Chapter 46

There was yellow police tape around a hole where Grime’s house used to sit. A couple of college kids stood nearby, taking pictures of each other in front of the site with their cell phones. Brave bastards. Probably going to download it to all their buddies back at the dorm.

“Not much left,” Diane said.

“Just the memories. Let’s drive over to Pollard’s house.”

It was less than a mile, maybe a ten-minute walk. A Chicago bungalow, two stories of brick, slotted into a row of the same. Working-class digs built when the city called its mayor Boss and never tried to hide it. I parked a half block down the street and turned off the car.

“Hang on here,” I said. Diane didn’t respond.

I pulled out a flashlight and walked up to the house. It was still early evening, and lights were just coming on up and down the block. Fifty-two fifteen West Warner, however, felt empty, its blinds drawn tight. There was a single buzzer with no name and a glass door that looked into an interior foyer. I took a chance and leaned on the bell. No answer.

I flicked my flashlight across the foyer but couldn’t make out a name on the mailbox inside. Then my light caught a scattering of mail spread across the floor. Good old Chicago post office. Sometimes letters make it into the box. Sometimes they don’t. Two were addressed to “Occupant.” The third wasn’t. I could make out only the first two letters of the last name: PO. Daniel Pollard, it appeared, had never moved from the house in Grime’s neighborhood. I took a walk around back and found an alley leading to a small yard, cemented over, and a wooden garage, empty. I flicked off my flash and returned to the car.

“I think he still lives here.”

“Ten years later?”

“Apparently. Must like the neighborhood. Anyway, he gets his mail here. That’s good enough for me.”

“What’re you going to do?”

I was about to respond when a green Pontiac appeared in my rearview mirror. I had my lights off and sat quiet as the car pulled into the driveway of 5215 and disappeared into the back.

“That him?” Diane said.

“You should really think about being a detective.”

“Funny guy.”

After a minute or so, lights came on inside the house. I started up the car, drove down the block, and around the corner to the nearest bus stop.

“All right, Diane, this is where we part company.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. I’m going to follow this guy for a while and might need to get out of the car. It’s a lot easier when I’m by myself.”

“I know how to make myself scarce, Kelly.”

I reached over and popped open the passenger door.

“No time to argue, Diane. The longer I stay here, the longer the house remains uncovered. If he gets in his car and drives off, well … ”

I shrugged my shoulders and waited. Diane didn’t like it but didn’t have much choice. She got out of the car without a word.

“See ya,” I said.

Diane slammed the door and headed to the bus stop. I slugged the car into drive and headed back to the house on Warner.