The light from the overhead made Alex’s features look older. He exhaled and gave Kerri a weary smile. “Nice circumstantial, though, about them crossing paths at the Nitehawk.”
“Rachel told me. Also gave me new intel.”
She filled them in on the red-painted emoji making an early appearance on Rachel’s stoop, and Gina Wheat’s father having to scrub it off twice. “We have to go out again,” she said with a shrug, bunching her lips. “Talk to the man.”
Minutes later they were back in their parkas heading down the stairs. The elevator smelled of perps; they usually avoided it.
Alex was still stunned about the emoji. “Two practice runs or getting his nerve up,” he muttered.
“Stalking, for sure. He was there, before the shooting.” The thought sickened. “Neighborhood surveillance – how do the tapes read?”
“Buck and Jo are still plowing through them. They’re poor quality, and that’s for daylight. Emoji Man must have done his work at night. Under a hoody, of course.”
“Maybe they’ll find something.”
The rain had turned to nasty sleet. They stood on the sidewalk for seconds, halfway between the Jeep and the Tahoe.
“I’ll take my car,” Kerri said.
“No, the Jeep. I need you in it. Gotta talk.”
“Okay, but you pay the penalty. We have to stop on the way.”
“Why?”
“Charlie needs new crayons.” Kerri started toward the Jeep. “Where do you find crayons at this hour?”
31
The CVS, three blocks away, didn’t have any, but at a Rite-Aid halfway down Varick Kerri found Crayolas - like Charlie’s only bigger, sixty-four to a box. “With a sharpener enclosed,” she enthused. “He’ll like that.”
“This is gonna help find a killer?” Alex groused when they were back in the Jeep and the rush hour traffic. For the crayons he’d made three stops, two detours, and gotten yelled at by a traffic cop miserable in the rain. “Oh sorry, didn’t know who you were,” the cop said. “This an emergency?”
Alex turned on his siren and muttered all the way to the light at Houston. “Crayons,” he kept saying. “Coloring books.”
“You insist on me in your car, you have to help me shop.” Kerri watched his wipers battling the downpour. She was trying to picture Charlie’s reaction to the big new box of crayons.
Before they left the station she had taken Rachel’s phone – Evidence was done with it – and called Gina Wheat. Gina remembered the emoji – “Scary!” - and said of course she’d help. Kerri couldn’t mention that they’d found the same emoji on Rachel’s wall, in Mullin’s pocket. The police hadn’t released that info to the public.
“We want to talk to your father too,” Kerri had told Gina, with Alex listening.
“He’s in the basement fixing something. I’ll ask him to come up.”
“Don’t interrupt him. We’ll go down.”
“I’ll meet you there. He’s in a horrible mood. Hates the reporters, the fact that the murder and Rachel’s attack happened here. He’s acting like everyone’s blaming him.”
“That’s irrational.”
“He’s irrational.”
“Hang on. We’ll be there in minutes.”
Alex pulled up outside Rachel’s building. In the drab foyer, they turned right at the sign reading LAUNDRY STORAGE BOILER, and took the stairs down.
The basement was cavernous, badly lit and smelled moldy. Overhead, a confusion of pipes zig-zagged up to the low, cobwebby ceiling. They passed once-whitewashed brick passageways, tired-looking washing machines and a castoff refrigerator facing the wall. Then came an archway leading to a smaller area.
“Come about that emoji, have you?”
Frank Wheat stepped from behind a column of old, whitewashed bricks. He had a wrench in one hand, which he put down as he greeted them. Kerri described the emoji; didn’t show it on her phone screen.
“Yeah, creep came back. I had to scrub it off twice.”
Under a weak bulb in a wire cage he looked older than late forties. His somber face was impassive and his long black hair, out of its ponytail, fell to his collar. He had on a too-big white shirt pulled over rumpled trousers.
“Any idea what kind of paint used?” Alex asked.
“Acrylic.” Wheat smelled of booze and turned away. “When I wet it you could practically peel it off ’cept for the rough cement surface. That needed scrubbing.”
