Paper Doll Read Online Free Page A

you might be stuck on a dead-end case.”
    “I never thought Quirk cared.”
    “I don’t think he does.”
    “Lotta people do,” Farrell said.
    “True,” I said.
    We sat for a while.
    “You figure fags got no iron?” Farrell said.
    “I assume some do and some don’t,” I said. “I don’t know enough about it to be sure.”
    We sat some more.
    “I’m as good as any cop,” Farrell said.
    I nodded encouragingly.
    “Good as you too,” Farrell said.
    “Sure,” I said.
    Farrell drank more whiskey. His speech was still fully formed, but his voice was very thick.
    “You believe that?” he said.
    “I don’t care,” I said. “I don’t care if you are as good as I am or not. I don’t care if you’re tough or not, or smart or not. I don’t care if you are gay or straight or both or neither. I care about finding out who killed that broad with a framing hammer, and so far you’re not helping me worth shit.”
    Farrell sat for a while staring at me, with the dead-eyed cop that all of them perfect, then he nodded as if to himself. He picked up the whiskey and sipped a little and put the glass down.
    “You know,” he said, “sometimes if I’m alone, and there’s no one around…”
    He glanced up and down the bar and lowered his voice.
    “… I order a sloe gin fizz,” he said.
    “A dead giveaway,” I said. “Now that we’ve established that you’re queer and you’re here, can we talk about the Nelson case?” I said.
    “You got the case file,” Farrell said.
    “Yeah, and I’ve seen the house, and I’ve talked to the children.”
    “Always a good time,” Farrell said.
    The bartender came down and looked at Farrell’s drink. Farrell shook his head.
    “They’re under stress,” I said.
    “Sure,” Farrell said.
    “Tripp and his wife had separate rooms,” I said.
    “Yeah.”
    “Which doesn’t mean they didn’t get along,” I said.
    “True.”
    “Un huh.”
    “What do you think?”
    “Hers doesn’t look like she spent much time there,” Farrell said.
    “What’s he do?” I said.
    “For work?”
    “Yeah.”
    Farrell shrugged. “Runs the family money, I guess. Got an office and a secretary in the DePaul Building downtown. Goes there every day. Reads the paper, makes some calls, goes over to Locke’s for lunch.”
    “Nice orderly life,” I said.
    “Maybe it was just a random crazy,” Farrell said.
    “Maybe. But if we assume that, we got no place to go,” I said.
    “So you assume it’s not random. Where does that leave you?”
    “Looking for a motive,” I said.
    “We been over that,” Farrell said. “Me, Belson, Quirk, everybody. You going to go over it again?”
    “Probably,” I said. “And then, probably, I’ll try it from the other end.”
    “Her past?”
    “If it’s not a random killing, there’s something in her life that caused it. You people have been all over the recent events. I’ll go over them again because I’m a methodical guy. But I don’t expect to find something you missed. On the other hand, you haven’t turned out all the pockets of her history. You don’t have the budget.”
    “But you do?”
    “Tripp does,” I said.
    “Until he decides you’re just churning his account,” Farrell said.
    “Until then,” I said.
    We sat for a while in the crowded bar. It was full of men. Most of them were in suits and ties. Some were holding hands. A tallish guy with a thin face had his arm around a gray-haired man in a blue blazer. No one paid me any mind.
    “You married?” Farrell said.
    “Not quite,” I said.
    Farrell looked past me at the bar scene.
    “How about you?” I said.
    “I’m with somebody,” Farrell said.
    We were quiet again. People circulated among the tables. I watched them, and nursed my beer.
    “You notice nobody comes over,” Farrell said.
    “They know you’re a cop,” I said. “They figure I’m from the outside. They don’t want to out you in case you’re en closet.”
    “On the money,” Farrell