Cindy came back in and bent over her mother. “There’s a nigger out front now, Mother. He says he’s a detective and he has a badge and everything, but he’s not wearing a uniform. Do you want to talk to him? Or do you want me to call the precinct and make sure?”

Mrs. Mohr shook her head. “What’s he coming to do? Apologize?”

I felt my face turning hot. “He probably has some questions, Mrs. Mohr. It’s probably the same detective who answered the call the night your husband’s car was stolen and used to attack a doctor on the North Side.”

I got up and went to the front door. As I’d thought, it was Conrad Rawlings. He did not look overwhelmed with delight at seeing me, and I felt my face grow hotter still.

“Well, well, Ms. W. I might have guessed you’d beat me here.”

“It’s not what you think,” I stammered. “I didn’t know he was dead. I came to talk to him to try to get a lead on Mitch Kruger.”

“That a fact?”

Mr. Contreras, glad to make an escape, had come down the hall behind me. The nerve-wracking experiences of the last half hour made him more belligerent than usual.

“It sure is a fact. I’m tired of watching you cops harass Vic here instead of trying to catch murderers. You never listen to her, so she gets soaked in the canal and then you come around blaming her. Matter of fact, I talked to Eddie Mohr this morning. He was fine then. I told him we was coming down this afternoon and next thing I know he’s been shot dead on the street.”

“Okay, okay,” Rawlings said. “You didn’t try to finesse me. What did you want to talk to him about?”

“Money. What about you?”

“Oh, I heard about the shooting and I kind of connected his name with the car that hit the doc. So I thought maybe I’d nose around a little. I’m not as fast as you, Ms. W., but I do try to get there. Tonight was your night for working late; I do remember you telling me that yesterday.”

Cindy joined us in the hallway before I could think of something to say that might ease some of the bitterness in his voice. I could kiss him in front of Mr. Contreras, but not in front of Cindy. It would seem patronizing, and make his interview with them too difficult.

“Do you know him?” she asked.

“Yes. He’s a friend of mine. A good friend, even if he’s a little quick to judge me sometimes.”

“I guess you can talk to my mother. But keep it brief. She’s had a bad shock today.”