Third Victim

by Lawrence Kelter

  He apologized. “I’m sorry, but this is big. Rory Singer was a no-show for the Zero Mostel Tribute last night, and he was the guest of honor.”

  “I hate to sound cynical, but unless his body is found …”

  “I get it, you don’t care.” He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll get out of your hair, Detective. I’ll stop by the Golden Theater where Singer’s headlining to see if I can get an exclusive. You will give me a call with any news about the chabad, won’t you?”

  “I’ll put your number on speed dial.”

  “I see you’re a kibitzer, but please …” He picked up his coat, stared me defiantly in the eye, and left.

  “Ouch,” Lido said with a pained expression. “‘I’ll put your number on speed dial.’ That was harsh.”

  “Write this down and let it guide you all your years on the force,” I said as I rose from my chair. “We get paid to save asses, not kiss them.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “How are we doing?” I asked as I came upon Jack Tallmadge sifting through debris in the chabad kitchen. He was the ranking crime scene investigator and an expert on explosives.

  “All of the crucial bomb elements are at the lab, Chalice. Our on-site work is just about done here.”

  “What kind of an IED was it?”

  “From what I saw, it was an Internet special.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning that anyone with half a brain could run a Google search and figure out how to make it: A novice-blended gunpowder mixture and a remote car starter.”

  “How do you know a novice formulated the gunpowder?”

  “Way too much aluminum powder. Aluminum is great for fireworks because it detonates with a bright flash, but as far as its destructive potential … that’s why the blast was contained within the kitchen and there was no real damage to the rest of the building or the supporting structure.”

  “What if the high aluminum percentage was intentional?”

  “Why would someone do that, Chalice? Because they like pretty colors?”

  “Nooo,” I chided. “Because the perpetrator was in the building and didn’t want to lose his life. Maybe the perp was waiting a safe distance away and deposited John Doe here after the blast.”

  “I’m not sure I dig your theory, Chalice. The bomb maker would have had to be pretty savvy and there are far more precise ways to coordinate a contained blast.”

  “Maybe he only wanted to look like an amateur, but wasn’t.”

  “You’re a hoot. You’ve got an answer for everything.”

  “That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

  “Which, inflation-indexed, amounts to roughly … porter’s wage?”

  “Precisely. Any fingerprints or DNA on the bomb?”

  “Yeah. Sure, but you know how much that’ll do for us. There were some partials and a good thumbprint on the outside of the coffee can, which are being run through the computer, but the likelihood of us getting a match on it … It was probably a residual print left by the supermarket stock boy.”

  “I wasn’t counting on a match. All I’m hoping for is enough to make our case in court when we find the perpetrator.”

  “Case in court? Ha! Listen to you. I heard your MO was shoot first and ask questions if the perp is still breathing.”

  I jabbed him in the chest lightheartedly. “You heard wrong—I don’t leave anyone breathing. So look, I’m convinced that victim number three was murdered in the building prior to the explosion and placed here after the bomb went off. I want to search the building from top to bottom for blood traces and a blunt object that could’ve been used to bash in the victim’s face.”

  “Sure. Whatever you say, but the rabbi isn’t too happy with us. He says we’re defiling his sanctuary.”

  “The bomber did that way before we ever stepped foot in the building, my friend. In a case like the criminal code preempts religious worship.”

  “Yeah. I know. A full building search was next on our list anyway, but I’ll bring in additional staff to move the work along as quickly as possible. Considering the delicate nature of the case, I think my CO will approve the additional outlay of manpower.”

  “Atta boy.” I patted Tallmadge on the shoulder. “Keep up the good work,” I jibed.

  “Where’s your protégée?”

  “Lido? He’s upstairs interviewing the rabbi in his apartment.”

  “That’s some terrific gig these clergymen get, a job for as long as they want it and free room and board.”

  “Not too late for you to find God, Tallmadge.”

  “Oh, trust me, it is too late, it’s way too late.”

