Dead Cold Mystery Box Set 2

by Blake Banner

  ELEVEN

  When I got back to our desk, Dehan was on the phone. I put her sandwich and her coffee down in front of her and she put the phone on speaker.

  “Mr. D’Angelo, my partner Detective Stone has just joined me and I have put the phone on speaker so that he can hear us. “

  “Indeed, good afternoon, Detective Stone. I was just explaining to Detective Dehan that Senator Hennessy has a very busy schedule and it will not be possible for her to speak with you at the moment.”

  I dropped into my seat and said, “I am sure Detective Dehan made it clear that this was a murder inquiry.”

  “Indeed she did, and I can assure you that Senator Hennessy is very concerned about the issue of law and order in our city. However, Senator Hennessy has no knowledge of any specific cases where crimes have been committed…”

  “How do you know?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “How do you know that she has no knowledge concerning any specific cases?”

  “Senator Hennessy does not have any personal knowledge relating to any particular cases where a crime has been…”

  “Mr. D’Angelo.”

  “… committed, because Senator Hennessy…”

  “Mr. D’Angelo!”

  “… does not have and never has had any connection with…”

  “Mr. D’Angelo!”

  A few of the detectives at the other desks turned to look. Several of them were smiling. D’Angelo finished. “… any criminal activities. Yes, Detective Stone?”

  “Quit quoting copy at me.”

  “Excuse me?”

  I sighed. “Stop reciting at me. We are conducting a murder investigation, not writing an article for a college magazine. We believe Senator Hennessy may have information relevant to our investigation. We need to talk to her.”

  “I am quite certain Senator Hennessy has no information relevant to your inquiry, detective.”

  “Really?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, this might come as a surprise to you, D’Angelo, but I don’t actually give a rat’s ass about your opinion. I need to talk to Hennessy. Now, give me a date and a time or I am going to come down to your office with a dozen journalists in tow and we’re going to make the headlines on the six o’clock news.”

  “Detective, are you threatening the senator?”

  “I don’t know, why don’t you give me your opinion on that? And while you’re thinking about it, tell me when we can come and talk to her.”

  “Please hold.”

  I looked at Dehan. She was holding her sandwich in both hands and chewing while she watched me.

  I said, “I want somebody who can interface between me and the world, and tell everybody what I know, what I don’t know, what I think, what I have and haven’t seen and done. And I don’t want anybody anywhere ever to question what my mouthpiece says. This is what we call democratic accountability.”

  She listened without expression throughout my little speech. When I’d finished, she swallowed and said, “Indeed.”

  I unwrapped my sandwich and bit into it. I was halfway through eating it when D’Angelo came back on the line.

  “Detective Stone?”

  I said something that sounded like a mouthful of “Yumph!”

  “Senator Hennessy is not available to comment at this time…”

  I sat forward, switched the phone off speaker and picked it up. I spoke very quietly. “Now you listen very carefully to what I am about to say, D’Angelo. I am going to be at Hennessy’s office this afternoon at three o’clock. I expect her to be there to answer my questions. If she is not, I am going to turn up the day after with six patrol cars, sirens wailing and lights flashing, and I am going to send six more to her house, and believe me, pal, hard as I try to keep it quiet, somehow the press will find out about it. So you had better think this through, and give your boss the right advice.”

  I hung up.

  We sat and chewed and stared at each other. She drained her coffee and sighed. “She won’t be there.”

  “I know. D’Angelo will be there, and he’ll be instructed to find out what we know and what we are after.”

  “What will you tell him?”

  “I’ll be artfully vague.”

  She raised an eyebrow at me. “Can you do that? Can you be artfully vague to somebody through a third party?”

  “No, not really. But I will give him a message to carry to her.”

  “Let me guess.”

  “I’d be glad if you did.”

  “That we know where the article is.”

  “Too on the nose, after all, she might already have it, and the laptop.” I scratched my chin. “Though it’s unlikely.”

