by Steven Henry
Vic snorted a startled laugh. “You got no idea.”
“How’s things going with her?” Erin asked. Zofia Piekarski was a plainclothes cop with the Street Narcotics Enforcement Unit, a petite blonde who had a casual relationship with Vic.
“Fine. She thinks I’d make a good SNEU cop.”
“You would. They could use you for all the black-market steroid buy-and-busts. You look like you juice.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You know what happens when you use steroids?”
“I’m not sure this is a compliment anymore.”
“Your balls shrink like little raisins.”
“Good thing mine were so big to begin with,” he said.
Lloyd Polk’s apartment was an old brick building on 7th Street in Gowanus. It was mid-morning on a workday, so the place was pretty much deserted. Erin parked across the street and unloaded Rolf.
“Brooklyn,” Vic said, taking a deep breath. “I love this place.”
“Feels like coming home?” Erin guessed. Vic had grown up in Brighton Beach in the Russian immigrant neighborhood called Little Odessa.
“Nope. It reminds me why I left. Every time I come back to Long Island, I remember how much worse life can get and I feel better about myself.” He grinned savagely. “Speaking of which, let’s see how bad we can make this dirtbag’s life.”
They climbed a non-handicap-accessible concrete staircase to the door and buzzed the super. They showed their shields to the man, who let them in while insisting he didn’t want any trouble.
“No drugs here, man,” he kept saying to Vic. “My people, they’re clean. We got none of that stuff here. No drugs.”
“We’re not here about drugs,” Erin said. “We want Lloyd Polk. Our records say he lives here.”
“Polk? Yeah, he’s up in 208,” the super said. “But he doesn’t do drugs. He works downtown, a legitimate job.”
“I said this isn’t about drugs,” she said.
“Some of these guys, they’re out on the street corners, they’re selling drugs, but I don’t want none of that around me,” he insisted.
Erin started to say something else and met Vic’s look. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. She shrugged, shut up, and went upstairs to apartment 208.
“What do you bet the super’s dealing drugs?” he said under his breath.
“No bet,” Erin said. “Maybe you better drop a tip to your girlfriend and have SNEU sniff around a little.”
“Good idea. Looks like we’re here.” Vic pounded on the door with his big, heavy fist. “Hey! Open up! This is the NYPD! We want to talk to you!”
“Subtle, Vic,” Erin said. “Real subtle.”
“If you wanted subtle, you should’ve left me in the car,” he said. Then he banged on the door again. “Come on! We know you’re in there! You want me to break this door down?”
“Okay, okay,” came a muffled, groggy voice. “I’m comin.’”
Erin dropped back half a step and rested her hand near the butt of her pistol, just in case. You never knew what would happen when a suspect opened a door.
The lock clicked and the door swung open about two inches, revealing the chain lock and a sliver of bearded, suspicious face.
“Lloyd Polk?” Vic asked.
“Yeah,” the guy said. “How do I know you’re the cops?”
Vic held up his gold shield.
“You coulda got that out of a cereal box,” Polk said.
“I’m a bacon and eggs guy,” Vic replied, deadpan.
“Whaddaya want?”
“Want to talk to you, ask you some questions.”
“What about?”
“May we come in, sir?” Erin asked.
Polk’s gaze shifted to her. He liked what he saw. His eyes traveled up and down her, undressing her with his eyes. “Sure,” he said. “Just a sec.”
He disengaged the chain lock and opened the door. Vic, Erin, and Rolf stepped into what was obviously a bachelor apartment. The smells alone would have tipped Erin off. She caught a whiff of sweat, cigarette smoke, and unwashed dishes. The curtains were heavy blackout jobs, which made sense given his schedule.
Lloyd Polk looked like he belonged in the place. He was an enormous mound of fat and hair, his beard covering the top few inches of a dirty white t-shirt. His eyes looked too small for his face, beady and unpleasant. They reminded Erin of rodent eyes.
“You woke me up,” Polk said. “I work nights.”
“We know,” Erin said. “We need to talk to you about what happened the night before last.”