  “Where would the perp be safest from the blast, somewhere he could wait unseen?”

  “Got to be the basement. The basements in postwar buildings like this are built like—”

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  Tallmadge smiled. “Like bomb shelters.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “The rabbi is a very serious dude,” Lido reported. “He’s very focused and very solemn.”

  “Sure. A wise man like that has to feel the weight of the world on his shoulders, especially after something like this happens. Too bad his hearing isn’t better.”

  “Come again.”

  “He had no idea a bomb was detonated right beneath his bedroom?”

  Crime scene personnel were checking the elevator for evidence, so we took the stairs down to the basement. Tay’s credo was still resonating in my ears as Lido marched down the stairs in front of me. I was eyelevel with his broad shoulders. I wanted to grab hold and wrap myself around him. Calm down, Stephanie, you’re working. Focus on the case, you sex-crazed maniac.

  “The rabbi was out for the evening.”

  “The entire evening?” I asked with surprise.

  “I’m afraid so. He was at Lenox Hill Hospital all night with a congregant who expired just before nine in the morning.”

  “What about his wife? I assume he’s married.”

  “She’s in Boynton Beach, Florida, for the winter. Apparently she can’t tolerate the cold.”

  Lido’s statement had reminded me of my own father’s final hours at the hospital. Ma and I had waited hours for the priest to give him last rites, and I remembered that he hadn’t stayed with us more than fifteen minutes. It awakened my suspicious nature. “Kind of a strange coincidence, don’t you think?”

  “What’s a coincidence?”

  “Him being out all night just when a bomb was detonated.”

  “You don’t think?”

  “Not likely. Maybe it was just the good Lord looking out for one of his more devout subjects, but verify his alibi anyway, just to be on the safe side.”

  “You got it.” Lido made a notation on his I’m-a-good-student notepad before hitting the basement floor. “Shit. It’s cold down here.”

  I had dreamt one of my lustiest dreams in recent memory last night. Come to think of it, I had cornered Lido in the hold of a pirate ship. He was a swashbuckling seadog and I was his lusty wench. So this is what déjà vu is like … and imagine me in a skintight sweater, for God’s sake—perhaps this is an apropos time to whip off my blazer and bare my womanly contours to the lamplight. Snap out of it and focus, you horny slut. Get a hold of yourself and apply your mind to the task at hand. “Keep your eyes peeled for a heavy object or any sign of blood. This could be where Koufax was attacked.”

  “Don’t that beat all,” he said in a spunky manner.

  “What’s up? Basements turn you on?”

  “No. Just trying to stay upbeat, Chalice. Searching a cold damp basement looking for blood and a murder weapon when just a couple of weeks back I was sunbathing on Miami Beach.”

  I pictured him lying on the sand in a skimpy little Speedo. Oh Christ. How am I supposed to concentrate now? Play it cool. Follow Tay’s advice. “I thought you looked tan.”

  “Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you.”

  “That’s be
cause I was there too.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Gee. I wish I had known. We could’ve hung out.”

  “That would’ve been nice, but I was kind of tied up.” Literally.

  “Maybe some other time,” he said in an easygoing manner. “Could be fun.”

  You have no idea. I watched my hunk wander around the basement looking for clues. Alas, so close and yet so far.

  “Hey. What are these?” Lido had found his way over to a workbench, which was littered with small chucks of colored stones.

  There were small tools on the workbench. “This looks like a carving tool.” I slipped on a glove and examined some of the stone fragments. It was plain to the eye that some of the surfaces had been shaped. “Someone’s a craftsman.” I inspected the small chisels, which were likely used to sculpt the stone.” All that’s missing is …” My head pivoted as if an inexplicable force was drawing it. Several small cardboard boxes were stacked against the basement wall. The top two had been unsealed and the lids closed with the flaps crossed and interlocked. They contained colored stones and seemed to be of the same composition as the fragments lying on the workbench. Poking up but hidden behind the boxes was a wooden handle. “I found something.” I grabbed the wooden handle and lifted it to reveal a rectangular iron hammer. It was a formidable tool and weighed two or three pounds. Gus came over and cast a searchlight beam at my discovery. The hammer looked clean except the crevice in the area where the handle articulated with the steel mallet, and there I saw what looked like dried blood.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “The rabbi has gone out,” one of the worshipers said. There was just a handful of men gathered before the altar, reading from prayer books. “I think he went to meet with a contractor to get the kitchen back into shape.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back?” Lido asked.

