Four Walls

by Keith R. A. DeCandido

  Angell sighed. "Great. We can also eliminate Gomer Wilson."

  Frowning in confusion, Stella asked, "Who?"

  "The guy from the Health Department that Maria got into a shouting match with?"

  Snapping her fingers, Stella said, "Right. How could I forget Gomer?"

  "Who's Gomer?" Mac asked Stella.

  "According to Belluso, the bakery was shut down by the Health Department after their inspector, a man named Gomer Wilson, got into an argument with our vic. He shut Belluso's down for a day."

  "Unfortunately," Angell said, "he has an airtight alibi. Last week, he and his wife and two sons moved to Indianapolis. His wife's a college professor, and she left her job in NYU's English department for a position at Purdue. He was at a job interview at the Indianapolis DMV late in the afternoon, so unless he went straight from the interview to the airport, boarded a flight to New York and went straight from LaGuardia to Riverdale, I don't think he's our killer."

  Mac leaned forward in his chair. "All right, what do we know? I mean, know for sure."

  Stella started counting off items on her fingers. "We know that Morgenstern went into Belluso's right before closing, which is around when Maria died, and that he and Maria were alone together. We know that there was a black poly/cotton fiber on Maria and that Morgenstern was wearing a black poly/cotton sweatshirt."

  "The fiber," Lindsay added, "was a match for Morgenstern's shirt, but it's also a match for one of my sweatshirts. It's not definitive."

  Nodding, Stella went on: "We know he has a printer that could've been used to write the love letters DelVecchio brought us. And we know that he was previously arrested for rape."

  "But that was a false arrest," Mac said.

  "Yeah," Angell said. "I dug into the case file a little, just to be sure that there wasn't any wiggle room, and I talked to the guy at the five-two who handled it. It really was a case of mistaken ID. Morgenstern matched enough of the description to bring him in, but only that. The cops at the five-two went a little overboard. But the DNA proved it wasn't Morgenstern-and that's why he has a nice house on Cambridge Avenue now." That last was said with a bitter smile. "So we've got, what? Anything?"

  "Nothing we can make an arrest on," Mac said.

  "Which means we're nowhere," Angell said. "We can't go near Morgenstern unless we have something solid. Leaving aside his lawyer, if we arrest somebody who successfully sued the city for false arrest, we'll be in for a PR nightmare." Before Mac could say anything, Angell said, "I know, I know, but I got a message on my voice mail from Sinclair's office reminding me that we've already falsely arrested Jack Morgenstern once and that it might not be such a hot idea to do it again. I really don't like being on the chief of detectives' radar, and I'd like to get off it as soon as possible, please."

  Mac fumed for a second, then softened. Stella knew that his initial response to PR considerations was "Who gives a damn?" His primary interest was the work. Everything else would take care of itself, as long as the work was done right. Stella knew that the world didn't actually work like that-and so did Mac, really-but that didn't mean either of them had to like it.

  And there was also the unspoken part of what Angell said: I don't want to go through what you just went through.

  Finally, Mac just said, "I don't blame you. So where do we go from here?"

  An idea that had been percolating in the back of Stella's mind burbled to the front. "I'd like to go back to Belluso's," she said. "The place has a steady stream of regulars, and whoever killed Maria had to be one of those regulars. It was somebody who was let in as the place was closing, and someone who would've been able to get behind the counter. Morgenstern wasn't the only regular, after all. I'd like to see who else comes in there." Then she smiled. "Besides, it's been way too long since I've had a good cannoli."

  Rubbing his chin, Mac nodded. "All right. It certainly couldn't hurt."

  Angell said, "It's not like we've got much of anything else."

  "Okay. I'll head up there now," Stella said.

  She rose from the chair in Mac's office. It wasn't much, but maybe she'd find something. Worst case, she spent an afternoon sitting in an Italian-style cafй, and she could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon.

  * * *

  After Stella, Lindsay, and Angell left Mac's office, Sheldon and Danny came in. They sat on the sofa while Mac himself leaned against the front of his desk. "What've you got?" Mac asked.

