said.
âAnd if either of you talk to the press, even to a ten-year-old blogger, you will be walking night patrol in South Chicago for the rest of your short lives.â
âYes, sir,â Liz repeated.
âYazzuh, boss.â Oliver sketched a salute.
The lieutenant frowned, which sent Oliver grumbling into the interview room. Every time Finchley refused to laugh and joke with Oliver Billings, the detective magnified the size of his grievance against the new commander. The fact that Finchley was black and Billings was white only made the relationship more volatile.
Liz pretended sympathy with her partnerâs complaints about Finchley, because Oliver had proved more than once that heâd blind-side her in the field if he thought she wasnât supporting him. Privately, she was glad the old commander had left. Sheâd only served under him for two months, but he used jokes as a thin cover over his efforts to put women officers off-balance. When heâd assigned her to Oliver, heâd eyed her with a leer and told Oliver to âshape her up, not that thereâs anything wrong with the shape sheâs already in.â The late-night, post-shift drinking sessions with his special cronies not only created divisions in the station, but brought his buddies, including Oliver Billings, to work with chronic hangovers.
She and Oliver stopped outside the interview room for a word with the officer whoâd been listening to the hidden mikes. Leydon Ashford apparently suspected the police could eavesdropâthe officer said the Dr. Adari and her lawyer had murmured so softly into each otherâs ears that he hadnât picked up anything.
Oliver pulled a chair away from the table and leaned back in it, legs crossed: the suspect was supposed to be lulled into thinking it was a casual chat. He announced his and Lizâs names for the recording equipment, but before he could launch into his first question, the doctor narrowed her eyes at Liz.
âHave we met, detective?â
âI donât think so, maâam, unless I was on patrol for an event like todayâs.â Lizâs tone was wooden.
Oliver cleared his throat, demanding attention. âI understand you and Arnie Culver had a history, doctor.â
âEvery abortion provider in this country has a history with Mr. Culver. Recently, most doctors who prescribe contraceptives have started having a history with him.â Dr. Adari had her hands folded in her lap.
âIs that why you attacked Culver outside the fundraiser this morning?â Oliver asked.
âI canât add to what I told you earlier,â the doctor said. âHe used one of his children to hand me a flier. I tossed it at him. Is that an attack? Is it similar to the time he lit gasoline-soaked rags and threw them at me?â
âThatâs what we want to know, doctorâ Oliver said. âDid you follow him down the lake path? Have a confrontation that got out of hand?â
âNo. I told him not to abuse the children he brought into the world by forcing them into his private anti-abortion army, and then I went into the fundraiser, where any number of people can tell you I spent the entire lunch hour. Is there anything else you want to ask me? I have patients waiting.â
âTo abort their babies?â Oliver asked.
The doctor said, âMy patientsâ privacy is sacrosanct, detective. I canât tell you why they consult me. I can only tell you that itâs unprofessional of me to make them wait.â
The lawyer said, âRight. If you have any further questions for Dr. Adari, you can call me.â Ashford put one of her business cards on the interview table. She nodded at Adari and the two women stood.
âWhat about the private eye you hired to investigate Culver?â Liz asked.
âWhat about it, indeed?â the lawyer said.
âHow did Culver react to the investigation?â Liz