Illegal alien, p.6
Illegal Alien, page 6
She lifted her eyes to me then, but only for a moment. “I’m just not feeling well. You understand.”
“Some tea and toast, then?” I persisted.
She sighed. “Very well. If you insist.”
Mr. Sankaran smiled at me then, with such relief on his face that I knew I’d made a connection. Part of me felt good because an exchange like that could make a difference between a successful interview and a waste of time, but the rest of me just felt good. I don’t ascribe to all the woo-woo elements of religion, but I think if we all tried a little harder not to be assholes the world would be a much better place. Putting some non-asshole vibes out into the world never failed to cheer me up.
I flagged down the server, a voluptuous brunette who probably made more than I did running down violent criminals, and she came right over. When you’re a regular who tips well and doesn’t try to grope the employees, they treat you with deference. We ordered the missus her tea and toast as well as a sandwich and breakfast potatoes for me and coffee for her husband.
As soon as she’d collected our menus and left, he said, “So what’s going on here? Why did you need to talk to us?”
“I was first on the scene of the accident,” I said. “I was at a friend’s house right down the street when it happened, and I wanted to tell you that your son didn’t suffer. He was gone before I got there.”
They reached out for each other then, squeezing their hands so hard the knuckles turned white.
“Thank you for that,” she said. “I’d worried…”
“I would too, if it were my son. Now, you’re aware that the other driver ran?”
His face spasmed with anger. “Yes. Have you found him yet? He should pay for what he did to VJ.”
“Not yet. The car he was driving was stolen, and we’re still looking. My partner and I drove out to your son’s house. VJ is his nickname, I take it?”
“He couldn’t pronounce Vijesh when he was small. He could only say VJ, and the nickname stuck,” replied his mother.
“Well, we drove to VJ’s house, hoping to find you when we couldn’t reach you by phone. We wanted to see if you had any ideas about the identity of the other driver.” Mr. Sankaran opened his mouth as if to reply, but I gestured for him to hold off. “I’d still like to hear your ideas, but I’m not quite done yet. We went to the house, only to find that someone had broken in.”
I watched them carefully. Although I didn’t believe they had anything to do with what happened to their son, they still might know something. Sometimes people hid things from the police with the best of intentions, not realizing what they were doing. But they just looked confused.
“How…why would that be?” asked Mr. Sankaran. Then he paused as the server returned with the drinks. Once she’d bustled off again, he continued, “That seems like a terrific coincidence, does it not?”
“Yes, and I need to stress that it might be nothing. It’s not all that uncommon for people to watch the papers for accidents, looking for people who won’t be home so they can rob the place.”
“VJ’s obituary only just went up a few hours ago on the Internet,” said Mrs. Sankaran. She seemed to be listening closer now, pulled into the discussion despite herself. “Isn’t that a bit fast?”
“I thought so myself. It’s not out of the question, mind you, but it’s suspicious enough when combined with the rest of the evidence. The robber went through all of VJ’s books and papers and left the electronics. Maybe that’s because we scared them off before they could get down to the actual burglary, but maybe they were looking for something. Do you know many of VJ’s friends?”
“He didn’t have many,” Mr. Sankaran said regretfully. “He was always a bit of a loner.”
“Any friends or acquaintances you know of who are exceptionally tall? Thin? I’d say somewhere around 6’4” or so?”
The two of them exchanged glances and then shook their heads. It had probably been too much to ask that they’d recognize the suspect in the garbage bags. I tried a different tack. “Is there anything we should know about VJ?”
“I…don’t know,” he said.
Mrs. Sankaran prepared her tea just so as she spoke, and in her precise motions, I saw a hint of what she must be like when she wasn’t drowning in grief. The movements of her hands were delicate and graceful. She took the tea with lemon, no sugar. “VJ wouldn’t get mixed up in anything troublesome. I know mothers probably say this to you often, but it is the truth here. He was an anxious boy, even when he was young. Always more drawn to academics than to sport. We relocated here from London when he was 13 years of age, and it was a difficult transition for him. He disappeared into his books and his games, but his grades remained high, and we let him be.”
“And tell me about his life now?” I prompted.
“He was always particularly good at the sciences, and he seemed to enjoy his work, but he was always worried about his colleagues. He would say they were out to get him, but I never got the impression that he was worried about violence. More concerned about his reputation in the field. That kind of thing can make or break a scientist,” said Mr. Sankaran.
“What specifically did he say?”
“So-and-so dismissed his theories or someone in the department tried to take his telescope time. Once, there was quite a stir over some academic funding, but the university managed to resolve it to the satisfaction of both parties. I certainly don’t think that anyone at the U would be tempted to murder him. Is that what you’re insinuating?”
“No, not necessarily,” I replied. “I’m trying to cover all the bases, that’s all. What about a social life? You say he didn’t have many friends?”
“He didn’t have much of a life outside of his video games,” said VJ’s mother. “I thought it was a bit odd for a grown man to spend so much time on a game when he should be out looking for a wife, but he enjoyed them. And he was still young, so I thought there would be plenty of time for him to settle down and raise a family. He had a few friends from university, but most of them live far away now. I’m sure we could locate them if it would be helpful…?”
