NYPD Red 2 Part 12

Romeo stubbed out his cigarette, handed Kylie his business card, and waddled into the bar.

"He described the clothes she was wearing," Kylie said. "And the fact that he saw Evelyn get into a car backs up Matt's theory that she drove down Second and onto the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge toward Queens before her cell signal went dead."

"Okay," I said. "Let's recap. We've got two suspects, one male, one gender undetermined, in a black SUV headed for Queens-and the male suspect definitely has a white hand."

Kylie couldn't help grinning. "Narrows it right down," she said.

Chapter 29.

Kylie and I wrapped it up by 10:15. At 10:16, I called Cheryl at home. No answer. I didn't leave a message.

By 6:00 the next morning, I got to Gerri's Diner and sat at my usual table. Much to my surprise, Gerri herself waved off the waitress and was there in seconds, pouring me hot coffee.

"So, Zach," she said, "how's it going with the lady shrink?"

The diner is around the corner from the precinct, and Gerri Gomperts, who is a cross between a den mother and Dear Abby, makes it her business to know everybody else's business. The running joke at the One Nine is that if Internal Affairs needs to know anything about any of our cops, they walk straight past the precinct house and go directly to the diner.

Gerri had been following my relations.h.i.+p with Cheryl since before I even knew there was a relations.h.i.+p.

"It's going okay, I guess," I said, faking a smile.

Gerri faked a smile back. "That's so romantic. And yet you hardly ever hear any love songs with the lyrics 'It's going okay, I guess.'"

Cheryl showed up five minutes later and joined me. Gerri was right on her heels. "Good morning, Dr. Robinson," she said, pouring Cheryl some coffee.

"What?" I said. "No soy latte?"

They both gave me a look that let me know the dig had fallen flat on its face.

"I didn't get to those files before I left last night," Cheryl said as soon as Gerri left. "Can it wait till this afternoon?"

"Kylie and I are bouncing all over the city today. How about after five? And maybe dinner after that?"

"Good morning," said a familiar baritone voice before she could answer. It was Matt Smith, star of my soap opera fantasies. "Sorry I can't join you. I'm just grabbing a coffee. Captain Cates's email keeps cras.h.i.+ng, and she wants it fixed first thing. How'd it go last night?"

"Fantastic," Cheryl said. "It was everything you said it would be."

"Actually, I was asking Zach," Matt said. "How did your barhopping go?"

"We got a lead," I said. "It looks like somebody-make that two somebodies-picked Parker-Steele up in a black SUV exactly in that spot where you said she dropped off the radar."

"Good show. That explains her quick trip to the Fifty-Ninth Street Bridge. I have her cell records. I'll check if anyone she called in the past six months owns a black SUV. I'll get on it as soon as I solve the captain's email issue. Still looking for the source of the choke pear."

"Thanks," I said.

"Don't thank me, mate. It's a pleasure to be on the team with you. As for you, Doctor," he said to Cheryl, "pop round my office at lunch. We can grab a bite, and you can fill me in on last night."

"Will do," she said.

I waited for Matt to go out the front door. "So, Doctor," I said, "what went so fantastic for you last night?"

"The play. I told you I was taking my parents to the theater for their anniversary. It's a new Off Broadway play that Matt recommended."

"Sorry. I've been busy. I guess I forgot. Glad it went well."

"Better than well. Matt is friends with the playwright. He arranged for me to take Mom and Dad backstage to meet him. Oh, my G.o.d, they flipped."

"Sounds...fantastic."

"Zach, you seem very out of it. What's going on with you, anyway?"

"It's personal," I said.

"Do you want to tell me what it is?"

"Are you asking me as a shrink or as a friend?"

"Either way, it will stay between the two of us. What's bothering you?"

For starters, you're popping round Matt's office for lunch. But, of course, I couldn't say that. "It's Spence," I said, groping for something she would buy. "He's become addicted to painkillers, and it's affecting Kylie's reliability."

"It's obviously affecting you too."

"Well, he's my partner's husband. What happens to them affects me."

"Is that all?" she asked.

"That's all that's bothering me," I said. "Nothing more."

Cheryl rubbed her chin and nodded thoughtfully. "You, Detective Jordan," she said, "are delightfully full of s.h.i.+t. I just have one question-are you lying to me as a shrink or as a friend?"

Busted. I laughed out loud. "Both. And yet neither of you appear to be buying it."

"Zach, I don't know what's bothering you," she said, getting up from the table. "But even if I did, I wouldn't tell you. It works better if you figure it out on your own. Then I can help you deal with it. I've got to run. And yes, I'd love to have dinner tonight. If you want, we can pick this up then."

She left, and I sat there for another minute, sipping the dregs of my coffee. Then I got up and went to the front of the diner. Gerri was behind the register. She didn't say a word. She just frowned.

"What's on your mind, Gerri?" I said.

"Nothing."

"You seem judgmentally silent this morning."

"You know me," she said. "I have nothing but respect for personal boundaries."

"Since when?"

"Sweetheart, if you really want to know what I think, you'll ask me."

"Okay, Gerri. I'm asking. What do you think?"

"You sure you want to know?" she asked, toying with me.

I knew I'd regret it, but she'd tell me sooner or later anyway. "Feel free," I said.

"No questions asked," she said. "I'm just going to speak my mind. No discussion. I don't want to join the debating society."

