Rigby raised her heavy eyebrows. "Oh, you mean you thought maybe I'd be called in to investigate the murder of your girlfriend, Ms. Purina Ferrari?"
Kurtz gave her nothing but a blank look. He got the Pinto in gear and heading back toward the expressway.
"Not curious, Joe?" said Rigby. She unscrewed the Thermos and poured herself some steaming coffee, taking care not to spill it as the Pinto bounced over expansion joints.
"About what? Are you saying that Farino Ferrara was murdered?"
"We were pretty sure of it," said Rigby, sipping carefully and cradling the plastic Thermos cup in both hands as Kurtz headed up the ramp onto the Youngman Expressway. "Last night we got an anonymous call
about an abandoned Lincoln Town Car that the caller said looked like it was filled with blood and gorewhich, it turned out, it wasand when the uniformed officers arrived at Hemingway'syou know that café don't you, Joe? It's only a few blocks from your office isn't it? they found a locked Town Car registered to your Ms. Farino Ferrara. It was filled with blood and brains, all right, but no bodies. The cops tried to contact the Farino woman at her penthouse out near the lake, but some goombah answering there said she was gone and no one knew where she was."
Kurtz had followed the 290 Youngman around to where it merged into 90 South near the airport. The Pinto rattled and wheezed but managed to keep up with the lighter Sunday morning traffic. It had rained much of the night and the morning was chilly, but the clouds were breaking up now and he could see blue sky to the south. Rigby's coffee smelled good. Kurtz wished he'd had time to grab some this morning. Maybe he'd go through a drive-thru on their way out past East Aurora.
"So is she dead?" said Kurtz at last.
Rigby looked at him. "It looked that way until about thirty minutes ago. We left a black and white at Marina Towersher lawyer wouldn't let us up in the penthouse and we hadn't found a judge to issue paper yetand Kemper called me a minute ago to tell me that the Farino woman just walked in. No car, just walked in from that asphalt path that runs along the marina opposite Chinaman's Lighthouse."
"She jogs," said Kurtz.
"Uh-huh," said Rigby. "All night? In some sort of miniskirt and clingy, silk top thing?"
"Sounds like Kemper got lots of detail."
"Part of being a cop," said Rigby.
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Kurtz took the Aurora Expressway exit before 90 became a toll road and they followed the four-lane 400 out east toward East Aurora and Orchard Park.
"Well, aren't you going to ask whose blood and brains it was in her Town Car?" demanded Rigby. She refilled her plastic mug, poured sugar out of a McDonald's packet, and stirred it with her little finger.
"Whose blood and brains was it in her Town Car?" said Kurtz.
"You tell me," said Rigby.
He looked at her. The expressway was almost empty and the sunlight lit hillsides of autumn orange and yellow on either side. "What are you talking about?" he said.
"I just thought maybe you could tell me, Joe." Rigby smiled sweetly at him. "You want some coffee?"
"Sure."
"Maybe there's a fast food drive-thru place out by the East Aurora exit," she said, "but I don't remember one."
He'd gone downstairs and out the door into the rain the previous night with the.38 in his palm and his eye full of business. If this was some bullshit set-up from Angelina Farino Ferrara, then let it happen.
No ambush came. The woman was really upset, standing there in the rain with her not-so-tiny Compact Witness.45 in her hand while cars were parking and nosing along Chippewa Street and pedestrians ran for the trendy restaurants and coffeehouses and wine bars. So far, no one seemed to have noticed the weapon.
"Where'd they go? Where's the car?" said Angelina, almost gasping the words. It was the first time Kurtz had ever seen the woman at the edge of control.
"How the hell should I know?" said Kurtz. He touched her elbow, guiding her hand into her coat pocket so the Compact Witness was out of sight. "Are these guys reliable?"
She stared at him and it looked as if she was about to laugh, but her eyes were wild. "Is anyone in this fucking business reliable, Kurtz? I pay Figini and Sheffield enough, but that doesn't mean anything."
Not if Gonzaga or your brother Little Skag paid them more , thought Kurtz.
She was squinting at Kurtz and he could read her mindWhat if Gonzaga paid Joe Kurtz more ?
"If I wanted you dead, lady, I would have done it upstairs," he said.
She shook her head. Her hair was black and slick with rain. "I have to we have to" She seemed to be mentally running through her options and rejecting all of them.
"We need to get off the street," said Kurtz. Part of his mind was shoutingWhat is this we shit, Kemo Sabe?
He led her across the street and into the alley alongside his building. Neither would go ahead of the other, so they walked side by side, him carrying the.38 in his palm, her with her hand on the Compact Witness in her pocket. If a cat had jumped out at that moment, all three of them would have probably ended up shot full of lead.