1st to Die (Women's Murder Club 1)

As the doors closed, a voice yelled, “Hold it.”

A tall woman in a powder blue T-shirt and brocade vest with a badge fastened to her waist stepped in. The cop was nice looking, with sandy blond hair, but she was clearly upset. She let out a deep sigh as the doors closed.

“Rough in there, Inspector?” the cop accompanying Cindy inquired.

“Yeah,” the woman said, not even turning her head.

The word inspector went off like a flash in Cindy’s mind.

Cindy couldn’t believe it. The scene must be beyond awful for an inspector to be that upset. As the elevator descended, she rode the entire thirty floors just blinking her eyes and looking straight ahead.

When the doors opened to the lobby, the inspector rushed off.

“You see the front door,” the cop said to Cindy. “Go through it. Don’t come back.”

As soon as the elevator doors had closed, she spun around and scanned the vast lobby for a sight of the detective. She caught a flash of her going into the ladies’ room.

Cindy hurriedly followed her in. Just the two of them in there.

The detective stood in front of a mirror. She looked close to six feet tall, slender and impressive. To Cindy’s amazement, it was clear she had been crying.

Jesus, Jesus. She was back on the inside again. What had the inspector seen to get her so upset?

“You okay?” Cindy finally inquired in a soft voice.

The detective tensed up when she realized she wasn’t alone. But she had this look on her face, as if she were on the verge of letting it all out. “You’re that reporter, aren’t you? You’re the one who got upstairs.”

Cindy nodded.

“So how did you make it all the way up there?”

“I don’t know. Luck, maybe.”

The detective pulled out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “Well, I’m afraid your luck’s over, if you’re looking for something from me.”

“I didn’t mean that,” Cindy said. “You sure you’re all right?”

The cop turned around. Her eyes shouted, I’ve got nothing to say to you, but they lied. It was as if she needed to do exactly that, talk to someone, more than anything in the world.

It was one of those strange moments when Cindy knew there was something under the surface. If the roles just shifted, and she had the chance, the two of them might even become friends.

Cindy reached into her pocket, pulled out a card, and placed it on the sink counter in front of the detective. “If you ever want to talk…”

The color came back into the inspector’s pretty face. She hesitated, then gave Cindy the slimmest, faintest edge of a smile.

Cindy smiled in return. “As long as I’m here…” She went up to the sink and took out her makeup kit, catching the policewoman’s eye in the mirror.

“Nice vest,” she said.

Chapter 10

I WORK out of the Hall of Justice. The Hall, as we referred to the gray, ten-story granite slab that housed the city’s Department of Justice, was located just west of the freeway, on Sixth and Bryant. If the building itself, with its faded, antiseptic halls, didn’t communicate that law enforcement lacked a sense of style, the surrounding neighborhood surely did. Hand-painted bail bondsman shacks, auto parts stores, parking lots, and dingy cafés.

Whatever ailed you, you could find it at the Hall: Auto Theft, Sex Crimes, Robbery. The district attorney was on eight, with cubicles filled with bright young prosecutors. A floor of holding cells on ten. One-stop shopping, arrest to arraignment. Next door, we even had the morgue.

After a hasty, bare-bones news conference, Jacobi and I agreed to meet upstairs and go over what we had so far.

The twelve of us