Jason Washington was surprised and just a little alarmed when he quietly let himself into his apartment to see that there were lights on in the living room.Not only is the love of my life angry, but angry to the point where she has decided that marital justice demands that she wait up for me to express her displeasure personally, immediately, and in some detail.
As he walked down the corridor, he heard Martha say, somewhat formally, “I think that’s him.”
Someone’s with her. Someone she doesn’t know well. Who? And who else would it be at this hour of the morning?
He walked into the living room. Martha, in a dressing gown, was sitting on the couch. There was a coffee service on the coffee table. And a somewhat distraught-looking woman sitting in one of the armchairs, holding a coffee cup in her hands.
“Martha, I’m sorry to be so late. I was tied up.”
“That happens, doesn’t it?” Martha replied, the tone of her voice making it clear she thought he had been tied up by a slow-moving bartender.
“Good evening,” Jason said to the distraught-looking woman.
“More accurately, ‘good morning,’” Martha said. “Jason, this is Mrs. Kellog.”
“How do you do?” Jason said.
Kellog? As in Officer Kellog?
“I’m sorry to have come here like this,” Mrs. Kellog said. “But I just had to.”
“How may I help you, Mrs. Kellog?”
“Jerry Kellog was my husband,” she said.
That’s precisely what I feared. And what are you doing here, in my home?
“May I offer my condolences on your loss, Mrs. Kellog?”
“I didn’t have anything to do with him being killed,” she said. “And neither did Wally.”
Washington nodded sympathetically.
“Martha, I’m sure you’re tired,” he said.
“No. Not at all,” Martha said, smiling sweetly, letting Jason know that even if this was business he wasn’t going to dismiss her so lightly in her own home.
“Wally told me, not only Wally, but Lieutenant Sackerman, too, especially him, that you’re not only the best Homicide detective…”
“That was very gracious of Jack Sackerman,” Washington said, “we were friends for a long time.”
“…but the only cop you know is honest.”
“That’s very kind, but I cannot accept the blanket indictment of the rest of the Police Department,” Washington said. “I like to think we’re something like Ivory Soap: ninety-nine and forty-four one hundredths pure.”
Helene Kellog ignored him.
“That’s why I came to you,” she said. “I didn’t know where else to go.” She looked at him, took a deep breath, and went on: “Jerry was dirty. I know that. And—what happened to him—had something to do with that. They’re all dirty, the whole Five Squad is dirty.”
“Mrs. Kellog, when you were interviewed by detectives investigating the death of your husband, did you tell any of them what you just told me?”
She snorted.
“Of course not. They all acted like they think that I had something to do with it. Or that Wally did. I wouldn’t be a bit surprised if they were in on it.”
“In on what?”
“Covering up. Maybe trying to pin it on Wally or me. Wally and me.”