“Whaddaya mean, what happened? I was at work.”
“At the InterContinental,” Vic said.
“Yeah. So?”
“Tell us about Crystal Winters,” Erin said.
“Crystal what?” Polk asked. “Is that a drink, or a song, or what?”
“Stop playing dumb,” Vic snapped. “Focus. Crystal Winters. Do you know her or not?”
“Know who?” Polk asked.
“Not sure he’s playing,” Erin said quietly.
“Okay, listen up, Einstein,” Vic growled. “We’re gonna show you a picture and you’re gonna tell us what you know about her. You think you can handle that?”
Polk shrugged. “You gonna tell me what’s goin’ on?”
Erin produced a crime scene photo. It was a shot the CSU guys had taken right before Hank and Ernie had retrieved the body. Sarah Devers floated in the aquarium, eyes wide and staring, pale porcelain skin standing out against the dark water. The effect was startling and eerie.
“What is this?” Polk demanded.
“Do you recognize this girl?” Erin asked.
“Uh, yeah. I think so.”
“Where did you see her?”
“At the hotel.”
“When?”
“Two nights ago. Comin’ outta the ballroom with some rich sugar daddy on her arm.”
“She looked good, didn’t she?” Erin asked.
Polk licked his lips and leered at her. “Hell yeah, she did. I’d tap that ass any day of the week.”
Erin suppressed a shudder of disgust. “What were you doing outside the ballroom?”
“We had a wiring problem in one of the lights over the stairs, flaky connection. It was makin’ the bulb flicker. I was up on a ladder, puttin’ it back together.”
“Did you see where she went?”
“Yeah, she got in the elevator with the rich prick. Probably so he could take her upstairs and pop some Viagra, get it on. He was paying for it. Had to be, only way a babe like that would get with that guy.”
“Did you see her leave the hotel?” Erin asked.
“Nah. Guess he paid for the whole night.” Polk made an expressive thrusting motion with his hand while looking right in Erin’s eyes. She didn’t give him the pleasure of a reaction.
“You got any roofies around here?” Vic asked abruptly, glancing around the apartment.
“Huh?” Polk looked confused for a second, then alarmed. “No! Of course not!”
“You sure about that?” Vic asked.
“Look, if this is about that bitch in that bar, she lied about it. I’m the one who got hurt! You oughta be arresting her!”
“Yeah, she sure looked dangerous,” Vic said with a gleam in his eye. “I bet you hardly knew what hit you.”
“She was a lot stronger than she looked,” Polk said sullenly. “You shoulda seen the way she moved.”
“Sounds to me like you had it coming,” Vic said. “Trying to drug a girl just so you could get off. Real big man.”
“Screw you! They didn’t prove nothing!”
“So you’ve never slipped a girl a mickey?” Erin asked. “Or gotten one drunk on purpose?”
Polk glared at her. “I sure as shit didn’t drug that Crystal what’s-her-name. I’m telling you, I only saw her for a couple seconds!”
“Look at the picture again,” Erin said. “Jog your memory.”
He glan
ced at it. Then he paused. “Wait a second. She’s not, like, swimming, is she?”
“No,” Erin said grimly. “She’s not.”
Polk stepped back, holding out his hands. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait just a minute. You sayin’ this bitch is dead? And you’re thinkin’ it was me?”
“Maybe you’re not so dumb after all,” Vic said. “You handle the hotel’s electrical systems. So you’ve got keys to the fuse-box and you know how to use it.”
“Well, yeah. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“So you turned off the power to the third floor for half an hour. Why?”
“I didn’t!”
“Then who did?”
“I don’t know! I fixed it when they called me, that’s all I know!”
Vic followed Polk as the man backed across the room. “Not good enough, asshole. You tell me what I want to know, or I’m taking you downtown.”
“I’m not goin’ down for this!” Polk shouted. “You just want someone to pin it on and you saw that bitch’s story! Get away from me!”
“That’s it,” Vic said. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”
“You can’t do this!” Polk protested. “I got rights!”