“I’ll let you know if it would help, thank you. Oh, good. There’s our food. I’m starving.”
For a few moments, we passed plates and settled in to eat. I was happy to see that Mrs. Sankaran finished her toast and drank two full cups of tea. Sometimes it’s the little things. As for me, I could barely manage to choke down a few bites of my sandwich, but I’d just have the rest of the food boxed up for later. It was a small price to pay for not having to cook.
“What else can we do to help?” asked Mr. Sankaran. “As you say, I find it difficult to believe that anyone would want to hurt our VJ, but I still wish to see this person brought to justice, whether it was an accident or no.”
“As you clean up, let me know if you notice anything missing that might suggest this was a garden variety robbery. Or anything out of the ordinary. I’ll continue to look into it, and once I find something conclusive, I’ll let you know. I may need to return to the house, with your permission.”
“Of course, just let us know. And thank you,” said Mrs. Sankaran. “I wouldn’t wish this horror on anyone, but I do feel better knowing that you’re looking into it.”
“Yes,” said Mr. Sankaran, putting his arm around his wife, “thank you, Detective.”
CHAPTER 9
I returned to the precinct with a belly full of too much food and a head full of questions. One of those things was giving me indigestion, and I wasn’t entirely sure I could blame the diner. The unanswered questions surrounding the death of VJ Sankaran gnawed at me until I could barely stand it anymore. I’d gotten myself emotionally involved, because apparently I was stupid and wanted to give myself an ulcer at the ripe old age of 40. It was a pattern I recognized easily, because I’d done it before. Some cases just grabbed onto me, and I started obsessing over them to such an extent that I could barely function. Usually it was the ones that involved kids, but somehow this one had gotten under my skin too.
What I needed most was balance. If I took a step back, I’d be more on the ball, and sometimes the answers would present themselves as soon as I stopped looking for them. With that in mind, I planned out the rest of my day. I had a few work things left to do, and then I’d bow out a little early to get to the gym for the 4:30 kickboxing class. Jenn was stage managing a performance of Hamilton at the Valentine, and she’d invited me to the dress rehearsal. I was betting I’d be able to talk her into ice cream or a nightcap after, although the more that I thought about it, the more I wanted both. And didn’t I deserve them after nearly getting gored by a bull, not to mention splitting my lip open? I’d earned my treats today.
Even thinking about the plan relaxed me, so I knew I was on the right track as I pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot outside the precinct offices. Of course, it all hinged on my being able to leave on time to make it happen, so I started ticking off the things I needed to accomplish on my fingers, dodging around people without really seeing them as I made my way into the building.
As I approached the elevators, it dimly registered that someone was calling my name.
“Audrey! Earth to Audrey; come in, Audrey!”
I rolled my eyes, which is never a good thing to do to your boss, but I did it anyway. Sergeant Scorsone wasn’t the kind of hardass who would take it personally. He knew me well enough to realize I only pulled the pigtails of people I really liked. Scorsone was scrawny and white-haired and looked like he should be making puppets that turned into real little boys when he wasn’t paying attention, but behind the Gepetto exterior sat one of the most intelligent minds I’d ever encountered. Nearly everything I knew about good detective work, I learned from watching him. The rest I’d learned from television.
He rolled his eyes right back at me. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were on drugs and order a mandatory test right now. But I’m going to assume you’re thinking deep thoughts instead.”
I had to smile.
“No drugs, although I really do have to go if you have a spare cup to pee in. And of course I’m thinking deep thoughts. When am I not?” I said.
He made a show of patting his pockets. “No cup, but I’d like to sit down for a quick update on your cases. Stop by my office after you’ve gone to the potty?”
“Potty? Really?”
“Hey, I have grandkids. It’s hard to scrub it from your vocabulary once it gets in there.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“I’ll time you.”
I must have come pretty close on the time estimate. Some women in our department hung around in the bathroom like it was a terrific place to be, chatting and fixing their makeup and playing around on their phones. Sometimes, they even brought in drinks, and I wanted to shake them and remind them that they were in a room dedicated to urine and feces. But then I imagined they’d get all upset because I used the word “feces,” and miss the point that what they were doing was more gross than any vocabulary I could dig up. It was a no-win situation, so I did my business, washed my hands, made sure there was nothing in my teeth, and got the hell out of dodge.
Scorsone’s office was a short jaunt down the hall from the bullpen. It boasted a stellar view of the roof of the building next door, but it had windows and a door, so it was worlds better than anything I had. The door was cracked, so I gave a precursory knock before I went inside.
“There you are,” he said, like he’d been waiting for ages instead of a minute or two tops. “How’s Greg doing?”
“Getting good grades and hasn’t knocked anyone up yet, so I consider it a success,” I replied. “It’s strange not having him at home, still. How long did it take for you and Georgia to get used to the empty nest?”
He rubbed at his chin with a rueful expression. “Oh, it’s been twenty years now, and we’re still getting used to it. The two of us rattle around in that house like dried beans in a cup. You let me know if that boy of yours does another concert. That last one was wonderful; Georgia still tells her friends about it.”
