Dust to Dust by Tami Hoag Page B

something else? I was told Andy hung himself.”
    “He was found hanging, yes.”
    “My God, you don’t think he was—” The lieutenant broke off before she could say the word.
Murdered
. She had a homicide detective sitting in front of her.
    “It may have been an accident,” Liska said. “We can’t rule out autoerotic asphyxiation. At this point, we don’t know what might have happened.”
    “An accident,” Savard repeated, dropping her lashes. “That would be terrible too, but it’s certainly better than any of the alternatives. No matter what, hanging isn’t an easy way to die.” Her hand settled briefly at the base of her throat, then moved away.
    “I figure any way to die isn’t fun,” Liska said. “Hanging’s quick at least. It doesn’t take long before you lose consciousness. A couple of minutes.”
    The thought of what those couple of minutes would be like struck them both at the same moment. Liska swallowed.
    “What was he working on? This case you talked about Sunday night? What was that about?”
    “I’m not at liberty to say.”
    “I’m investigating a death, Lieutenant. What if Andy Fallon didn’t kill himself? What if he’s dead because of one of his cases?”
    She waited for Savard to cave, seeing no sign that would happen before the end of the decade.
    “Sergeant Liska, Andy had been depressed,” Savard pointed out calmly. “He was found hanging. I’m assuming his home was undisturbed, right? People don’t say ‘suspected suicide’ if the door’s been kicked in and the stereo is missing.
    “I don’t see a crime, Sergeant,” she went on. “I see a tragedy.”
    “It’s that no matter what,” Liska said. “The details are for me to sort out. I’m only trying to do my job, Lieutenant. I’d like to see Andy’s case files and notes.”
    “That’s out of the question. We’ll wait until we hear what the ME has to say.”
    “It’s Christmastime,” Liska pointed out. “The suicides are stacking up like cordwood. It could be days before they get to Fallon.”
    Savard didn’t blink.
    “An IA investigation is a serious thing, Sergeant. I don’t want details getting out unless it’s absolutely necessary. Someone’s career could be damaged.”
    “I thought that was your goal,” Liska said, getting to her feet.
    She closed her notebook, stuck it in her jacket pocket, and made a little face. “Shit. There goes that tone again. Sorry,” she said without remorse. “Well, while you’re telling my lieutenant how flip I am, toss in the fact that you don’t want to cooperate with a death investigation, Lieutenant Savard. Maybe he’ll have better luck persuading you than I have.”
    She made a mock salute and walked out.
    The receptionist didn’t so much as look up. The door was still closed on the suit’s office. Liska could hear the tone of an argument but not the content. Whatever Neon Man had come here for involved Andy Fallon. The case was being reassigned.
    She went out into the hall and looked up and down. Deserted—for the moment at least. The building often gave that impression, even though the place was full of cops and criminals, city officials and citizens. She went to the water fountain across the hall from 126 and waited.
    Maybe three minutes went by before the door opened and Neon came out. His face was a shade of red that clashed badly with his parka. He crossed to the water fountain, ran some water on his fingers, and pressed them delicately to his cheeks. He breathed deliberately through pursed lips, visibly working to calm down.
    “Frustrating place, huh?” Liska said.
    Neon’s head snapped around. His green eyes were bright, clear and translucent, and suspicious.
    “I didn’t get what I went in there for either,” Liska confided, moving closer. “Feel free to hate them. Everyone hates IA. I hate them, and I work here.”
    “All the more reason, isn’t it?” he said. “It certainly is hateful from what I’ve seen.”
    Liska squinted