The Fregoli Delusion
his hand. “Can you tell us who the witness is, Chief Bennett?”
    “At this time,” Bennett said
slowly, “we’re not going to release his name.”
    “Is he a suspect? Do you think he
shot Jarrett himself?”
    “No, no. Well, let me just say
that we’re pursuing all leads right now.”
    “What’s he saying? Did he know Jarrett?
Did you find evidence that he might have robbed Jarrett?”
    Martinez stood up and joined
Bennett at the podium. The chief gratefully yielded the floor.
    “To answer your question,”
Martinez said, “no, we found no evidence to indicate that the witness robbed
the victim. He told us basically what the chief told you, that he heard a shot,
walked back around the bend along the bike path, found the victim already
deceased, and no, while we’re actively considering all possibilities, we don’t
think the witness is the person who shot Mr. Jarrett. I’ll mention now that he
was tested for gunshot residue with negative results. We’re treating him
strictly as a witness, and one who may only be able to help us on a very
limited basis. We’re concentrating our efforts in a number of other
directions.”
    “Have you found the gun?” asked a
newspaper correspondent.
    “Not at this time.”
    “Do you have any suspects?”
    “Not at this time.”
    “Do you have any leads?”
    Not at this time , Hank thought.
    “We’re pursuing several lines of
inquiry,” Martinez replied, “and we’ll provide an update as soon as possible.
That’s all for now.”
    Bennett reclaimed the podium and thanked
them for coming. The broadcast switched to a news anchor who began to summarize
what had just been revealed. The murder of the fifth-richest man in the state
was about to become one of the top stories of the year.
    Hank turned off the television,
and the crowd emptied out of the captain’s office. He closed the door behind
him as Karen strode into the bullpen area from the elevators.
    “How’d it go?” he asked.
    Karen held up her black leather
portfolio. “All set.” She and Assistant State’s Attorney Leanne DiOrio had just
paid a visit to the courthouse to obtain a set of warrants for the Jarrett
mansion and the corporate offices in the downtown headquarters known as Jarrett
Tower. “How did the press conference go?”
    They walked back to the elevators.
“It was short and sweet.” Hank stabbed the button.
    “The networks were there, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “We’re gonna be under the
microscope.”
    “I imagine.”
    “What’d they say about Parris?”
Karen punched the elevator button impatiently.
    “Martinez cleared him as a suspect
and said he’d be of help on a limited basis only.”
    “Okay,” Karen said. “That’s fine.
There’s not a chance in hell he shot the vic. It just doesn’t work for me. But
I think he could still be a witness. He was pretty damned sure about what he
was saying.”
    “Maybe,” Hank replied
noncommittally. “We’ll need to talk to Dr. Caldwell to get a better sense of
his reliability.”
    Karen looked at him. “Can I ask
you a question? And you won’t get pissed?”
    “Sure. Go ahead.”
    “What the fuck was Truly doing in
our interview with old man Parris? Has she transferred to Homicide or something
and I didn’t get the memo?”
    Hank shrugged. “She’s asking for a
transfer. I’ve told her we can’t take anybody right now, but I wanted to see
how she handled herself. She took it all in and kept her mouth shut.”
    “She’s a slug, Lou. Her street
experience is nil and she’s got the personality of a fucking traffic cone. She
wouldn’t last five minutes in Homicide.”
    Hank said nothing.
    “They’re all duds in CCU,” Karen
went on. “Cold case, frozen brain. Look at Waverman. A complete tool.”
    Hank’s cell phone vibrated. He
took it out, looked at the call display, and thumbed the green button.
“Donaghue.”
    “Hank, it’s me,” Horvath said.
“We've got a big problem.”
    “What kind of problem? Are you
still

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