Free Dark Blonde by David H. Fears

we always worked through those. She hung with the wrong sort, and it got her killed. I’ll give you the same file of information on her and her acquaintances that I gave Mister Angel.”
    Burk looked like he’d just bitten into a donut with mud in it and couldn’t get the taste out. He pushed one big mitt slowly in Julia’s direction, patting the air. “All right, all right,” he said. “We’ll need your written statement. Come down to the precinct headquarters at your convenience within the next 48 hours. The M.E. should have time and manner of death established by then. You must realize this is a high-profile case. We’ll try to be sensitive to your needs and schedule, but there will be more questions.”
    Gerard didn’t waltz in right away so I guessed he was doing a five-minute tour of the guesthouse, posing near the body for some office photos he’d slip to the newspaper boys later, just to show the good Chicago denizens his office was on the job. Your typical suckface D.A. Burk asked about the help and who else might have been on the premises during Julia’s nap.
    Gerard finally pushed his way into the room like the title to the place had just been recorded in his name. He was a cocky red-haired bastard, all five-foot-six of him. Little cop syndrome, now worse, little DA syndrome with three hundred dollar suits and a high gloss on his wingtips. He wore his hair longer than he had on that Mattoon case, in a sort of bouffant style that made him look like Porky Pig with his head on fire. But Frank Gerard wasn’t any dummy, and next to Mayor Daley and Police Superintendent Wilson, he pulled the most weight in the City. Gerard had the power to sway and even unduly influence grand juries, or to dispense with them and file charges, the power to put an innocent man away or tear them down on his way to the guilty. He made few mistakes.
    Gerard was a mongoose with an itch. He began with a cheesy smile at Julia. He apologized about the questioning being hurtful in such a tragic time for her. Then he stood in the middle of the room and blathered about the importance of protecting a crime scene and keeping speculation out of the papers. He only wanted publicity when the case was wrapped up. He’d then take credit and all would be peachy, but he wanted Burk and us to know that he’d be sticking his gooey fingers in this one.
    Andresson didn’t jot down any of Gerard’s little speech
    When the runt took a breath, I sat back down in a wingback, crossed my legs, lit up a Lucky and said, “We don’t see you much at murder scenes down in Wrigleyville, Gerard. I wonder why that is? You work Arlington Heights exclusively?” I pointed at the front windows with my cigarette. “How long before your buddies at the Tribune arrive with extra rolls of film. Or will you use your stock photograph, the one where you look like someone’s just picked your pocket?”
    The training-wheels detective made a sound, a cross between a cough and a choke, like he was eating his adam’s apple. Burk continued to glare at everyone. Gerard acted like he hadn’t heard a thing.
    Gerard came over and gave me an easy smile like I’d just complimented his sister. He looked me straight in the eye; it was easy for him — I was sitting down. “I’m not sure it’s good to see you again, Angel. Dead bodies seem to follow you around. I’ve had an eye on you, just in case I ever have to inform the licensing board in the public’s behalf. I know all about your miscues in New York.” He sneered and stuck his vest out at me, one he must have bought in the boy’s clothing section at Marshall’s. “Guess I don’t have to tell you to hand my professionals whatever you’ve got here and stay out of their way. You need my permission to investigate a murder, don’t forget. If you think you’re holding any high cards because of Mattoon, you can forget about it. That’s not the way I run the department.”
    “Oh, I’m sure not,” I said easily.