  “That we know the contents, that there was a copy…”

  “Better. Let’s play it by ear.” I stood. “We’d better tell Newman. He wanted to be kept in the loop.”

  I put my coat on one-handed as we stepped out and pressed the inspector’s speed dial.

  “Inspector Newman.”

  “Inspector, it’s Stone here. Just to let you know, we’ve made an appointment with Senator Hennessy and we are on our way now. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

  “Splendid. Good work, Stone.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Dehan looked at me and gave her head a small shake. “That’s keeping him in the loop?”

  I shrugged. “What can I tell you? The man’s busy. I don’t want to waste his time.”

  * * *

  The Hennessy Foundation was on the 32nd floor of the Rockford Building on 6th Avenue. The reception area was functional, with a deep blue carpet and a white desk set by large, glass double doors emblazoned with a spray of twenty-three stars. The girl behind it was regulation-pretty with blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile that was friendly but tinted with arrogance, Hennessy was the People’s Woman, and anybody on her team was a cut above the common man. Orwell would have known exactly what they were about.

  I showed the girl my badge and she tried not to wince. Ugly truth had no place in the Hennessy Foundation. “I’m Detective Stone, this is Detective Dehan. We’re here to see Senator Hennessy.”

  She narrowed her eyes so that her smile stopped looking like a smile. “Have you got an appointment?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “See, you’re going to need an appointment.”

  I looked at her with no expression until she blinked and started to look nervous, then I said, “Call D’Angelo and tell him we’re here.”

  She picked up her phone and pressed a button.

  “Mr. D’Angelo, there are two detectives here to see the senator… Yes, sir.” She hung up and looked at me with unhappy eyes. “He’ll be here in just a moment if you would like to wait over there.” She pointed at some blue chairs up against the wall. I didn’t look at them. I kept watching her without expression.

  “What happens if I don’t want to wait there? What happens if I want to wait somewhere else?”

  “You can wait wherever you like, sir.”

  “I know. I’m a cop.”

  I turned to face Dehan. She had her coat open and her hands thrust in the back pockets of her jeans. She was eyeing me with a small frown on her brow. I shrugged. “In the bad old days, they used to tell you what you couldn’t do. Today they tell you what you have to do. It gets on my nerves.”

  The doors opened and man in an Italian suit, who looked as if he’d been shrink-wrapped after grooming, stepped out and approached us.

  “Detectives Stone and Dehan.” He held out his hand and as we shook it he said, “The Hennessy Foundation welcomes you.”

  I smiled. “How about you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused. Where is Senator Hennessy?”

  “As I told you on the telephone, she is not available to answer your questions.”

  “Okay, D’Angelo, let’s go somewhere where we can talk privately, because there are some things I need to explain to yo
u so that you understand them.”

  He gave a small intake of breath that was not quite a gasp and said, “Please follow me.”

  He led us through the double glass doors across a large, open-plan room carpeted in blue and into a small conference room, about thirty feet by twenty. There was a large, high-gloss oval table in the middle with twelve chairs around it. There were no windows. I pulled out a chair and sat. Dehan sat next to me and D’Angelo hesitated a moment. I nodded at a chair and said, “Sit.”

  He sat.

  “These bullying tactics will not get you anywhere, Detective Stone.”

  I raised a hand. “Lets quit the posturing and cut to the chase. I need to talk to Hennessy. More to the point, she needs to talk to me. Now, I don’t know what kind of access you have to her…”

  “I am her personal secretary.” There was no expression on his face when he said it, but you could smell the pride. Maybe it was his pheromones.

  “Good, so you need to make her understand that we are investigating the David Thorndike murder. I want you to make a note of that name…”

  He nodded once. “I have.”

  “And we need to know what happened to the original manuscript of his article, and his original notes on his laptop. Have you understood that clearly, D’Angelo?”

  He blinked three times before he answered.

  “Yes, I have understood.”

