Death Turns A Trick (Rebecca Schwartz #1) (A Rebecca Schwartz Mystery) (The Rebecca Schwartz Series)

know Jaycocks was at the bordello on police business—got a tip, like you said.”
    “Sorry we had to be so hard on you, Miss Schwartz,” said Shipe. “But when the suspect is a policeman, you’ve got to be about five times as careful that you’ve got a good witness.”
    I was having trouble assimilating the seeming change of heart. “You mean you believe me?”
    “Look, ma’am, rubber hoses are one thing, but good cops usually don’t hit lady lawyers and then dunk them like doughnuts. Your appearance kind of spoke for itself; what is it you lawyers say?”
    “Res ipsa loquitur.”
    “That’s it.” He looked doubly pleased with himself, now that he’d shown off his erudition. “Look, I guess it’s okay to tell you now. There’ve been rumors about Jaycocks for a long time, and everybody knows he’s a mean son of a bitch as well. This doesn’t come as the greatest surprise in the world. We had to get the best story we possibly could from you, but if you think we were tough, you should have seen what Jaycocks has been going through. We just went out to see the guys who interrogated him; his story stinks.”
    “So what does that mean—a departmental investigation?” I didn’t have much faith in those.
    “It means he’ll be booked for aggravated assault in a few minutes.”
    Well, lordy, lordy. The system wasn’t worthless after all.
    They sent me home in a patrol car and had an officer walk me to my door and everything.
    I flung myself into a hot bath and then into bed, but that proved to be a mistake. I should have made a few phone calls first.

Chapter Seventeen
     
    I slept for about two minutes before the phone woke me up. At least that’s what it seemed like, but the sun was already coming through my eyelet curtains.
    “Darling, are you all right?” said my mother. Crossly, I wondered if she possessed any other conversational gambits. “Certainly, Mom. Why wouldn’t I be?”
    “Thank God.” She started sobbing. Then it dawned on me what had happened: Rob Burns’s story must have made the home edition of the
Chronicle
. I’d foolishly assumed it was too late for that.
    “Oh God, Mom, you must have seen the paper. I had no idea it was going to be in or I’d have called you. Look, I’m perfectly all right. Really. Just a couple of bruises.”
    “Darling, you could have been killed.” There was some truth to this, but I thought it best to play it down.
    “I’m tough, Mom. You raised me to look after myself.”
    “Rebecca, sweetie, I’m asking you. I’m begging you. Think of your father if you won’t think of yourself. If you got killed, you wouldn’t even
know
about it. But your father would have a stroke. He’d be paralyzed for life. You’ve always been his favorite, Rebecca—”
    This was pretty extreme, even for Mom, and it frightened me instead of making me angry. I was putting her through a lot.
    “Mom, Mom, take it easy,” I said. “I’m really sorry about all this. I—”
    Seizing the advantage, she jumped right in. “Darling, turn the case over to your father.”
    “Oh, Mom, I can’t. Listen, let me talk to him.”
    “I’m here,” said Daddy. He was on the extension. Unnecessarily, I told Mom to stay on too. I knew she’d as soon have joined HYENA as hang up.
    “I haven’t even seen the paper,” I said. “Could somebody read it to me?”
    Daddy did. According to Rob, Frank’s story was that I’d solicited him for prostitution and given him my key, like he’d told Pink-face, and he’d planned to arrest me as soon as money changed hands, but I’d resisted. The piece also contained a detailed account of my story and a vivid description of my bedraggled and bruised appearance. Apparently, Rob had gotten the whole thing from the police.
    But there wasn’t a word in the story about the money. For some reason, the cops hadn’t seen fit to mention it; probably because it knocked a big hole in their case against Parker. I told Mom and Dad about it. Also, I told them about meeting Frank at Elena’s and then again at the Washington Square Bar and Grill.
    “Frankly, I think he twisted my arm and pushed me in the aquarium because he was actually trying to get information,” I said. “I don’t really think he killed Kandi for the money—and the police must not think so, either, since they didn’t book him for murder. Which means the attack had nothing to do with the case; it would have happened whether Kandi’d been killed or not. I mean, the