“When did these two drawings appear?”
“Over a week ago.” Wheat got busy with the wide, cylindrical boiler, fiddling with a gauge. The wall to his right was lined with stacked storage trunks.
“The brush used?” Kerri asked to his back. “Any ideas?”
“How would I know?”
“Narrow, pointy,” came a voice behind them.
“Remember what I said, Dad?” Gina stepped closer. Under the weak light her features were anxious. Dark, curling hair crowded down around her face, making it seem smaller, pinched without makeup. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt. “I said the brush was narrow, you could tell because of the lines it drew, and a couple of thick bristles came off with the paint.”
“Whatever,” Frank Wheat snapped, tapping a dial. Shelves feet behind him were lined with old paint cans, beige drips lining their sides. “Listen, this boiler’s old, the pressure gauge is acting up, and I’m supposed to worry about nut jobs and their damned brushes?” He threw a scornful glance back to Gina. “I’ll bet it was one of your freak friends.”
“Dad, I don’t know anybody who’d-”
“Do you mind?” Wheat practically sneered at the detectives. “This press has climbed to a hundred and two while we’ve been yakking, and I gotta patch it.” Another glare to Gina. “Some people have to work for a living, not just wiggle and jiggle and take their clothes off. What happens in this building is my responsibility.”
In a neutral tone Alex said, “Do you think anyone’s connecting you to the attacks?”
“It reflects on me, dammit! You think the landlord’s gonna be able to rent that apartment? Now if you’ll excuse me…”
They turned to go, thanking him. He barely growled back. Kerri nudged Gina, and the three went back upstairs.
“It reflects on me,” the young woman mimicked fretfully. They stood hidden under the stairway in front of her closed door. Her chin was down and she folded her arms around herself, clutching her elbows. “I told you he was irrational.”
“Same or worse since the attack?” Alex frowned.
“Worse. Says the world blames him for everything. Says my mother called him a nothing when she moved out on both of us.” Gina saw their looks, and her eyes welled. “That was when I was twelve. Nice, huh?”
Her pale features crumpled. “He’s using this to play victim. The landlord’s on him for why the stair light bulbs weren’t replaced, the old front lock fixed. You can’t talk to him.” She shook her head vehemently. The movement caused her hair to swing, exposing the top of her cheek, and for the first time Kerri saw a bruise. Black and blue, with a red-brown scab line in the middle, a tiny Band-Aid strip crossing it.
“What’s this?” she said, reaching to the place.
Instinctively, Gina jerked away. Then closed her eyes for a second and let Kerri push her hair back.
Alex looked, too. “Dad?” he said, frowning in disgust.
Slowly, Gina nodded. A tear glistened down her cheek. “He hits me. Other places too.” She pulled up her sweatshirt, showed them bruises on her ribs, her stomach, turned for them to see more on her back. “He’s been hitting me worse since Rachel…”
Alex’s jaw clenched. “Get out and issue a restraining order.”
Gina dropped her face to her palms. “And go where?” she wept. “This job I have…It’s only been four months but I’ve been saving up, sticking it out for when I can afford a decent place.”
“Stick it out at friend’s place,” Kerri urged. “Or a shelter. They’re clean, you’ll be sa
fe.”
Gina straightened, breathing shallowly, and was still for a moment. Then her filled eyes widened.
“I just realized. It’s almost like my father’s grieving for Rachel. She survived, but she’ll probably move after this. Maybe that’s what’s bothering him.”
Kerri squinted hard at her. “You said he admired her,” she said quietly.
“Try major suck-up. Whenever he saw her, he’d run up with ’Let me carry your groceries,’ or, ‘Is your radiator working okay? Want me to check it again?’”
Both detectives read each other, their antennae buzzing. Did Gina realize what she was saying? Maybe Frank Wheat fretting over the landlord was an act…
Alex said firmly, “Okay do this. Go back down, say the police have a suspect and Charlie is traumatized, remembers nothing.”
Gina didn’t look at him. “No.”