  I studied his face closely. He looked about forty-one or two, but he might have been as much as forty-seven. I asked him, “How long have you worked for Hennessy?”

  “I have worked for the Hennessy Foundation for twenty years.”

  “So you must remember the Thorndike case.”

  He gave his head a small shake. “Not really.”

  “But you must understand how important it could be to Senator Hennessy…”

  “I am not qualified to comment on that point.”

  I nodded and smiled. “Sure. But I am. I am going to expect a call tomorrow, arranging a meeting with the senator. Now, one way or another I am going to see her and talk to her. It can either be in a discreet, private interview here, in her offices, or it can be in a very public display, down at the station in the Bronx.”

  He shook his head and narrowed his eyes. “You can’t force her to go down to the station.”

  I leered at him. “Are you sure about that, D’Angelo? According to New York state law, under what circumstances can I take her downtown?”

  He hesitated for a second, “Only under arrest.”

  I leaned forward. “Talk to your boss, D’Angelo. Let’s get this resolved quietly and without embarrassing anybody. I think Carol Hennessy has had more than enough embarrassment in her career already, don’t you, Dehan?”

  She nodded. “I reckon so, Stone. Sometimes a simple conversation can save somebody a lot of trouble and upset.”

  I went to stand, but stopped. “One last question, D’Angelo. Were you Hennessy’s private secretary back when Shelly Pearce interviewed her about the Thorndike murder?”

  He frowned. “Yes. I have been with the senator for twelve years.”

  “Right.” I smiled wolfishly at him. “But I bet you get to see Pearce often now, huh? Tell me something, is she as good-looking in person as she is in her pictures?”

  He looked at me in mild disgust. “I am really not qualified to answer that question, Detective Stone. Now if there is nothing else…”

  “C’mon! We’re guys. Don’t be so uptight! Is she a looker? Huh? I heard she likes to drink! Did she ever come on to you?”

  “Ms. Pearce is a perfect lady, Detective Stone, and her behavior has always been exemplary. Now I am really going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Fine! We’re going!” I stood and pointed my finger at him like a gun. “But I’ll be waiting for that call. Don’t make me do anything your boss will regret. You got me?”

  “I understand! Good day, detectives!”

  We rode the elevator down to the lobby. All the way I was smiling. When we got to the big doors it was already getting dark and the headlamps and the traffic lights were spilling over the wet blacktop like broken Jell-O.

  “Come on, Dehan, let’s beat the rush hour. We’ll check in at the station, then do some shopping and head to my place. Whaddya say?”

  She nodded and we ran through the rain to the car and clambered in. As she closed the door, she said, “You want to tell me what all that sexist misogynist crap was about?”

  I smiled. “Sure, I thought you’d get it. I wanted to know if Shelly Pearce was a regular visitor to Hennessy’s place. She said she only knew her in passing because they moved in the same social circle. Seems, according to D’Angelo, that it’s a little more than that.”

  I turned the key and listened to the comfortable rumble of the big old engine. “Rittoo Glasshoppa must rearn to trust ancient Sensei.”

  “You’re deep, Sensei. I have to hand it to you. You are one deep son of a bitch.”

  I chuckled and pulled out into the dark, wet flow of cars. “Well, gee, Dehan! Thanks!”

  Her face suddenly lit up. “Say! You want I should make moussaka? We have time today!”

  “Sounds good to me!”

  “Yeah! We’ll make moussaka!”

  And we moved off, toward the Bronx.

  TWELVE

  Back at the station, I was half expecting Inspector Newman to call us up to his office and chew my nuts off for giving the senator a hard time. The chances were pretty good that Hennessy’s attorneys would make an official complaint. I had rattled her cage and I had to expect her to spit at me a bit. But when we went up to report to him, Newman listened quietly to our slightly edited story and nodded when we’d finished. By the looks of it, the mighty Hennessy war machine had not rolled into action after all. That was interesting in itself. He shrugged and said, “Well, as long as you are doing it by the book and there is no serious comeback for the precinct, that is fine by me. What is your take on it?”

