“I don’t know anyone named Lemour, but I’ll ask Terry,” she promised. “I read that report last night before I signed it, and it made crystal clear the fact that we had not hit that poor creature. There shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll certainly tell them that when they come around here. I have to get Nathan to day camp, but I’ll call Terry as soon as I get back.”

Mary Louise could make that phone call more easily than I. Terry Finchley, her commanding officer her last four years on the force, was a rising star in the violent crimes unit. When Mary Louise resigned, she was careful to do it in a way that left him on her side.

I’d actually met Mary Louise on cases where Terry Finchley and I had crossed paths. I’d always liked him, but since the end of Conrad’s and my affair he’s been rather stiff with me. He and Conrad are pretty close; even though it was Conrad who broke things off, Terry thinks I treated his friend shabbily. Still, he’s too honest a person to extend his stiffness to Mary Louise simply because she works for me.

“You gonna call the lieutenant and make a complaint?” Mr. Contreras asked, meaning my father’s old friend Bobby Mallory.

“I don’t think so.” Bobby was much more likely to chew me out for interfering with a police investigation than he was to phone the Rogers Park station and complain about Lemour. He would probably say, If I wanted to play cops and robbers, I’d have to be ready to take the heat that comes with it.

Chapter 4: Searching for Wheels

4 Searching for Wheels

“So whatcha going to do next, doll?” Mr. Contreras asked.

I frowned. “I’d like to find out who that woman is, so I can try to understand why the cops are so eager to find someone to take the fall for hitting her. In the meantime, I need to get hold of a car. Who knows how long it’ll be before the Trans Am is fit to drive again, especially if it ends up as police exhibit A.”

I called my insurance company, but they were useless. The Trans Am was ten years old; the only value it had to them was as scrap. They wouldn’t help me with a tow, the repairs, or a loaner. I snarled at the agent, who only said blandly that I shouldn’t carry property damage on such an old car.

I slammed down the phone. What was I doing sending good money to this idiot and the company of thieves he represented? I checked a few rental places, but if the Trans Am were tied up for weeks I’d be shelling out hundreds, maybe even a thousand, to rent something I’d have no equity in.