The Caller

‘Your mother was up at the school today, I know you haven’t done anything about college—’

‘Why are you talking to me about this shit now?’ said Shaun. ‘What is wrong with you? It’s, like, late. Or early, whatever.’

Joe moved back and let Shaun struggle up from the chair.

‘Shaun – this is the last time you’re going to do this, come home like this, OK?’

Shaun snorted. ‘Whatever.’

‘Don’t,’ said Joe. ‘EVER say that word to me like that, OK?’

‘Whatcha gonna do?’ said Shaun, taking a step towards him, staring him down.

‘Don’t make this any worse for yourself,’ said Joe.

‘Worse than living in this house? With Mom moping around all day?’

Joe grabbed his arm. ‘Listen carefully, Shaun. I married your mother. That was a choice I made. I love your mother. And I never have and never will listen to anyone disrespect her, least of all her own son. Now, get the hell out of my sight.’

SIX (#ulink_b4341abf-26ed-5bc6-b425-dfb9920ea0fd)

Danny and Joe pulled up across the street from Clare Oberly’s apartment building and parked outside a dry cleaners. The elderly owner stood against the plate glass window, smoking a cigarette and staring at them.

‘That Pace guy looks kinda funny, doesn’t he?’ said Danny.

Joe smiled.

‘Kind of like parts of his face are trying to make a run for it,’ said Danny. ‘His eyes are busting out, his Adam’s apple … it’s like he’s so thin, there’s no nourishment there for them. They’re out of there. Know what I’m saying?’

Joe shook his head. ‘You’re a cruel son of a bitch.’

‘Just saying what everyone else is thinking.’

‘You are so full of shit.’

They walked over to the building, past a huge moving van and into a brightly lit foyer with floors streaked with black marks. A couple walked by them in shorts and T-shirts, carrying a chest of drawers, the man sweating heavily and trailing foul air behind him.

‘Jesus Christ,’ said Danny to Joe. ‘Deodorant.’

One of the elevators was held open by the couple moving. Joe and Danny took the free one to the tenth floor, found apartment 10B and rang the bell.

‘Hello,’ said Joe. ‘Clare Oberly?’

‘Yeah. Hi.’ She was an attractive blonde in her mid-thirties, dressed in a lime green chiffon top, white jeans and red and green platform shoes. Strings of expensive multi-colored beads hung around her neck.

‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi. My partner and I are investigating a homicide. You received a phone call round about 11 p.m. last night?’

She paused. ‘Yeah. Why?’

‘Who was the call from?’ said Joe.

‘Ethan Lowry.’ She looked at both of them. ‘Why?’

‘What’s your relationship with Mr Lowry?’ said Joe.

‘Oh, we dated in college. Is he OK?’ she said.

‘Can we come in?’ said Joe.

‘I’m sorry. Yes. I’m so rude. Come in.’ She brought them into a neat, open plan apartment with a huge Miró on one wall. She sat down and gestured to the sofa opposite.

‘I’m afraid Mr Lowry’s been the victim of a homicide,’ said Joe.

‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Ethan?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh my God. He’s so … what happened? He’s just so not the type … if that makes any sense.’

‘He was murdered in his apartment. We think he may have called you right before it happened. And we need to find out why.’

‘God. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think it would be anything to do with why he was murdered. We don’t even know each other that well any more. Like, I’m not a person he would call if he was in trouble. We’re just not close.’

‘When was the last time you spoke with him?’

‘A year and a half ago. At my brother’s funeral. It was really sweet of him to come. Ethan was very kind like that.’ She bowed her head. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘What did he say to you when he called?’

‘Not a lot. He just called to say hi.’ She shrugged.

‘How long were you two dating?’

‘Six years.’

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing major, the usual, we were too young, I was too ambitious, he wanted quiet nights in, I wanted to party. We drifted. It got boring, I guess.’

‘And you both moved on.’

‘I did more than he did, I guess. But then he met his wife and he got married shortly after.’

‘So why do you think he called you the night he died?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘You have no idea,’ said Joe. ‘Really?’

She smiled sadly. ‘I’m such a bad liar. The worst. I guess I’m worried … his wife’s just lost her husband …’ She sighed. ‘OK. What I tell you? Does his wife get to hear it?’

‘Not necessarily, no,’ said Joe.