  “I’m not his secretary. He comes. He goes. It’s a free country, no? The faster the damage is repaired, the sooner everyone will come back to worship. Look at us,” he lamented as he cast his gaze at the meager handful of men sitting near the altar. “We usually have twenty men or more, but because of the bombing …”

  “Do you know anyone here who works with sculpting tools?”

  He looked confused, then said, “Oh. Yes.” He motioned for us to follow him toward a built-in closet. After opening the door, he reached into a small box and grabbed a handful of stone-carved four-sided tops. “Rabbi Tubman used to work in the jewelry trade. He makes the children dreidels for Hanukkah. They’re lovely, no? And because they’re made of stone, they’ll last forever, a real keepsake for the young ones.” He handed one to each of us.

  “Nice craftsmanship,” Lido extolled.

  “Who has access to the basement?”

  “Everyone. There’s no lock on the door. We use it for storage.”

  “Does the rabbi carry a cell phone?”

  “Yes, for emergencies. Why, did you find the mamzer who did this terrible thing?”

  “Not yet,” Lido replied, “but we have new questions for the rabbi. Do you have his number?”

  “Not with me, but it’s written on the wall next to the phone in the …” He grinned weakly. “In the kitchen.”

  “Do you know who the rabbi visited in the hospital last night?”

  He shrugged. “This you’ll have to ask him.”

  Lido handed the dreidel back to him. “He said that it was a congregant with a terminal condition.”

  He seemed to be confused. “I can ask the others, but offhand …”

  “Yes. Please ask. Thanks.”

  He trudged away dutifully. I watched as he interrupted the other men. “Gus, run upstairs and see if that phone number is still on the wall, would you? We need to get Rabbi Tubman back here immediately. You stay here and wait for him. I’ll run the hammer over to the crime lab so that we can determine if it was the weapon used on John Doe and if the blood on it is his. I don’t like the fact that there are holes in the rabbi’s alibi. Question everyone here. Let’s see if we can’t get some meaningful answers.”

  Lido winked at me. “You got it, skipper,” he said in an eager voice.

  Skipper? I waved him away. “Hop to it, Gilligan.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “I finally got a hold of the rabbi,” Lido said as I placed the cold cell phone to my ear. “He was difficult to reach, but he’s on his way back now.”

  “I just left the crime lab. We’ll have an answer on the blood match in a couple of hours. As soon as the hammer has been thoroughly processed for prints, it’ll be sent over to Tully so that he can determine if it caused the damage to John Doe’s face, as we suspect it did.”

  “Do you want me to wait for you, or should I dig right in on the rabbi?”

  “Have at him. Find out why there was blood on the sculpting hammer and verify his alibi. I’m on my way over to Broadway to interview one of the producers at the Al Hirschfeld Theater. I want to talk to the man who hired Koufax for a role in Pervy Pumps. Did any of the men know about an ailing temple member?”

  “Negatory, squadron leader. No one knew of anyone about to buy the farm.”

  It appeared that Lido was keen on military jargon. “Squadron leader?”

  “Sorry about that. A friend of mine gave me a stack of old war videos. I’ve been binge watching.”

  If binge watching period war films was the worst of his shortcomings, I could certainly live with that. “No worries, partner. I just finished rereading Don Quixote. Okay if I call you compadre?”

  It took a moment for him to respond and I sensed reticence in his reply. “Let’s go easy on the medieval Spanish and I’ll drop the military references. It’s just a phase I’m going through anyway.”