“Yeah, you do. You’ve got the right to remain silent. You’ve got the right to an attorney, and believe me, you’re gonna need one. If you can’t afford one, which it looks like you can’t, you’ve got the right to some twenty-five-year-old public defender just out of law school who’s guaranteed to screw up your case. So if you’re smart, you’ll plead out and take a deal. Do you understand these rights?”
Erin was standing back to cover Vic, though she figured he had the situation under control. But then she saw the sudden tenseness in Polk’s shoulders. “Watch it!” she started to shout, but things were already happening.
Polk had started to obey Vic’s instructions. But then, energized by fear and sheer desperation, he spun around, sending an elbow straight into Vic’s head. Vic was a good close-quarters fighter, fast, strong, and experienced, but all it took was one unlucky hit to ruin any fist-fighter’s day. Polk’s elbow caught him square on the temple and sent him reeling, momentarily stunned.
“Rolf! Fass!” Erin shouted for the second time in as many days. She lunged beside her dog.
Polk didn’t have martial-arts training. What he had was a lot of practice in drunken bar brawls. He stepped behind Vic’s stumbling body, using him as a shield. Rolf’s teeth clicked shut less than an inch from his arm. The Shepherd’s momentum carried him past the guy to crash into the wall. The K-9 went off his feet for a second, but was twisting and scrambling to get up and back in the fight before he hit the ground.
Erin tried to hook a foot behind Polk’s leg. She made contact, but he was just too big and heavy to pull down that way. The goon stiff-armed her in the chest, forcing her back a step.
Vic swung a wild fist and hit Polk a looping right hook to the cheek. Polk responded with a vicious head-butt. Erin heard a wet crunch, like someone biting down on a mouthful of milk-soaked cornflakes. Vic’s knees buckled.
Erin saw Polk’s hand scrabbling at Vic’s waist. Shit, he’s going for Vic’s gun! The thought passed through her head much faster than speech. Things had gotten way out of hand. She snatched out her own Glock and thought, He’s a big guy. Two in the chest, one in the head to make sure he goes down. She saw Polk’s hand yank Vic’s pistol out of its holster.
“Drop it!” Erin shouted, bringing her gun in line and sliding her finger inside the trigger guard.
Polk howled in surprise and pain. He dropped the gun. The Sig-Sauer automatic skidded across the floor, fetching up against the baseboard at the foot of the wall.
Rolf was behind Polk. In direct disobedience to his training, he’d seized on the most readily available part of his opponent. He was supposed to go for the weapon arm, but that had been out of reach, so he’d improvised by sinking his teeth into Polk’s meaty buttocks. Now he hung on, front paws suspended in midair, his whole weight dangling from his teeth.
Erin almost felt sorry for the guy. Still howling, Polk sank to his knees. That took some of the dog’s weight off his lacerated ass, but it didn’t look like it was helping much.
Erin stepped in and snapped a handcuff on his right wrist. She twisted the arm around behind him a little harder than strictly necessary and grabbed his other arm. Only once Polk was cuffed did she give Rolf his “release” command.
“Rolf! Pust!”
The Shepherd immediately opened his jaws and danced back, tail wagging, tongue hanging out, an unmistakable grin on his face. Polk gave a whimper.
Vic got up. One hand was clamped to his face. Blood was running through his fingers. “Son of a bitch,” he said in a wet, muffled voice. “He broke my damn nose.”
“It’s been broken before,” Erin said. “Might make you prettier this time. You need a doc?”
“No, I’m good.” He glared at Polk. “Or I will be, once we take this piece of shit in.”
“You said you wanted to be involved,” she reminded him. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“What do you mean?”
“You picked a fight,” she hissed. “And then you got your ass kicked.”
“He hit me!” Vic protested.
She shook her head. Both of them knew the truth, which was that Vic had been deliberately belligerent. He’d been looking for a fight. Worse, he’d underestimated Polk, probably because Polk had been taken down by a tiny woman. She wanted to hammer the point home, but what was the point? Either he got it or he didn’t. Making him mad at her wouldn’t help. Besides, just like parents didn’t fight in front of the kids, cops shouldn’t fight in front of suspects.
