Free Stranglehold by Ed Gorman Page A

isn’t Chicago. People’re used to murders there. We aren’t. Anybody look a little weird at all, they got to be questioned. Hell, I should’ve sent you to the detective when you came running around the corner.”
    No point in arguing. He was just doing his job, and by admitting that he was covering his ass he dropped the tough-guy stuff and becamea human being. Still and all, I doubted if I’d invite him to my next birthday party.
    The back door was under a long narrow canopy. He had to knock twice. While we were waiting, he said, “My name’s Bob Sullivan, by the way.” He was amused again. “In case you want to file any complaints. Badge number 205.” He was a tough guy again.
    Another uniform answered the door and led us through the kitchen and then the dining room and then out to the lobby. This late, everything had been shut down for a few hours anyway.
    Three detectives had divided up the lobby. Each had a short line of people to interview. Most of the interviewees were hotel employees, but there was a handful of guests, too. Sullivan steered me to the shortest line. I assumed the detective I would be seeing was the slim woman in the dark-blue suit. She was talking to a bellhop. She was attractive in a dark silken way. Indian, I guessed.
    â€œYou want some coffee? They’ve got a big pot of it going over there.” Sullivan nodded to a table that had been set up with snacks and coffee.
    â€œThanks.”
    Despite the line being short, I was on my second cup of coffee by the time the detective was ready for me. She indicated a chair that had been brought in from the dining room. I sat down. There was a matching chair for her, but I’d yet to see her sit down. She offered me a long, slim hand and another smile. “I’m sure you want to get to your room as soon as possible, Mr. Conrad, so I’ll make this as quick as I can.”
    â€œI’d appreciate that.”
    â€œMy name is Detective Priya Kapoor. I’ll bet you’ve never heard of a cop with that name before.” Unaccented English. “I was born and raised in Chicago. I’m a White Sox fan.”
    I wondered how many hundreds of times she’d said this in her time on the force. “No, I never have.” She wasn’t beautiful but she was erotic,the dark velvet eyes and the wide tender mouth inspiring flare-ups of lust in my drained body. It had been a while.
    â€œFirst of all, Mr. Conrad, I take it you’re in town on business.”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œWould you mind telling me what that business is?”
    â€œI work with Congresswoman Cooper on her campaign.” Usually an occupation wouldn’t tell her anything. But Monica Davies had been in politics and so was I. “I’m a political consultant.”
    â€œThat’s very nice. I voted for her.” The cruise director voice again. I’m just a friendly lady going through the motions, Mr. Conrad, said the voice. But the erotic eyes had become the dubious eyes. “That’s very interesting.”
    â€œOh? How so?”
    She sat down on the dining-room chair opposite me. The first time I’d seen her park her fine small bottom anywhere. “Mr. Conrad, it’s late, as I said. So let me ask you, do you really want to put me—and yourself—through the charade of pretending that you didn’t know Monica Davies?”
    â€œI met her a few times, yes.”
    â€œThank you. I appreciate that. You’ve saved both of us at least ten minutes. May I ask where you were tonight?”
    â€œIf you’re asking for an alibi, I have a good one.”
    â€œFine. Good alibis make my job a lot easier. Believe it or not, I enjoy eliminating people as persons of interest. That way I can concentrate on the guilty party.”
    â€œThere was a fund-raiser for Congresswoman Cooper at the Royale Hotel tonight. I was there all evening. I didn’t leave until about