“It will help you too.”
“I don’t want to talk to him.”
Kerri touched her arm. “Two parts, Gina. Tell him what Alex said, then say these beatings are unacceptable, you’re moving out - and leave your phone on. Do it now. We’ll listen, stay close.”
Gina seemed almost frozen. “You’re right,” she finally whispered. “This can’t go on…” Her eyes filled again. “Poor little Charlie. Will they let me visit Rachel?”
“Yes,” Alex said. “There’ll be a cop at the door but she’ll be happy to see you.” He indicated the basement. “Go. We’ll be near.”
They watched her head back down and hurried to the Jeep, where they could sit and wait, listening.
32
“Dad?”
Silence.
“We have to talk, Dad. Is it okay if I sit on this?”
“No, stay off the lockers. Say what you want and scram.”
There were sounds of movement: scraping and then an angry clang that probably came from Wheat’s wrench.
“Uh, you’ve been under stress. We’ve both been under stress, and I’ve, uh…been thinking I should give us both space. As in…move out. Find someplace else to live…”
“You’ve got no money.”
“I’ve got a little. Mainly I just…really want to move. So I’m…going upstairs now. Fill my duffel and go.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
That clanging sound again, louder as if Wheat had thrown his wrench; then a stream of muttered curses.
“Stay. I’m sorry I hit you, called you…”
“A disappointment. That’s all you’ve ever called me, even before this. How many times have you said you’re ashamed of me, you can’t hold your head up? I earned some money-”
“By prostitution! I found out and I’m supposed to be proud of that?”
“You knew. You just hated how I spent it.”
“On fake boobs. You’re a selfish ingrate.”
“But that’s what got me the job. A real, legit job and now I have savings. I must have been so passive to stay, hear your abuse.”
“Listen-”
“Don’t touch me!”
“Okay, okay.” Long silence, the sound of feet shuffling, a locker opening and then clanging shut. “Just simmer down. I won’t hit you again, promise.”
“What good are your promises when you’ve been drinking? Put the bottle down, Dad.”
“It’s down. There. See?” Frank Wheat’s voice changed. It started to sound emotional. More feet shuffling. “Stay because we got nobody. Just you and me. If you leave me like your ma did, we’ll both be alone. I’m sorry, okay? I can’t be alone with cops running through, looking at me funny…”
“Nobody’s looking at you funny! Why are you making this about you? Those detectives said the cops already have a suspect.”
Silence echoed in that cavernous place, right through the phone. You could feel the surprise…
“They’ve got a suspect?”
“Yes.”
“What about Rachel’s kid?”
“They said he’s traumatized, remembers nothing. Do you swear you won’t hit me again?”
“I swear. Listen, this is nuts. You’re starting to earn again, save it.” A harsh, miserable laugh. “We have to pool resources. If I lose my job we’re both out on the street, so just…keep yours and stay.”
“You’re not going to lose your job.”
“Landlord won’t like hearing cops were here to question me.”
“Not you! They were just asking about the emoji. Somebody must have told them about it. It probably was just a Halloween thing.”
Another long silence. Then: “I’m sorry again. I’ll make it up to you. It’s like I’ve been going through this crazy time, but it’s over. We gotta save ourselves - both of us, right?”
“I guess.” Silence. “I’m glad we had this talk. I’m going back up now.”
“Heat some tomato soup, will you? It’s almost seven, make a couple of bologna sandwiches. I’ll come up and join you. It’ll be like old times.”
“Okay.”
Through Kerri’s phone, they heard the sound of feet trudging up cement steps, then a door creak quietly closed. Alex had moved the Jeep down to the corner. People passed, but they were just a couple in a parked car under a No Parking sign, and who in this neighborhood cared?
From her phone end Gina practically whispered, “Looks like I still have a place to live.”
“Continue watching out for yourself,” Kerri said dubiously.
“Yes. Thanks, both of you. He seems really sorry.”
“Until the next time. Hope not, but if there’s anything - intimidation, threats or even a hint of violence, call the cops. I’m serious.”
