Read Online The Last Innocent Man by Phillip Margolin - Free Book Online
Authors: Phillip Margolin
Ads: Link
please.”
“Speaking.”
“Joe, this is Dave Nash.”
“Some party last night, Dave. Tell Greg thanks a million.”
“I’m glad it worked out all right.”
“The senator was really pleased.”
“Good. Look, Joe, the reason I called was for some information. You helped Greg draw up the invitation list for the party, right?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“I met a woman at the party. Her name is Valerie Dodge. Tall, mid-twenties, blond hair. I promised I’d give her the answer to a legal question and I lost her phone number. I called information, but she’s not listed.”
“No problem. Give me a minute and I’ll get the list.”
“Dave,” Joe Barrington said a minute later, “doesn’t look like I can help you. There’s no one named Dodge on the list. Did she come with someone?”
“No. She was alone.”
“That’s funny. I’m certain everyone we invited was on the list. Of course, Greg might have invited someone on his own. Or the senator. Do you want me to check?”
“Would you?”
“No problem. It might take a few days, though. We’re all backed up here.”
“That’s okay. There’s no rush. She’ll probably call me in a day or so if she doesn’t hear from me.”
“Tell Greg thanks. Don’t forget. The senator’s going to drop him a line personally, but it might take him some time to get around to it.”
“I’ll tell him. Thanks again.”
David hung up and leaned back in his chair. No name in the phone book or on the list. Maybe Valerie Dodge wasn’t her right name. If she was married, she might have given him a phony. He had to see her again. The more mysterious she became, the greater became David’s desire. He closed his eyes and started thinking of ways to track her down. By lunchtime he still hadn’t thought of any.
O RTIZ HEARD R ON Crosby enter his hospital room. He turned his head toward the door. It took a lot of effort to do even that. His twin black eyes and bandaged nose made him look like a boxer who had lost a fight. His head throbbed and his broken nose hurt even more.
“Ready to get back to work, Bert?” Crosby asked. Ortiz knew Crosby was just trying to cheer him up, but he couldn’t smile.
“Is she…?” Ortiz asked in a tired voice.
“Dead.”
Ortiz wasn’t surprised. No one had told him, but he knew.
“Can you talk about it, Bert?” Crosby asked. He pulled up a gray metal chair and sat down beside the bed. This wasn’t the first time he had been in a hospital room interviewing a witness in a homicide. He had been on the force for fifteen years, and a homicide detective for eight of those. Still, it was different when the witness was a fellow cop and a friend.
“I’ll try,” Ortiz answered, “but I’m having trouble getting it all straight.”
“I know. You have a concussion. The doctor said that it’s going to make it hard for you to remember for a while.”
Ortiz looked frightened and Crosby held up his hand.
“For a while, Bert. He said it goes away in time and you’ll remember everything. I probably shouldn’t even be here this soon, but I was gonna drop in to see how you were, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to pump you a little.”
“Thanks for coming, Ron,” Ortiz said. He shut his eyes and leaned back. Crosby shifted on his seat. He was short for a policeman, five eight, but he had a big upper body and broad shoulders that pushed past the edges of the chair back. He had joined the force in his late twenties after an extended hitch in the Army. Last February he turned forty-two, and gray was starting to outnumber black among his thinning hairs.
“I can’t remember anything about the murder. I vaguely remember a motel, but that’s it. I can remember the car, though,” he said, brightening. “It was a Mercedes. Beige, I think.”
The effort had taken something out of him, and he let his head loll like a winded runner.
“Did you get a license number or…?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s all
“Speaking.”
“Joe, this is Dave Nash.”
“Some party last night, Dave. Tell Greg thanks a million.”
“I’m glad it worked out all right.”
“The senator was really pleased.”
“Good. Look, Joe, the reason I called was for some information. You helped Greg draw up the invitation list for the party, right?”
“Sure. What can I do for you?”
“I met a woman at the party. Her name is Valerie Dodge. Tall, mid-twenties, blond hair. I promised I’d give her the answer to a legal question and I lost her phone number. I called information, but she’s not listed.”
“No problem. Give me a minute and I’ll get the list.”
“Dave,” Joe Barrington said a minute later, “doesn’t look like I can help you. There’s no one named Dodge on the list. Did she come with someone?”
“No. She was alone.”
“That’s funny. I’m certain everyone we invited was on the list. Of course, Greg might have invited someone on his own. Or the senator. Do you want me to check?”
“Would you?”
“No problem. It might take a few days, though. We’re all backed up here.”
“That’s okay. There’s no rush. She’ll probably call me in a day or so if she doesn’t hear from me.”
“Tell Greg thanks. Don’t forget. The senator’s going to drop him a line personally, but it might take him some time to get around to it.”
“I’ll tell him. Thanks again.”
David hung up and leaned back in his chair. No name in the phone book or on the list. Maybe Valerie Dodge wasn’t her right name. If she was married, she might have given him a phony. He had to see her again. The more mysterious she became, the greater became David’s desire. He closed his eyes and started thinking of ways to track her down. By lunchtime he still hadn’t thought of any.
O RTIZ HEARD R ON Crosby enter his hospital room. He turned his head toward the door. It took a lot of effort to do even that. His twin black eyes and bandaged nose made him look like a boxer who had lost a fight. His head throbbed and his broken nose hurt even more.
“Ready to get back to work, Bert?” Crosby asked. Ortiz knew Crosby was just trying to cheer him up, but he couldn’t smile.
“Is she…?” Ortiz asked in a tired voice.
“Dead.”
Ortiz wasn’t surprised. No one had told him, but he knew.
“Can you talk about it, Bert?” Crosby asked. He pulled up a gray metal chair and sat down beside the bed. This wasn’t the first time he had been in a hospital room interviewing a witness in a homicide. He had been on the force for fifteen years, and a homicide detective for eight of those. Still, it was different when the witness was a fellow cop and a friend.
“I’ll try,” Ortiz answered, “but I’m having trouble getting it all straight.”
“I know. You have a concussion. The doctor said that it’s going to make it hard for you to remember for a while.”
Ortiz looked frightened and Crosby held up his hand.
“For a while, Bert. He said it goes away in time and you’ll remember everything. I probably shouldn’t even be here this soon, but I was gonna drop in to see how you were, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to pump you a little.”
“Thanks for coming, Ron,” Ortiz said. He shut his eyes and leaned back. Crosby shifted on his seat. He was short for a policeman, five eight, but he had a big upper body and broad shoulders that pushed past the edges of the chair back. He had joined the force in his late twenties after an extended hitch in the Army. Last February he turned forty-two, and gray was starting to outnumber black among his thinning hairs.
“I can’t remember anything about the murder. I vaguely remember a motel, but that’s it. I can remember the car, though,” he said, brightening. “It was a Mercedes. Beige, I think.”
The effort had taken something out of him, and he let his head loll like a winded runner.
“Did you get a license number or…?”
“No, I don’t think so. It’s all
Similar Books
