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Authors: Scott Turow
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Genevieve sat with her legs crossed at the ankles, demure as a schoolteacher, which she had formerly been. She was putting her husband through med school, and had found it easier, and better paying, to work the graveyard shift out here, so she could be home during the day with their one-year-old. A trifle plump, with a small silver cross at her throat, Genevieve had a round-cheeked look, accentuated by a bit of an overbite. She'd been raised to lift her chin and look folks in the eye when she spoke to them, and Larry thought he'd detected the quiver of something unspoken when he'd interviewed her two and a half months ago.
They talked about her baby for a second. Larry had questioned her last time at her station, where a leather threefold with photos had been propped on the counter. Today, Larry told her he wanted to ask about money.
"Money?" replied Genevieve. "We don't know much about money. I wish we knew a little bit more."
"No," said Larry, "Luisa's money."
Genevieve found that even more confusing. She said that Carmine, Luisa's ex, shorted her most months and Luisa was always stretched. Luisa had lived with her elderly mother and her two daughters. About five years ago, she'd transferred out to DuSable from the big airport and worked alternating flex shifts with Genevieve, 8 p . M . to 6 a . M . one day, 6 p . M . to midnight the next, the only agent on duty when the planes to and from Las Vegas turned around. The schedule enabled Luisa to get her girls off to school in the morning and see them when they returned, even to be home on odd nights for dinner. She slept during the day.
As described in Larry's interviews, Luisa came across as a spunky city girl, caught in a familiar pinch. She'd had Carmine's babies and then been ditched -maybe she'd put on a few pounds, maybe she reminded Carmine in the wrong way of his mother, or hers. Once he was gone, Luisa was left with a big-time mortgage on their four- bedroom dream house on the West Bank, but she was determined not to make her daughters suffer for their father's stupidity. The result was debt. Lots. Larry counted a $30,000 dent in her credit cards as of a year ago. Then she began sending her entire paycheck to the bank. So how was she paying for things like groceries and school supplies? Cash, it turned out. Luisa had cash in hand wherever she went.
If there was another Homicide detective who knew how to tear up somebody's finances, Larry hadn't met him yet, and he felt a certain amount of pride as he laid the documents he'd retrieved from the banks over a number of months 011 the desk in front of Genevieve. Luisa figured for Genevieve's wild friend -more bad words in Luisa s mouth, more nights in the clubs, more guys in her bed than Genevieve had ever dared. He suspected Genevieve had done a lot of listening, but now she shook her head in wonder.
"I never heard anything about this. 1 swear."
When you saw too much folding money, it figured to be something unholy and Larry had pounded the names of everybody in Luisa s address book into NCIC, the FBI's national criminal database, with no hits. But he tried out a less scandalous explanation on Genevieve. Was there, perhaps, an older gentleman in Luisa s life?
"If there was," Genevieve answered, "I didn't hear about it. She didn't have much use for men. Not after Carmine. Not for relationships anyway. You know, she'd party on Saturday night, but she never mentioned any sugar daddy."
"Any other activities or associates that might explain the cash?"
"Like?"
"Drugs?" Larry awaited any tell, but Genevieve seemed sincerely taken aback. "There's this item in her personnel jacket," Larry explained. In the name of aircraft safety, all TN employees were required to pee in a cup every quarter. Two months before her death, Luisa had come up dirty. Then, while TN Security was investigating, they'd received an anonymous tip that she'd been selling on the premises. The union steward was called in and Security demanded a
They talked about her baby for a second. Larry had questioned her last time at her station, where a leather threefold with photos had been propped on the counter. Today, Larry told her he wanted to ask about money.
"Money?" replied Genevieve. "We don't know much about money. I wish we knew a little bit more."
"No," said Larry, "Luisa's money."
Genevieve found that even more confusing. She said that Carmine, Luisa's ex, shorted her most months and Luisa was always stretched. Luisa had lived with her elderly mother and her two daughters. About five years ago, she'd transferred out to DuSable from the big airport and worked alternating flex shifts with Genevieve, 8 p . M . to 6 a . M . one day, 6 p . M . to midnight the next, the only agent on duty when the planes to and from Las Vegas turned around. The schedule enabled Luisa to get her girls off to school in the morning and see them when they returned, even to be home on odd nights for dinner. She slept during the day.
As described in Larry's interviews, Luisa came across as a spunky city girl, caught in a familiar pinch. She'd had Carmine's babies and then been ditched -maybe she'd put on a few pounds, maybe she reminded Carmine in the wrong way of his mother, or hers. Once he was gone, Luisa was left with a big-time mortgage on their four- bedroom dream house on the West Bank, but she was determined not to make her daughters suffer for their father's stupidity. The result was debt. Lots. Larry counted a $30,000 dent in her credit cards as of a year ago. Then she began sending her entire paycheck to the bank. So how was she paying for things like groceries and school supplies? Cash, it turned out. Luisa had cash in hand wherever she went.
If there was another Homicide detective who knew how to tear up somebody's finances, Larry hadn't met him yet, and he felt a certain amount of pride as he laid the documents he'd retrieved from the banks over a number of months 011 the desk in front of Genevieve. Luisa figured for Genevieve's wild friend -more bad words in Luisa s mouth, more nights in the clubs, more guys in her bed than Genevieve had ever dared. He suspected Genevieve had done a lot of listening, but now she shook her head in wonder.
"I never heard anything about this. 1 swear."
When you saw too much folding money, it figured to be something unholy and Larry had pounded the names of everybody in Luisa s address book into NCIC, the FBI's national criminal database, with no hits. But he tried out a less scandalous explanation on Genevieve. Was there, perhaps, an older gentleman in Luisa s life?
"If there was," Genevieve answered, "I didn't hear about it. She didn't have much use for men. Not after Carmine. Not for relationships anyway. You know, she'd party on Saturday night, but she never mentioned any sugar daddy."
"Any other activities or associates that might explain the cash?"
"Like?"
"Drugs?" Larry awaited any tell, but Genevieve seemed sincerely taken aback. "There's this item in her personnel jacket," Larry explained. In the name of aircraft safety, all TN employees were required to pee in a cup every quarter. Two months before her death, Luisa had come up dirty. Then, while TN Security was investigating, they'd received an anonymous tip that she'd been selling on the premises. The union steward was called in and Security demanded a
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