“I will. Thanks so much again. Now I can continue to save.”
“Just watch your back.”
The voice lifted. “I’ll feel better dressing for my show now. My shift starts at ten.”
“Ten?”
“The girls get tired dancing and look it. Boss wants fresh faces till two.”
“Where do you dance?”
“On a pole, at Ruby’s on West Twenty-first but it’s temporary. Someday I’ll be an actress, I’m determined.” Gina’s voice went up another notch. “Tomorrow I’ll visit Rachel. How long will she be in the hospital?”
“Another day or two. Be careful,” Kerri cautioned again.
Alex started the engine and pulled out onto Greenwich Street. “Frank’s voice changed when he heard we have a suspect.”
“Oh yeah, relieved.” Kerri’s heart thudded.
“You hear something else in that exchange?”
“He’s playing Gina for her savings. Suddenly so nice, appreciates that job of hers he scorned.”
“He’s good at playing people.”
“The louse knew she was prostituting. Only minded when she bought herself a fake rack.” Kerri looked out at the dark, glistening street. “Bad vibes there. So…add Wheat to the maybe Burke, maybe Jed Stefan list. It’s that kind of case, huh?”
“Yep. Three suspects this early…it’s something.”
“It’s a headache. I want this solved. I’m on fire.”
By the glow of the dashboard, Alex looked tight-faced and thoughtful. Then he called Ricky Betts; told him to tail Frank Wheat. “Starting now. Watch the building, see if he stays put or goes out. He thinks we have a suspect. The killer likes to taunt. If he’s the guy…”
“…our having the wrong suspect will bother him.” Ricky sounded hyped on caffeine. “Those emojis left at two murders…there could be a third, he needs to brag.”
“Anyone there you can partner with?”
“No. We’re all going through CCTVs and Zienuc’s bitching he’s going blind. I’m waiting for a partner, what gives?”
“Speed of government. Call in if you see anything. Don’t be a hero alone. Just watch.”
“Copy that. I’m sick of these walls anyway.”
Alex disconnected and peeled north onto Hudson. “Back to the station,” he exhaled.
“There’s one more stop.” Kerri
felt herself tense.
“More? They’ll have files waiting for us in crates.”
“Told you I should have taken the Tahoe.”
“Okay, okay.”
33
The charge nurse said they were both sleeping. They’d just conked out after supper. There was a night light and they could maybe tiptoe in but…
She looked again at their badges. “If they’re sleeping…”
“I just want to leave some things and a note.” Kerri was already scribbling. A young doctor leaning on the counter had slid her his prescription pad. She’d torn off a sheet, turned it over and finished writing, Your phone and crayons for Charlie. Sleep well, C U tomorrow.
A new uniformed cop was at Rachel’s door. In a chair, looking narrowly across to a man slouched on a bench.
“Surprise, surprise,” Alex whispered as they approached.
James Burke. Leaning forward with his head down, hands clasped with fingers entwined: Psychiatrist at prayer.
They said quiet hellos.
“Visiting?” Alex asked.
“Tried to.” Burke raised his head as if coming out of a trance. His eyes sagged and his dark hair was messy. Then he straightened, pressed his back to the wall as if moving away from them. “It’s only 7:40 and they’re sleeping.”
“They’re exhausted,” Kerri said. “You couldn’t have come earlier?”
He shook his head. His hand ran across his mouth. “Had an emergency. Patient tried to kill herself. I had to go to her home.”
“Were the police called?”
“That’s the last thing she would have wanted.”
Someone suicidal but so very private? Kerri didn’t buy it. Burke was straining with too much information.
His eyes moved past them to the cop eyeing him, and the half-closed door of Rachel and Charlie. He stood stiffly. “I should have been here before this. The day’s been crazy.”
“Rachel’s doing okay,” Alex said.
“Thank God.” Burke stepped closer, his eyes questioning. “How’s it going? This awful case?”
“Badly,” Alex lied. “No suspects.”
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