The Caller. Alex Barclay

       SIX

      Danny and Joe pulled up across the street from Clare Oberly’s apartment building and parked outside a dry cleaners. The elderly owner stood against the plate glass window, smoking a cigarette and staring at them.

      ‘That Pace guy looks kinda funny, doesn’t he?’ said Danny.

      Joe smiled.

      ‘Kind of like parts of his face are trying to make a run for it,’ said Danny. ‘His eyes are busting out, his Adam’s apple … it’s like he’s so thin, there’s no nourishment there for them. They’re out of there. Know what I’m saying?’

      Joe shook his head. ‘You’re a cruel son of a bitch.’

      ‘Just saying what everyone else is thinking.’

      ‘You are so full of shit.’

      They walked over to the building, past a huge moving van and into a brightly lit foyer with floors streaked with black marks. A couple walked by them in shorts and T-shirts, carrying a chest of drawers, the man sweating heavily and trailing foul air behind him.

      ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Danny to Joe. ‘Deodorant.’

      One of the elevators was held open by the couple moving. Joe and Danny took the free one to the tenth floor, found apartment 10B and rang the bell.

      ‘Hello,’ said Joe. ‘Clare Oberly?’

      ‘Yeah. Hi.’ She was an attractive blonde in her mid-thirties, dressed in a lime green chiffon top, white jeans and red and green platform shoes. Strings of expensive multi-colored beads hung around her neck.

      ‘My name is Detective Joe Lucchesi. My partner and I are investigating a homicide. You received a phone call round about 11 p.m. last night?’

      She paused. ‘Yeah. Why?’

      ‘Who was the call from?’ said Joe.

      ‘Ethan Lowry.’ She looked at both of them. ‘Why?’

      ‘What’s your relationship with Mr Lowry?’ said Joe.

      ‘Oh, we dated in college. Is he OK?’ she said.

      ‘Can we come in?’ said Joe.

      ‘I’m sorry. Yes. I’m so rude. Come in.’ She brought them into a neat, open plan apartment with a huge Miró on one wall. She sat down and gestured to the sofa opposite.

      ‘I’m afraid Mr Lowry’s been the victim of a homicide,’ said Joe.

      ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Ethan?’ She shook her head. ‘Oh my God. He’s so … what happened? He’s just so not the type … if that makes any sense.’

      ‘He was murdered in his apartment. We think he may have called you right before it happened. And we need to find out why.’

      ‘God. I don’t know. I mean, I don’t think it would be anything to do with why he was murdered. We don’t even know each other that well any more. Like, I’m not a person he would call if he was in trouble. We’re just not close.’

      ‘When was the last time you spoke with him?’

      ‘A year and a half ago. At my brother’s funeral. It was really sweet of him to come. Ethan was very kind like that.’ She bowed her head. ‘I can’t believe this.’

      ‘What did he say to you when he called?’

      ‘Not a lot. He just called to say hi.’ She shrugged.

      ‘How long were you two dating?’

      ‘Six years.’

      ‘What happened?’

      ‘Nothing major, the usual, we were too young, I was too ambitious, he wanted quiet nights in, I wanted to party. We drifted. It got boring, I guess.’

      ‘And you both moved on.’

      ‘I did more than he did, I guess. But then he met his wife and he got married shortly after.’

      ‘So why do you think he called you the night he died?’

      ‘I have no idea.’

      ‘You have no idea,’ said Joe. ‘Really?’

      She smiled sadly. ‘I’m such a bad liar. The worst. I guess I’m worried … his wife’s just lost her husband …’ She sighed. ‘OK. What I tell you? Does his wife get to hear it?’

      ‘Not necessarily, no,’ said Joe.

      ‘I don’t want to make things worse for her. Even though I haven’t done anything … just, the only weird thing that night was Ethan told me … that he loved me.’

      Joe frowned. ‘What? And you hadn’t seen him in how long? A year and a half?’

      ‘Yeah. He said he was just calling to say he loved me.’

      ‘What did you say to him?’

      ‘I was shocked. I mean, he sounded pretty normal except for what he was actually saying to me. That was it. I didn’t know what to say back. I mean, he’s married, I heard he has a lovely wife and daughter and … I don’t know. I mean, I don’t love him. Didn’t. I said that to him. I said about his wife and that I’d moved on.’ She shrugged. ‘Now I feel terrible. For him. For his wife. I’m guessing she has no idea. Do you think … I mean, he didn’t kill himself or anything?’

      ‘No,’ said Joe. ‘Had he hinted about his feelings when you met at your brother’s funeral?’

      ‘No,’ said Clare. ‘He was really sweet to me. But that’s Ethan, he just is. There was no major interaction between us, no plans to meet up, I didn’t encourage him, nothing.’

      ‘Is there anyone you could think of that had a problem with Ethan? Was he ever in trouble?’

      ‘It was eight years ago when we broke up. But before then, Ethan was, like, normal, just a nice guy. I never saw him even have an argument with anyone. He was low-profile, you know what I mean? He’d be the last person I would think would end up murdered.’

      Rufo was sitting at his desk pressing keys on his cell phone when Danny and Joe walked in. He held up his left hand to silence them. They looked at each other. Joe shrugged. Rufo spent another few minutes focused on the tiny handset. He was smiling to himself. He hit one last key and put the phone down.

      ‘Texting,’ he said. ‘What a great way to communicate. You should check it out.’

      ‘I lived in Ireland, remember?’ said Joe. ‘It’s nearly taken over from drinking.’

      ‘Who were you texting?’ said Danny.

      Rufo looked up at him. ‘None of your business, Markey. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure?’

      Joe spoke. ‘I’m thinking of setting up a meeting with Reuben Maller in the Eastern District, get some sort of profile worked out on this perp …’

      ‘Sure. Go ahead,’ said Rufo. ‘As long as we’re all clear it’s his friendly assistance you’re after.’

      Joe nodded. ‘I’ll see what comes out of the profile. If there’s anything we think he should stick around for, anyone he’d like to interview, we’ll see, but you know Maller, he’s a good guy, he does his thing, then disappears back—’

      ‘Under his rock,’ said Danny.

      Joe rolled his eyes. ‘Do you ever think it might be you?’

      ‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’ said Danny.

      ‘You know?