She hauled Polk to his feet. “Come on. You can walk, you’re fine.”
“Crazy dog bit my ass off!” Polk protested.
“And you assaulted a police officer,” Erin said. “You’re just lucky Rolf got to you before I did. I would’ve blown your damn stupid head off. What the hell’s the matter with you?”
“I didn’t do nothing! This is a setup!”
“Yeah, you’re a real victim,” Vic muttered. “Before we take him in, I’m gonna raid the freezer, get some ice or something.”
Chapter 8
“This is going to be good, I can already tell,” Webb said.
Vic scowled and held a fast-thawing bag of frozen peas against his face.
“He was uncooperative,” Erin said, cocking her head in the direction of the interrogation room, where Lloyd Polk was now cuffed to the table. “When Vic tried to take him downtown, he attacked Vic and went for his gun. So we arrested the idiot. Polk’s lucky he didn’t get shot.”
“Is he working with Schilling?” Webb asked. “Or is Schilling innocent?”
“We don’t know yet,” Erin said. “But we did find this in his sock drawer.” She dangled an evidence bag which contained a pill bottle. They’d given Polk’s apartment a good once-over before taking him in.
“And what is that?” Webb asked.
“We’ll know for sure when we test it,” she said. “But I’m betting it’s Rohypnol.”
Webb rubbed his face. “Okay, so he had means and opportunity, and past history suggests he’s capable of drugging her. I heard from CSU while you were out. They just finished sifting through Schilling’s apartment. They found some sketchy stuff, including dealer volumes of coke and marijuana, and some suggestive pictures of the models, but no Rohypnol. If any of the girls in the pics are underage, we’ll have him on a child-pornography beef. Schilling has a personal connection to the victim. Neshenko, I want you to go back to the InterContinen-tal. Talk to Caldwell in Security and get back on those tapes. I want you to pay particular attention to how Devers left the dinner. Was she impaired in any way? And then I want you to find out if Schilling was at the hotel the night she was killed. Can you manage that?”
“He broke my nose, not my brain,” Vic said. “Sure, I can do it.”
�
�O’Reilly, you and I will talk to Polk,” Webb went on. “Schilling’s probably climbing the walls by now, but we’ve got evidence he’s a drug dealer, so we’ll charge him with that for starters, along with resisting arrest and assaulting an officer. I want proof he was at the hotel before we brace him on the murder. Leave the dog.”
“Rolf, bleib,” Erin said. Rolf settled himself on his haunches and cocked his head, his tail sweeping the floor. The K-9 was feeling pretty good. He’d gotten to bite two bad guys in two days. He was a good boy and he knew it.
Polk was sitting a little funny, favoring one hip. Erin hid a smile at the sight. She and Webb sat down across from the man.
“I got nothing to say to her,” Polk said. “She made her dog bite me. That’s police brutality.”
“I’ve got testimony from two of my detectives saying you were actively fighting them at the time,” Webb said mildly. “They also say you seized one detective’s sidearm. Detective O’Reilly could have legally shot you the moment you touched it. She probably would’ve gotten a medal for doing it. You’re still breathing because she exercised restraint.”
“I didn’t touch his gun,” Polk said.
“We have your fingerprints on the weapon,” Webb said.
Polk said nothing.
“So as you can see, Mr. Polk, you’re in a great deal of trouble,” Webb went on. “You’re already looking at several years’ imprisonment, depending on what charges we file with the DA. If you go down for attempted murder of a police officer, along with the assault charges, you’re not going to see the street again for a decade or more.”
Webb had Polk’s attention. The man had looked surly and uncomfortable before. Now he looked scared.
Webb leaned forward, clasping his hands together and speaking earnestly. “I’d like to help you out of the hole you’re in, Mr. Polk. But for me to be able to do that, you have to help me.”
“What do you want?” Polk asked.
“Let’s start with the drugs,” Webb said, still speaking soothingly. Given that Erin was the one who’d arrested the guy, after fighting him, Webb had taken the role of good cop for this interrogation.
“What drugs?”