  "We played around with Danny's favorite toy," Sheldon said, "and figured out a scenario whereby someone could've knocked Washburne's body off the weight bench in the hustle and bustle after Barker was stabbed. Based on Washburne's weight and the positioning of everything, and assuming the guy was moving at a certain speed, it works."

  "So you're saying it's likely that Melendez didn't hit Washburne with the weight?"

  "I dunno about likely, Mac," Danny said, "but if the wound really was postmortem, it had to've happened one of two ways. One is that Melendez went to the trouble of knocking him off the bench-"

  "Or," Mac said, "he fell off when he died."

  "Yeah," Sheldon said, "but wouldn't somebody have noticed? Washburne was a well-liked member of the prison community, wasn't he?"

  Mac nodded. "That's why Melendez got a stomach full of fists this morning. So you're saying that the only way he could've died without anybody noticing right away was if he died on the bench and didn't move?"

  Nodding, Sheldon said, "It fits the evidence-not to mention the COD."

  "And," Danny added, "since nobody noticed, and then Barker got shivved, it all fits. Barker gets cut, there's blood all over the place, people run around like headless chickens, and bam! Somebody bumps into Washburne and sends him to the ground-with a detour to the weight to crack his skull open."

  Flack walked in, knocking politely on the glass door as he opened it. "This a private party?"

  "Come on in, Don," Mac said. "We were just talking about the Washburne case."

  "Well, I gotta get back down there in a little bit to process Mulroney for Barker's murder. Our little gay-basher's gonna find out what life is like in max security." That last was said with a feral grin that Flack only reserved for perps getting what they deserved. Mac understood the sentiment.

  "He'll go to pretrial holding first, won't he?" Mac asked.

  "Maybe-depends on the mood of the DA's office. But they got everything, so it's up to them." He looked at Danny. "Thanks for gettin' the file over so fast."

  "No problem." Danny shrugged. "Not sure how much good it'll do, since the guy confessed."

  "Evidence never hurts," Mac said.

  Sheldon folded his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. "Doesn't always help, either, Mac. I mean, we've got plenty of evidence to tell us what happened, but we still don't have the faintest idea what killed Malik Washburne."

  "Yeah." Mac walked around his desk and sat down. "Let's go over what we know. Washburne died from his throat closing up, which was an allergic reaction to-something."

  Danny asked, "He have anything in his stomach?"

  Mac shook his head. "Some digested food, but for someone to react to a food allergy, it would have to be right when they eat it, not hours later."

  "And tox just turned up the Klonopin?" Sheldon asked.

  "Which he's been on for weeks." Mac shook his head.

  Sheldon unfolded one arm and gestured to the air with it. "What if somebody injected him with something? Maybe something we couldn't detect. If there's a puncture mark-"

  "There isn't," Mac said. "Peyton checked."

  With a sigh, Sheldon turned to Danny. "It's good when your replacement's as talented as you are, right?"

  Mac managed a half-smile, then grew serious again. "Besides, there's no opportunity. How would someone get a syringe into the yard?"

  Danny shrugged. "Mulroney managed to sneak in a shiv."

  "Yes, but that was a clumsily put-together weapon, using material Mulroney had on hand. A syringe with somethi
ng in it that would kill Washburne instantly would be a lot harder to get in the first place, much less take into the yard."

  "Besides," Flack said, "after the stabbing, everybody in that yard was searched, and you guys went over the scene. No syringe."

  Sheldon shook his head. "It's too bad he'd been on the Klonopin so long."

  Frowning, Mac asked, "Why?"

  "Well, an allergic reaction to Klonopin could potentially cause your throat to close up. It fits the evidence."

  "What gets me," Flack said, "is that he was on it in the first place."

  Cursing himself for not seeing it sooner, Mac stood up. "Of course. Washburne became a Muslim because of its proscription against mind-altering substances like alcohol-and drugs. He wouldn't take anything like Klonopin willingly."

  "Yeah, but Mac-he's in prison. Hell, Terry and I were just talkin' about this yesterday-these guys try all the tricks in the world to get outta takin' their meds, but the COs usually nail 'em. If Washburne was prescribed the drugs, he'd be takin' 'em."

