Chapter 18
Chapter
As we tailed Winchell’s Audi, Milo said, “A little edgy but to me he seemed genuinely surprised about Sophie.”
“To me, as well.”
“So that’s probably why.”
“Why what?”
“The edginess,” he said. “Walking while overly pigmented.”
—
The street around the corner was residential with permit-only parking that left lots of curb-space available. Like most daytime streets on the West Side, devoid of people, the sole fauna a few randy squirrels.
Milo placed the car across from a well-tended two-story Spanish Revival with no vehicles in the driveway. We were out and waiting when the silver Audi zoomed in and short-stopped behind us.
The three of us convened under a pepper tree.
Frank Winchell said, “Okay, what do you think I can tell you about Sophie?”
Milo said, “Can you think of anyone who’d want to kill her?”
“Of course not. She was a good person. Plus we didn’t date for that long and it’s been months since I’ve seen her. Who directed you to me, anyway?”
“Sorry, can’t get into that.”
“Yeah, right,” said Winchell. “Probably the dude she dated after me. Some lawyer type, something.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it’s logical,” said Winchell. “I met Sophie at the gym—helped spot her on some forty-pound bench presses—” Smiling. “Later, I saw him do the same thing. Am I right?”
Milo said, “How long did you and Sophie date?”
“Two months or so, maybe fifteen dates. And we’re not talking hot, heavy, and exclusive.
After I spotted her, she started talking to me.
Good-looking girl and she seemed nice. Next time we saw each other at the gym, we went out for tea—I don’t drink.
She was easy to be with. That’s why when you ask who would hurt her, it’s crazy, she’s the last person someone would hurt. ”
I said, “Tea and then…”
“More tea,” said Winchell. “Then eventually something to eat. Did it lead to something? Yes it did but not always. Sometimes we just talked and went our separates.”
He sighed. “Neither of us deluded ourselves we had a big romantic thing going.”
Milo said, “Purely physical.”
“No, no,” said Winchell. “That makes it sound tacky. Sophie and I liked each other, we could converse.”
“You’ve been to Sophie’s place.”
“Sure. Oh. She was killed there?”
“Afraid so.”
“Right in her own place,” said Winchell. “That’s…” His voice broke. He swiped at his eyes. “Yes, I was there. Months ago. But I didn’t kill her. Are we through?”
Milo said, “Almost. Why’d the two of you stop dating?”
“Oh man. Why? Was it some big emotional thing? Not even close. I had some vacation time and asked her to come with me for a week in Maui. She said she couldn’t so I went by myself and met someone there.
Who turned out also to be from L.A. Who I’m still seeing.
When I got back, I told Sophie and she did this little pouty thing. ”
He demonstrated. “But then she laughed and gave me a cheek peck and said congratulations.”
“Good sport,” said Milo.
“No,” said Winchell. “Sophie didn’t need to be any kind of sport, because it honestly didn’t bother her.
We had fun but it wasn’t hearts and flowers between us.
And it didn’t take her long to find someone, next time I saw her at the gym she was with the lawyer dude.
She called him Mike. Standing around while he overhead-pressed.
About half of what I press. Then sure enough, he’s spotting her for her forties and afterward they’re leaving together.
Then she stopped coming to the gym and so did he.
What I’d like to know is why the bastard tried to snitch me out. ”
Milo said, “Don’t assume anything, sir. And please don’t act on any assumptions.”
“Like I’d actually do that,” said Winchell, “and risk having to deal with you guys again. Anyway, that first time, when I saw her leaving with him, I gave her a wink and she winked back. Letting me know we were still cool. ’Cause she was cool.
No reason for anyone to hurt her unless he’s some kind of psycho. ”
“The last time you saw her was…”
“Like a week after I saw her with him at the gym and no, we didn’t call or text. Her leaving the gym made sense. She shouldn’t have been there in the first place, it’s for serious lifting not girlie stuff but she probably went there to meet dudes.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because it worked,” said Frank Winchell. “She met me, then him. You ask me, it’s him you should be looking at, because his thing with her was more recent. And let’s face it, lawyers are halfway to criminal, anyway.”
Milo smiled. “Anything else, Mr. Winchell?”
“Not unless you want my advice on rubber-tipping and flossing. Sorry, I shouldn’t be a wiseass, this is serious.”
He laced his hands together. Twisted them palms-out, then loosened his fingers and let them drop. “Worse than serious. It’s horrendous.”
Milo said, “Thank you, sir. If you think of anything else, get in touch.”
“Of course,” said Frank Winchell. “Sophie didn’t deserve this. Especially with what she went through in Oklahoma.”
“What’s that?”
“Losing her husband in a car crash. She talked about loving him crazy, said she’d never feel that way about anyone. Did that threaten me? Not even close, like I said, it wasn’t Romeo and Juliet.”
Winchell took two steps toward the Audi and stopped. “What was that last badge you squeaked in?”
Milo said, “Cooking.”
“What’d you make?”
“Beef stew.”
Winchell laughed. “Me too, everyone said it was the easiest. Throw stuff in a pot and heat it up.”
He looked at me. “You also a scout?”
I said, “Did a few years in the Cubs.”
“Why’d you quit?”
Because my raging alcoholic father cut it short. Like most everything I enjoyed.
I said, “Time constraints.”
“Whatever that means,” said Frank Winchell, raising his eyebrows. Nodding at Milo, he left and drove away quickly.
Milo said, “What do you think?”
“If Sophie picked up other guys at the gym, one of them could’ve reacted more strongly than he did.”
“I meant about him.”
“No new suspicions. And how would he have access to Mike Heck’s DNA?”
“The same way any suspect would. Follow Heck and Sophie to Heck’s place, watch Heck dump his trash, and retrieve the butts. And his being an ex might mean Sophie would let him in to her place.”
“The same could apply to any ex.”
“True. And there’s nothing in his background—no domestics, no restraining orders—to suggest he’s got temper issues.”
I pulled out my phone, plugged in Winchell’s name, found his Instagram pages. Recent photos—lots of them—showed him with a pretty Asian woman named Randi. The earliest shot featured the two of them having dinner backed by a brilliant Maui sunset.
I showed the screen to Milo. “Backs up his story and they say they’re still together.”
He scrolled, returned the phone, smiled. “You thinking of a career switch to defense attorney?”
“Hey,” I said, “he was an Eagle Scout.”
“Speaking of which, what’s the real reason you quit the Cubs?”
I told him.
He said, “Oh…okay, onward.”
—
Back in the car, I said, “Did you really make beef stew?”
“Hell yeah, and it was tasty. My brothers demolished it. What I didn’t tell my scoutmaster was that I burned Mom’s Dutch oven in the process.”
“Assuming you’ve learned from the experience, one day you can fix it for Robin and me.”
“And Blanche,” he said. “If someone French is happy, I know I’ve aced it. Sure, why not, our place. Once things settle down.”
He pulled away from the curb.
I said, “I’ve been thinking about Martha’s daughter. Maybe one of the detectives Martha worked with knows something about her.”
“I’ve been trying to find out who she paired up with,” he said, “but it’s a long time ago and no luck, so far. Only old homicide guy I found is dead.”
“Maybe she didn’t pair up with anyone.”
“Going solo? Yeah, it happens when you don’t fit the mold.”
“When was her last assignment?”
“She packed it in around six years ago.”
“Maybe one of the fraud D’s can help.”
“Maybe,” he said, switching to a police band and pretending to listen to random calls.
A mile later, he turned it off. “Why not? Nothing else is working.”