"Fine. No questions. Just tell me what you think."

She stood up as tall as she could, which is still a foot shorter than me, and stared right into my eyes. "I think you should get your head out of your a.s.s."

"Anything else?" I said.

"Yeah. A buck fifty for the coffee."

Chapter 30.

It was only 6:45 when I got to the office, but Kylie was already at her desk.

"Good afternoon, Detective," she said. "Nice of you to stroll in."

"I'm guessing by your attempt at comic banter that you and Spence had a pleasant morning," I said.

"I was out the door before he woke up. It doesn't get any more pleasant than that," she said. "Cates is waiting on us for an update."

It took us ten minutes to bring Captain Cates up to speed on Evelyn. She interrupted us just twice. The first time was when we told her how both of Evelyn's computers had conveniently disappeared.

"And the doorman definitely saw Sykes walk out of the building with Evelyn's laptop?" she said.

"Technically he only saw her with a carrying case," I said, "but she gave him a hundred bucks to disremember what he saw."

"Another clear-cut case of obstruction of justice that won't survive our dumba.s.s justice system," Cates said.

Her second comment came when we told her that Joe Romeo saw Evelyn get into a black SUV with two people on Friday night.

"So you think we have two Hazmat killers?" she said.

"The Hollywood on the Hudson killer had an accomplice," Kylie said. "Considering that Hazmat has some heavy bodies to lug around, we wouldn't be surprised if he had one too."

"You two pinpointed the spot where Evelyn Parker-Steele was abducted," Cates said, "and you found an eyewitness who saw her willingly get into a black SUV with at least two people inside. You came up with more viable information in twenty-four hours than Donovan and Boyle figured out in four months."

"Don't give us too much credit," Kylie said. "Those guys were nice enough to set the bar pretty low. The murder books they put together on the first three homicides are more like pamphlets. There's nothing to go on. Zach and I thought it would help if we backtracked on some of their investigation."

"If we can figure out where the other three victims went missing from, we might find a witness who can give us a better description of the car or the perps," I said. "We're going to start with the second victim, Sebastian Catt. He lived right around here-Eighty-Fourth and York."

"What's his story?" Cates asked.

"We don't have anything new on him yet," I said. "Just what's in Donovan and Boyle's pathetic little file."

"I'll be honest with you," Cates said. "I'm so caught up in all the political bulls.h.i.+t that I haven't had time to read any of the files-as skinny as they might be."

Kylie looked surprised. "Political bulls.h.i.+t?" she said. "First I've heard about it. Thank you for sparing us, Captain."

Cates cracked a smile. "And thank you for the laugh, Detective. With the mayor and the PC breathing down my neck, it very well may be my last. Tell me what you have on Sebastian Catt."

"He was a 'fas.h.i.+on photographer,'" Kylie said, using air quotes.

Cates knows cop-speak when she hears it, and she shook her head in disgust. "And who did he like to photograph? Little boys? Little girls?"

"Young women," Kylie said. "He'd find them on Craigslist, offer them a modeling career, then get them jobs doing webcam shows or modeling sleazy lingerie at private parties. Plus he was a s.e.x addict. He'd get these kids-some of them underage-stoned, naked, and in the sack. He'd live with one or two, then rotate them out to make room for fresh meat."

"Hard to believe somebody would want to kill him," Cates said.

"He murdered one of his models first," I said. "Her name was Savannah Lee. She was nineteen, he was forty-nine, but this girl was different. He fell in love with her. It lasted maybe two months, then one night Savannah was found stabbed to death a few blocks from Catt's place. Her knapsack was missing, and it looked like a robbery gone bad, but the cops didn't buy it. They suspected Catt, but there was nothing to connect him."

"Then a witness showed up-Hattie LaFleur," Kylie said. "She and her husband lived in the apartment next door to Catt. She was in her early seventies-managed the Daffodil Grill on York Avenue. She was a feisty old broad-everyone in the neighborhood loved her."

"You're talking about her in the past tense," Cates said.

"She was Catt's second victim," Kylie said. "Hattie would buy Savannah lunch at the restaurant a couple of times a week. She finally convinced the girl to dump Catt and get on with her life. The night Savannah was murdered, Hattie was out walking her dog. It was one in the morning, which was smack in the middle of the time-of-death window, and she swore to the cops that she saw Catt sneaking back into the building, all disheveled, and carrying Savannah's knapsack. He was arrested, made bail, then a week before the trial, Hattie was out doing her regular one a.m. dog walk, and she was knifed."

"Another so-called robbery gone bad," Cates said.

"Everyone knew who killed her," Kylie said. "Especially since Hattie's dog was never found. I mean, as long as you're getting rid of the woman who can put you away for murder, why not get rid of the annoying little dog who lives next door? But there was no hard evidence, and he got away with murder. Twice."

"And we know that for a fact," I said, "because Catt confessed to both murders on the video that got posted. He also admitted breaking the dog's neck and tossing it in the East River."

"Sebastian's body was dumped next to the International Center for Photography on West Forty-Third Street," Kylie said, "but we have no idea when he was kidnapped, or even where he was taken from. That's because he's the kind of guy that n.o.body missed when he disappeared. So we're going to see if we can nail something down. We're starting with Catt's next-door neighbor-Hattie's husband, Horton LaFleur."