Free Lieberman's Folly by Stuart M. Kaminsky Page B

and no one’s going to want to buy toilet rights in here.”
    Hughes went past Witten and the lab tech and out the door.
    â€œThe man has charm,” said Lieberman. “Got to give him that.”
    â€œI fucked it up, Rabbi,” Hanrahan said. “She gave me the signal and I was four sheets to the wind and making a play for a Chinese waitress.”
    Lieberman found a clear spot to sit on the mattress and reached for the nearby telephone.
    â€œYou’re right, Father Murphy,” Lieberman said. “You screwed it up. We’ll add it to your list of screw-ups, throw mine in including the Mideano case last year, remember? Then we’ll divide by my granddaughter’s age and add in the miles to Kankakee and what do we have?”
    â€œA dead woman,” said Hanrahan.
    â€œAnd what do we do?”
    â€œWe find the perp,” said Hanrahan as Lieberman dialed.
    â€œBess, it’s me,” he said when his wife answered. “I’ll be home late if I’m home. You want to call Kitty and see if she’ll come over for the night?”
    â€œI got plenty of company,” Bess said. “Lisa was here with the kids when I got home. She left Todd. She wants to talk to you.”
    â€œIt’s not a good time, Bess,” Lieberman said.
    â€œAre there good times for things like this?” she said sadly. “It’s your daughter.”
    â€œPut her on.”
    â€œDad?” said Lisa when she came on a few seconds later.
    â€œRemember when your friend Mary moved out of town?” he asked.
    â€œMy friend Ma … you mean Miriam,” Lisa said. “I was nine or ten. What’s this got to …?”
    â€œI don’t know,” said Lieberman. “It just came to me. You want advice you won’t listen to or you want to talk and I’ll listen?”
    â€œI guess I want to talk,” she said.
    â€œCan it wait till I get home? I’m sitting in the torn-up apartment of a woman who was murdered about an hour ago. I’d like to go out and try to catch the killer before I come home and try to save my daughter’s marriage.”
    â€œYou can’t save this marriage, Dad,” Lisa said emphatically.
    â€œSorry, before I come home and listen to my daughter’s very good reasons why she is leaving her husband after more than thirteen years of marriage,” he said.
    â€œFourteen years on our next anniversary,” Lisa said.
    â€œSeptember sixth,” said Lieberman.
    â€œMay sixteenth, Dad,” Lisa said with a sigh. “We were married in the spring. You paid for it. You should remember. September sixth is Melisa’s birthday.”
    â€œRight, I remember,” said Lieberman. “The proximity of violent death sometimes affects my memory.”
    â€œDon’t be funny, Dad,” Lisa said.
    â€œI won’t be funny,” Lieberman agreed. “I’ll talk to you when I get home. Don’t wait up. The kids OK?”
    â€œNo,” said Lisa. “How can they be OK?”
    â€œI’ll talk to you later,” Lieberman said and hung up the phone. He looked at Hanrahan but his partner showed not the slightest interest in the call.
    â€œLisa left Todd,” Lieberman said.
    â€œMy sons could be divorced and remarried five times and I wouldn’t know it,” Hanrahan said. “You’re lucky you got a daughter, grandchildren in the same town.”
    â€œI’m lucky,” said Lieberman. “What kind of cab did the woman in Estralda’s clothes take off in?”
    â€œGreen and White,” said Hanrahan. He was looking at the spot on the floor where the body had been.
    Lieberman got a small red notebook out of his jacket pocket and dialed a number.
    â€œHello, give me Leo Gedvilas,” Lieberman said into the phone. “Leo? Abe Lieberman … What five bucks? I’m not calling about five bucks. I don’t remember any five bucks you owe