  “Deal! I’m here. See you later.” I pulled into a spot across the street from the theater.

  It was a brutal and blustery day in New York. I pulled my coat taut while I waited for the light on Forty-Fifth and Eighth to change, then raced across to the Al Hirschfeld Theater. My ears and cheeks were already red by the time I hit the lobby.

  Victor Darhansoff was a bull of a man with a barrel chest and slick gray hair pulled into a ponytail. He had an Eastern European accent, but I was unable to pin down where he was from. All those Slavic countries sound the same to me. Slovakia, Slovenia, and Herzegovina—honestly, it’s an effort just trying to pronounce them. He had a hand as large as a first baseman’s mitt, which engulfed mine when he greeted me. “Your hands are like ice, Detective Chalice.”

  “It’s ridiculously cold out there.”

  “Yes. They said an arctic front is moving south. Personally, I prefer to blame the Canadians. Don’t ask me why,” he chuckled.

  I didn’t. “Thanks for meeting with me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I? A beautiful lady detective wants to question me … I’m intrigued. Come with me,” he said and led me toward the stairway. He was charming in an old-world manner. Chivalrous was the word that came to mind.

  The theater doors were open and I was able to see the interior, the ornately decorated architecture, and the gorgeous red velvet curtain framed with a thick gilded border. “This is one of my favorite theaters,” I told Darhansoff as we ascended the stairs together.

  “It is grand,” he exalted. “In its day, it was the most impressive theater on Broadway—dressing rooms for two hundred actors. Lansburgh designed it. Are you familiar with his work?”

  “Not really.”

  “If you ever get to LA, take note of the theaters in the downtown area. Lansburgh designed all of them, The Palace and The Orpheum just to name two of his more notable projects. By the way, have you seen Pervy Pumps?”

  “It’s on my bucket list.” Along with a fantastic husband, ten million dollars, and world peace.

  “Well, then you can cross it off.” He reached into his jacket pocket and offered me a pair of tickets. “Come as my guest. It’s a delightful production.”

&n
bsp; I glanced at the tickets. They were for the upcoming Saturday evening performance, orchestra seats. “I really can’t. It’s against—”

  He paused me with a raised hand. “Say no more. You can pay me full face value,” he said and handed the pair of tickets to me. They were stamped Gratis.

  “You’re a wily one, Victor Darhansoff.”

  “Please, I’d much rather see a hardworking cop enjoy herself than give them away to the entitled brats of some filthy rich theater patron, who’ll sneak out during the intermission so that they can score some ecstasy on Ninth Avenue. We hold seats just for this purpose and it’ll thrill me no end to tell Lord and Lady Pompous that I have nothing available for the Saturday evening performance.”

  It was an inappropriate way to begin an interview, but Darhansoff was not a suspect and I rarely bent the rules. Besides, I found his argument very compelling. “Thank you. I’ll take my mother.”

  “Your mother?” he asked with a raised eyebrow before nodding with approval. “All the more commendable. I see that I made the right choice.” We reached the top of the stairs and he ushered me through a door that read Private. “It’s small but cozy up here and the steam heat in these old theaters is the stuff of legends. I have to keep my window cracked all winter long.”

  He wasn’t kidding. His office was maybe the dimension of a billiard table. He had a small desk facing the exterior wall, two chairs, and a small bookcase, atop which sat a cappuccino machine.

  “I will make you a hot drink,” he insisted, and rubbed his hands together eagerly as he approached the machine.

  “That’s nice of you. I won’t say no.”

  “Strong?”

  I replied with a grin, “Give me all you’ve got.”

  I watched as he measured a double shot of espresso and steamed the milk. “On the phone you said you were interested in an actor named Koufax, is that right?”

  “Yes. Leonard Koufax. My information tells me that he auditioned for a role in your play.”

  “Who hasn’t?” he chuckled with a hearty rumble. “I remember his audition. He was very good.”