  And then it all fell together for Mac. He walked around his desk. "C'mon."

  "What?" Flack looked bewildered.

  "I'll explain on the way. You've got to get to RHCF to process Mulroney, and I'm going with you."

  The other men stood up as well, though they all seemed just as confused. Danny said, "I don't get it, Mac, what's-"

  "I know what killed Malik Washburne," Mac said, turning around in the doorway. "Let's go, Don."

  As he and Flack left a confused Sheldon and Danny behind, Mac put in a call to Peyton. He needed her to run a particular blood test…

  19

  CANNOLI WERE A SICILIAN delicacy: a creamy filling inside a hard shell. The filling was a mixture of ricotta cheese and sugar, and the shell was dough that was rolled into a hollow tube and deep-fried; the filling was inserted just before serving to keep the shell from getting soggy.

  Many places mixed chocolate chips into the filling, which Stella had never objected to but never much saw the point of, either. It always felt like gilding the lily, trying to improve on perfection.

  Belluso's Bakery did not put chocolate chips in their cannoli. It was the first place Stella had been to in New York that refrained from that particular excess, and it was enough to make Stella forgive Sal Belluso for his pola comment.

  When she first came in, she noticed that there was a sign in the window that said NOW HIRING. Stella saw that Jeanie Rodriguez and one other young woman she did not recognize were working behind the counter. There were a few people at the tables downstairs, and a quick glance up showed at least two people upstairs as well. One of the people downstairs was working on a laptop; another table had two women and a stroller, in which a blond-haired infant was dozing; an older woman was finishing up a large cup of tea at another table and got up to leave as Stella stepped up to the counter.

  As soon as Stella approached, Jeanie said, "You need to take more DNA or something, Detective?"

  Shaking her head, Stella said, "No, no. I'm actually off the clock now. But this looked like such a nice place. I wanted to take in the atmosphere-as a cafй, not a crime scene."

  "Oh, okay." Jeanie lowered her voice to a whisper. "But you guys're still gonna solve Maria's murder, right?"

  Stella nodded and matched Jeanie's tone. "Don't worry-Detective Angell and the crime lab are on it. We'll find out the truth, I promise you."

  "Good."

  "Can I have a cannoli, and also a large iced coffee?"

  "Sure. What size cannoli?"

  Blinking, Stella asked, "What are my choices?"

  Jeanie walked around to the secondary counter and pointed at the miniature cannoli, which were only a couple of inches long, and then the large ones, which were just short of half a foot.

  "Oh, the large," Stella said with a big grin.

  "Not the chocolate-covered ones?"

  Stella made a face. "Uh, no." In Stella's opinion that was even worse than putting in chocolate chips.

  While Jeanie rang her up, Stella said, "I see you're hiring. Guess that's inevitable."

  "Yeah, we lost two people. Sal fired Dina when he found out she stole Maria's necklace. Can you believe that? I didn't think Dina could do something that crazy, y'know?"

  Stella winced at that, feeling a bit responsible for Dina losing her job, but after a moment, the feeling passed. The fact was Dina lost her job because she chose to steal jewelry from a corpse. It was likely that she'd lose her freedom as well-Angell was probably going to bust her on obstruction, as her actions had confused the investigation.

  After devouring her first cannoli in record time, Stella went back for a second that she could properly savor, then made sure to pay closer attention to the people who came in and out of Belluso's. She took up position at a table only a few feet from the main counter, which enabled her to overhear everything that was said, even with the light-music station being pumped out over the bakery's speakers.

  About half of the customers just came in, ordered, paid, and left. Others had their order to stay. If people did converse beyond the confines of their order, it was on a subject other than Maria Campagna: the hot weather, the doings of the customer's job, the current state of affairs of either the Yankees or the Mets or both, whether or not the Jets and/or the Giants got hosed in the draft, how the customer's children were doing, how the customer's parents were doing, who was getting married, whether or not the customer's wife had given birth yet, what the customer's plans were for the upcoming school year, and so on. It reaffirmed Stella's belief that this wasn't just a corner Starbucks where people walked in, got their venti skim latte or grande iced mocha, and left; it was an organic part of a residential neighborhood. It was like the saloon in Old West towns, or the neighborhood pub in a small British town-this was where many of the area's residents came to refresh themselves and chat about their lives.

