Author:David Hagerty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: crime mystery, political thriller, chicago politics, murder, political intrigue, detective
Publisher: Evolved Publishing LLC
Published: 2015-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

Now that people recognized him, Duncan hated to use public phones, so he’d begged the concierge at the Palmer House for a favor and found himself in the manager’s office with the door closed. It felt cramped and cluttered with papers, carts, filing cabinets, and a mini fridge, but it did offer privacy. He dialed from memory.

“Detective Peruzzi, it’s Duncan Cochrane. I need a favor.”

“Sure thing, Governor,” the detective said.

“Please, don’t call me that yet.”

“You got to act as if, Governor.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s what they say in recovery. Act as if you wasn’t a drunk, so you can think like a normal guy. It’s a way to get your head around the way you want to be.”

“Good motto. Alright, then I need you to do something for me.”

“That’s more like it. What’ya’need?”

Efficient, the way the detective compressed three words into one.

“A few days ago your department arrested a man named Oges Hoxter.”

“Good name for a crook. What specifically do-you-want-to-know?”

Again the last five words blurred.

“Where you arrested him.”

The desk clock ticked five times before Peruzzi answered. “How come?”

“You mean why did you arrest him?”

“How come you want to know?”

“I think... the Kenilworth police think he killed my daughter.”

Another uncomfortable pause. Had he asked too much?

“Look, Governor, I want to help, but I don’t want to give you information and then find out you went after the guy or something crazy like that. Whether he gets hurt or you do, somebody’s going to trace it back to me.”

“It’s nothing like that. He’s already in custody. I just need to speak to his relatives. I’m... I need to know if he killed my daughter, and he’s not talking to the police. So I thought... I’m hoping they’ll be more cooperative.”

“Hold on.”

Peruzzi’s tone gave away nothing. If he’d gone to his supervisor then next on the line could be some lieutenant or captain asking Duncan to justify himself. That’d be tough, but if he “acted as if,” he might get away with it. Still, he felt relieved when Peruzzi spoke again.

“Okay, governor, I’ve got it, but I can’t let you go there by yourself.”

“I promise, I’m not going to hurt anyone.”

“No, I believe you. It’s the neighborhood. Nobody should go into Woodlawn alone. You gotta let me take you.”

In ten minutes he’d be speaking to a Chamber of Commerce committee. From there, every moment was scheduled until nine o’clock except for an hour break at noon when he’d probably be talking strategy with Kai.

“You have any plans for lunch?” he said.

***

Peruzzi idled outside the hotel in an unmarked burgundy Pontiac LeMans. When Duncan reached for the passenger door, another man lowered the window and said, “In back, please, sir.” Duncan sank into the rear seat, knees to chest, and stayed silent while Peruzzi drove to Lake Shore Drive and turned south.

“I didn’t expect an escort,” he finally said.

“Like I said, no white man goes into Woodlawn solo, not even a cop. Meet my partner, Frank Field.”

“How do, sir?”

Field turned—big and black and strong—straining against the material of his suit coat as he reached to shake hands.

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