looking at everything but G. K.âs face.
Merodie was hiding something, I decided. Something about Priscilla St. Ana. Maybe about everything. I wanted to learn what it was, but not now.
Let her get straight first,
I told myself. A few days of sobriety have been known to work miracles.
âWhat about Eli?â Merodie asked, breaking the silence.
âIf the county had enough to charge you, they would have done so by now,â G. K. said. âPersonally, I donât think they have much of a case,at least not for murder. I know the county attorney, though, and heâs a sneaky little prick and heâs up for reelection, so . . .â
âNo, I mean the funeral. Whoâs going to take care of Eli?â
G. K. said she didnât know but would check on it for her.
âCan I be there for the funeral? I have to be there.â
âI donât think theyâll let you out.â
Merodie hung her head again, and for a moment I thought she would begin weeping. Instead, she said, âHe was such a good-looking man.â
âIâm sure he was,â said G. K.
âWe were going to be married. Did I tell you that?â
âYes, you did.â
âNow heâs gone. Like everyone else Iâve ever loved. Gone, gone, gone.â
âDid you kill him?â G. K. was testing her one last time.
âI donât think so,â Merodie replied.
G. K. slapped the table hard with the flat of her hand. The loud, unexpected noise not only startled the woman, it caused me to jump as well.
âJust say no,â G. K. shouted. The walls repeated her words.
Merodie rose slowly to her feet and looked straight at G. K. Her voice was firm. âNo, I didnât kill him.â In a smaller voice she asked, âWhy do these things always happen to me?â
Â
G. K. fluffed her hair off the back of her neck with both hands, cooling it. We were both perspiring freely in the heat as we moved around the corner from the front door of the Anoka County Correctional Facility and made our way to the parking ramp. The weathergeeks said we could expect lows in the eighties and highs approaching a hundred degrees for the rest of the week without even a hint of rain. During winter, we actually long for this.
âAbout Priscilla St. Ana,â G. K. said.
âIâll look into it.â
âThank you.â
âIâll also talk to Merodieâs and Eliâs families, friends, neighbors, coworkers; examine their paper, you know, insurance, wills; try to get a handle on their relationshipâeverything a proper semiprofessional private investigator would do. Can you get me into her house?â
âWhen?â
âTomorrow morning?â
âIâll make some calls.â
We left the sidewalk and moved into the parking ramp. The shade didnât provide any comfort at all. G. K. had parked nose forward on the second level. We had just reached the Cruiser when another vehicle pulled up, blocking our way. It was a civilian car, a â93 Chevy Impala that looked like it had been left out in a hailstorm. Twice. City of Anoka Police Officer Boyd Baumbach, dressed in full uniform, was at the wheel.
âWhat are you doing here?â he asked.
âExcuse me?â
âI saw you on the sidewalk,â Baumbach said. âYou filing a complaint or somethinâ?â
âYouâre blocking the way.â
He pointed his chin at G. K. âWhoâs she?â
âWhy? You looking for another woman to beat up?â
âWatch your mouth.â
G. K. stepped around me. âAre you the police officer who assaulted my client?â she asked.
âYour client?â
âIâm G. K. Bonalay. I represent Merodie Davies. Does the county attorney know you assaulted my client, or do I have to tell him?â
âI didnât do nothing like that.â
âThatâs not what I heard.â
Baumbach looked hard at me.