  But some of those who came in talked about Maria, which was when Stella pricked up her ears, tuned out whatever soft-rock classic was playing, and listened.

  "Is it true that one of the girls here died?" one asked. Jeanie provided as noncommittal an answer as she could. No doubt she was under orders from Belluso to minimize the perception of the bakery as the scene of a crime.

  "Hey, Jeanie. Geez, sucks about Maria, huh? Can't believe that. Who'd do something like that?"

  "I heard somebody got shot here. Is that true?"

  "You guys should seriously consider getting a gate. Stuff like that don't happen when you got a gate."

  "Hey, somebody told me that Karen got killed here. That true?" When Jeanie explained that it was actually Maria: "Oh. Okay. I didn't really like her all that much."

  "Can I see where that girl got killed? C'mon, I've never seen where a dead body was before. Please?"

  "Heard you guys got robbed. That's gotta suck." Jeanie didn't change that person's misapprehension.

  "Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Jeanie, I heard about Maria. Are you guys holding up okay? God, that's so terrible! Is there anything I can do?"

  "You know, someone told me that someone died here, can you believe that? What a silly notion."

  "Hey, Jeanie. Heard about Maria. You guys doin' okay?"

  "Look, I can't stay, but I had to stop in to give my condolences. Maria was such a nice girl. Please, if you know the family, tell them I'm praying for them."

  "Why would anybody kill Maria? I mean, she was such a sweet girl. Whole world's goin' to hell, I swear to Christ."

  By the time Stella finished her second cannoli-and third iced coffee-she was about ready to give up. It had been a long shot, in truth.

  Just as she was preparing to call it a day, she saw a large man wearing blue scrubs walk across the street and entered. Since one of the storefronts across Riverdale Avenue sported a big sign that read FELDSTEIN'S VETERINARY SERVICE, Stella assumed he came from there. He entered and walked right up to the counter, giving Stella a good view of the purple-and-yellow bruise on his cheek.

  "W
hat's up, Jeanie?"

  "Hey, Marty how's life in the animal kingdom?"

  So he did work at the vet's. Stella also seemed to recall something from Angell's notes about someone named Marty who worked at the vet and was friends with Maria.

  "Not bad. Dr. Wentworth's out sick today, so it's kind of a mess. Can I get a half dozen of the cherry cookies?"

  "Sure. And a coffee?"

  "Yeah. Black, two sugars."

  "I know," Jeanie said with a smile.

  While Jeanie bent over to retrieve six of the shortbread cookies, which had a glazed maraschino cherry on top, Marty said, "Sucks about Maria, huh? Getting strangled like that-that really shocked the hell out of me."

  "All of us, yeah," Jeanie said absently, only half-listening as she gathered Marty's order.

  Stella, though, found herself on full alert. A second ago, she'd been swallowing the last of her cannoli, contemplating what traffic would be like going back to Manhattan. But as soon as this Marty person mentioned Maria Campagna's COD, she abandoned all thoughts of going home anytime soon.

  Neither she nor Lindsay nor Angell had ever mentioned the exact cause of Maria Campagna's death out loud outside of the lab. Angell had spoken to some press but said nothing about how Maria was killed, either.

  While it was possible that either Jeanie or Dina could have mentioned it-they found the body, and enough people watched cop shows on TV to possibly recognize a case of strangulation when they saw it-that didn't strike Stella as likely. Certainly not Jeanie, who'd been going out of her way to avoid talking about Maria's death in any but the most perfunctory of details.

  Marty had a large enough build to have been the one to strangle Maria, and the bruise he sported on his cheek was approximately the right size to have been made by Maria's fist.

  Stella got up and went to the counter. "Can I have another iced coffee?" she asked the young woman who wasn't Jeanie. Then Stella turned to Marty. "That's some bruise you got there."