“His chamber music trio is supposed to put on a spring recital, and you’re welcome to drive out with me if you like, but it’s all the way out in Oberlin.”
“It’s worth it,” he said gravely, and I honestly believed he meant it too. I had one of those proud mother moments where I beamed and teared up a little, because my kid had turned out pretty damned good despite being saddled with me as a mom and a no-show as a dad. I still could barely believe he was grown and gone. But this wasn’t the time to get overemotional, because I had work to do.
“I’ll let you know,” I replied. “Shall I run through my caseload? I haven’t gotten very far with the security footage…”
Technically, I was supposed to report to the duty captain along with all the other detectives, and he reported to Scorsone. I submitted my reports to the duty on schedule, but Scorsone and I went way back. I would have sought him out for advice even if he hadn’t been my superior, even if sometimes I’d been accused of ass-kissery. As a result, he already knew the basics about what was on my desk. I kept my updates brief and to the point, and soon enough I was through my active cases and had managed to sneak in a few good compliments for Ronda. If I wasn’t going to get her as my partner, I was going to insure that she ended up on a good detail at the end of things.
Then I said, “And I’m still trying to figure out what the hell to do with this Sankaran death. The car accident.”
He folded his hands and said, “Tell me.”
After a quick summary of the evidence so far—which wasn’t much—I said, “Clearly, we’ve got a case for vehicular manslaughter as well as leaving the scene and theft of the SUV. But the rest of the elements don’t really add up. I feel like I’m trying to put together a puzzle with pieces from three different boxes. I want to believe that VJ Sankaran is just an average schmo who happened to turn left in front of a car thief who was jacked up on drugs, hit him, and ran. But some of the pieces don’t fit.”
“No, I don’t suppose they do.” He drummed his fingers on his desk thoughtfully. “Have you gone to the university yet?”
“No, but I was thinking about it.”
“I would. It’s possible that he was into something there that he tried to hide from his parents. Not wanting to worry them, and all that. But if you check that out, and there’s nothing, your chances of finding that driver aren’t too high.”
It made sense, and it wasn’t anything I hadn’t thought before, but I still didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it, and it showed on my face.
“You look like I just force fed you a crate load of lemons,” he said, chuckling.
“Yeah, well. I don’t like unsolvable cases. They do bad things to my rep.”
“If anyone can solve this case, it’s you. Don’t go getting all maudlin and overemotional on me now,” he said. “I’m too old for that shit.”
“Okay, okay. I’ll promise not to do that if you promise never to quote Lethal Weapon in my presence again.”
“I’ll try, but you’re asking a lot,” he said.
I rolled my eyes again, making a big production of it so he could appreciate it, and let myself out.
CHAPTER 10
A night off did me a lot of good. Sometimes, I needed to remember that there was more to life than work. Some of my workaholic tendencies came from being a single mom, although I’d had more help than I’d expected when I made the decision to keep the baby. My Aunt Rose had taken me in and watched Greg while I put myself through school to be a cop. We’d always been close, and I’d contributed to part of the rent and all of the food, so it wasn’t like I mooched off her, but I’d still been lucky to have her. I’d worked hard to pay her back, and even though Greg was largely self-supporting now with his full ride music scholarship, those hard-working habits were hard to break.
But I enjoyed it when I did, and last night was no exception. Jenn’s crew had outdone themselves with their latest production. I told Ronda all about the show on our way to the University of Toledo campus the next morning.
“You really need to see it,” I said. “I’m not a huge musical person, but this thing is different. Picture the founding fathers rapping. With swag.”
She snorted. “It sounds like a comedy sketch.”
“Yeah, not funny at all. I got a little teary, and you know that’s not like me.”
“Hell no,” she said, looking impressed. “I’ll have to try and get tickets.”
“At the risk of sounding like an egotistical asshole, mention my name. My oldest friend is the stage manager, and she’ll hook you up if you really want to see it. Most of the tickets are gone, I think.”
“Okay, I will. Thanks.”
As we pulled onto campus, I couldn’t keep from looking around. I’d attended UT before I enrolled in the Academy, and it was always interesting to see what had changed since my old undergraduate days. The bulk of it remained familiar. The same roads and parking lots, completely insufficient for the large commuter population. The same sandy stone buildings, all part of a matched set. The same hustle and bustle of to and fro. But the kids! I wondered when they’d gotten so young. A trio of girls walked alongside the car as we crept toward the stop sign. They looked to me like they should be in junior high, with their leggings and giant furry boots and bright-eyed bounciness.
“What did you do last night?” I asked.
“Oh, not much…” She trailed off, growling as the girls I’d been watching stepped out in front of the car. “Honestly, you’d think they want to be hit.”
“I don’t even think they see us. Our car must be invisible.”
We exchanged twin looks of exasperation as people behind us honked their horns, urging us to go despite the fact that we were effectively blocked in. Apparently, they wanted us to fly over the girls. Ridiculous. At least by the time they finished crossing the street like constipated turtles (that flounced and wore wildly printed leggings), the road ahead of us was clear. Ronda gunned it, trying to get through before someone else decided to step out in front of our car.