  I thrust out my bottom lip and stared at Dehan, who raised her eyebrows. I let her answer. “It’s hard to say at this stage, sir. Until we get a better idea of what happened to the article and the laptop, it is all conjecture. We are hoping that Senator Hennessy can cast some light on that for us.”

  “Yes, admirably sensible approach. I applaud you both. Keep me posted.”

  We thanked him and made our way down the stairs. At our desks, as we were closing down our computers and collecting up our stuff, Sergeant Maria Lopez came in carrying a manila envelope.

  “Detective Stone. A letter came for you while you were out.”

  I took it, thanked her, and stuck it in my pocket. Dehan glanced at me as she stuffed her laptop in her bag. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

  I shook my head. “I’ll look at it at home, while you’re cooking, darling.”

  She spluttered. I grinned at her and wondered what the hell I was doing. A couple of the guys glanced up as we left and I heard laughter behind us as we stepped back out into the evening.

  We stopped at Kmart, on Bruckner Boulevard, to get some wine and some ingredients, then drove on to my house on Haight Avenue.

  I lit a fire and poured two martinis while Dehan went upstairs to dry her hair and change into dry clothes. Over the last year we had slipped into a routine. Once or twice a week, sometimes it was a bit more than that, she would come over and stay. We’d make a meal and have a few drinks and discuss whatever case we were on. At least, it started out with cases, but lately she’d been coming over to see the fight too, and we’d spent Christmas together. It had only been about a year, but in that time she’d kind of taken possession of my spare room, and always had a change of clothes there. In fact I had come to think of it, unconsciously, as her room.

  It was a comfortable feeling that I enjoyed. It was the closest thing I had to family now, which was why Shelly’s comments had unsettled me. If she was right, it would change everything. I knew she wasn’t right, the idea was absurd, but it’s
like when somebody tells you not to think about cockroaches. After that, it’s all you can think about.

  I heard her coming down the stairs, talking, and smiled.

  “I was going to have a shower, then I thought I’d better get the moussaka on, cause it’s going to take at least an hour, and we want to make an early start tomorrow, right? So we don’t want to be eating too late…” She stopped, tying her hair up in a knot behind her neck. “What?”

  I realized I was staring and shook my head. “Nothing. You’re right. Here’s your drink.”

  She took the glass and smiled. “Nice fire, Sensei.”

  She sipped and went into the kitchen, pushing up the sleeves of her sweatshirt. I followed, and while she began getting the things from the fridge, I rested my ass against the sink, took a knife, and opened the envelope Maria had given me at the station.

  It was two sheets of paper, printed and stapled together. I flipped to the end of the second page. There was no signature. I started to read. Dehan, holding two eggplants, bumped me with her shoulder and said, “Move, Big Guy.”

  I shifted over and she started washing the vegetables. She glanced at me and then at the letter. After that she dried her hands and started cutting them into rounds. “What is it?”

  “It’s anonymous. Mainly it’s an itemized list of Hennessy’s victims between the year 2000 and 2008, but it claims she used one particular hit man during that period. Give me a couple of freezer bags, will you?”

  She handed me two transparent plastic bags from the cupboard and I slipped the notes into them.

  “We’ll send them for prints tomorrow. Listen.” I started to read. “‘The importance of Thorndike’s investigation, and the reason it proceeded so swiftly, was that he made contact with that hit man, I do not know his name, so we will call him K.

  “‘K agreed, for reasons which are not clear to me, to tell Thorndike everything in exchange for his own anonymity. He gave times, dates, and locations regarding his meetings with Anthony D’Angelo, acting on behalf of Carol Hennessy, and later meetings with Hennessy herself. He gave details of payments made, both in cash and transfers to a numbered account in Belize, each coinciding with one of the hits.