“Have you spoken to Heck since he was freed?”
He stopped and looked at me. “I put this guy in jail for murder and he’s gonna help me?”
“Probably not,” I said, “but there’s an off chance he might want to come across helpful.”
“Why?”
“If he’s clean, he might actually care. If he’s dirty, nobility would be a great façade. Either way, he was Sophie’s ex and could know something relevant.”
“Sorry, I don’t see it.”
He resumed walking, picking up speed. Then halted again and looked down at his pocket. Tweed pulsated. As if a small animal had been caught there.
Out came the phone. “Hi, Basia…that was quick,jenkooyeh…okay…got it…sure…well, we can’t always be surprised.”
He clicked off.
I said, “Polish for thank you?”
“Close as I can get to pronouncing it, the actual word has all these Z’s and J’s. Saint that she is, Basia came through and prioritized the autopsy. COD is strangulation, amputation was postmortem. TOD can’t be fixed beyond a week or less and the tool-mark guy kept working and confirmed a coping saw, a jigsaw, or something similar. Probably not a jeweler’s saw, the teeth appear to be a bit larger but nothing he’d testify to. We’re waiting on the tox screen but preliminary bloods show nothing.”
He stared at the phone. “Welcome to the circus as I juggle two balls and drop both of them.”
Half a block later, he sighed and scrolled to a preset number. “Okay, Mr. Heck, let’s see if you’re noble.”
Six rings were followed by a resonant baritone. Salesman’s voice.
“This is MikeHeck,sorry I’m notfreeat the moment but Idowant to hear what you have tosay.Really.Sopleasecommunicate.”
Milo said, “Mike, this is Milo Sturgis. I’m probably the last guy you want to talk to, but any help you could give me on Sophie’s murder would be deeply appreciated. That’s straight talk, not an attempt to hassle you.”
Click.
“Okay?” he said, sounding peeved.
Like a kid with no talent forced to practice violin.
I kept my mouth shut as we headed back for the station.
—
Rather than unlock his office door, he stood in the corridor. “No reason to keep you while I do grunt work on Sophie. Maybe Martha, too, if Alicia needs me for something.”
I said, “Call if something comes up.”
“Don’t I always?”
As I turned to leave, he said, “What’s that brain skill you’re always talking about—being able to organize a bunch of stuff effectively?”
“Executive function.”
“Can you get there from gofer function?”
More activity beneath the tweed, this time macerated Mozart.
He produced the phone, checked the number on the screen, grimaced, and switched to speaker.
“Hi, Bettina.”
